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Aleksey drained his glass, which at least prevented him from grinding his teeth. “I have discovered over my long life that failure can sometimes be as instructive as success.”
Ben tipped his head to one side, apparently thinking about this response to his logical statement, then concluded, “I wouldn’t really know anything about that. I’ve never failed at getting anything I wanted—when I wanted it enough. Can we go eat now? I’m absolutely starving.”
* * *
Chapter 14
Six Months Before April
Ben rarely thought much about the wealth he now had besides it giving him the wherewithal to buy boys’ toys on a whim, to own an impressive collection of shiny gadgets, and to indulge his daughter with things no girl could do without—most recently a miniature off-road motorcycle, a replica 1936 Blanc Chateau BMW pedal car, and the Nerf Super Soaker Zombie Strike Deadshot Blaster.
But the novel ability to plan, organise and buy a holiday for Nikolas gave Ben a rare sense of…maturity.
He returned to Google and continued his search for the perfect Dude Ranch experience. It was difficult deciding what to input when not knowing exactly what he wanted himself. He didn’t envisage Nikolas on a holiday with any gay men, for many reasons, but on the other hand he didn’t want a holiday where he and Nik couldn’t indulge in their favourite pastime, which he knew, if put under a microscope, would make them both appear…less than robustly heterosexual.
So, he needed a men-only riding holiday with nothing overtly gay involved that would nevertheless accommodate his intention to ride something much more fun than a horse. It was a challenge.
The more he read about the ranches, the more he came to suspect that Nikolas would be entirely dismissive of the concept of any group of heterosexual men choosing to holiday without women, and that these vacation experiences were, by definition, gay. It did seem…odd.
Ben was entirely defeated at the first hurdle. There was clearly a cultural clash he couldn’t overcome, as he didn’t really understand the references used. He had a brainwave. He had translators.
He texted Peyton and then on a whim included Jackson Keane, whom he didn’t ordinarily speak to. Although Nikolas had reassured him that the encounter he and Jackson had enjoyed ontheirbed had been as distasteful to him as it had been to Ben, Ben knew Nikolas a little better now than to wholly believe this. There was no way on God’s Earth that Nikolas would undress someone with the superb body the gym-freak American had and not stop to admire it. It wasn’t even plausible.
So, Ben avoided Nikolas’s CEO whenever he could, but needs must, and so he sent the text to both Americans:Are Dude ranches gay?
Peyton came back first—shit yeahtotally.
Jackson a few minutes later—fucking A they are.
Ben was puzzled by these oddly emphatic replies, but slightly reassured. Gay then, but if the pictures were to be believed, patronised by extremely non-gay-looking clients. In other words…them. They’d blend in seamlessly.
The next problem was deciding which.
Again, a balance had to be struck when it came to Nikolas—somewhere on the continuum between ex-Russian Special Forces operative who had survived horrors that would shrivel most men to inert husks, and effete gay art collector who moaned if his manicured nails got threatened. Ben needed to find a holiday that was challenging, rough and ready, in the wilderness, but at the same time entirely luxurious and without any actual danger whatsoever: this was intended to be a proper holiday.
Only that spring, they had spent one night camping on Dartmoor with Tim and Squeezy, and although Ben had seen the relish in Nikolas’s gaze as they had sat around the small stove, watching stars emerge, subsequent occasional murmurings ofwe must do it againsoonhad not actually come to fruition. It took a certain type of masochist to leave a beautifully appointed bed with attached wetroom shower, sauna and hot tub to sleep rough on the moors. Nice to promise in some vague distant future when the weather improved, or, even better, to look back on as a great bonding moment…
Now, Ben was committing them to a month of such experiences and it had better be right.
He finally found the one he wanted.
Mountainous. Remote. Superb challenging trails. Camping out under the stars every night…or, for those who preferred…sleeping in the luxuriously appointedpods, which were pre-erected at the chosen campsites.
Ben clicked through the images. There was even a questionnaire to help the undecided work out what sort of vacationer they truly were…Question 1: when you reach for a drink, do you prefer: a. water in a canteen which you filled from the glacial river; b. water you harvested yourself from rain in an ingenious device made from spare clothing; c. a choice from our extensive range of liquor or beer, with the only chill coming from the ice against your glass. Question 2: at the end of a long day in the saddle would you rather: a. find yourself entirely lost and dependent only upon your superb navigational skills to get you back to civilization; b. discover an old trapper’s cabin and hunker down under some bear skins until daylight returns; c. check the temperature in your luxury hot tub before sinking up to your neck with Answer c from Question 1 in your hand.
And that was Ben’s problem. Nikolas could be an ‘a’, ‘b’, or ‘c’, depending on his mood. But the ‘cs’ seemed the likelier options for a safe and undemanding holiday. ‘A’ and ‘b’ smacked a little too keenly of previous vacations in less than charming circumstances.
The pods were… Ben wrinkled his nose as he realised he’d been about to use the wordadorable. He clearlyneededthis holiday away fromprincessesandgowns. And, ironically, that was the reason for the whole trip. Princesses and bloody gowns on ex-wives. Hehadto do this. Ben clicked on the availability dates, put in the whole month of January with no hope at all he'd find any vacancies at this late date, but miraculously found two and selected them.
The booking page he got back rather explained the openings. When he’d picked himself up off the floor at the price of two adults on such a holiday (and they helpfully reminded potential clients that prices didn’t include airfares or travel to and from the ranch), he got why he maybe should have selected options ‘a’ or ‘b’! They were cheaper! Then he remembered he was very, very wealthy. The kind of wealth that didn’t really have to be considered in day-to-day planning. And anyway, he’d been spending Nikolas’s money fairly freely for the last nine years and hadn’t had much of a problem with doing so. But clicking that button and using what Nikolas frequently reminded him was nowtheirmoney represented taking responsibility for this endeavour. Taking responsibility forNikolas.
He accepted.
He paid.
There was no price he wasn’t willing to pay for the man he loved.
* * *
