“Check for me, would you?”
Austin scanned the landscape, searching for the brown shadow of the mountain lion.
“He’s going up into that space between the rocks there,” said Austin.
“That’s a canyon,” said Clay. “It doesn’t look like much from this angle, but sometimes we take trail rides up there. If he’s going that way, he’s gone. At least for now.”
“Oh.” Shivering, Austin was glad for the warmth of the sun, glad that he could just stand and be, the binoculars in his hand as he watched Clay wipe down and check the rifle before putting it back in its canvas bag, which felt much safer to Austin.
“You are an excellent shot,” said Austin, when Clay laid the rifle bag down and stood next to him.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Clay shrugged, then leaned down to say something to Leland, who started the truck’s engine. “Leland says so, but Quint is much better.”
Clay stood up and took the binoculars from Austin’s hand to scan the landscape. When he handed them back, the truck began to trundle down the road, and they both grabbed the rail on the truck’s cab to steady themselves. They were quite close. Close enough for Austin to see the flecks in Clay’s eyes, lit to gold in the sunlight. See the curve of his mouth, smell the sweat on his skin.
“I’d say—” Austin swallowed hard, not sure what he wanted to say, or even what to do with the energy that seemed to shift between them. He dipped his chin and pretended he was checking his footing as the truck bumped along and tried again. “I don’t think—”
He looked up, made himself look up. Made himself brave the waters of his racing emotions. He liked looking at Clay, enjoyed his smile, those dimples. Liked that looking at Clay like he was at that moment never felt like he was about to be slammed for saying or doing the wrong thing. Clay was a safe place, a respite from the last ten, no, fourteen years of his life.
“I don’t think Leland would lie about a thing like that,” he said, finally getting the words out, even if he hadn’t ended up saying what he wanted to say, which was this:I like you, Clay. I like the way I feel when I am with you. “Leland knows talent when he sees it, don’t you think? After all,” he joked. “He hired me, didn’t he?”
“That he did,” said Clay, laughing, reaching out to give Austin’s shoulder a few solid pats and if his hand lingered, Austin was glad to let it.
16
Clay
Business and guest bookings were picking up on the ranch. The reason Clay knew that was because he’d not a moment to spare and got to meals late or had to run errands for Leland, the result of which being he didn’t see Austin for what seemed like an eternity.
It wasn’t an eternity, of course not, but it was the rest of Monday, all day Tuesday, and no, he wasn’t counting the hours, but it was a lot. A lot more time to feel like he was missing out by not being with Austin and a lot more time to kick himself, yet again, for flirting too hard. Especially when they’d been in the truck together.
He was not blind and had seen Austin watching him while pretending not to watch and so yes, he’d flexed his muscles a bit and rolled up his shirt sleeves to bunch the fold right at the curve of his bicep. This was a little maneuver he’d used a hundred times over at the Rusty Nail and other places. It acted like a fishhook with really good bait and got him excellent results.
As for the result with Austin, yes, he wanted that, wanted to be closer, even though he’d promised himself they’d just be friends. So he shouldn’t have moved his shoulders, or showed his dimples, or posed himself so that when Austin looked, he might enjoy the view all the more.
The only time he’d not been strutting his stuff was when he’d actually been handling the rifle while shooting it, as Leland had been very serious about this when he trained Clay. A rifle could easily kill or hurt someone if mishandled, and Clay had taken the lesson to heart from the very first.
He’d wanted to laugh, at least a little bit, at the way Austin had held the box of cartridges, like it was a snake that might bite him, but at least he’d not been all casual about it, like a fool with a bomb in his hand. He treated the box with respect, just the way Clay had treated the rifle. And he’d been attentive the whole time, helping Clay find the mountain lion.
If there’d ever been any idea in Clay’s mind of what kind of guy would become an accountant, it vanished in that moment, at least regarding Austin, who, the whole way back, hanging onto the rail, seemed a little overwhelmed, and talked about the vista view and the mountain lion and, in a way, tried to express, it seemed, what was inside of him. Hesitant, pausing, like he was worried that Clay was going to laugh at him for being moved by what they’d been doing, that he thought Clay would think him foolish for getting worked up over an animal almost a thousand yards away.
Clay respected him all the more for it, but couldn’t say it in a way that would make sense and not come across as him acting all superior about it. He had, many times, mentioned to Leland a guest who really seemed to appreciate what the ranch had to offer, and Leland would reflect back that he’d thought the same thing.
The ranch was a special place, and while some people got full enjoyment out of their week-long vacation there, some people, a certain few, actually seemed to feel some vibration of pleasure coming up from the ground, or in the cooling breezes from Iron Mountain, and one guest, Clay couldn’t remember exactly who, had described the feeling as magical.
Being with Austin felt a little like that, though he felt foolish thinking that way. And maybe he was feeling it because, like long-lost lovers or something, he was straining at the harness of work, wanting to skive off and find Austin.
Luck was with him, though, during the lesson on Wednesday morning, for who should show up looking just-about-ready-but-not-quite to ride but Austin. He’d put on his new green and blue plaid snap button shirt, and his by-now broken-in boots. His legs looked so long in his new blue jeans that Clay wanted to whistle and tease Austin into a smile. But with nine other guests all lined up and ready to mount up, it would be inappropriate and might make Austin feel uncomfortable, and he didn’t want that.
“You here for the lesson?” asked Clay, just as polite as could be.
“Yes,” said Austin, slipping between the wooden rails to enter the arena. “I’m sorry I’m late, but Leland had told me about it after breakfast and then I got caught up—”
“It’s all right,” said Clay. “We’ve got Gwen saddled and ready for you. She’s a very gentle mare. Here.”
Clay guided Austin to the mare, not reaching out to touch Austin in the small of his back, even though he wanted to. There were people watching his every move, even though Brody was in charge of the lesson.
“Say hello to Gwen,” said Clay. He petted Gwen’s broad, flat cheek to show Austin how it was done. “We’ve already done the safety part of the lesson but basically follow Brody’s instructions, and if you need help, just ask. Ready?”
