Calvin’s Cowboy (23 page)

“Just because.” Blue really suited his cowboy.

Brock turned his head away, clearly uncomfortable at such a conversation taking place in public.

“Sorry,” Calvin said, and meant it. Though whenever Brock wasn’t looking, Calvin would sneak peeks at his man. He liked how Brock’s belly was a little rounded. It was soft to cuddle up to, to put his head on.

“Stop lookin’ at me like I’m something to eat,” Brock said under his breath.

“Sorry,” Calvin repeated. “But make no mistake, I will eat you later.”

Brock shook his head and turned away to start a conversation with someone else.

Calvin thought it better to mingle, put some distance between himself and the man he loved.

God, the old place hadn’t changed much, not that he frequented the football stadium when he’d been a student at the school. There were a few people present who Calvin knew…even fewer that he actually wanted to talk to. He chit-chatted with a handful of his old teachers who still taught at the school. He said ‘hi’ to a fellow geek who had been in the drama club with him. While standing in line at a concession stand to get a bottle of water he got talking with—of all people—a former jock. Calvin recognized him as the starting wide receiver, but he was sure the guy didn’t remember Calvin, a fact for which Calvin was grateful.

The fireworks—when they finally came—were pretty good. The school band accompanied the pyrotechnics, and managed to stay fairly in sync, too.

By the time the last rocket had exploded, Calvin was ready to sit down. Not seeing Brock or Junior anywhere, he made his way over to the bleachers.

“Hi, didn’t think I’d ever see you back in Parish Creek.”

Calvin looked at the speaker, and drew a blank as to his identity.

The guy laughed and held out a hand. “Derek Creswell.”

Calvin took the proffered hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Wow, you’ve changed.”

Derek laughed, and held onto Calvin’s hand for just a second longer than expected. “Could say the same about you.”

Calvin took a seat next to Derek and spent a few minutes catching up. Derek had been the geekiest of geeks in Calvin’s grade. He even had a pocket protector, probably a collection of pocket protectors. But now, wow. The guy had swapped mechanical pencils, protractors, and compasses for muscles, tattoos, and spiked hair.

“What are you doing now?” Derek asked.

“PR and advertising in New York.”

Derek nodded, as if Calvin was confirming what he already knew. “Heard your folks were selling up and moving to Florida.”

“They’ve already moved, and I’m in the process of getting their place ready to put on the market.”

Derek smiled. “Well, I just might be able to help you out there, my friend.” He reached into a pocket of his ripped jeans and pulled out a wallet from which he extracted a business card.

“Creswell Real Estate Agency,” Calvin said aloud. Then he looked over at the bad boy biker. The two things didn’t fit.

Derek laughed and squeezed Calvin’s knee. “Real estate is just the day job. At night…” Derek held out his arms as if gripping the handlebars of a motorcycle and followed it up with a few growls.

“There you are,” Brock said to Calvin, then shot a disapproving look at Derek.

Calvin introduced the two of them. Derek was friendly, and Brock made the attempt, but Calvin could tell the man was jealous.

“Well, it’s been great catching up. I’ll certainly get back to you once Brock here has finished renovating the place,” Calvin said.

“Look forward to it.” Derek stood, shook hands with Calvin then Brock before leaving.

“What did he want?” Brock asked, staring daggers into Derek’s retreating back.

“A fuck under the bleachers.”

Brock’s gaze shot back to Calvin.

“But I told him, ‘No thanks, I’ve already got a beautiful cowboy who’ll do that.’”

Brock harrumphed, took a look around, but the bleachers were pretty empty and no one was close. “I want to try something.”

“Oh?” Maybe Brock really was gonna take him under the bleachers. The thought had Calvin plumping up.

As they made for the exit, Brock said, “Junior’s gone home with a school friend, hope it’ll be okay to go pick him up later.”

“Sure, no problem.”

Where were they heading? Once out of the stadium, Brock took a right, then a left, and walked toward the gymnasium. They stopped in front of the entrance to the boys’ locker room, a place that held no good memories for Calvin.

“Don’t know if this key still works.” Brock took out a small shiny key and fitted it into the lock. It turned, there was a click, and Brock pushed the door open.

Immediately the memories of musty damp towels, teenage male sweat, and Bengay assaulted Calvin. He stood rooted to the spot.

“It’s okay,” Brock soothed, rubbing Calvin’s shoulder. “I wanted to bring you here to…I don’t know, to rest a few ghosts for you, make some good memories of this place.”

Calvin nodded, and, taking a firm grip on his emotions, stepped into the dark interior. He immediately began to shiver, even though the room was warm and stuffy.

Brock flipped on the lights, and locked the door. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Calvin swallowed. This was just a room. A room couldn’t hurt him.

Calvin felt Brock taking his hand and leading him along the rows of lockers. The place hadn’t changed much. The lockers were painted a different color, but the tiles on the walls and floor were the same, as were the benches, though maybe they looked a little more battered and scarred than Calvin remembered.

Brock sat down on one of the benches, and, as they were still holding hands, Calvin found it more comfortable to sit next to him. They didn’t say anything. Somewhere a showerhead dripped, but otherwise the room was silent.

“Didn’t think my old key would still work.” Brock’s words made Calvin jump. Brock squeezed his hand in reassurance. “Coach gave a few of us on the baseball team keys so we could lock up after ourselves if practice ran late or something.”

Calvin wondered about that ‘or something.’ Images of jocks indulging in circle jerks and maybe more crept into his mind.

“Why you smiling?” Brock asked.

Calvin hadn’t realized he was. He told Brock what he’d been thinking.

“Nah, nothing like that ever happened, unfortunately.”

“Which locker was yours?”

“That’s right, we never had gym together, did we? Otherwise you’d have known ‘cause you’d have been secretly scoping me out as I got changed.” Brock smirked.

Calvin snorted. He knew Brock was only teasing.

Brock let go of his hand, stood, and walked down the row of lockers. “This one.” He placed his palm on one of the blue-painted metal doors. “Wonder if my old combination still works.”

Calvin laughed when Brock tried the lock but didn’t gain entry. He stood and walked over to the locker that used to be his. Oddly, their lockers were quite close. He spun the dials, the lock disengaged and the door swung open to reveal an empty locker.

“Wow, what are the chances?” Brock said, coming up to Calvin and, after pushing up his Stetson, nuzzled Calvin’s neck.

“Yeah, what are the chances that a beautiful cowboy would ride into my life, sweep me off my feet and—” The rest of Calvin’s words were lost in Brock’s kisses.

“Need you,” Brock groaned, and pushed Calvin into the bank of lockers.

Calvin tensed. He was instantly transported back to when jocks would push him into these self same lockers, jeering at him, calling him names, and sometimes punching him.

“Sorry.” Brock backed off. “You okay?”

Calvin took a breath and looked up into Brock’s concerned, beautiful face. He nodded. “Just a ghost trying to spook me.”

Brock took Calvin’s hand and brought the knuckles to his lips. “No one is ever gonna hurt you again. Not on my watch.”

Calvin swallowed.

Brock closed the locker door. “Wanna get out of here?”

Calvin started to nod, then changed his mind. “No. Just hold me.”

Brock did, making sure he didn’t press him into the lockers again.

“What time did you say we’d pick Junior up?” Calvin asked, knowing he’d be sleeping alone that night, and wanting to put off the moment of separation for as long as possible.

“About ten.”

“What time is it now?”

Brock looked at his wristwatch. “Quarter after ten.”

Calvin sighed. “Guess we should make a move.”

“Uh huh.” Brock made no effort to let go of Calvin.

“Thanks.”

“What for?”

“For everything. For doing this, for being you, for…” Calvin choked up.

Brock’s hands smoothed up Calvin’s arms and rested on his shoulders. Holding him at arm’s length, Brock stared into Calvin’s eyes for the longest time. “I love you, Calvin Hamilton.”

“Oh, Brock.” Calvin closed the distance and hugged his cowboy for all he was worth. “I love you, too. So much.” Calvin was crying, and he didn’t care.

“Wanted to tell you for a while, but…” Brock sniffed.

“Me too.”

Brock kissed Calvin’s eyes. “Was talking with Junior earlier. If you still want us to come up to New York for a vacation then—”

“Of course I do! You’re both welcome to stay for as long as you like.”

They stood in the middle of the locker room hugging and swaying slightly. Calvin hoped Brock and Junior would stay with him forever, but he’d take whatever he could get.

Sniffing and blinking away his tears, Calvin pulled back to look into his cowboy’s face. Reaching up he ran the fingertips of both hands down Brock’s cheeks. “You’re the most beautiful man in the world.”

Brock smiled then shook his head and sighed theatrically. “I guess it’ll be all down hill from here on out.”

“Huh?”

“Can’t get any bigger than the world.”

Calvin grinned. “Don’t bet on that. There’s a solar system, a galaxy, heck, a whole universe for you to get beautiful in.”

“You’re fuckin’ loco.” Brock kissed him.

Just then Calvin’s phone rang. He looked at the display.

“It’s my parents.”

He thought about letting it go to voicemail, he couldn’t cope with any more bullshit from his mom, not just after Brock and he had said what they had.

“You should answer it,” Brock said, stepping away.

Calvin reached out for him with his free hand. “No, stay.” Pressing the button, Calvin brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Calvin, honey, it’s Mom.”

Calvin rolled his eyes at Brock. “Hello, Mom.”

“Did you have a good Fourth?”

“Yes, thanks. I spent it with Brock and Junior.” If she thought he was going to avoid talking about them then she was shit out of luck.

“That’s nice.”

“Yes it was.”

“Look, son, about this morning.” She paused.

Calvin didn’t say anything.

His mother let out a breath. “I talked with your dad and…well I think what I said might have come across as a little insensitive.”

Ya think?
Calvin thought, but out loud said, “It didn’t help.” Brock squeezed his hand, and Calvin squeezed back. Into the phone Calvin said, “Mom, I love him, and he loves me.”

“I’m really pleased for you, son. Brock’s a good man. I was just surprised this morning when you told me.”

Calvin nodded. “I can understand that. But what Brock and I have…it’s real…genuine.” Calvin looked at Brock, at his black Stetson that was on crooked, at his kiss-swollen lips, at his kind, caring eyes. “I just love him so much.” Calvin had to blink away fresh tears.

“I know, and I’m sorry for what I said this morning.”

Calvin talked with his mom for a while longer. When the conversation seemed to be winding down, his dad picked up an extension and joined in.

Eventually, after a few more tears and a lot more fence-mending, Calvin ended the call and accepted a long hug from his lover.

“Come on, let’s go get Junior.” Brock patted Calvin’s back. “We’ve got a vacation to plan.”

Chapter 10

Everything in Calvin’s living room looked neat, clean, and expensive. Brock thought the furniture was Mission, although he wasn’t enough of an expert to say for certain. The clean lines felt pleasing and masculine.

Sinking into the cushions on the oxblood leather sofa, Brock sighed. They were here in New York. The plane ride had been…great. Calvin’s insistence on traveling business class had meant more legroom, which Brock had appreciated, as there had been a delay before the plane took off.

Brock had been able to tell—despite his son’s attempts to appear cool and mature—Junior had been excited during the flight, asking Calvin endless questions, wanting to know what everything was and how it worked. Calvin and the cabin crew had indulged him.

Brock smiled at how well Calvin and Junior had gotten along right from the start. He knew if it had been otherwise, he couldn’t have pursued a relationship with the man.

“Here we go.” Calvin came into the room carrying two tall glass mugs of hot chocolate.

Brock took one of the glasses, but was afraid to drink from it for fear of spilling.

Calvin got out two large coasters and put them on the end table. Even the table looked expensive in an elegant, understated way. Brock was pretty sure it was pecan wood, the top inlaid with etched copper.

Brock placed his glass on one of the coasters, and Calvin did the same on the other.

“You okay?” Calvin asked.

Brock nodded and looked around the room again. At first glance the sage green carpet appeared to be one color, but closer examination showed the pile was sculpted, making a swirling pattern in a lighter green. His eye was drawn to the entertainment system in the corner, all cherry wood and smoked glass. A huge LCD television sat on top of it. Halfway along the opposite wall was a gas fire with imitation logs. Above the cherry mantle was a watercolor—probably original—of a cowboy, his back resting against a tree, his hat pulled low over his eyes. Brock smiled. Calvin sure had a thing for cowboys.

“Nice place you got here.”

Calvin tucked his legs underneath himself and leaned against Brock, who put an arm around him.

“It’s just a place,” Calvin sighed. “Having you and Junior here helps make it a home.”