In The Mountains

Chapter 3: Meeting Uncle Cletus.

Chapter 3: Meeting Uncle Cletus.

Paxton's brain was fuzzy with sleep. He cuddled into the warmth of someone's hard pecs and rib cage. The feeling of sleeping with a warm, comforting touch was new, and he cracked his eyes open to come up with where he was currently located. To his surprise, he was curled next to Tennessee. His head was under the man's arm as the stranger drove. The musk of the other man's sweat was mixed with soap and skin and an unknown heat. The scent had Paxton's eyes widening and his head jerking. Everything that happened came screaming back to him. What was he doing?

The snapping of his head away was a bad idea. Dizziness swamped him, and he swayed. He put a hand on Tennessee's bicep to stop his stomach from lurching.

“It's alright now." Tennessee's voice washed over him with that honey accent of his. “Yer more skittish than a new kitten."

As Paxton was about to move before the man pushed him off, Tennessee set his palm on his shoulder. Using the hand that wasn't holding the wheel, Tennessee began to rub back and forth. The man's big hands grazed across his biceps. If Tennessee wanted Paxton off him, he wasn't acting like it. For a second, Paxton wasn't sure if his brain was imagining this soft-touch or not.

“Go back to sleep, cowboy," Tennessee murmured as he turned the steering wheel with one hand. The dizziness agreed with Tennessee, and Paxton slumped back next to the man. Sleep claimed Paxton at the soft, soothing petting, and Paxton decided he would figure it all out later.

The rocking motion that had him passed out stopped, and he cracked one eye open for the second time. How much time had gone by? The world outside the window was pitch black. Tennessee took his keys out of the ignition and tucked them into his pocket. They had finally stopped at a gas station—that was Paxton's guess. Outside the truck's window, he caught two lights, but the area didn't seem bright enough for any gas station he'd ever visited.

Tennessee didn't say anything as he wrapped an arm tighter around Paxton's shoulder before he finally tugged him away from his side. The man got out of the truck, and the door closed with a thud. Paxton figured that was his cue to rouse himself and get up and out of this stranger's life. Slowly he sat straighter and reached for the door handle.

The door to the truck opened before Paxton could do it, and Tennessee wrapped a big arm around him and helped him to the ground. As soon as his shoes contacted the dirt, Paxton's legs wobbled.

“I reckon ya got a concussion, cowboy. Just hold on to me."

Paxton nodded and let Tennessee guide him toward a building. The place up ahead looked like a log cabin, but he didn't have much light to go by for that assessment.

“I'll be fine."

“Yep. I'm sure ya will," Tennessee agreed but kept a firm hold on his waist as he led him into what he was now positive was someone's home.

“Where are we?"

“This here is my slice of heaven in the mountains." Tennessee opened the front door and led him into a large room. Two ugly hairy wild-looking dogs jumped from the couch to greet them, and Paxton would have moved away from the scary animals, but Tennessee still gripped him around the waist.

“This is Smith, and that's Wesson." Tennessee made a waving hand and motion at the waist-high fluffy creatures. The animals moved back to the couch but still looked like they wanted to eat Paxton. “They wouldn't hurt a fly. They're harmless unless yer a squirrel."

“I thought we said you would leave me at a gas station." Paxton eyed the dogs warily and then inched toward the door.

“Ya said that, but ya ain't in any condition to be left alone." Tennessee drew Paxton away from the dogs and walked beyond the lazy boy chair toward a large square kitchen. Above the kitchen, he noted a loft, but as Tennessee turned him, they went down a short hallway. He opened the door to a bathroom and then paused.

“I know we just met and all, but ya need to get cleaned up. Ya want me to help ya wash, or do ya think ya can do it without fallin' over?"

“I have to get out of here."

“Yer barely conscious, and it's two in the mornin', and I'm plumb tired. I reckon that we can talk about everythin' tomorrow. I'll drive ya anywhere ya wanna go."

Paxton groaned inwardly. The man was right. He hurt, was still dizzy from hitting his head, and was exhausted. Now wasn't the time to figure out how to hide from Keyon.

“Damn you, Tennessee." The door to the cabin opened with a bang, and the dogs barked and jumped up from the couch. They looked even bigger than before. “Where the hell ya been, boy?"

Paxton's head swiveled to the living room, and he ducked partway behind Tennessee. As he peeked over broad shoulders, Paxton spotted an older man. The new stranger barged into the main living space. His entrance had both Paxton and Tennessee turning to stare at the intrusion.

“Do ya know what time it is?" Tennessee asked the eighty-year-old and then rolled his eyes. “This here is my house, ya know."

“My friend said ya left the city hours ago." As he grumbled, the older man stomped toward Paxton with dirty cowboy boots and an enormous straw hat. “Whoo-ee, child. Ya look like someone clocked ya good."

Paxton rubbed delicately over the swollen egg bump on his head, and his bracelet jingled. As he shook his head, he dropped his arm and didn't respond. The man standing before him looked like a character out of a movie. His stained white shirt was threadbare, and his worn overalls were caked in grease. Paxton figured he was only missing a can of tobacco in his pocket and chewing on straw to finish the cliché of a hick mountain man.

“Uncle Cletus, this is Paxton." Tennessee sighed.

Yes, that should be this man's name.

“Hello," Paxton muttered. “Nice to meet you."

“Uncle Cletus is my friend and my business partner. I'm a mechanic, and we have a garage." Tennessee explained. “He's harmless too. Like them-there dogs."

“This child is why yer late? I thought them city folks robbed ya blind." Uncle Cletus's eyes flipped to Paxton's key charm peeking out his sleeve. His eyes narrowed.

“I'm twenty-one, not a child," Paxton muttered, and he wasn't sure why he felt he should defend himself from the title. He was old enough for Tennessee—Paxton stopped that thought before it started. He had to quit thinking about Tennessee in any way other than the man who helped him tonight.

“I told ya that the trucks been burnin' oil." Tennessee sighed again. “I had to get some. I think the hose is leakin'. I might need a new clamp."

“And ya picked up a hooker for the night?"

“What?" Tennessee glanced at Paxton as his eyebrows shot up and into his thick dark-brown hair. “No. Paxton was just havin' some trouble with a...."

“A client." Paxton dropped his eyes. What was it? Was the words s*x for money written in neon on his forehead? “I'm an escort."

“We live outside the city, but I still got friends 'round, and I've heard of that-there bracelet. Ya work for Keyon's Escorts. High-end p***y is what they say."

“Good lord, Cletus. What kind of friends do ya have?" Tennessee's eyes shot to the bracelet on Paxton's wrist.

“I don't...." Paxton swallowed hard as embarrassment and fear had his cheeks heating. “I don't have a p***y," he murmured and rubbed his eyes. He was about to get tossed out of a cabin to wander lost in the mountains. And that was if these men were feeling generous. If this night could get any worse, Paxton didn't even know what that would look like. He wished he were dead and had no words to defend himself. “Tennessee, I would have told you before, but I—"

“Ya need a bath, cowboy." Tennessee inclined his head to the bathroom door. “You'll be alright if I let ya go? Yer not too dizzy?"

“I'm fine." Paxton nodded and then pulled away from Tennessee's grip.

“Alrighty then." Tennessee tossed his head toward the bathroom. “Go get cleaned up."

Paxton didn't look at the older man again, and instead, he went into the bathroom and closed the door. Everything about Tennessee was an aw-shucks-I'm-a-good-ole-boy, but Paxton didn't trust it. He would get cleaned up, and in the morning, at first light, he would get out of wherever he was now located. He would also dodge Uncle Cletus and those scary-ass mangy wolfdogs.

Slowly, Paxton stripped naked, and with the removal of his clothes, he discovered ugly welts and scrapes from what happened earlier. In the mirror, he caught sight of the sizeable egg-shaped bump on his head and the dried blood down the side of his face. His torso was splashed with discoloration under the skin that he figured would turn into darker bruises tomorrow. As his hands traveled over his skin, he picked at gravel stuck into his flesh.

After filling the tub with hot water, Paxton took off his bracelet and set the key charm with his pile of clothes. It was the first time he'd removed the key other than for s*x. Most of the escorts had their key on a necklace, but Keyon made Paxton a bracelet when he noticed red marks from the chain rubbing his collarbones. Staring at the jewelry, Paxton closed his eyes. He hated the damn thing and wished it was gone.

As tears streaked down his cheeks, he sank into the water and washed.

Once Paxton was done feeling sorry for himself, he glanced around the room. The whole place had that shiplap cabin theme with pictures of hawks flying and firtrees on the toothbrush holder. Just like the truck, the cabin-house was old and worn but clean and well-loved.

Paxton found a bar of Irish Spring soap and held it up to his nose. The soap smelled like Tennessee, and after he was done using the bar, he sank in hot water up to his shoulders and closed his eyes. He set his head on the back of the tub and floated. Maybe when he was finished here, he could explain to Tennessee that he wasn't a hooker. He could lie and say he found the bracelet. For the first time in his young life, Paxton didn't want a man to see him as an escort. For one second, Paxton wanted to be seen as just a man.

New tears streaked down his cheeks, and he worked to shake off his disappointment and fear. It would be fine. Tomorrow Paxton would figure out what to do with Keyon, and he would solve how to hide from the trying-to-kill-him Mr. Bentley. He could even ask Tennessee for some money for a bus ticket anywhere away from here.

As he drifted off to sleep, he prayed that he would forget everything that happened to him today. The only thing he wanted to remember was the pretty color of Tennessee's gray eyes.