Page 33 of Wistful in Wyoming
“Day after tomorrow. We have another big order to fill first, and we’ll have to wait for our next truck to come in before we can fill yours. Is that all right?”
“Sure, no problem.”
Jeremiah handed over his credit card and waited while the man processed his payment. He made a mental note to keep the receipt and add the total into that month's expenses in his accounting book, when a voice from behind him jerked him out of his thoughts.
“Yeah, I hear Jeremiah likes to receive. Know what I mean, Carl?”
Nasty guffaws accompanied the not-so-vague slur. “Sure do. Urban here takes it up the ass, fucking queer.”
Whipping around, Jeremiah glared at the men—Carl Skinner and Ken Larson, two of the biggest loudmouths and bullies around. They were about five or six years younger than Jeremiah, and like him, they’d lived in the Rock their entire lives. Anger and humiliation warred within him, making him hesitate in his response. Which was the worst thing he could have done.
“Look at that! He can’t even say nothin’!” Skinner cackled, his yellow teeth flecked with pieces of chewing tobacco and his unkempt beard speckled with brown stains from spitting the juice.
Shaking his head, Jeremiah snatched his credit card back from Ducky, who silently glared at the two assholes, and shoved past them, toward the door. Their bawdy laughter followed him, and his face burned red-hot with shame. Why didn’t he say anything? His feelings for Dale were deepening by the day, and he couldn’t open his stupid mouth to defend his lover or himself? To defend what was developing between them?
“Hey! I wasn’t done talking to you, Urban!”
Skinner and Larson had followed him out of the store, but it was the former who’d shouted at him. For some unknown reason, Jeremiah jerked to a halt. Why he was giving in to the bigoted asshole, he didn’t know.
He whirled around and snapped, “What?”
“I said I wasn’t done talkin’ to you.” Skinner took several steps toward him, his cocky grin making his face even uglier. “You a fuckingfaggot? Is what people been sayin’ true? You love taking it up the ass and sucking cock?”
The insults sliced through him like a knife. Agony followed in their wake.
“No, I’m not fucking gay. Whoever told you that was lying, so just back the fuck off,” Jeremiah snarled, wanting nothing more than to plant his fist in this bastard’s face. But he couldn’t. His gut tightened, and he immediately regretted his words, wishing a hole would open under his feet and swallow him. The first opportunity to tell the world he was falling in love with Dale Harris, and he’d balked. He should have said, Yes, I’m a queer! I like dick—no, I LOVE dick! And I won’t be cowed and made to feel like less because of it!
But he said none of those things, even as his heart screamed them.
A slamming door caught his attention. Turning his head, he saw Dale glaring out at him from the driver’s window of his truck before throwing it in gear. His tires squealed and smoked as he peeled out of the parking lot like the hounds of hell were on his bumper.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, adding to the foreboding Jeremiah felt. The sky was growing even darker while flashes of lightning streaked across the heavens, as if the universe was pissed off at his behavior too.
Jeremiah didn’t see Skinner’s laughing face or hear the vile words the bastard continued to spew. The only thing that filled his mind and broke his heart was Dale’s enraged and devastated face.
Racing to his truck, he didn’t pause to think how it would look as he jumped in and tore out after Dale. His own shrieking tires adding to the burnt rubber smell hanging thick in the air. Jeremiah’s heart beat a frantic tattoo in his chest and bile seared the back of his throat. Without a doubt, the entire rumor mill would have confirmation he was gay within the next half hour, and he honestly didn’t give a shit. The only thing he cared about was fixing the mess he’d created with a few careless words thrown out to save face in front of a couple of two-bit bullies.
He stomped his foot on the gas and roared after Dale. The drive flew by, passing in a blur, while his mind played a never-ending loop of regret and apologies, in between self-flagellation. Strong gusts of wind shook the truck as the sky could no longer hold back the rain. At first, it was only a few drops slapping on the windshield but then it quickly intensified. His wipers struggled to keep up with the downpour.
He turned onto Willow’s drive, following the cloud of dust Dale had left in his wake, which was being quickly pounded back to earth by the deluge, turning it to mud. The truck skipped to a stop in the loose gravel of the parking area next to the other man’s pickup. In a panic, Jeremiah leaped from the vehicle, not bothering to turn it off or even close the door. He needed to get to Dale. To explain and beg forgiveness—whatever it took. He couldn’t allow this to be the end of them—not when he was falling in love for the first time in his life.
Rain pelted down in sheets hard enough to sting his face as he made a mad dash toward the barn. The lightening was closer now, stabbing through the humid air and illuminating the sky like a strobe lamp. The thunder was so loud, he could feel it vibrating the earth under his boots as he ran through puddles that’d already formed. He was soaked to his skin in seconds but paid it no mind.
“Dale!” he shouted, sprinting through the open door of the barn, ignoring the warning barks of Johnny and June. Once they realized who he was, they would calm down.
The alpacas were huddled under covered shelters in their corral, while the goats and dogs were holed up in the barn, but there was no sign of Dale. Exiting again and rounding the corner of the building, he ran toward Dale’s RV and then pounded his fist on the door, shaking the whole vehicle.
The door flew open, almost hitting him in the face. He faltered back several steps as Dale’s furious face greeted him. “What?” Spittle shot from his mouth with the spat word.
“Dale, please. What you heard ...” Jeremiah trailed off. The downpour battered his body, as the weight of his feelings and what he needed to say to fix things crushed his shoulders. Fear like he’d never known cloyed at him, smothering him. In that moment, he wasn’t afraid of what anyone said about him but that he could lose this man—this good, decent, beautiful man. That he may have lost him already.
He stammered, trying to get the words out, but they wouldn’t come. A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, the crack that followed was near deafening. Jeremiah nearly jumped out of his skin, as the air crackled around them, but he kept his eyes on Dale. The storm raging overhead had nothing on what he saw in the other man’s eyes.
“WhatI heard?” Dale shouted over the pounding rain and roaring thunder. “What? You mean, you denying us? Denying me? I was a fuckin’ fool to ever get involved with a closet case! One redneck asshole confronts you, and you just let him walk all over you and everything we’ve been building! I’ve been patient and understanding, but that ends here, Jeremiah! I’m done being your dirty little secret!”
Dale’s cheeks were flushed red with fury, sweat dotting his brow as his shirt and jeans darkened with the rain the wind was blowing through the door. His mouth was set in a grim line while anguish radiated out from his whiskey eyes.
Jeremiah’s stomach clenched. He’d done that. He was the cause of Dale’s pain, and the thought had his heart splintering.
