Walker Sr. sat down, watching his son with that fond fatherly expression one got when they just wanted to see their child happy. It made Bull sober a bit more, but startled barks of hilarity continued to escape him. “Yeah, I knew he could. It’s just been a while since he has.”
Fox accepted the appreciative nod from Bull’s father, and he hoped Walker understood that he was planning to make his son laugh a lot more. When it came time to join hands and say grace, Walker had to take over because Bull went into another laughing fit when Dale timidly checked Fox’s hand before he clasped it.
Fox decided to refill a couple of empty bird feeders outside while Bull informed Dale that he wouldn’t be riding tonight. At least not a horse. Dinner had been amazing, and like always, Fox was stuffed to capacity. If he didn’t get back into his workout regime soon, he was going to have a potbelly like Walker.
He’d just returned the half-used bags of seeds to the storage bin on the porch when Dale stepped out of the front door with his chin almost touching his chest. He had two bottles of cold beer in his hand and passed one to Fox as he went and leaned against the porch railing.
“For as long as I’ve been here, Bull rides almost four to five times a week after dinner. It’s his and Mercy’s time. A time when he can simply stop and enjoy his land. He’s happy here, Fox. Ranching is in the blood—it’s bred into ya. Bull won’t leave his home no matter what. No matter how hot your cock is. So, when you decide you’re finished vacationing from life and leave… it’s gonna be another two years before we hear him laugh like that again.”
“Why the fuck are you so damn cynical?” Fox asked in sheer bewilderment. “You’re acting like having a relationship here is impossible. I mean… wouldn’t it be nice if Bull had someone to share this with when he’s older?”
Dale sneered. “Older, huh?”
“Yes,” Fox snapped, getting pissed that he was being judged when he wasn’t that kind of man.
“I thought that too, y’know,” Dale said in a lowered voice.
Fox couldn’t see the foreman’s face, but if he had to describe his tone, he’d say melancholy. Dale stared out over the dark property as he spoke with his back to Fox, since blind confessions were always the easiest.
“I grew up working on a ranch five times the size of this one in Summit, Mississippi. Worked hard as fuck, grueling twelve-hour days in heat hotter than the shades of hell. And I didn’t miss a day unless I was a-second-from-the-grave sick. I saved every dime I could from age fifteen—because that’s when I realized who I really was—and I knew I’d have to leave home… eventually.”
It was as if Dale could hear Fox’s curiosity.
“I knew I couldn’t be myself in Mississippi. So, when I couldn’t deal with the hiding anymore, I took my savings and left. I didn’t have enough to start my own operation quite yet, so I came to find work in Atlanta where I heard there was a bit more acceptance. But little did I fucking know.”
“How old were you then?”
Dale’s broad shoulders shook slightly. “Man. Twenty-four and full of my damn self. Thinking I was hot shit and no one was stronger or better.” Dale glanced over his shoulder. “That’s probably all we have in common.”
Fox flipped him off, but there was no heat behind it.
“I knew ranching in and out, so it was easy to land a ranch manager job. I just needed to pad my account a little longer and I’d have something to call my own, live how I wanna live, love who I wanted to love.” Dale pulled a short strand of hay from his back pocket and tucked it into the corner of his mouth before he took a long sip of his beer. “I ended up at the Big Rock Ranch. It was the first place I’d worked that hosted a dude ranch in the summer.”
“Mmm.” Fox indicated that he was listening.
“And that’s when I met him. Motherfucking Fletcher Garmond.” Dale let out a humorless chuckle. “I never saw anyone more beautiful. He wore a damn white dress shirt and khakis to his first riding lesson… and I knew I was done.”
“Where was he from?” All the pieces of Dale’s simple puzzle were starting to fall right into place.
Dale pfft’d. “The worst. Jacksonville, Florida. He’d taken some time away from his mergers-and-acquisitions job at JP Morgan and was staying with his mom in the county.
“He came to the ranch every day, even on days he wasn’t scheduled. He’d follow me around while I worked and flirted nonstop… like you do Bull.”
Shit.
“I tried like hell to ignore him because what would a mature, smart, successful city slicker want with a young cowboy who still hadn’t made his own name in the world?” Dale exhaled heavily and propped his hip on the railing as if the story he was telling was draining his energy. “After a couple months of his constant advances, he started actually helping me do my chores and getting his hands dirty. And that did it. Next thing I knew, I had him bent over a bale of hay in the feed storage.”