Seth hung his parka on one of the wall hooks, next to an array of outerwear. “Give me your jacket.”
I stuffed my gloves in the pockets and hesitated. I had my wallet, the truck keys, registration, and a pair of clean shorts stuffed in those pockets. My world, stripped down to its lowest essentials.
Seth said, “Give me your hat too. I’ll put it on a hook to dry.”
Resistance was stupid. If someone did steal my stuff, I’d be no worse off than I’d been ten minutes ago. I pulled off my beanie and passed it over, shrugged out of my parka and let him hang it up beside his.
“Good,” he said, and that word settled warm inside me. “Come sit down. Did you have any dinner?”
“I don’t want to eat your food before Mr. Bowen says yes to work.” I was lying through my teeth, but clinging to my pride.
“Don’t be a fool.” Seth waved me to a small table with two wooden chairs and opened his fridge. “Mr. Bowen’s not going to say yes if you fall over faint on his floor.”
“I had a couple of carrots,” I admitted, heat flushing my face. “I stole them from the feed room, but I did clean the counter and sink and swept the floor to pay for them.” Stopping at two had been so hard, but it was all I’d felt I deserved.
“The horses won’t snitch.” Seth set a loaf of bread and a jam jar on the counter. “Peanut butter and jelly? Should be easy on your stomach.”
“Yessir. I mean, yes, please.”
He flashed me a look, hazel-green eyes narrowed as if trying to puzzle something out, but only said, “Have a seat. Milk or coffee?”
I craved the warmth of coffee but milk was easier and more filling. “Milk, please.”
“Coming up.”
Seth wielded a knife and spoon, filled a glass, and set the food in front of me. “Eat up.”
For a second, the words of my father’s mealtime grace rose to my lips, but I held them back. I wasn’t that kid anymore. Dad wasn’t here. I picked up the sandwich, bit into thick bread, rich peanuts, and sweet strawberries, and couldn’t hold back a groan of pleasure. “Sorry,” I mumbled through the sticky bite. “S’good.”
“Glad to hear it.” Seth settled in the other chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed over a waffle-knit undershirt that outlined his solid, muscular chest.
I swallowed and looked down at my plate. He’d cut the sandwich in half. “Would you like some?” I pointed at the untouched piece.
Seth laughed softly. “I made it for you. I don’t need a midnight snack. But thanks, kid.”
“Not a kid,” I reminded him before wolfing another big bite.
He muttered under his breath, something that might’ve been, “More’s the pity,” although that didn’t make sense. “Drink your milk,” he said, louder.
The smooth sweetness of the milk was a perfect counterpart to the peanut butter. I drank and ate, finishing the food in a minute.
Seth raised one blond eyebrow. “More?”
“I probably shouldn’t.” As good as it tasted, the sandwich sat heavy in my stomach.
“Sleep, then.” He stood and glanced at his couch, a plaid-fabric affair that could better be called a love seat. “Um. That’s small, I guess. I haven’t ever had someone stay. At least not—” He glanced at his bedroom and cut himself off.
I wanted to ask who’d shared his bed. Women? Men? Both? He hadn’t blinked at me coming out to him. Maybe that flash of heat as he pinned my wrists hadn’t been just me, but I wasn’t about to pry. “It’s fine. I can curl up small. Been doing that for warmth anyway.”
Seth shook his head. “Don’t be silly. My bed’s big enough for two. You can sleep on top of the covers if you worry I might molest you in my sleep.”
“IfIworry?” I stared at him.
“I’m a gay cowboy. The point’s been raised a time or two.”
My mouth dropped open at his choice of reveal, but okay. “Same. I mean, I will if you want me to.”
“You’re pretty scrawny. I think I can fight you off.” He turned off the overheads, walked into the bedroom leaving the door open, flipped back the covers on what looked like a queen bed, and got in on one side wearing his sweatpants, henley, and socks.
