Chapter 87

“That’s the thing about being friends with someone for a very long time.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You know when they’re bullshitting you.”

“There’s nothing to bullshit about.”

Tom remembered what Robinson had said, but before he could challenge Josh, Jack walked up and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Hey, babe.” He gave Josh a steely look as he pulled Tom tight against his side. “Cooper.”

“Jackson.” Josh met his steely gaze with an ironic one of his own, and Tom wanted to knock their heads together. They always acted like dogs fighting over their favorite bone—him—whenever they came into contact with each other. “Looks like everyone is having a good time.”

Jack opened his mouth, but before he could say anything snarky, Tom jumped in.

“Speaking of having a good time, it looks like someone definitely isn’t.”

“Who…Oh, Jan.”

She had stormed out of the pool, grabbed a towel, and was briskly drying herself off, shooting daggers at her boyfriend. And thank God she offered him the perfect excuse to change the subject.

“Well, I guess she’ll be looking for a replacement.” Tom wished she could find someone she’d be happy with, but none of the young men she dated for increasingly shorter periods of time seemed to be the one. And now, not only were her grades starting to suffer, as he’d learned from one of her professors, but her work here at the ranch was as well.

“How often does that happen?” Josh looked bemused.

“More often than we like. I could really shoot Nick for hurting her like that.” Tom slipped out of Jack’s embrace, plucked a couple of cans of soda from the cooler beside them, and gave one to his friend and one to his lover. The last thing they’d need was alcohol to fuel their vendetta

“Nick?” Josh popped the tab of the Coke can and took a swallow.

“Her boyfriend.”

“Which one?”

“The one who mattered the most.” Tom sighed. “They dated through high school and most of college, and then he broke her heart by getting another girl pregnant and having to marry her.”

“I hear things aren’t going so well in Eden,” Jack murmured as he twisted the sweating soda can between his hands.

“Huh?” Josh looked from Jack back to Tom, obviously confused. Tom patted his shoulder.

“That’s what the kids call Reverend Thompson’s house.” House. It certainly wasn’t a home. “Nick and Mary Margaret are living there until he can save enough to put a down payment on a house for them.”

“It must be tough. I don’t imagine any father would think too highly of a son-in-law like that, and to have him living underfoot, a constant reminder of his daughter’s fall from grace—”

“Serves the little pissant right.” Jack’s mouth was a tight, white line. “If some bastard pulled that crap with Becca, I’d—”

“We’d, buddy. We’dall see he never fathered another baby.” Tom hugged him in spite of the fact that anyone could see. This was their home, goddammit, and if these little redneck boys didn’t like it, they could leave. And look for another fucking job while they were at it. It wasn’t likely they’d find a boss as good as Jack Jackson.

“Count me in, too, Jackson. Your Becca is a nice girl, and I—”

“You what, Cooper?”

“Oh, please. Don’t take that tone with me. You know I’m gay. And—” His jaw dropped, and his eyes glazed over.

“Josh? What is it?” For a second Tom was afraid his friend was having a seizure or something.

“Oh, momma, buy me that!” Josh all but moaned.

“It’s Ragg Mopp.” Since Jack had the added height, he had no trouble seeing. “I’m sorry, Josh.” And it truly sounded as if he were. “He’s straight.”

Josh blinked two or three times, then shook his head. “I didn’t recognize him.”

“Do you need to get your eyes checked?” Tom asked.

“No, I don’t need my eyes checked. I’ve just never seen Mopp without his shirt. That’s a pretty nice tan he has going on there.”

“Most of the younger guys on my crew tend to remove their shirts when the weather is good.”

He gave a lopsided grin. “It stands to reason. Oh, well.”

Tom knew Josh had never played with straight boys, not even in his younger years, when he and Tom had hung out together, when Tom had been anything but a sterling influence.

Josh’s grin became rueful. “But my, that boy is fine.”

Billy Bob had crossed to the pool deck. He was wearing a pair of square-cut swim trunks and had shed his shirt before he’d gone into the pool earlier. Tom had to agree he did look buff. Billy Bob had apparently been working out—he’d always had well-muscled arms from all the manual labor he did, but now he had developed good muscle definition over the rest of his body as well. His light brown hair had been bleached from working in the summer Georgia sun, and he looked blond. His tan was smooth and ended at the base of his spine, as evidenced by the dip of his trunks over his bubble butt.