Page 17 of The Finding Series: Vol. 1

“I don’t have a license,” Rhys finally admitted. “And I’m not about to risk my parole by driving without one.”

Finn fidgeted. “Just leave the spreader. We’ve been doing fine without it,” he said lamely.

“Yeah, well ‘we’ will be me when you leave and I don’t want to keep busting my ass hauling shit out to the field when there’s a perfectly good piece of machinery capable of doing the job.” Finn stiffened at the reminder that he was leaving and then anger flashed across his features as he shoved past the wheelbarrow and headed towards the truck. Rhys felt a stirring of lust at finally getting some kind of a response out of the other man who’d been on autopilot for the better part of a week now.

The trip to town was made in silence which had Rhys’ frustration ticking up with each mile that flew past. Finn pulled to a stop in front of the hardware store and turned the truck off, then just sat there.

“You’re coming in with me,” Rhys snapped as he reached for the door handle.

“No, I’m not,” Finn said quietly, his eyes dropping to his hands as a man walked past the front of a truck, his beady eyes fastened on Finn.

Rhys leaned over and grabbed Finn’s arm. “Get your fucking ass out of the truck right now!” Rhys got out of the truck and was satisfied to see Finn following his order.

“Why are you doing this?” Finn whispered.

Rhys didn’t answer as he headed into the store, Finn trailing a few steps behind. He marched past the portly clerk behind the counter who’d started to greet them, but fell silent when his eyes settled on Finn. It took Rhys only minutes to find the screws he needed and then they were making their way back to the front of the store. He dropped the screws on the counter.

The clerk ignored Rhys and stared at Finn, his face ruddy with anger. “I told you you weren’t welcome in my store anymore,” he nearly spit out.

“Hey!” Rhys said sharply, forcing the clerk’s gaze to his face. “You’ve got something to say, you say it to me!”

The man glanced back at Finn with disgust, then settled his eyes on Rhys and said, “I don’t want his kind in my store.”

White hot rage went through Rhys. “His kind?” he asked, his voice low.

“Rhys,” Finn said from behind him.

The clerk finally seemed to sense Rhys’ anger because he fell silent and the sneer disappeared from his face as apprehension went through him.

“Tell me exactly what ‘his kind’ is,” Rhys said.

“Rhys,” Finn tried again.

“You mean guys who take it up the ass? Or guys who prefer sucking dick to pussy?” Rhys snarled. “What do hillbilly fucks like you call ‘his kind’ out here? Queer, fag? Or you got some fancy bible-ass term you hide behind like sinner or abomination?”

“Rhys, let’s just go,” Finn pleaded. Rhys turned and saw that the few customers in the store were all watching them now.

“Fucking cowards and hypocrites,” Rhys quipped as he focused on each person who just stood there transfixed. “Well, guess what, you’ve got two fags invading your precious little town now,” he said with a smile.

“Three,” came another voice and Rhys hid a smile when Dane Winters appeared from one of the aisles, Emma cradled in one arm, a shopping basket in the other. He dropped the basket in front of the clerk and said, “I believe we’re ready to check out now, Mr. Henry.”

The clerk looked like he was about to have a heart attack, but he managed to start ringing up Dane’s purchases. ‘These too,” Dane said as he pushed the screws Rhys had dropped on the counter forward. The clerk hesitated before finally taking them.

As he began bagging the items, Dane turned and smiled at Finn, then extended his hand. “Dane Winters,” he said. Finn managed to stick out a shaky hand. Dane turned his attention to Rhys and began chatting as if there weren’t half a dozen eyes staring at them in mute shock. “Thought I’d bring Emma by this afternoon to check in on Kirby. How’s he doing?”

“He’s good,” Rhys said, his respect for this man skyrocketing.

“And the calf?” Dane asked as he handed the clerk his credit card.

“On the mend,” Finn interjected. “Back out with his mama.”

“Can you believe it, Mr. Henry?” Dane said. The clerk seemed caught off guard that Dane was speaking with him directly and stilled as he was about to run the credit card through. “Someone cut the fence on Mr. Bale’s ranch and one of the little ones got caught up in the wire and nearly died.”

The clerk was at a loss for words, so he just shook his head awkwardly.

Dane glanced around at the other customers, then turned his cool gaze back on Mr. Henry. “You know what else, Mr. Henry?”

Dane let his question hang there until the clerk finally managed to rasp out, “What?”

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