Hopper came up behind us. He’d collected all my bags and was carrying them with ease, the jerk.
“I’ll take Noel’s bags to his room.”
“I can get them,” I said.
Hopper ignored me, passing us to climb the porch stairs. Somehow, he switched the suitcase to his other hand and opened the door without dropping a single bag.
How annoying was that? Why did he have to be so damn capable?
“Let him go,” Dad said easily. “Hopper likes to be of use.”
I frowned. “He helps run the farm, you said?”
“The day-to-day labor,” Dad said with a nod. “Assisting me, is all. I’ll be back at it anytime.”
“You’ll be back at nothing until you’re fully recovered,” Mom insisted, shaking her head. “Honestly, this man will be the death of me.”
“At least then you’ll stop nagging me,” Dad grumbled as they turned for the house.
“Come to the kitchen,” Mom said. “I’ve got coffee on. I want to hear all about your life in Chicago!”
“Okay,” I agreed, following them inside. “But I want to hear all about the farm, too.”
It was past time that I learned more about the tree farm operation, just how taxing it was for my parents, and what role exactly Hopper played in their lives.
Only then could I protect their interests—and make sure they weren’t taken in by handsome farm boys looking to cash in.
CHAPTER 4
HOPPER
I satNoel’s bags just inside his bedroom door, formerlymybedroom. I’d removed a handful of clothes and my phone charger, lotion, and tissues from the nightstand. I’d been in a dry spell, and a guy had to take care of his needs somehow.
Occasionally, I drove to Riverton or Omaha to hit a gay club—but there wasn’t much point to using Grindr or Thrust apps. I knew everyone around here. If they were on that app, they were probably in the closet or already in a relationship. I didn’t need that kind of bullshit drama.
I spotted the corner of a box peeking out from under the bed. Shit. My box of…tools. I should have moved that. I started into the room.
“What are you doing?” Noel demanded from the staircase. I froze and turned. “Get out of my room.”
I returned to the doorway, leaning against the jamb. I had to play this cool. If Noel Grisold found the box full of my dildos under his bed, he’d probably laugh his ass off. No one sawmeas the guy who wanted that kind of thing, but damn it, I deserved a good dicking down as much as the next gay man, even if I was six foot three.
“Relax, I’m just dropping off your bags.”
He scoffed. “They’re right by the door. No need for you to go snooping.”
I smirked. “Noel, you’ve been gone for years. I’ve had all the chances to spy on you that I could have wanted. Turns out, you’re not that interesting.”
His hazel eyes narrowed, looking stormy with their swirl of amber and green flecks of color. “You sound like you’re proud of yourself for weaseling into my home.”
“Is it your home? I hadn’t noticed, given the fact that you’renever here.”
I brushed past him and sauntered down the stairs. He huffed loudly behind me, and the door slammed shut. I winced, cutting my eyes toward the living area. Maggie wasn’t there.
Judging by the scent of fried chicken making my mouth water, she was finishing up dinner. She hadn’t cooked much lately, given how much time she’d been devoting to Ed and the fact the poor old guy hadn’t had much of an appetite.
I wouldn’t turn down a golden, crispy brown chicken leg or three, though. I’d spent most of the day before Noel arrived cutting trees to haul into nearby towns. My body ached pleasantly with the soreness of a hard day’s labor, the best kind of workout.
I loved being outdoors, working with the trees and the land, just Cinnamon for company. There was a peace in the country you couldn’t find anywhere else in the world. Let people like Noel have their big cities. I wanted the wide-open horizon, the best sunsets in the whole dang world, and cicadas and frogs singing me a lullaby at night.
