Page 38 of Wistful in Wyoming
“By the window.” Jeremiah pointed to a booth at the front of the restaurant, and Dale led them over to it, never once letting go of his hand. When Dale sat down and slid in, Jeremiah moved to sit across from him, but the other man shook his head, tugging Jeremiah into the booth beside him. He’d no sooner sat when Dale urged him closer, so they were pressed against each other from shoulders to hips to knees, and before Jeremiah could blink, the Marine’s arm was around his shoulders.
Jeremiah met Dale’s gaze and saw the question in his eyes.Is this too much? Nope, not even close.
“This is nice,” he said quietly, meant for Dale’s ears alone. The back of his neck and his cheeks were burning from the stares directed their way, but there was no turning back now—not even if he wanted to. He had a brief thought about grabbing Dale’s face and kissing him, to really give the lookie-loos something to gawk at, but he didn’t think he was ready for that yet.
Dale’s grin was so bright, Jeremiah swore it illuminated the room more than the sun streaming through the windows. “It sure is.”
A throat clearing drew their attention. Crystal Fox, the diner’s owner, greeted them both with a smile. She hadn’t brought over any menus, since everyone who lived in Antelope Rock knew it by heart. “Hi, guys. What can I get for you?”
There was no disbelief, revulsion, or hostility on her face—just friendliness and kindness, as always. Swallowing his surprise and relief, Jeremiah managed to stammer out an order for a bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke. When he was done, Dale ordered the same.
“I would’ve gotten the onion rings, but I won’t subject you to my onion breath,” Dale said with a wink after Crystal left them to give their order to the kitchen staff.
Even though he was still jittery, Jeremiah appreciated the other man’s levity. “I’ll have to remember to return the favor sometime.”
“I’ll be sure to remind you, cowboy.”
George “Georgie” McDaniel appeared and carefully set two glasses of ice-cold Coke on their table, seemingly not surprised or fazed to see them acting as a couple. “Hi, Jeremiah. Hi, Dale. Ms. Crystal said these are for you.”
The twenty-one-year-old man was a fixture in the Rock, working part-time at the diner as a busboy and also bagging groceries at the Pack & Sack. He had Down Syndrome, but it’d never slowed him down. A hard worker, he also had a heart of gold—his tender heart and sweet nature always drawing smiles from the customers. He could easily recall names of people he’d met, and even if you only went into the diner or grocery store once in a blue moon, he’d still remember yours after hearing it only once. He’d been living with his aunt, a schoolteacher, ever since his mother had passed away three years ago from cancer. Most of the townspeople kept a watchful eye on him, helping out when his disability might be an issue or someone was being cruel to him, which only happened on occasion.
“Thanks, Georgie,” the two men said in unison before he hustled away to clean off a table that’d been recently vacated.
Conversations around them resumed, although there was more whispering instead of the usual chitchat this time. Jeremiah fought the urge to scan the room to see the reactions on everyone’s faces. He was certain there was a combination of shock, disgust, and even a little understanding and acceptance. But those last two were probably in the minority and would be for a while until the town got used to the idea of a gay couple in their midst.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Jeremiah relaxed a little into Dale’s side, giving himself a moment to relish the freedom he felt. He was in a restaurant, on a date, with a man, and the world hadn’t come to a grinding halt, the sky hadn’t fallen, and God hadn’t struck him down. Maybe everything was going to be okay.
Meeting Dale’s amber-colored eyes, Jeremiah allowed himself to do something he’d never thought would’ve been possible in public—he smiled at his boyfriend. Hope and joy filled him, and the heavy weight that’d been on his shoulders for the past few days suddenly lifted. At that moment, he felt lighter than he had in his entire adult life. In fact, it was as if he was soaring high above a blissful sea of clouds.
That is until a snide voice broke into his happiness. “What the hell is this? You a fucking queer now, Urban? A goddamn pussy?”
Jeremiah stiffened then glared up at the man he’d known since elementary school standing beside their booth. Dale had also tensed and then started to move his arm. Shaking his head no, Jeremiah silently told his man to keep his arm where it was. Where it belonged. He knew he’d gotten his point across when the limb settled back down on his shoulders.
Anger rose within him at the years of self-doubt and self-hate that’d dictated his entire existence. But he was done with all that. Never again would he back down because he feared the reactions from intolerant and sanctimonious homophobes.
He glanced toward a nearby table where a couple he knew was sitting with their six-year-old daughter. “Joe, you might want to cover MaryBeth’s ears.”
His mouth gaping, Joe Parsons slowly reached over and did as suggested. Jeremiah scowled at the asshole in front of him again. Thirty years or so of denial and fear morphed into courage and irritation with a touch of sarcasm. He pulled up his proverbial britches and let loose. “Yeah, I am, Schneider. And if you’ve got a problem with that, well that’s too fucking bad.” His gaze flitted around the restaurant, his chin held high, as he raised his voice. “I’ll say it again for those in the back who didn’t hear me the first time. News flash, for any of you that care, although it’s beyond me why you’d give a good goddamn who I love, this is nothing new—I’m gay. I like dick.” There were a few audible gasps and snorts that he ignored. “Always have, and always will. And this is Dale Harris, myboyfriend, and I’m looking forward to the makeup sex we’re going to have as soon as we get home later. If you can’t accept that, I don’t give a flying fuck. We’re here to stay. Get over it.”
Frank Schneider sneered at him. “Really? No shame, huh? You’re a fucking pervert.”
That was exactly why Jeremiah had let their semi-friendship drift further apart as they’d gotten older. The man was a bigoted Asshole with a capital A. Feeling at a slight disadvantage with the man staring down at them, Jeremiah got to his feet, and Dale slid out of the booth behind him in silent support. Jeremiah appreciated it along with the fact his lover was letting him take control of the situation. “Am I now? That’s rich coming from you, Frank, since I know all about what you keep in your sock drawer. Yet, you don’t see me judging you for your taste in porn.” Raising an eyebrow, Jeremiah held Schneider’s gaze, letting the man remember when they’d been in their early twenties and had gotten drunk together with two other guys and he’d shown everyone the stack of Japanese snuff porn he kept hidden. It’d all been fake, Jeremiah had assumed, but if the asswipe could be comfortable getting off to simulated rapes and murder, than Jeremiah sure as fuck had nothing to be ashamed of either.
“Fuck you,” Schneider snapped, his already pug-like face grew even uglier with hate.
“Nah, that’s my job.” Dale said with a wink. Jeremiah almost burst out laughing as Schneider’s face turned purple. “Or sometimes, his too. We switch—keeps things interesting if you know what I mean.”
The couple did no such thing, having not had penetrative sex yet, but this fuckwit didn’t know that. Schneider was about to spit out a retort when the diner’s front door opened and Grady and another deputy wandered in, presumably to have lunch. Jeremiah’s cousin stopped in his tracks and eyed the three men in a standoff. “Afternoon, Jeremiah. Dale. Problem?”
It wasn’t a surprise Grady hadn’t greeted Schneider since the asshole hated the sheriff after being busted three times for DUIs and losing his driver’s license. The bully took a step back and wiped his hand across his mouth, probably because he didn’t want to be slapped with a disturbing the peace or harassment charge and thrown into the county jail for an overnight stay. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Mumbling, “fucking fudge packers,” Schneider stormed off, slamming the door to the diner behind him on his way out.
Less than a second later, Grady’s radio squawked as the dispatcher related there was an accident with injuries on the other side of town. Lunch would have to wait for him and his deputy as they rushed out the door. Jeremiah had no doubt Grady would be calling him later to find out what the hell he’d missed at the diner, whether he got the story through the town’s gossip mill or not.
“Listen up!” Crystal stood at the swinging door to the kitchen, her hands on her hips as she scrutinized the faces of her patrons. The petite, fifty-year-old woman’s expression was stern and unyielding. She tilted her head toward Dale and Jeremiah. “These two men are paying customers, and they’re welcome here anytime they wish. Just like all of you are. I pass judgment on nobody, since the last time I checked, I hadn’t qualified for sainthood yet. If any of you have a problem with that, there’s the door. If not, shut up, keep your eyes to yourself, and eat your meals. I won’t have any derogatory talk, harassment, or finger pointing in my diner!”
Kam Fox, one of Crystal’s two adult sons, stood behind his mom’s shoulder, his white apron stained with grease and a meat cleaver in his large fist. A good foot taller—just like his twin brother Ged—he towered over her. For a small woman, she’d produced two giant-assed offspring. Kam was the main cook at the diner, and Ged was one of Jeremiah’s ranch hands. Both were good men who had done their mother proud.
