Down Low (Down Home Book 1) Read online

  “Hang on a sec, honey—” She darted over to the coffee pot and filled a Styrofoam cup. “Take this; on the house.”

  “Aw, I don’t—”

  “I was about to make a new pot anyway,” she insisted with a wave of her hand. “It’s the least I can do for our very own hometown hero.”

  He didn’t want it, but it seemed important to her, so he accepted the cup. It wasn’t easy, slinging his duffle and saddle over one shoulder while carrying a cup full of molten liquid in the other hand. Cal managed, though he was forced to wait awkwardly at the door and catch it on the backswing as a family of four entered the diner.

  Hometown hero. He snorted. Leave it to a place like Sweetwater to pretend he’d been anything other than the town whipping boy, just because he’d gotten a little notoriety to his name. Making it big on the back of a bull was more exciting to the eastern half of the state than if Cal had been a first round draft pick for the NFL.

  He was surprised to discover the rain had let up while he was inside, but judging by the charcoal clouds the storm wasn’t finished by a long shot. Sweet Hollow Road was barely three miles to the south, but that was three miles more than his leg could take.

  He stood on the sidewalk, undecided, rubbing the tender flesh of his leg.

  The neon sign of the Powder Creek Inn was beckoning him, but his bank account couldn’t take the hit. Besides, he might need the cash to make a quick escape on a bus to Montana if Faith turned him away.

  He’d need to tough it out.

  Decision made, he tossed his coffee into a curbside trash bin and turned his boots toward the south.

  A Ford Explorer with forest green lettering that read Sweetwater Sheriff’s Department pulled up to the curb in front of him, and Cal cursed under his breath. A tall, lean-hipped man in a tan uniform climbed out of the vehicle and slammed the door.

  “Evening,” he said, and that low, rough drawl sent Cal’s world tilting sideways.

  4

  Son of a Preacher Man

  Hurt had turned Eli’s eyes black and glassy. The shock and pain on his face sliced Cal to the quick because he was the one who’d put it there. But what else could he do? They’d ignored the elephant in the room for too long.

  “What do you mean I have to choose?” Eli asked in a raw voice.

  “I can’t live like this forever, Eli,” Cal said, trying to sound reasonable despite the way his voice kept cracking. All he wanted was to touch Eli and soothe away the pain in his expression, but that wouldn’t be good for either of them. “You can’t hide the truth for the rest of our lives.”

  “I’m just asking you to let me finish college first!” Eli shouted.

  “You’re asking to leave me behind!”

  The voice was deeper than he remembered. The hint of roughness Eli had possessed as a young man had developed into a baritone growl that raised the hair on the back of Cal’s neck.

  He stood frozen, heart thumping at a painful gallop, as he got his first good look at the face he’d once known better than his own. The world flipped upside down, and Cal’s head spun worse than when Ghost Pepper had knocked him ass over tea kettle.

  All things considered, Eli Jackson hadn’t changed much. He’d always had the square-jawed charisma of a leading man from the silver screen. His hair was dark and thick, with just a hint of wave that turned curly when wet, and his eyes were inky black. The lean, boyish frame of an eighteen-year-old had thickened into a broad frame and powerful shoulders.

  Where Cal wore the weight of a decade like extra scars on his body, the years had only settled Eli deeper into his good looks.

  What was he doing here of all places?

  Cal might have secretly hoped to discover where Eli had ended up after college, but he’d never expected to run into him in the flesh. Eli had been adamant that school was his route away from his father’s small-minded expectations, and he’d planned to settle in some metropolitan haven like Portland or Eugene.

  Cal had been so desperate to stay by his side that he would have given up his dream of the rodeo to follow him. He’d have worked as a barista or a janitor and never touched a bull again if it meant sharing his life with the man he loved, but Eli had turned him down flat. He’d been ashamed of himself, and so he’d been ashamed of Cal, too. In the end, it was his refusal to admit who he was and what he wanted that sent Cal running.

  Cal had always imagined him drinking lattes at some downtown café with some poor, soft city boy who was so grateful for Eli’s dick that he was willing to hide in the closet. He belonged there, not here.

  Neither of them should be here.

  Eli blocked his path on the sidewalk and scanned him critically. His eyes narrowed as he took in Cal’s dusty boots, dirty jeans, and two day’s beard growth. “Just passing through?” he asked in a neutral tone.

  He doesn’t recognize me, Cal thought numbly.

  Well, why should he? They might have spent two hot years together back when they were teenagers, but that didn’t mean much stacked up against a man’s lifetime of experiences.

  Impatience flickered across Eli’s handsome face. “Look, buddy—”

  “I’m visiting family,” Cal blurted. He shifted beneath the weight of the saddle, tucking his chin down to hide beneath his hat brim.

  “Yeah? Who? I’m pretty familiar with these parts; maybe I know them.”

  Cal swallowed around a painfully dry throat, but no words were forthcoming.

  Eli’s eyes tightened at the corners, and his expression shifted to suspicion.

  If Cal didn’t wake up and stop acting blitzed, he knew the next request was going to be to fork over his identification. He couldn’t bear for Eli to realize his identity by getting slapped with an eyeful of Cal’s dopey mug grinning at him from his driver’s license.

  “I’m not staying long,” he croaked, shifting his weight off his bad knee. “Just visiting my sister for a few days and then heading out.”

  “Who’s your sister?” Eli demanded. He had the sharp, authoritative voice down pat.

  There was no way around it. Besides, if Miranda had anything to say about it, word was already spreading like wildfire that he was back in town.

  “Faith,” he admitted grudgingly. “Faith Craig.”

  An eerie stillness swept over Eli. If Cal hadn’t been staring so intently at the silver badge rising and falling on his chest, he might have suspected that he’d stopped breathing entirely.

  He risked a glance at the man’s expression, but the hatred that suddenly twisted his face was so intense that Cal took a quick, stumbling step backward.

  “Calvin?” Eli hissed incredulously. “Calvin Craig.”

  He said it in the same tone other people might say dog shit.

  “What’s left of him,” Cal muttered, rubbing a hand across his unshaven chin.

  Eli’s gaze dropped reluctantly down his body, and the distaste that flickered in his eyes made it clear that he found Cal wanting.

  Hell, Cal had never been any prize. His hair was the color of mud, his eyes an unremarkable hazel, and he’d always been on the scrawny side. He filled out his clothes like a scarecrow dressed in rags, and the premature lines on his face showed every hard drinking, sleepless night he’d been through.

  “Sweetwater’s own local celebrity,” Eli said with a sneer. His sarcasm cut like razor blades. “Should I ask for your autograph?”

  “Ain’t worth much.”

  “Never was, but you sure as hell thought different.”

  Cal gritted his teeth and shifted his weight again, anxious to flee beneath the weight of such derision.

  If he were honest with himself, he’d admit that he’d fantasized a hundred times about running into Eli someday, but it was always after he’d proven himself by landing a million-dollar bonus and an advertising contract. In his wildest dreams, Cal waltzed back into Eli’s life with enough money and fame that he realized what a mistake he’d made in letting Cal go. Then they’d rub their relationship in the faces of good ol’ Pastor John and every close-minded member of his congregation. Maybe they’d even fuck in the front pew.

  Eli cocked his head and asked mockingly, “You famous yet?”

  “Working on it,” Cal said. He rubbed the back of his wrist across his mouth, but the bitterness of his lie remained. He wanted some ammunition, an accomplishment or even an empty boast, something to throw back in Eli’s smug face... but he just didn’t have the damn energy right now. Besides, Eli always knew when he was lying.

  “Then what are you doing here in the middle of rodeo season? Summer is prime money for your type, isn’t it?” Those black eyes were shrewd and far too perceptive.

  “One summer in a decade,” Cal said defensively. “Overdue, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I’d say more than that,” Eli replied sarcastically, but the fury had faded from his tone.

  He’d always been good at keeping his cool. Cal hadn’t appreciated it back in the old days, when he was young and hotheaded and Eli kept him from charging recklessly into confrontations that would get his ass kicked; but looking back on it, he’d probably kept Cal out of real trouble a time or two. Authority sat comfortably on Eli’s shoulders, and it took extreme provocation for him to lose control. Cal had only witnessed it twice, and each time it had left him both frightened and aroused.

  Eli hooked his thumbs into the equipment belt on his hips and glanced up and down the barren street. “Where’s your truck?”

  “I hitched a ride.”

  “From Prairie City?” he asked incredulously.

  “I lent my rig to a buddy,” Cal lied. “Didn’t figure I’d need it in a town this small.”

  Eli’s scowl sharpened. His nostrils flared as if he smelled bullshit but couldn’t place exactly where the s
tench was coming from. It sounded more like a demand than a question when he asked, “You’re not planning on walking out to Faith’s place?”

  “It’s not that far.”

  “You never did have the sense God gave you,” Eli said, rolling his eyes. “Those thunderheads are about to break any minute.”

  “Lucky I’m not taller, in that case,” Cal joked weakly. “The lightning will pass right by me.”

  Eli ran a palm across his face, muffling the sound as he muttered an expletive under his breath. He glared down the empty street, grinding his teeth so hard that a muscle ticked in the side of his jaw. Grudgingly, he said, “I was heading that direction anyway. I’ll give you a lift.”

  “No, I—”

  Eli whipped around with a violent expression and jabbed a finger at him. “Get in the goddamn car, Calvin.” He spoke with the authority of a man used to being obeyed.

  Cal didn’t want to get in the car. He’d rather be back under Ghost Pepper’s hooves than be forced to sit in a closed vehicle with the warm, spicy scent of Eli’s aftershave curling around him. He realized in that moment that the torture of wondering what had happened to his ex-boyfriend was vastly preferable to confronting the real thing.

  Eli Jackson standing before him, strong and independent, was much worse than any torment Cal had ever inflicted on himself; he now knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’d had no hand in shaping the man Eli had become. In Cal’s fantasies, he and Eli still shared a bond, but in reality they couldn’t be further removed from each other.

  It was a cold realization.

  There was no arguing with him when he got that look on his face, so Cal didn’t protest when Eli unlocked the Explorer. He jammed his bag and saddle on the floorboards and strapped himself into the passenger seat. When Eli slammed his door so hard that the frame rattled, Cal squeezed his eyes shut, feeling more trapped than he would if he’d been put into the cage in the back.

  5

  Bad Blood

  Rough bark scraped against Cal’s palms as his back hit the tree. The taller boy loomed in front of him, trapping Cal with one arm braced above his head. His wide shoulders blocked out the light from the half moon, and his expression was hidden in shadow.

  Cal’s heart slammed against his ribcage, but it wasn’t fear that made his pulse race. He held his breath in anticipation as Eli slowly dipped his head and brushed his mouth against the shell of Cal’s ear.

  “You’re gonna need your breath for this, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  Cal gasped, sucking in a whoop of desperately needed air.

  Eli chuckled and sealed his mouth over Cal’s.

  He couldn’t have asked for a sweeter first kiss.

  As Eli eased the vehicle onto the empty street, Cal kept his face turned toward the window and stared at the wet pavement.

  The painfully cultivated tourist appeal of downtown quickly gave way to the seedy underbelly only known to the locals. Cal chuckled when he saw the Rocky Tonk Tavern’s plexiglass sign was still cracked from when Billy Hoskins took a lever-action rifle to it. They passed the decrepit Dairy Queen, the dollar store, and the gas station, and then the town was behind them and they were driving through suburbs of tidy homes with chickens pecking in the yards.

  The houses whizzed by quicker than Cal could recollect who lived in them, and he realized Eli must be speeding to get him out of his vehicle as soon as possible.

  The silence between them multiplied every second that it remained unbroken, pressing in on Cal from all sides. It was so heavy, so tangible, that he half expected it to fill the car until it exploded outwards, popping the windows and escaping into the storm like a vengeful spirit.

  He cleared his throat.

  “So, uh…” He cast around for something—anything—to relieve the pressure of the silence. “No big city department for you, huh?”

  “I spent a few years in Salem before a job opened up back home,” Eli replied evenly without taking his eyes from the road. It wasn’t exactly rousing conversation, but at least he wasn’t spitting venom again.

  “What’s it like working for that old crackpot? Does he still threaten to wash your mouth out with soap?”

  Eli had always had a hard mouth, but when Cal spoke, it tightened until his lips almost disappeared in a flat line. “If you mean Sheriff Gates, he died last year.”

  “Oh. Damn.” Cal didn’t know how he felt about that news, but he wasn’t particularly sorry. He’d never liked Sheriff Gates, mostly because Gates had never liked him—or anyone else from the Shirleen Trailer Park, for that matter.

  A decade was a long time, but some part of Cal had expected Sweetwater to remain exactly as he’d left it. Like he was a kid who had just stepped out of the room, and all his belongings were still there, patiently waiting for him to pick them up and start playing with them again. “Who’s—”

  “How long are you staying?” Eli interrupted.

  “I don’t know,” Cal answered honestly. “My last couple rides have been rough. I figured it was about time I took a vacation.”

  Eli grunted.

  “There was this huge bull in Tulsa; biggest I ever rode. Almost twenty-two hundred pounds, and—”

  “I don’t care,” Eli ground out harshly. Apparently they were going from sarcasm to plain old rudeness.

  Cal sank back into his seat and let out a slow, careful breath. “Okay.” He kept his voice bland and even.

  “You should have stayed away from Sweetwater.”

  “That would’ve made you happy, huh?” Cal asked, glancing out the window at the darkening landscape.

  “Hell, yes.” The razor blades were back in Eli’s tone, slicing at Cal’s soul with ruthless precision.

  Enough was enough; Cal wasn’t going to just sit here and take this shit, regardless of how much Eli’s midnight eyes and venomous words shook him. “Why? You find yourself a little woman to play house with?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Fuck you, Calvin.”

  “Can’t do that,” Cal said, clucking his tongue and shaking his head mournfully. “Your daddy might object.”

  “You don’t know a damned thing about me,” Eli snarled.

  “True.” Cal shrugged and shifted in his seat to ease the strain on his knee. “You could’ve saved yourself from having to deal with me by leaving me alone. I didn’t ask for your help.”

  “I gave you a ride because it’s my job. I can’t have vagrants wandering around town during a storm.” Eli’s hands had tightened on the steering wheel, the cords in his neck standing out in sharp relief as his jaw clenched.

  “I’m hardly a vagrant.”

  Eli laughed derisively. The sardonic glance he shot from the corner of his eye made Cal feel about two feet tall. “You could’ve fooled me. Do you even have a permanent address?”

  “According to my driver’s license,” Cal said stiffly.

  “Yeah?” Eli raised a brow as black as a crow’s wing. “Where’s that?”

  “Montana.” Where did this bastard get off with the third degree?

  “You got a place out there in your name?”

  “None of your business,” Cal sniped, but Eli’s disbelieving snort goaded him into adding, “I stay with a friend.”

  “I bet,” Eli muttered darkly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” Eli flicked on his turn signal so viciously that Cal was surprised the handle didn’t come flying off.

  The Explorer made an easy turn and bumped onto a pitted gravel road, crooked oak trees that fed off nearby Powder Creek lining it on both sides. The houses this far from town were old and ramshackle, with loose shingles and peeling paint. Nearly every yard was a clump of overgrown grass cluttered with deflated kiddie pools, rusted bicycles, and car parts. It was a neighborhood that had given up a long time ago, barely a step up from the trailer park, and a pit of anxiety formed in Cal’s stomach the further they went. He could practically see the despair that stretched out like shadows, snatching at the windows and fenders as Eli’s headlights cut them down.