Page 20 of Wistful in Wyoming
Jeremiah satin a rocking chair on his front porch, carving a piece of wood with the pocketknife his grandfather had given him on his thirteenth birthday. He loved that knife, and always took special care of it, keeping it nice and sharp. Whittling was the only time he’d work on a creation with other people around, carving different objects or animal figurines out of a small chunk of two-by-four. He often sat by the fire pit by the bunkhouse with the ranch hands, chipping away until the shape in his mind took tangible form. The men were always amazed with what he came up with, and several had tried to learn from him, but they couldn’t bring their visions to life like he could. He could teach them the technical skills but not the ability to see the image in the wood.
Whittling relaxed him, just like puttering around in his workshop did—it always had, from the time he was ten or eleven. His mother’s father had been a talented woodworker too and helped Jeremiah hone his skills over the years. He missed the old man. While he’d loved all his grandparents, Grandpa Joe was the one he’d connected with the most. When Jeremiah had been little, he’d loved to sit at his grandfather’s knee and listen to him tell stories—real life ones and others he’d made up. When they’d gotten a little older, Jeremiah and his sister used to take bets on which ones had been fabricated.
As a younger man, Jeremiah had imagined retelling those stories to his own kids one day, but with each year that passed, his dream and the window of opportunity faded a little further. He couldn’t even see it anymore, most days not letting himself even think about it. It made him too damn sad.
As he sat there, his emotions were in turmoil. There was a combination of them, each battling the others to be the king of the mountain inside him. He was joyful over how well the date with Dale had gone the night before. Fearful about his friends and family finding out he’d gone out with a man and come in his jeans as they’d rutted against each other on the front porch where anyone could’ve seen them. And most of all, wistful for the freedom to be who he really was and fall in love with whomever he wanted.
His ranch was small compared to many in the Midwest, but at 7900 acres, it was huge by Antelope Rock, and even Rockland County, standards. Three-hundred-fifty acres were dedicated to the alfalfa fields and another 300 were for prairie hay, both of which would be harvested and stored for the winter and periods of drought. Jeremiah’s house, which he’d renovated after his parents retired to Arizona, several barns, two bunkhouses, and Anthony’s cottage were spread out over another seven acres. Grazing pastures occupied the rest of the property. It was a beautiful spread, but even with his employees around, it could still get very lonely.
He’d been thrilled when Willow had moved into her deceased father’s home. She was a firecracker, and they probably made the oddest pair of best friends—a tattooed and occasionally pink-haired “chick” from Philly and a born-and-bred redneck with all but a toe still in the closet—for them though, it worked. However, Willow had Nathan and Shannon now—a loving family—and Jeremiah longed for that for himself. He wondered if he could find that with Dale.
The date last night had given him a glimpse of what life could be like for him if he ever got the nerve to truly be himself. Holding Dale’s hand, eating at the restaurant, making out on the porch, all of it coalesced into a possible future he was desperate for. It wasn’t just being out with a man though, it was being withDale. The alluring foreman was everything he’d ever dreamed of in a partner. Besides his stunning good looks, Dale was a person Jeremiah enjoyed being around—the man made him laugh even as he made him burn with desire and need. Dale challenged him and pissed him off in equal measure, both things he never thought he’d appreciate as much as he did. Maybe he didn’t know a lot about being in a relationship, but he knew having a connection beyond the physical was important. Willow and Nathan did—they were friends first, and lovers second, and they were so happy it made him half-sick with envy sometimes. If sex was all that mattered in life, he would’ve been satisfied with one of his hookups in Cheyenne.
He kept circling back to what Willow had said—anyone who really loved him wouldn’t give a flyin’ fuck who he dated, just that he was happy. If she was right, he'd never live down the “I told you so” from her.But ... can you really come out? All the way? Can you be the man someone like Dale could fall in love with?
Pausing for a moment, he stared in disbelief at the piece of basswood in his hand and cursed. While he’d been woolgathering, his subconscious had somehow carved a penis of all fucking things! God, he had it bad for Dale. It was messing with his mind, turning him into a sex-starved horndog, and he hadn’t even seen the man naked yet! At least not outside of his own dreams.
He eyed the dick in his hand. It had a flared head with a notch on what would be the underside, and the texture, grain, and cuts in the wood seemed to give it veins and blood vessels. It was freaking huge, and he wondered how it compared to the real thing. And great, now he was getting hard thinking about it.
An engine caught his attention. Someone was coming up his long driveway. It was too early for Dale—Jeremiah wasn’t expecting him for another twenty minutes or so. He squinted, and his stomach flipped when he saw a Suburban with its emergency lightbar across the roof and cattle-guard bars in the front protecting the grill.
Sheriff Grady Minor was Jeremiah’s cousin and eight years older than him. Their mothers were sisters, but you’d never know it over the past twenty-five years or so. They’d had a falling out over God knew what and had barely spoken since. Over the years, Jeremiah had asked a few times what the fight had been about, but the responses had always been vague before the subject was quickly changed. With Jeremiah’s folks living in Arizona now, it was doubtful the sisters would be burying the hatchet any time soon. However, their children, who included Jenna and Grady’s brother and sister, were still pretty close to one another. Grady usually swung by for a visit once or twice a week, sometimes during his shift, just to chat for a bit, so it wasn’t a surprise the man was there.
As the vehicle approached and stopped in front of the house, Jeremiah’s gaze dropped to the big, wooden phallus still in his hands.
Shit!
With a quick glance around, he realized there was only one place to hide it before Grady got out of his truck and saw it. Leaning to the side, Jeremiah stuffed the damn thing under the all-weather cushion on the loveseat swing beside him. He stood and folded the knife before returning it to his back pocket. There were wood chips on the porch at his feet, but that was nothing new. His love of whittling was well known.
Grady climbed from the vehicle, carrying a bottle of water, and strode toward the steps. “Hey, cuz. Taking the day off?”
“Uh, sort of. Half day. Finished the last of the vaccinations and ear tags this morning.”
His cousin joined him on the porch and ... .Oh fuck!Jeremiah hid his cringe as Grady sat on the loveseat—
Right! On! Top! Of the covered dildo he’d carved with Dale in mind!
Crap!
The way Grady was sitting, one of three things could happen—he’d feel the lump and investigate, he’d move a certain way and the thing would shoot out from under the cushion onto the ground, or three, absolutely nothing. Jeremiah prayed like he’d never prayed before that the third option was the winner.
Taking off his brown hat, Grady set it on the seat next to him and got comfortable before cracking open the water bottle and taking a long drag. Jeremiah slowly lowered himself onto the rocking chair as he tried to control his panic. Between the goddamn dildo and the fact Dale would be arriving soon to take him on a date somewhere, he was sweating bullets. What else could possibly go wrong? Didn’t things happen in threes? Though even thinking it felt like tempting fate, and he really didn’t want to find out what else karma could pull out of her hat for him today.
He wiped his damp forehead. “So, uh ... how’s Rissa doing?” He considered Grady’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Larissa, a niece, and she, in turn, called him Uncle Jeremiah, as did several of his other cousins’ kids. Grady had been a single parent since his wife Leah passed away of ovarian cancer six years ago. Starting as a deputy with the sheriff’s department, at the age of twenty-one, he’d spent the next decade and a half rising through the ranks to captain. He’d then been elected to the top position where he remained for the past sixteen years. He’d beaten out two other contenders that first time and had run uncontested for every election since. The citizens of the county loved the man, and he gave them his all.
Grady rolled his eyes. “I’m the worst dadeverbecause I won’t let her date some eighteen-year-old asswipe.”
“Who is the little shit? I don’t need a badge—I’ll just bring my shotgun and tell him about how Marty Olsen’s pigs don’t leave any body parts to be found as evidence.”
The lawman snorted in what seemed like agreement. “Yeah, well, she’s grounded the next two weeks for sneaking out of the house the other night around midnight. Her friend, who’s also fifteen and not old enough to even have a learner’s permit yet, let alone her license, took her mother’s car without permission and picked Rissa and two other girls up for a joyride. I was at a town council meeting over in Butterfield that’d gone way too long. One of my deputies pulled the car over and then called me when he recognized Rissa. Needless to say, her friend’s parents, who’d been at a wedding, had a fit and grounded her for two months. They assured me she also wouldn’t be getting her permit until she was at least seventeen now. Of course, Rissa blames the whole thing on me. According to her, I should’ve let her friend drive home and not said anything to her parents—as if I would ever allow that.” He ran a hand through his hair. “God, parenting was so much easier when she was younger and thought I hung the moon. Teenagers are a whole different ballgame—one you can never fully prepare for.”
Jeremiah kept one eye on the dirt lane, expecting Dale to pull up any minute and not knowing what he’d say to Grady about it. Whatcouldhe say that wouldn’t sound stupid?Fuck. Grady’s always been good to me. Should I just tell him the truth?
“What’s with you?” Grady’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth dropped into a frown.
“W-what?” he sputtered as a brief shot of courage waned. “Nothing’s with me—I’m fine.”
Leaning toward Jeremiah, Grady opened his mouth to say something but then glanced down at the cushion he was sitting on. Jeremiah watched in horror as the other man shifted his hips back and forth on the seat.
