Tamarillo Tart: Southern Lights #2 by Jay Hogan

Author:Jay Hogan [Hogan, Jay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Southern Lights Publishing
Published: 2020-05-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

They carried Cass into the hut and got him safely on to the cot. Stef checked his breathing, then pulled Cass’s boots off and flung them in the corner under the saddles.

Tomas hovered nervously, chewing at his non-existent thumbnail. “He still okay?”

How the hell would I know? Still, Stef nodded, if for no other reason than that Tomas looked about to lose his shit completely. “I think so, but we need to get him out of these wet clothes.” He unzipped Cass’s jeans. “It’ll warm up soon, but we can’t wait. How about you get that fire going? Andrew, I’m going to need your help.”

Tomas went into action, and Andrew approached warily.

“You sure he’d want you to do that”—Andrew watched Stef start to pull down Cass’s jeans—“with you being… you know?”

Stef snorted. “I’m gonna ignore what you just implied, dickhead. Now grab his jean legs by the ends and pull. And you can stop with all the homophobic bullshit. I don’t give a fuck what you think about me, but unless you want to take over making decisions about Cass, shut the fuck up.”

Andrew mumbled something Stef ignored but then did as he was told. All the manhandling prompted a couple of rumbling protests from Cass but no real sign of waking. When they were done undressing him, they rolled him from side to side to get the sodden sleeping bag free, then put him back in recovery. Stef arranged a dry sleeping bag over top and tucked it in, then brushed the back of his hand across Cass’s icy cheek. “There. You can rest now.”

“I’m gonna check the horses,” Andrew muttered, and left the hut.

“Good riddance,” Stef said under his breath and took a seat next to Cass. It didn’t take more than a second’s thought to reach for Cass’s hand and enfold it in his own. Fuck ’em.

“Sorry about Andrew.” Tomas fanned the kindling into flames in the potbelly stove he’d just filled. “He’s a jerk sometimes.”

“No kidding.” Stef studied the younger man. “He giving you a hard time? I, um, saw you arguing yesterday.”

Tomas’s head shot up, he took in the joined hands, and his ears tinged pink. “No.” He looked away again. “Well, not really. He just has these… ideas, you know?” His glance flicked to the hut door and back to Stef. “He’s kind of old-fashioned.”

Stef shook his head and rubbed his thumb over the back of Cass’s hand. “Old-fashioned, huh? So that’s what they’re calling it these days. In my time it was just good old redneck homophobia.”

Tomas winced. “Yeah, well, that too, I guess.”

The man looked like a scared rabbit about to bolt, and Stef didn’t know whether to push or not. Fuck it. It wasn’t like any of them had anywhere to run to, right? “I take it he doesn’t know… about you, I mean?”

The immediate panic that lodged in Tomas’s eyes was the only answer Stef needed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything, but I’m guessing that’s what the argument was about.

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