Culley woke at five-thirty the next morning, just as he had for the past four years. Like every morning, he slipped into sweatpants and jogging shoes in the predawn darkness and made his way down the stairs without turning on the lights.
Outside, the harvest moon lit white needles of frost-covered grass as he stretched sleep-warm muscles with the help of the railing on the back porch. He started with an easy jog past the packing barn and the motley collection of old trailers full of sleeping workers. Soon the trees surrounded him on all sides, and he let loose.
He'd started running four years ago, when he first returned to the orchard and to his father. At first he'd run to escape the tension as they struggled to rebuild a relationship that had been torn asunder when he was eight. Later, as the cancer progressed, he ran to burn off the anger and pain of wasted years, so he could be calm for his dad. Now he just ran to use up a bit of the excess energy that made him difficult for other people to tolerate during the day. If he were a kid in school these days, he would be doped to the gills on Ritalin, just to get him to sit still. Thank god his teachers hadn't had that option; they'd just had to put up with each other until they could graduate him and get him out of their hair.
As he ran through the dappled white moonlight, he wondered if Dare would like to join him some morning. The other man didn't have the sleek, rangy runner's build that Culley did, but he did have the look of a man who wouldn't mind sweating out a few demons. Dare looked like a man who hauled hay bales and bushel baskets for a living: broad shoulders, roped arm muscles and a trim waist that could use a few good meals.
Given permission to do inventory, his brain continued on down. Powerful legs, calloused hands, tight just-a-handful butt, and a damn respectable package when the man got going...
Culley stumbled and nearly went headlong into the trunk of a Yellow Jonathan. Just as well he'd had to stop, he thought as he let the cold burn of the air in his lungs fight the sudden arousal. A man looked damn silly trying to run with a hard-on; he'd have every hoot owl in the county laughing at him.
He leaned against the bare tree for a bit and watched his breath send up clouds like a locomotive. What the hell had he been thinking, giving Dare a week to think about it? A week to think about all the reasons why he shouldn't sleep with the arrogant, roughshod-riding bastard that signed his paychecks. A week to decide that maybe women were less trouble than starting over with a new sexual orientation after a decade into the game.
You were trying to avoid seducing a virgin, he reminded himself. Better to have him going into this with his eyes open. He groaned as his cock throbbed insistently. Now somebody please explain nobility to my dick.
Heaving a sigh, Culley pulled his cock free of the fleecy fabric. He wasn't really surprised when the brisk November air didn't make his erection go away. It had been months since he'd had anything more exciting than his own hand. He was too busy during harvest to get away, and he lived too far in the country to entice any guests to drive up for an overnight visit.
He'd jerked off last night, imagining Dare one wall away on his old bed, doing the same. He wanted to see those eyes change color again from brown to green. He wanted to see that beautiful red tinge of passion on Dare's suntanned face and throat and feel the vibrations of those needy little moans against his lips. He wanted bare flesh under his hands and strong thighs wrapped around his waist. And he wanted to see the surprise widen those chameleon eyes when Dare came in his arms. Wanted it like air to breathe.
Culley slammed his head back against the tree trunk as his orgasm pulsed out of him onto the frozen grass. When he stopped trembling, he spared a moment to be grateful that the tree was already bare. Otherwise, he would have shaken a load of apples down on his head.
He tucked himself back into his sweats and shook his head as he noticed the thin band of lighter blue in the eastern sky. He needed to get back, shower, and start the breakfast he'd promised Dare. One more day of sorting, and all the migrant workers would be pulling out for warmer fields. Then he would have the winter to put his plans into motion -- his plans for the orchard and his plans for Dare. As he turned back to retrace the steps he'd burned into the frost, he ran a distracted hand through his tangled hair and winced when he reached the tender spot on the back of his head.
A week. Dear god.
*****
By the time Dare's alarm clock rang at six o'clock, Culley had showered, dressed, set up the huge coffee urns for the workers, and started the bacon. He wondered idly if Dare bounded out of bed in the mornings, or snarled his way through a pot of coffee before he was ready for polite company. Somehow the image of a cranky Dare guzzling coffee just wouldn't gel with the quiet, sensible man he'd known for two months. It was strange to realize that he knew so little about the man he'd taken on as a partner.
He turned as he heard footsteps creak on the stairs, a welcoming smile ready. It faded to a wry grin as Dare passed right by him. From the puzzled, vague look on his face, it was clear the other man wasn't quite with it yet. He was dressed in his normal jeans, t-shirt and flannel shirt, but the flannel was buttoned crooked and his boots were in one hand, not on his feet. Culley groaned inwardly and resisted the urge to smack his sore head on the cabinet door. God help him, but with those red-brown tufts of hair sticking up in uncoordinated freedom, Dare was--well, adorable. Good thing for Culley that his new partner was too out of it to notice the look on his face and pound him for it.
Not quite managing to smother his grin, Culley offered, "Coffee?"
The word got Dare's attention; hazel eyes blinked at him a few times. Culley took that for assent, and gently steered Dare to a chair at the table. But once Dare had the cup in his hand, he got up and wandered off toward the back door.
Culley turned off the burner under the bacon with a frown and followed. He'd heard of people who walked in their sleep and looked wide awake. Dare was in unfamiliar surroundings; if he was sleep walking, who knew where he would go?
Not far, evidently. He found Dare curled up on the old swing on the back porch, sock-covered toes pulled up on the seat for warmth. Culley reached for his arm again to pull him back into the warmth of the house, then hesitated as he got a good look at Dare's face in the early dawn light. A look of quiet contentment lit his face, and for once the ghosts in his eyes were banished.
It only took him a moment to grab the crocheted afghan off the couch and another cup of coffee. Back outside, he silently spread the afghan over Dare, then took a seat on the swing beside him.
At first he fidgeted, setting the swing swaying from side to side as his mind jumped from one item to another on his list of things to do that day. His feet literally itched to get moving; his morning run and come had just made his normal excess energy even worse. Dare paid no attention, still hazy-eyed and distant. Occasionally his coffee cup would make it to his lips. Mostly it just rested on his knee, bleeding heat and steam into the chill air.
It crept over Culley so slowly, he almost didn't realize it. It was like the perpetual motion machine that vibrated his insides every waking moment just slowed to a halt for the first time. He sat next to Dare, feeling the heat of his body pressed along his side, and simply breathed in the dawn.
It couldn't last, of course. Nine trailers full of migrant workers began to spill out into the side yard. Quick Spanish, slow drawls and sizzling food replaced the sigh of the wind and the occasional lark. Dare took one deep breath, then finished his lukewarm coffee in a single gulp. The words he spoke next were quiet, disappearing into the gold air like the vapor of his breath.
"I just thought something was wrong with me. Sex wasn't that good, didn't seem like it was worth the effort. Made a couple of good women miserable before I figured it out. Back home, I could make my way through the worst maze of country back roads, because I always had a landmark to show me which way to get home. I don't have any landmarks with this guy thing. If it seems like I get a little lost in it once in a while, just keep that in mind."
Something tightened in Culley's chest. It took a few moments to get his breath around it, then it eased into admiration. Man had to have balls of steel to just cut himself open like that--or else he had the bravest heart Culley had ever seen.
"You said something about breakfast last night," Dare said, turning to him for the first time with calm eyes and a little smile. The dazed, faraway man from before disappeared as if he had only existed in Culley's imagination.
He almost regretted losing that, but then he thought of all the mornings he would have now to enjoy it again. With that in mind, it was easy to smile and let the moment go. "Bacon, biscuits and eggs."
Dare shot a glance at his watch. "Best make them sandwiches. Ringhausen's truck will be here in twenty minutes for his skids, and Alvarez wants to hit the road by noon."
They stood, stretching cold muscles. Then Dare turned to him with a little smile and kissed him. No tongue, no warning, just a slow, gentle pressure like dawn on the orchard. When he drew back, Culley had to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching for him. "Good morning."
Even as the day's work pulled them in, Culley could still feel that tiny bit of stillness inside. He had to wonder what other lessons his virgin partner had to teach him.