In The Mountains

Chapter 4: The next morning.

Chapter 4: The next morning.

Coffee and bacon teased his nostrils, and Paxton inhaled as he rolled over in a soft bed. He hugged a fluffy pillow, and then his brain kicked into high gear. He didn't recall getting into a bed last night. Where the hell was he now? The escorts at Keyon's place were not allowed coffee and absolutely not bacon. In the mansion, they were allowed protein drinks and smoothies with kale and seaweed. Their bodies were a temple or some such crap.

He was pretty positive he wasn't with Keyon right now.

When his eyes snapped open, Paxton was met with a wooden shiplap wall and a picture of two Labrador retrievers hunting in high weeds. Totally not Keyon place.

Last night came screaming back to him. He fell asleep in Tennessee's bathtub and only vaguely recalled Tennessee's help from the cooling water. Tennessee had got him to this bed, and he remembered the man checking over his cuts.

Paxton reached up to his head.

An ice pack, now melted, covered the bump. He pulled on the bandanna and then traced the now less swollen skin. This ice pack was Tennessee trying to take care of him. The man had even put a shirt over Paxton and didn't take advantage of him or touch his naked body. Paxton had never met anyone who didn't try to f**k him over either literally or figuratively.

“I ain't rightly think this is a good idea, Tennessee."

The words had Paxton turning over on his mattress to listen.

“I used to live in the city." Uncle Cletus's voice was as clear as day. “I used to meet with the big-time snakes, and I know the kind of people this Keyon fella is. I wasn't always on my mountain." Uncle Cletus's voice floated past his ears. “Yep, ain't a good idea at all."

“I ain't asked fer yer opinion," came Tennessee's voice, followed by a clang. “And right now, yer 'bout as welcome as an outhouse breeze."

“Ya ain't listenin' ta me, boy."

“I heard ya, and will-ya keep it down? Paxton is still sleepin'."

Only a tall wooden railing and open spindles were on the other side of the room. Paxton had slept in the loft above the kitchen, and now he caught the distinct sounds of someone cooking.

“Fine." Cletus dropped his voice slightly, but Paxton could still hear him. “I know you'd make a preacher cuss, so here's that-there box I'd told ya I'd bring. If in ya don't want it, donate it." A second clatter sounded. “Ya got coffee?"

“It's brewin'."

“Yep, ain't a good idea, no-siree," Cletus muttered.

“I ain't reckon that I asked fer yer thoughts, old man. Leave me be."

Paxton lifted the quilt covering him and caught sight of his legs. Tennessee had put bandages on some of his deeper cuts.

“Ya like this boy? Fixin' ta get into a pig-pen fer him?"

At Uncle Cletus's sentence, Paxton shoved off the blanket and tossed off his shirt. That was a good description. His life probably was a pig pen, and he didn't want Tennessee in any part of it.

As silent as possible, Paxton crawled across the rug to the chair by the wall. He grabbed his clothes from last night. Wrinkling his nose at the blood, he shook out the pants and coat. Even if he didn't want to wear this, he had no choice. He began to get dressed.

“I ain't even know what I'm fixin' to do," came Tennessee's response and a second clang.

“You ain't even need to answer that. I can see it in yer eyes. Ya like this boy."

“What do ya mean?"

Paxton paused in zipping his dress pants. He grabbed his blood-stained white shirt and half-scooted and half-crawled to the railing. He peered over the side but couldn't see anything other than the dogs sleeping on the couch. In this position, he hoped he could better hear what Uncle Cletus had to say.

“Ya look at Paxton like ya look at them-there mountains outside. Like yer in awe."

“No, I ain't," Tennessee denied. “I ain't been lookin' at him any particular way."

Paxton pulled his white shirt on and grabbed his socks. That last sentence rolled around in his head. What if Tennessee was gay?

“If his boss shows up here, yer gonna get shot."

“Ya think some pimp is gonna find Paxton here?" Tennessee scoffed. “Besides, I can look after him. I can protect my own. Ya taught me that when I was knee-high."

“That I did," Uncle Cletus agreed.

Shoving his arms through the sleeves of his coat, Paxton threw all thoughts about Tennessee being gay right out of his head. It didn't matter what Tennessee was or what the man thought about Paxton. Paxton would sneak out of here. He would go to someplace where no one would find him. It wouldn't matter if the hottest, kindest, sweetest man he'd ever met was gay and liked him. Paxton refused to let Tennessee get hurt for his stupid life choices.

“Alrighty, Tennessee." Uncle Cletus's voice held notes of laughter. “I can see that-there stubborn look in yer eye. I'll take my coffee and hightail it outta here. I'm puttin' that new bumper on this mornin'." There was the sound of a chair scraping. “But ya be careful, ya hear? Because that-there boy has broken heart written all over him."

“I can look after my heart just fine."

“We'll see."

Paxton scooted to the railing near the stairs in time to see Uncle Cletus cross the living room, pat the dogs on the head, and then disappear out the front door.

After the door slammed, Paxton's heart beat a little harder. It sounded like Tennessee was gay, and Cletus knew it and didn't want the man's heart broken. That surprised him in a lot of ways.

Paxton finished dressing, and he hunted for his shoes. He didn't care if this man was straight or gay or whatever. He needed to get out of here. If Keyon came for Paxton, Tennessee would get hurt, and if Mr. Bentley came for him, Tennessee could get killed. A broken heart was the least of Paxton's concerns when actual death was on the table. Besides, someone like Tennessee would never be interested in someone like Paxton, even if he liked men. First off, Paxton was from the city, and second, he was a hooker and had nothing to offer anyone.

“You comin' down fer breakfast, Pax? Coffee is on."

Paxton jumped and then groaned. Tennessee knew he was awake, so there was no sneaking out of here right now.

“Yes," he muttered and started down the ladder.

Paxton reached the main living room space, and again the smell of eggs and bacon teased his senses. The dogs got up, and he found himself backed to the wall. After a second of the animals nuzzling his palm, Paxton stroked through the thick fur. Both dogs leaned into his legs and wagged their bull-whip tails.

“Alrighty, dogs. Ya got yer pets. Shoo now." Tennessee waved to the dogs back, and they plopped down next to the dining table with their eyes on the bacon. Tennessee then turned his back on Paxton and resumed cooking. The tall sexy mountain man leaned over the oven. “Got warm biscuits fresh out of the oven." Tennessee bent over the biscuits and then crouched. Good God, Tennessee was sweet, kind, hot, and could cook. Even the man's ass was perfect. Paxton hated that now he thought Tennessee might be gay. His mouth started to water, and it had nothing to do with food.

No.

Paxton pushed that thought out of his head. It didn't matter if Tennessee was gay, hot, and available. Paxton was leaving… right now. It was the most unselfish thing he could do.

“Sit down right there, cowboy." Tennessee slipped biscuits off a cookie sheet and then turned to smile at him. “I'm gonna feed ya. Ya need to put some meat on yer bones."

Tennessee's perfect grin was like the sun peeking through rain clouds. No man had the right to be as effortlessly sexy as this six-foot mountain man.

Even though Paxton had every intention to leave, he sat at Tennessee's kitchen table and smiled back. He supposed he could eat one biscuit, but he promised himself that was all he would do.