Page 8 of The Texas Sterling Collection
“So, she’s been calling? I don’t remember any calls from her since I came home four months ago.”
Walt leaned in with a whisper. “That’s because I delete the messages as soon as her voice comes on. I don’t listen to them.”
I chuckled. “Good for you.”
Walt boxed my arm. “So, ask Rod out here for steaks. You need someone besides me to talk to.”
Sipping my beer, I thought about Rod. Warmth spread in my chest when I pictured Rod’s smile as we joked about being older. Walt made a good point. I didn’t have any friends. Not because I didn’t know people. I was a Sterling and one of the wealthiest men in the county. Because of my wealth, I came in regular contact with several local politicians, business owners, bankers, and attorneys. We made donations to a few local organizations. We supported the Sterling Collection in the county library and the Sterling Gallery at the county museum. We supported the local Food Pantry and Noah’s Attic, providing needy children with clothing, shoes, and school supplies. So, our familiar name included connections. After our parents died, Walt and I continued the traditions established by them. Because my family is so well known, I am careful about personal relationships. But I crave a close personal relationship with someone special. A guy to talk with, have fun with, and be with. Someone who focused on me, not my wealth or power.
Walt’s suggestion about Rod was worth pursuing. I would ask him to come out one evening soon.
Chapter Six
ROD
At the end of the day, I clomped up the wooden stairs leading to the side entrance of my family’s historic home. Built by my great-grandfather, Cornelius Bonner, in the late 1800s, my parents kept the house as original as possible. Dad never bothered to modernize the original door locks, so this door still uses a skeleton key. The old, brass doorknob rattled as I turned it, and the door squeaked as it opened. It always squeaked and reminded me of my childhood.
I strolled into the foyer, set my briefcase on the wooden floor, loosened my tie, and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. After our parents died, my sister Jean moved to Lubbock to be near her daughter and grandchildren. I couldn’t bring myself to sell this 3,800-square-foot home. Too spacious for one person, I either needed to find a man to share it with or find a smaller place and sell it.
Imagine the scandalous headline in the local newspaper. “LOCAL PROFESSOR IS GAY." I relocated here a decade ago. After a decade, finding a man I wanted to be friends with, let alone a partner, proved impossible. I enjoyed my college staff and faculty friends. We hung out together sometimes. After some of those same college friends retired, I bought a retirement home in the Texas Hill Country. But non-college friends? No. My new student, Wyl, flashed into my head. Okay, I met this one guy...
In the kitchen, I pulled a bottle of Zinfandel from the wine rack and uncorked it to let it breathe. I thought of Wyl, and a wave of anticipation flowed through me. He topped my short list of best-looking guys. Despite my fear of breaking thestudent/faculty relationshiprule, I imagined myself spending time with him, which reminded me that men like Wyl likely married at a young age. He didn’t mention a wife or kids this morning, but it never came up. Being around such an attractive man while interacting with his wife and kids didn’t work for me. According to the movies, a woman can always tell. Nope. Too risky.
After changing clothes, I poured a glass of wine and settled in the living room. I scanned the room. Many of the furnishings stayed with the house after my grandfather died, and my grandmother moved to Florida to be with her sister. A few furnishings remain from when my great-grandfather first built the house in 1875. I wondered what Blackfield life was like after the Civil War. I wish I had asked more about our family history before my parents died.
I sipped wine as my thoughts again turned to Wyl. I missed male companionship. Small and conservative, Blackfield boasted the total absence of gay nightlife. I never enjoyed trolling the gay bars in Dallas, where an entire section of the city boasted many gay establishments and stores. My ex and I used to go to parades and other events, but his betrayal made me shy away from getting involved. Not only did Patrick disappear without a trace, but I got caught up in the backlash of his embezzlement. We owned our home together. The bank wanted to take the house, but I was not responsible for his debts or actions. However, I must either come up with half the appraised value to pay the bank or sell the house so the bank can take the money for its half. I opted to sell the house, which prompted my move to Blackfield to start over. As far as I know, Patrick avoided capture. I hope he fled the country.
I picked up the Blackfield newspaper and thumbed through all eight pages, including the one with the obituaries. On the local events page, one photo of a group of women caught my attention. The local bridge club played a tournament. The name Mitzi Sterling popped out of the attendee list like a flashing marquee. So that’s the Mitzi Wyl mentioned. Aside from Stella, I didn’t realize Mitzi kept her local connections. I tossed the folded-up newspaper to the floor and picked up my laptop.
New messages flooded my email, including ones from my college address. One email drew my attention. Frommarinerancher75with a subject ofWednesday?Curious, I opened it. Wyl sent it. My heart pounded. Why did it pound when I thought of him? His striking features, deep voice, alluring smile, sexy braid, and the whole rancher thing. That’s why. At forty-five, I passed my prime but kept in shape. Not as toned and muscled as Wyl, but not flabby.
Rod, can I meet with you before class on Wednesday? I have a question about the reading assignment. Wyl Sterling
Wyl needed my help. Whatever he wanted, I would do. My hands shook as I typed a reply.Hi Wyl. Sure. I’m always in my office by 7:00. Come early, and we’ll have coffee.I clicked send and took a deep breath. The friendly smile Wyl sported after class stayed with me.He probably smiled at everyone.I lectured myself with my logical side, but my emotional side gnawed at me.Aw g’wan! What could it hurt? You could at least find out if he’s married with children.I shook my head to rid the thought and reached up to flick the imaginary devil from my left shoulder.
Chapter Seven
WYL
In the four months since I retired from the Marines, I slept better than in years, but I still woke before dawn. I did chores on the ranch during the early morning hours. This morning, I got to the campus around 6:20 and settled into a comfy chair in the fine arts building lobby. While in the Corps, I deciphered all kinds of secret codes and created codes almost impossible to crack. But music turned out to be a baffling code.
I knew Rod could explain the assignment so that I would understand. Besides, I needed a reason to spend time with him. He's a “good friend” kind of guy. And as Walt pointed out, I needed a good friend. But I needed to find out more about him. He probably enjoyed a whole circle of friends with whom he and his wife hung out. His bare ring finger may be a sign, but not every married man wears a ring. A single, handsome, outgoing man like Rod must enjoy a special person in his life. If not a gal, a man? I frowned. Rod deserved happiness, but I wouldn’t mind a turn at being his plus one.
The entry door down the hall opened. I shook those thoughts and shoved the music textbook into my satchel. I stood, eager for my second meeting with the handsome professor as he strolled toward me. “Morning, Rod.”
“Morning, Wyl." He set his briefcase on a chair and offered his hand. " You’re here early.”
His warm, friendly shake sent chills up my arm despite the warm late August morning. “So are you.” I grinned from the sensations Rod's touch gave me and from my obvious point.
“I like getting started before the campus gets too busy.”
I nodded. “In the Marine Corps, nobody sleeps late, and now I can’t break the habit of rising early.”
He picked up his briefcase and motioned toward the hallway. “Head into the break room. I’ll toss my things in my office.”
I picked up my satchel and followed him. And I didn't admire his ass. Nope. Not more than twice, anyway. Okay, three times. “I hope this isn’t too early. You may want quiet time before a pesky older student shows up to bother you.”
Rod faced me at his office door. “Bother me? I’m always here early, and while I make good use of the quiet time, I’m always happy to help a student. Most students struggle to make it to the 8:00 class, so we’ve got the place to ourselves. Besides,” he turned to put his things in his office, still talking to me. “It’s refreshing to chat with someone who doesn’t start or end every sentence withlike…you know.” Rod grinned.
