Page 64 of His Fresh Start Cowboy
Dinner with his parents and Hugo had been a quiet affair, much like lunch, and then Brand had helped Hugo settle into the bunkhouse with his things, plus a basket of clean towels and sheets from Mom. They kept their hands to themselves because the sun was still up and the windows didn’t have curtains; they didn’t want to risk Brand’s parents seeing them in a compromising position.
However, once they left in Brand’s truck for the Roost, Brand pulled off the ranch road and they kissed for a long time in the front seat. He’d missed this simple intimacy with Hugo and the kissing left him half hard. He wanted to say fuck the beer and drive them up to The Pointe so they could fuck, but going to the Roost was to prove a point, damn it. That no matter the gossip, Hugo wasn’t a thief, he wasn’t ashamed or hiding, and that Brand had his back.
“Used to fantasize about this as a kid,” Hugo said. “Making out with you in the cab of a pickup. After the first time Rem bragged about doing it with a girl, it was all I could think about for a long time.”
“I guess if you wait long enough fantasies do come true.” Brand nipped his chin. “You ever fantasize about us getting off together?”
“Hell yes.”
“Then let’s save that for a future dream come true.”
Hugo grunted but pulled back. They collected themselves and headed into town. Ramie was working the bar, and she flashed him a bright smile that Brand returned. Hugo found them an empty table near the back, while Brand ordered a pitcher of beer from Ramie. He took it and two glass mugs to Hugo’s table, mindful of the occasional glance tossed his way. But Brand was a regular and a local, and he walked with his shoulders back and spine straight. Maybe this wasn’t as forward as holding Hugo’s hand or bluntly saying they were together, but he was making his own kind of statement.
A statement that said Hugo was still his friend.
It was a Thursday night, so the bar wasn’t too packed, and good music piped over the speakers. Some folks were dancing, most drinking, snacking on simple bar food, and chilling with their friends. Brand and Hugo sat in mostly silence as they drank, not really much to say between them. Twenty-four hours ago, Hugo had been in hell, accused of a crime he didn’t commit, and now here he was, having a quiet drink and silently daring anyone to approach them.
Ramie popped over on her break with a basket of warm pretzels and beer cheese dip for their trio to share. She drank water, though, because the Roost owners frowned on their bartenders drinking on the job, even if patrons were willing to buy them shots. “I’d rather lose thirty bucks of income a night,” Ramie had once told him her boss said, “than worry about my bartenders over-pouring, not noticing they’re over-serving, or driving home drunk.”
Good bosses.
After Ramie left, Brand scraped out the last of the beer cheese with his finger, because it was good fucking stuff. Hugo watched him with amusement in his eyes and a smirk, and Brand really wanted to lean over and kiss that smirk right off his face. Instead, he went up to the bar and ordered two single mugs of beer, because another pitcher would be way too much. Ramie handed his change back, and then her gaze went over his shoulder. Hardened.
Brand turned. Two guys loomed over Hugo at their table, and while Hugo didn’t look afraid or even annoyed, Brand’s hackles went up. He grabbed the beers and threaded his way back to Hugo, plunked them down on the table, and gave the men his steeliest stare. He vaguely recognized them from town, pretty sure they worked on another ranch.
“Evening, boys,” Brand said. “Nice night for a quiet drink.”
“For most of us it is,” replied the blonder of the two. “Don’t particularly like drinking near a thief. Might lose my wallet.”
Brand’s chest burned with annoyance but he plastered on his best “innocent” face. “A thief? Can’t say as I know what you mean.”
“Don’t be stupid, Woods, you know that kid stole from Elmer Pearce last night.” Blond’s loud voice boomed over the momentary silence as one song changed to another, and it seemed like half the bar heard his words and looked at their quartet. Hugo still sat but his face blazed with anger.
“What I know,” Brand said in a dangerous tone, “is that someone stole from Elmer recently, and that the sheriff had no grounds to arrest my friend and employee. Now, you are free to believe what your tiny mind wants, but the truth will come out. Now please leave us in peace to enjoy our beers.”
“Tiny minds, huh?” Blond tossed his friend a sneer Brand didn’t like. “Told you so. That kid is trash just like his stepbrother is trash. The whole family is trash.”
Hugo stood so fast his chair fell over backward with a clatter. “Say it again, fuckwad,” he snarled. “I don’t give a shit about my stepbrother, but you did not just call my mama trash.”
Several other pairs of eyes from different tables had zeroed in on their conversation. As much as Brand wouldn’t mind a good fight, he didn’t want to trash the place or cause Ramie any extra trouble. “Maybe you should walk away,” Brand said to Blond. “We came here for a drink, but you’re the ones stirring up trouble.”
“Trouble tends to find trash,” Blond retorted. “This really the hill you’re gonna die on, Woods? Some troublemaking thief?”
“Yes.” Brand didn’t hesitate, his temper flaring to nuclear levels. He moved closer to Blond, pulling up to his full height, aware the other man was slightly taller and bulkier than him. “And seeing how you’re dumber and drunker than me, I’ll give you the first swing. But be sure now, because your first will be your last.”
Half the bar was watching them now, and Brand was keenly aware that the music had gotten quieter. One of the bouncers inched his way closer, but he was taking his time, probably curious to see how this played out. Brand was curious himself. Antagonizing others into attacking him wasn’t his default mode, but this asshat was insulting Hugo openly and deliberately. It had obviously been a risk in coming out tonight. Now that he was shoulders-deep in the shit, though, Brand wasn’t backing down.
“Make it a good one, shit stain.” Brand angled his head slightly, exposing his jaw to the drunk asshole. “Then maybe the rest won’t laugh so hard when I kick your ass from here to next Sunday.”
Someone behind Brand let out a soft cheer. For him or for Blond, he didn’t know or care. He watched the subtle tics in Blond’s face, the way his right arm tensed and drew back, preparing to punch. Brand knew how to fight, both careful and dirty. He half-expected Hugo to try and be the peacekeeper here, but he stayed quiet, his hostile glare saying everything he didn’t need to with words.
Hugo’s eyes said,“Bring it, motherfuckers.”
Either Blond was too self-confident or too drunk to make a smarter choice, because he swung at Brand with his right fist. A wide swing Brand easily blocked with his left forearm, giving him plenty of space to jab Blond twice in the stomach. Blond doubled over but didn’t go down. His buddy lunged at Brand in a very sloppy way, and Brand sent the idiot careening into the back wall.
Brand turned, surprised when Blond straightened so fast the top of his head connected with Brand’s chin, and Brand stumbled backward. Then Hugo was there, and one solid punch had Blond flat on his ass, blood pouring from his nose. Brand caught a glimpse of the bouncer from the corner of his eye, but some other guy lunged at Hugo, and Brand reacted out of instinct. He tackled the newcomer to the floor and punched him twice in the face, splitting the skin on his knuckles. The guy got one solid punch to Brand’s mouth before going limp. The bouncer hauled Brand up and off, then gave him a light shove to the side. Away.
“You startin’ trouble, Joey?” the bouncer asked Blond. “You git your friends and you git outta here.”
