Page 13 of His Fresh Start Cowboy
“Nah, I’ll just toss the scooter in my truck bed, and we can drive out together. The Roost serves burgers until seven, so we can get dinner and a few beers at the same time.”
“Sounds good.”
And at five-thirty, they did exactly that. Hugo was tired, sore, and he smelled like horse and dung, but they were heading to a small-town bar in a small town surrounded by cattle ranchers and farmland. No one was going to care what they smelled like. Hugo had left the county before he was legally able to drink so he’d never been inside the Roost, only driven past it. The place was clean and less smoky than other bars he’d patronized, and they had to wait about ten minutes for a table.
“It’s nice to have a few hours to myself,” Rem said once they’d been seated and handed very brief menus. Mostly burgers and typical bar snacks. “I love my wife and kid, but sometimes you just need a night off, you know?”
Hugo did not know, not really, but he nodded for his friend’s sake anyway. “Sure. Still can’t figure on you being a dad. So much has changed.”
“Yeah. We’ve been trying for another kid but so far no luck. If nothing happens in another year or so, Shelby wants to try one of those fertility doctors. See what’s what.” Rem scowled. “Hate to think it’s my plumbing, but Shelby wants more kids so we’ll do what it takes to give her some.”
“Good man.” Hugo had never pictured himself as a dad. To be honest, he’d never pictured himself as much of anything, other than an odd-job-working drifter. Someone simply trying to blend in and survive, and to forget the giant crush he’d left behind here in Weston.
Their waitress came by and Rem ordered them a pitcher of beer. “So you’re obviously still single. You and Brand should compare notes. I swear, that man is never gonna get married. You see that dark-haired gal behind the bar?” He pointed, and Hugo spotted the petite woman pouring something into a shaker. “That’s Ramie. Rachel Marie. They’ve been close lately, but he never brings her around like as a date, so I don’t know what’s up for sure. She’s pretty, though, and single. He needs to snatch her up before someone else does.”
“Maybe she’s the one not interested in dating.” He couldn’t stop the statement, because the hint of misogyny in Rem’s comment annoyed him, as if Ramie was pining away for some hot dude to come along, flash his dimples, and marry her. He didn’t know the woman at all, but it was the fucking twenty-first century. Not everyone wanted or needed marriage and kids.
“Well, Brand’s running out of options.”
Maybe Brand isn’t interested in her either, because he wants something else. Someone else.
Instead of voicing that, Hugo skimmed the meager meal offerings and decided on a simple bacon cheeseburger. They both ordered when their waitress dropped off the beer and two chilled glasses. Rem poured them each a glass, then held up his. “To old friends coming home, dude.”
“Cheers.” Hugo tapped the rim of his glass to Rem’s and smiled. “To being home and facing old ghosts.”
The burgers were great and the company even better. He and Rem bullshitted about high school for a while, until a pair of girls from Rem’s class joined them with a platter of nachos everyone shared. Hugo vaguely recalled them both, but they’d been older, and he spent a bit of time explaining his whereabouts of the last ten or so years. They were interested in the ghost town, and Hugo kind of wished he’d brought along some business cards, but Texas had enough of its own similar attractions that didn’t require airplanes and out-of-state travel.
Around seven, the music cranked up a bit and people started dancing. Rem went out with the girls, but Hugo begged off, citing zero rhythm, which was mostly true. He could dance in a pinch, but tonight he wanted to people watch for a while. He watched them all dance and sipped his beer, content to simply exist in that space. No responsibilities, no tasks to complete. No new roommate to show around. Just beer, chips, country music, and a free evening to...be.
What he really wanted to be was with Brand, but Brand had made it very clear today he didn’t want the same thing. Which sucked. But Hugo was an adult, and he could handle being ignored. Except around eight that night, just as a second pitcher of beer arrived for him, Rem, and their lady friends, Brand strode into the bar in his boots and hat, and Hugo’s heart swelled with appreciation for the perfect cowboy package he made.
“Hey, dude, join us!” Rem said over the din of conversation and Dolly Parton belting out “Jolene.”
Brand’s gaze flickered toward Hugo once, uncertain, before approaching their table. “Didn’t know you guys would be here tonight.”
“Getting Hugo used to the life again. Dana, another glass!”
Their waitress flashed them a thumbs-up. Hugo tried not to stare at Brand, who looked as comfortable as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and he avoided all of Hugo’s curious glances. Was he here to see Ramie? To simply have a drink and relax? None of the above?
Dana delivered the glass, and Rem poured one for Brand. They all stood around drinking until “Achy Breaky Heart” came on. The brunette in the group grabbed Rem and dragged him onto the dance floor, while the blonde set her sights on Hugo. Hugo immediately sat and nursed his beer, not interested in fucking up a dance number he didn’t know. When Brand did the same, she wandered off to find another partner.
And now that Hugo was finally alone—well, as alone as he could be in a noisy bar on a Monday night—with his old crush, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to the man. Then he blurted out the most trite thing possible: “You look good.”
Brand stared at him over the rim of his beer glass, blue eyes cold as ice. He took a sip of beer and said nothing.
Great, we’re right beside each other and he still won’t talk to me.
Maybe taking a job at Woods Ranch had been a mistake after all.
Chapter Five
Brand had come back out tonight for a beer, some music, and to think. Sure, he’d used paperwork as the perfect excuse to avoid showing Hugo around the ranch, but Brand hadn’t been lying. As foreman, he had better things to do than break in a newbie, and Jackson was fully capable. Brand had managed to avoid Hugo for the rest of the day, and he’d never admit to having watched Hugo a few times from his office window. Nope.
Except he had. Hugo moved like a dream on his horse, even better than when he was a teenager. He was more confident now, walked with his spine straight instead of scuffling around like he didn’t want to be noticed. Until teenage Hugo had made it his mission to make Brand notice him. And he had.
Now, Brand was stuck at a table with Hugo, drinking beer, because he had two left feet and knew better than to get out on the dance floor. Ramie once told him he had legs like tree trunks, quoting from a TV show they both loved and had binged together more than once when they both simply wanted companionship for a night.
Brand glared at Hugo’s compliment. Not because he didn’t appreciate it but because he did. Hugo seemed equally uncomfortable with the situation, as if he had things to say but those things required privacy. And Brand wasn’t sure he trusted himself in private with the younger man. Seven years wasn’t a lot for some folks, but Brand remembered Hugo as the gangly, unsure teenager he’d first met during summer break from college. By the time Brand graduated and returned home, Hugo had filled out and grown a few inches, and he’d been insanely cute.
