“It’s no problem. I can go with Mal. No big deal.”
Fuck, why had I said it like that? Because now everyone was going to know that itwasa big deal. Oh well. It was out there now. All I could think about was uninterrupted time with Mal. We’d be stuck together in the truck for nine hours round trip. We’d be in the same space. It sounded like a dream.
Dad relented. “Sure. Sounds like a plan.”
He knew something was up. I could tell by the eyebrows. I’d learned to read those eyebrows by the time I was three. But he didn’t say anything. Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to hear about it later. But for now, I’d get the time with Mal, get to know him a little bit better, and that could only be a good thing.
I stepped onto my porch in the early morning light and took a deep breath. Anticipation brewed in my gut and I had to consciously stuff the feeling down. Yes, Mal and I would be alone together for a long stretch, I’d get his undivided attention, but really, that was all this could be. I knew it couldn’t go farther than that.
Didn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to it.
Mal left his cabin before I could set off for the house. Pay was snuggled onto his father’s shoulder, eyes closed. It was pretty early for the kid. Mal didn’t usually start his day until eight, which meant this was at least an hour earlier than Pay was used to being awake.
“Morning,” I whispered, waiting for him to join me. I’d hitched the trailer to my truck last night, so I left it down by the barns. Not that I always drove it up here. I liked the walk.
“Morning,” Mal murmured back. He adjusted the strap of the bag on his shoulder. I almost offered to carry it. But before I got the chance to say anything, Pay lifted his head and gave me a sleepy smile.
“Crew.” His voice was slurred with sleep, but he leaned sideways and held out his arms. I didn’t even think about it, just took the kid from his dad. Pay pressed his forehead against my neck, tucked his arms between us, and let out a sigh. I rubbed his back.
Mal just stared, mouth open for a moment before he caught himself. Then he shook his head and started walking. I followed behind him.
We didn’t talk. It was early and Pay was still dozing. When we made it to the house, Mal had a quiet conversation with Mom while I laid Pay on the couch and covered him with a throw. Mal came over a second later and tucked Mr. Raven in beside him. Mom handed me a cooler with drinks and snacks for the road, and then shooed us out the door.
The first hour passed in mostly silence. The radio played softly in the background and I wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. I wasn’t the best at small talk, and even worse when what I wanted to know was so much deeper. In the end, Mal was the one to start.
“Your mom is great for looking after Pay all day. I don’t know which one of them is going to be more disappointed when he starts daycare.”
I chuckled. “Mom, probably. You might have guessed but she loves having kids around. Demi has started with the grandkids, but I know she’s ready for more. Not that she wouldn’t respect our choices, but she’s already dropping hints about surrogacy and adoption.”
There was a beat of heavy silence. Then Mal said, “What?”
I glanced over at him and saw his beetled brows. I saw my opening and took it. “Because most of us are some flavor of queer. Which is funny when you think about it. But the straights are definitely outnumbered in our family. Only Demi, Gem, and Isley identify as straight. The rest of us? No guarantee we’ll end up with an opposite gender partner. For some of us, there’s a guarantee we won’t.”
“So you’re not straight?” He said it slowly, as though he was piecing together some puzzle.
“Nope. Pan.” I chanced a glance at him and couldn’t read his expression at all. Even though I was sure the answer was no, I asked anyway. “That a problem?”
“No!” It came out a little too loud. “Of course not. I’m, um, not…I’m bi.”
It was a quiet confession and excellent news. If I was going to make a play for him. Which I wasn’t. Because it was inappropriate. Dammit.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said instead of the hundred other things I wanted to say. He blew out a breath and his shoulders relaxed. I settled in too, pleased I’d said the right thing.
After that, small talk was easier. He opened up just a bit about growing up on his farm and how he’d trained Jaina to help him move the herd. I, in turn, regaled him with stories of growing up in a family of ten kids. Like the time Bodhi climbed the barn and ran the peak of the roof, and got a broken collar bone for his trouble. Or when we convinced Judson and Kee they were adopted and they tried to run away and find their “real” family. I even told him about Gigi Fern and what a blessing she’d been in our lives.
Adelmann’s was packed by the time we pulled in. Things had already started and we had to park at the back of the lot. Mal stayed close as we wound our way through trucks and trailers to the sale barn. I aimed right for the stalls, not ready to head to the ring yet.
Mal tugged my arm and I leaned down slightly to hear him. I distinctly heard him inhale deeply before he spoke. “Hawk’s not expecting to find the horse he’s looking for, since nothing was listed online matching the description.”
I touched Mal’s back and herded him into a slightly quieter corner so we could have a conversation. “He said. But there’s always horses that don’t make it onto the site ahead of time. It’s pretty specific so I doubt we will find it either. But let’s look.”
It took Mal a few seconds to respond. I had the urge to push in closer, to really feel the heat of his body. But thankfully, my common sense prevailed and I stepped back instead. Malseemed to breathe a bit easier and he slid past me. Fuck. I needed to get a hold of myself.
We walked the aisles. There were a lot of really good-looking horses, everything from quarter horses to appendixes to drafts and draft crosses. Mares, stallions, gelding, all ages, colors, and sizes. Adelmann’s was, on the whole, a really good sale.
Mal suddenly stopped and then stepped closer to a stall. I hurried to catch up and see what caught his attention. The horse was looking a little mangy, his spring shed still hanging on. He was some type of draft cross and glancing at his sheet, I saw he was a mix of several big breeds. Listed as a stallion prospect. Not sold, which meant he’d already gone through the ring. Named Bob.
I snorted. “What a shit name.”
