Page 22 of His Fresh Start Cowboy
“I get that. But maybe gargle some mouthwash before you come down to dinner. One belch could turn a lit match into a blowtorch.”
“Ass.” He gave Rem a light shove, but he adored his little brother for not giving him a harder time about this. “What the fuck time is it?”
“Almost five.”
Dinner was usually at six, which gave Brand some time to collect himself. “All right. You staying?”
“Nah, Shelby had the early shift, so we’re eating at home. I promised I’d cook.”
“Dude, you can’t cook anything more complicated than a grilled cheese. And you used to burn those.”
Rem very maturely stuck his tongue out at Brand. “I’ll have you know that Susie is very happy her daddy has mastered making boxed mac and cheese with cut-up hot dogs. It ain’t Mom’s cooking, but Susie loves it.”
“Hey, as long as your kid loves your food, that’s what counts.”
“Like you know what it’s like to have a kid.”
Even though Rem was joking, something deep inside Brand flinched, and his seventeen-year-old self wanted to snap back. But he refrained, because Rem had been too young to be involved in that drama. It was a lifetime ago, anyway. “You’re right, I don’t,” Brand said with a bit more bite than he’d intended. Rem quirked an eyebrow. “Sorry, bro, it’s been a stressful day.”
“I know, I’ll stop giving you a hard time until Brutus is home. How’s that?”
“Sounds like typical Rem. Get out of here. Go home to your family.”
Rem flipped him off on his way out of Brand’s bedroom. Brand spent a few minutes in the bathroom washing his face and brushing his teeth to get rid of some of the whiskey funk. Despite his fear for Brutus, he was ashamed of himself for getting so drunk in the middle of the afternoon, and then passing out in his room. And he couldn’t blame Brutus for all of it; Hugo got his own fair share for being so kind, attentive, and cute. For making Brand want to hug him again until the monkeys in his head quieted and life didn’t seem quite so stifling.
For making Brand feel like he could have more than a single life running this ranch, with the occasional hookup on the side.
Hungry and a tad queasy from the alcohol, Brand descended the stairs and followed the scent of Mom’s fried pork chops into the kitchen. Seeing Dad seated at the built-in nook didn’t surprise him, but Jackson sitting across from him did and Brand stopped short. Jackson almost never ate at the house, and not because he and Brand secretly hooked up on occasion. Jackson was a self-proclaimed lone wolf who liked his privacy.
“Hey, son,” Dad said. “I thought Jackson could use a home-cooked meal for acting so fast with Brutus today. For once, he didn’t say no.”
Jackson flashed him a somewhat apologetic smile, then busied himself with his lemonade.
“Are you washed up?” Mom asked Brand as she placed a platter of pork chops on the table, next to a bowl of what looked like roasted broccoli. Her homemade applesauce was probably on its way next. She made the best pork chops and applesauce.
“Yes, ma’am,” Brand replied. He slid onto the bench seat next to Jackson, because Mom would expect to sit next to Dad. “It looks and smells amazing.”
“In forty years, your mother has never made a bad meal,” Dad said.
“Not quite forty yet, Wayne.” Mom put the applesauce down, then took her place by Dad’s side. “That isn’t until September.”
“Near enough. With the calving season coming and the county fair, summer will be over before we know it.”
Brand had half a mind to ask if they wanted a party to celebrate, but his parents had never been those people. It had taken everything in Brand and his siblings to convince them to celebrate their twenty-fifth anniversary with a small bash here at the house. They’d invited their extended family, their employees, and friends from town. Dad had spent most of it outside on the porch with a glass of whiskey, avoiding the crowd.
But someone had been missing at that party. This year, Brand could invite Colt and his husband. Their family would be complete. He made a mental note to talk to all his siblings about this later.
Their quartet didn’t chat about much during the meal, mostly requests to pass the salt or a comment about the feed supply. Mundane things as ordinary as a peanut butter sandwich, and Brand was grateful. Between Brutus’s scare and his interactions with Hugo, he was spent and ready for bed. Even after his impromptu nap, all he wanted to do was sleep again.
Mom offered yesterday’s apple pie for dessert, but everyone was full. She did send a slice home with Jackson, though, wrapping it up on a paper plate with tin foil. “We’ll see you tomorrow,” she said with a grin.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Jackson replied. “You do make the best pies. You’ll be entering them in the county fair this year, right?”
“Of course I am. I’ve gotta get Shirley Johnson back for stealing the blue ribbon from me last year for my peach pie. I’ve even got a lead on some fresh, Southern peaches through the Grove Point CSA.” Mom looked at Brand, who’d stood from the table but hadn’t really gone anywhere yet. “Doesn’t Hugo’s stepfather work there?”
“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Brand replied. Grove Point was a farming collective that offered both an on-site farmer’s market, and also weekly or bimonthly subscription boxes of the produce brought in by local farmers. He was pretty sure Frank Archer had worked there for as long as Brand had known Hugo. “Anyway, Jackson, if you’re ready to go, I’ll walk out with you. Something I wanted to talk with you about.”
Jackson’s right eyebrow twitched so subtly Brand almost missed it. “Sure. Thank you for the lovely meal, Rose. It’s always a delight to share your table.”
