Dare could feel the sharp edge of winter in the October air as he turned the tractor back toward the barn. The wooden crate behind him was full of the last of the harvest, nearly rotten apples shoveled up from the ground and destined for a neighbor's pigpens. In the last two months, he'd learned the different smells of the orchard as picking season played out. First, the sharp, tangy scent of green apples just beginning to blush. Then the sweet perfume of ripe red and gold apples heavy on the late August air. And now the faintly bitter vinegar smell of fallen apples and fallen leaves.
He shivered a bit and pulled his flannel shirt closed over the t-shirt underneath. Like the other pickers, he had been sleeping in the bed of his truck and using the shower in the barn. Last night had been cold enough to wake him around three in the morning, and he wasn't particularly looking forward to tonight.
Maybe he'd head south after they finished here; Alvarez said he knew of a few places in Texas that needed hands over the winter. The jobs didn't pay worth shit, but it wasn't like he had anything to spend it on, other than yard-sale books and gas. Or he could head down to St. Louis, get a job and a room, and wait for planting season in the spring.
He didn't even think about going back to Shadewell, though. That wasn't home anymore.
Too bad jobs were scarce in this area, though. He'd fallen in love with the gently rolling land, the stands of thick forest broken by orderly rows of fruit trees and small fields. It was a big change from the miles of relentlessly flat cornfields he'd known all his life.
Shifting down to low gear, he eased the tractor into the barn. Nearly all the available floor space was filled with four-foot-square wooden crates loaded with every kind of apple he'd ever heard of, and a few he hadn't until that fall. Alvarez gave him a quick wave and went back to hauling the crates into the sorting area with a hand-operated pallet jack. The rest of the workers were sorting as fast as he could empty them onto the conveyor belt. Everyone had a job to do, for at least two more days.
Deverell was right in the thick of things, like usual. The orchard owner seemed to be everywhere at once, lending a hand to wrestle a crate into place or kicking the engine on the conveyor belt when it sputtered. His bright strawberry-blond ponytail stood out like a light in the crowd of darker-haired migrant workers.
Dare made his way to the boss and said, "That's the last load. Unless you want me to sort, I'll start moving boxes to the loading dock."
For a moment, dark blue eyes focused on him; Dare shivered and didn't know why. "Yeah, that's fine. Keep an eye out for boxes marked with a D; they don't go on the trucks. Set them by the coring machine." Dare nodded and turned to go, only to freeze when Deverell touched his arm. "See me after supper tonight. I've got a question for you."
He met that unnerving direct gaze again and managed to nod. A moment later, something behind him caught Deverell's quicksilver attention and diverted that gaze. Dare spared a moment to sigh quietly in relief as the boss let go and yelled, "Maria! Winesaps don't go in the grocery boxes. If you don't see 'em in the store, don't pack 'em!" And Deverell was off and running again.
*****
Just after eight o'clock that night, Dare smoothed his last clean shirt into the cleanest pair of jeans he'd been able to find and knocked on the kitchen door of the farmhouse. He'd been stuffed full of enchiladas and sopapillas by Connie Alvarez, in exchange for tutoring her three kids in math. Connie was a formidable woman; if she decided her children would get an education, little details like having no permanent address weren't going to stop her.
At least he'd managed to distract himself for a few minutes at a time. Something about Deverell made him tense -- not because he didn't trust the man, but maybe because he did. In the two months he'd worked for Deverell Orchards, Dare had developed a healthy respect for his employer. The man was shrewd, quick and almost painfully blunt when he thought things weren't going the way they should. He was also willing to wade in and get dirty right beside the people working for him.
It didn't hurt that he was easy on the eyes. Curly strawberry-blond hair worn in a low ponytail, dark blue eyes and a firmly muscled body...Dare felt his cheeks heat and muttered a curse as his cock stirred to life. He still wasn't used to this even after a year, wasn't used to deliberately checking out other guys. At this rate, he was going to die a gay virgin.
The back door opened and Deverell waved him in through the screen. "Come on in. Getting a bit chilly out there."
Dare followed him into the large kitchen, reflecting wryly that he'd been grateful for that chill a minute ago, and he could use it again now. The other man had just taken a shower. His hair was down in a damp, wavy curtain that just reached past his shoulders, and he'd changed into clean, faded jeans and a Perdue University sweatshirt.
He watched Deverell head for the fridge, then deliberately looked away when the other man bent over to retrieve an amber bottle from the bottom shelf.
"Beer? Soda? Cider?" Deverell offered, and Dare steeled himself to turn back.
"Soda's fine," he managed to reply without his voice going higher. Thanks to the last two years of soul-searching, Dare knew it wasn't the booze he had a problem with; it had just been a really bad solution to the real problems. But he had made a promise he intended to keep.
Deverell handed him a can of Pepsi and waved his hand down the short hallway. "Let's go into the living room."
The room wasn't large, not surprising given that most of the living was done in the kitchen. It did have a comfortable overstuffed couch and a battered coffee table that obviously doubled as a footstool. Dare sat at one end and opened his soda while his boss settled on the other.
When the man just sat and stared at him thoughtfully, Dare prompted, "You had a question for me, Mr. Deverell?"
"Call me Culley, please." Sock-covered feet tapped restlessly on the hardwood floor. "I have something to ask you, and something to tell you."
Frowning a bit, Dare wondered what the question could be. It wasn't like Deverell -- Culley -- to beat around the bush. If the man wanted to know something, he just asked straight out.
"Do you have plans for the winter?"
Dare shrugged. "Nothing definite. I'm trying to decide whether to head south with the others or just look for a job in St. Louis until spring."
Shaking his head, Culley sighed. "St. Louis isn't a good bet. Between TWA and the Ford plant layoffs, there aren't too many openings for laborers. And the south has too many legal workers fighting for jobs with too many illegal workers." He took a drink from the bottle in his hands, then sat it down on the coffee table. "If I could offer you a full-time job here, would you be interested?"
Dare stilled the leap of enthusiasm with ruthless practicality. Although he'd love to stay here, orchards didn't require a lot of tending in the winter. "Depends on what I'd be doing."
Culley smiled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Understandable. Don't want to find yourself running contraband cigarettes, or bare-assed on stage in front of a bunch of screaming women."
The shudder wasn't quite a joke. "That's not on my list of dream jobs, no." He watched Culley laugh with a small smile of his own.
"It's nothing that exciting." Culley handed him the bottle he'd been drinking. It wasn't beer, as Dare had expected. The label on the brown glass bottle had two curved lines in red and yellow making an abstract apple, and the name "Deverell's Hard Cider" in script lettering. "I'm going to start bottling cider. Both the non-alcoholic and the hard stuff. By next spring, I have to process all the harvest that I'm not selling, get the bugs out of the system, and finish developing a marketing plan. I've got most of the research done already, but I need help. That's where you come in."
Dare almost put the bottle to his lips to taste it out of curiosity, but he caught himself in time. Instead, he sniffed the contents and resisted the impulse to taste Culley on the glass. The cider inside smelled sweet, with a bit of a tingle from the alcohol. It smelled nothing like the last load of apples he'd hauled in from the orchard earlier that afternoon. "There's a market for this?"
"That's what I want to find out. Hell, they have peach beer now, and hard lemonade. I think hard cider will sell."
"And what happens next spring?" Dare asked. "Would that be the end of the job?"
Culley shook his head. "Oh, no. That's just the start. Dare, I don't need just another set of hands. I need somebody to stick with this, who doesn't mind hard work and has a decent head on his shoulders. I can't offer you a lot past room and board until we start selling product in the spring. But if we don't kill each other over the winter, I'd like to take you on as a partner."
Dare knew his mouth was hanging open, but it took a few moments to overcome the shock. Partnership? An offer that generous had to have serious strings attached. "But I don't have anything to invest," he protested.
"Let's call it sweat equity for the work you'll be doing between now and April. If it works out, we'll write it up all nice and legal then."
The thought still made Dare shake his head in disbelief. "Why me, then?"
Culley leaned forward, that intense blue gaze focused on him, on convincing him. "You know your way around equipment, both fixing and running it. I can kick the side with the best of them, but anything beyond that and I'm lost. You work hard, but you pay attention for better ways to do things, so you work smart as well. You get along with difficult people and convince them to work with you. I'm too blunt for my own good, and I manage to piss people off even when we both know I'm right."
Dare managed to suppress a chuckle. Culley grimaced and added, "Yeah, I know. Add arrogance to the list. So what do you say? Are you interested?"
He took a deep breath and slowly let it out as he thought it over. Wandering around the state during the summer had been interesting, but he knew he was happier when he had roots. It was an incredible offer, and a chance to build something. A chance he thought he had lost two years ago. Finally he nodded. "I'd be crazy to turn it down. Yes, I'm interested."
"Good." Culley got to his feet and began pacing in quick strides in front of the couch. Shooting Dare an oddly nervous glance, he said, "That's what I had to ask you. Now for what I had to tell you." He ran his fingers through his hair and muttered to himself, "Damn the timing. Never could do things the easy way."
Dare tensed, sensing the strings he knew had to come with the offer. "Maybe you should just spit it out. I knew there had to be a catch."
"Not a catch," Culley disagreed, coming to a stop at the far end of the couch. "Sort of an unexpected event, but a welcome one even if it's not convenient." He shrugged and rested both hands on his hips. "I'm gay." Before the shock of that statement could set in, Culley continued, "I didn't think that would be a problem for you, since you are too."
Dare wasn't too proud of his reaction. He went red, dropped his soda and almost fell off the couch. It was the first time he'd heard those words directed at him outside the usual locker room taunts.
"Damn!" He set the spilling can upright and reached up for the towel that Culley handed him. "I'm sorry. What a mess..."
"It's fine." Culley knelt beside him and grabbed his hands, stilling his attempts to mop up the soda on the wood floor. Damn, they were close, close enough for Dare to watch the blue eyes in front of him darken to navy. He didn't know how long he knelt there, feeling Culley's breath on his face, before the other man shook himself and stood.
"Shit. I'm bulldozing ahead again. Right, first things first. This has nothing to do with wanting you for the job. You say no, the job's still yours. The bedroom door locks, and I only come in if you invite me. I'm no good about staying in a closet, but there are damn few people I think have a right to know who I'm sleeping with. If you're not out, it shouldn't be a problem." Culley pinned him with a fierce, hot gaze. "Now can I please kiss you?"
Dare should have asked one of a thousand questions. All he could say was, "Yes."
Strong hands lifted him to his feet and gathered him against a hot, hard body. He had just enough time to notice that his lips were at the same height as Culley's chin, before the other man performed some kind of knee-bending, height-adjusting magic and kissed him.
For Dare, it was being immersed in differences, heat and hard and wet and whisker-rough. Culley kissed like he lived, blunt and straightforward, but never crossing over from demanding to taking. If this was what Mandy had been missing while they were married, his ex-wife should have shot him. This wasn't kissing your best friend. This was tasting passion for the first time.
Dare groaned, pressing hard against Culley and shivering. He had both hands in a death grip on Culley's shoulders, but he didn't know if he was keeping him there or trying to push him away. He was so hard that his zipper was getting painful. One more minute of this and he'd come in his jeans for the first time in his life.
And maybe those high, desperate sounds were really coming from him, because Culley started backing off the intensity. Dazed, Dare let himself stay suspended between the hand cradling his head and the hand spread over his back. A few more damp, dragging kisses, and Culley rested his forehead against Dare's.
"You're a little new to this."
Dare went apple-red again, even knowing that Culley had tried to phrase the statement more delicately than he usually would. "Shit. Was it that bad?"
The hand on his head moved to grab his. Culley pressed his palm against a hot, hard cock; it was the first time in Dare's life that the cock hadn't belonged to him. "Hell, no. Bad wouldn't have me this close to popping from just a kiss." He let go of Dare, but Dare didn't let go of him. Fascinated by the hot length of flesh contained by faded denim, Dare slid his fingers down one side, around the small damp spot, then back up the other side. The trip took a while.
Culley shuddered, eyes closing as he took a deep breath. He stilled Dare's hand and moved it back to rest at his waist. "You didn't answer my question."
Feeling embarrassed enough to start getting ornery, Dare muttered, "Didn't *ask* me anything."
One hand gently forced his head up until he had no choice but to meet those dark eyes again. "Dare," Culley said evenly, "I want to lay you down on that couch, strip you bare, lick you wet, and fuck you until you can't walk tomorrow. If you're as inexperienced as I think you are, that's gonna be moving just a little too fast for you."
If Culley hadn't already guessed because of the kiss, he sure as hell knew when Dare went stiff and tried to back away. What had he been thinking? Well, obviously he hadn't been thinking. It had taken him months to get up the courage to kiss Mandy, and most of a bottle of Jack Daniels to get him in bed with that woman in Evansville. Culley just kisses him once, and he's ready to start banging boots?
Culley let him take a step back, but didn't let go of him completely. Between the blood heating his face and the blood still in his stupid cock, Dare was amazed he could still think at all. "Maybe we should just forget this. All of this."
"Like hell." The tone in Culley's voice was uncompromising, the voice he used to quell rowdy hands and deal with cranky storeowners. "I'm not shit-canning this partnership over a couple of erections. And I'm not going to scratch an itch with you, or satisfy your curiosity. I've got too much respect for you and myself to take advantage of you that way."
Bewildered and frustrated, Dare backed out of reach. "Then why the hell did you start this?" The question came out a lot more plaintive than angry. He'd never been any good at deciphering the unwritten rules when it came to women. Why had he thought men would be easier?
Culley reached out, trailing the back of his fingers down Dare's cheek. The tenderness of the gesture made Dare shiver. "Because you tremble when I touch you." The baritone voice rough with banked desire, Culley continued, "Because your eyes have all the innocence and need of a fallen angel. Because you have the sweetest, saddest smile I've ever seen."
Dare shook his head slowly, so he wouldn't dislodge that gentle touch. "I'm not...like that. Sexy."
A warm, certain smile answered him. "Oh, you're exactly like that. Especially because you don't even know it." One thumb slipped down to brush against Dare's bottom lip. He couldn't resist the urge to open his mouth and taste it. Salt, apples, soap, all covering something more spicy and warm.
"See." Culley's voice dropped another octave. "What did I tell you? Sexy."
Dare's eyes flew open; he hadn't even realized that he'd closed them. Or that he was sucking Culley's thumb like a starving child.
"Shit!" The word was a bit garbled, which just embarrassed him more as he stumbled back and fell on the couch. His rigid cock sent up a very loud complaint, and he grimaced as he reached down to adjust himself. Bracing for the humiliation, he forced himself to meet Culley's eyes again. He found no mockery there, just a kind amusement and controlled blue heat.
"That's why I didn't push," Culley explained. "You keep getting surprised by your own body. Until you know enough to ask for what you want instead of getting overwhelmed by it, it's too soon. I can get a casual fuck anywhere, Dare. I want more with you."
"And how the hell will I know what to ask for?" Dare ran his fingers through his hair, giving it a good yank in frustration. "Is the knowledge just gonna suddenly appear to me in a vision?"
Gentle fingers eased his grip free and petted the red-brown strands back into place. "Didn't say I would leave it to chance," Culley murmured. "I'm just not going to hire you, proposition you and screw you all on the same night." The cushion beside him sank as Culley sat down; Dare refused to look at him as frustration, lust and humiliation churned in his stomach. He could still taste Culley in his mouth.
"Thought we'd get you settled upstairs in your room, so you don't turn into a Popsicle sleeping in that truck of yours tonight. Fix you breakfast in the morning, get the last of the harvest work done. Show you my plans for the processing plant. Then take you out to dinner tomorrow night."
Somewhere under the embarrassment, Dare felt a tiny bit of relief. He could have gone through with it in the heat of the moment, could have let Culley fuck him tonight. And tomorrow morning he probably would have felt just as dirty and low as he'd felt after his little one-night- stand/heterosexual experiment with the woman in Evansville. That, combined with his inexperience, was the reason why he'd never hit the gay bars. He just wasn't built for casual. Suddenly he felt grateful, if slightly ridiculous, that Culley had guessed.
Culley reached down to hold his hand. Dare shivered as warm fingers eased around his own. "My grandfather planted most of this orchard when he moved here from Ireland seventy years ago. He must have had balls of steel to make that kind of gamble. Fruit trees take years to mature. In the meantime, you've got a lot of useless land and a huge family to feed. A late frost, hungry deer, disease or storms could have wiped it out before he ever saw a dime. But he did it, because he believed in the future." He let the words soak in for a moment, then kissed the back of Dare's hand before using it to pull him to his feet. "Come on. Dawn may come later this time of the year, but morning still starts damn early."
So Dare pulled his truck around to the kitchen door, and they carried the few belongings he had left into the house. Culley led the way up the stairs off the kitchen with the first load. Upstairs, a short hallway led to three bedrooms and a bathroom. Culley nodded to the right. "That's my room. You can have your pick of the other two, but I'd suggest the blue room. It's a little bigger and the mattress isn't older than I am."
Dare gave him a wry glance as he tossed his duffel bag on the twin mattress in question. "I've been sleeping on a steel truck bed for five months," he pointed out. "Anything without grooves is going to be an improvement."
Shaking his head with a smile, Culley had to agree, "Guess so. Dresser's empty; if you don't want the desk, we can switch it for an old armchair in the attic."
"The desk is fine." Dare glanced around at the faded blue flowered wallpaper, the bare wood floors and the well-used oak furniture. It was better than the truck. Better than the tiny room over the Laundromat in Shadewell. It was even better than the house he'd shared with Mandy during their marriage. He could breathe here.
Culley set down the cardboard box in his arms. "Hang pictures, whatever. Not like House Beautiful's going to be doing a spread on the place, so do what you like when you have the time."
"How do you know I won't knock out a wall and paint everything lime green?" Dare teased.
Laughter danced in Culley's blue eyes, but he managed to keep a mostly straight face. "If you feel the urge to go all Trading Spaces, have at it. We'll just sleep in my room; I have a double bed."
Dare cursed silently as the innocent-enough statement made him shiver with returning arousal. He could just see Culley in bed, golden and naked on dark chocolate sheets. Culley didn't miss his reaction; he stepped closer to Dare, one hand coming up to cup his cheek. "A week," he whispered. "Give it a week, Dare. Be sure this is what you want."
He couldn't resist the need to lean into that touch. He thought he might become addicted to it. "A week," he agreed reluctantly. "Easy for you to say."
Culley shook his head slightly, his gaze never leaving Dare's. "No. Not easy. It's probably going to be one of the hardest things I've ever done."
Then he drifted closer, just until their lips met and clung. It was sweet, chaste, and made Dare's skin tingle all over.
Culley pulled back just as slowly, his thumb brushing the dampness into Dare's lips before he let his hand fall to his side. "Good night. Sweet dreams, Dare," he murmured before he turned and closed the door behind him.