Page 42 of On the Land, We Shoot Straight
“Grady.”
“You don’t check your messages?” Jacobs asked.
Grady shrugged. He didn’t want to get into how he’d been out camping it with the horses; even the old timers like Jacobs thought he was crazy for doing it that way nowadays, and Grady couldn’t be bothered hearing it. He couldn’t give a shit what they thought of him, he just thought it was more economical of his time to not have to hear it.
“You ready, Dog?”
Dog’s ears pricked up at his name, but he didn’t move otherwise.
“And I thought your daddy was difficult to deal with,” Jacobs said.
Grady looked at him. He had the look of a man who’d been wanting to say that for a long time, and now he finally had the words out there he wasn’t sure if it wouldn’t have been better to take them to the grave.
Grady turned so he was facing the garden and spat. He surveyed the perfectly pruned rose bushes and manicured lawn. They’d had some of the driest years on record, were staring down the barrel of another drought, but that garden sure looked like it didn’t know what it meant to be thirsty.
“C’mon, Dog.”
Dog got up and walked down the steps. He made his way to the truck and leaped up before sprawling down again like he’d just been running for miles.
Grady turned back. He nodded at Jacobs, then Jeanine behind him.
“Jacobs,” he said, and then he followed his dog out. He could hear Jacobs grumbling something behind him.
Grady walked around to the driver’s side and rubbed Dog’s head. He got in and drove home.
Cole was waiting on the porch, and Dog leaped down to greet him. Lady intercepted him, her body wriggling as she sniffed Dog’s rear, and he returned the favor.
“Hello, Dog,” Cole said around a bright grin.
Dog meandered over, tail wagging slowly as he accepted Cole’s head rub. He went to the door, and Cole got up to let him in.
“All right?” Cole asked as he turned back to Grady.
Grady snorted and shook his head. “Damn dog.”
“He’s all right.” Cole patted him as he went by and into the house.
Grady shook his head again. Cole opened the door to let him pass, his eyes still crinkling with a smile. Grady stopped. He put his hand on Cole’s hip and cupped the bone, his fingers slipping up to touch the bare skin under his shirt. He dragged his fingertips across the flat of his stomach, kept his eyes on Cole’s as he teased his skin. Cole’s smiled changed from amused to sly. He slid his hand down into Grady’s back pocket and tugged him inside.
The far-off drone of a car stopped them before the screen door slammed. Cole took his hand back and moved away so Grady’s hand was forced to slide from him. Grady frowned. He went back out to the porch and waited.
A red sports car appeared at the top of the driveway, engulfed in dust, and Grady felt a slither of unease. It was an unfamiliar feeling to have at the sight of his wife’s car. He could still feel Cole behind him at the door.
“It’s the missus,” Grady said before Cole could ask.
“Oh.”
Charmaine pulled up, put it in Park and got out. She was beaming at him, dressed in what she called her “farm clothes”—white button-up, fitted jeans, cowboy boots—her long blonde hair styled in an artful bun.
“Hey, babe,” she called as she popped her head up before leaning back down to get her purse from the passenger seat.
Grady went down the path and met her at the front of the car. She leaned up to kiss him, and he pressed his lips to hers. He drew back.
“You got a bag?”
“In the trunk.” She smiled, ran her hand up and down his arm.
Grady heard the screen door slam, and Charmaine looked over his shoulder.
