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STABLEMATES
by Linda Hines
ISBN # 978–0987172495
Word Count: 16,195
Heat Index 4
Genre: Contemporary • Erotica • Gay Fiction • Horses
Price: $2.99
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BLURB:
Yates Whitaker is an ambitious accountant who avoids close relationships, choosing career instead. His brother, Colin, is serving in Afghanistan, and he’s caring for Colin’s horse, Rouge. When Rouge is injured Yates rushes to the stable, where Gavin Blalock’s horses are also boarded. Gavin seems familiar, and Yates soon recalls him from school, where Gavin – even then gay and out – defended him from bullies. Rouge had already been treated when Yates arrived, and, while he recovers, the men ride, have lunch … and admit their powerful mutual attraction, but Yates is stubbornly focused on work. Once again he seems about to let romance fade away – until the phone rings. Rouge is reacting badly to the antibiotic, and he could easily die. Gavin and Yates stand a painful vigil which compels Yates to face the realities of loss, death – and a man’s need for love.
EXCERPT:
“All you ever do is work.”
Preoccupied, Yates Whittaker pushed his designer glasses up the bridge of his nose. Spread out before him were the tools of his trade. His personal and business laptops, Blackberry, calculator, spreadsheets, pens and a yellow notepad covered half the kitchen table. He noticed the cat clock above the door already read nine. “I thought you and Stephanie were off to Savannah this morning.”
“We are.” Tall and lean, Trent was already in his T-shirt and cutoffs. He was also a CPA, who worked in the audit department of the large Atlanta accounting firm where Yates specialized in corporate taxes. About twenty-seven, and graduates of UGA’s Terry School of Business, both had worked hard to get where they were today professionally. “But what about you, Yates? It’s a four-day weekend, for Pete’s sakes. I know you’re not seeing anyone right now, but at least get out of this apartment! Sure, you have the partner’s attention because you volunteer for all this extra work, but I think you’re headed toward a burnout.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Well, she’s right – and you know it!”
Yates grinned. “I’m gonna check this one more time – and then click send.” They had been friends since little kids. Trent knew him too well.
“Good.” Eyes narrowing, Trent crossed his arms. “So what are your plans while I’m gone?”
Yates shrugged. “Make some more beer, I think. Swim. Hang out. Maybe play some golf.”
“Sounds like fun,” Trent said dryly. “I’m surprised you’re not going home to work on your Mustang.” He chuckled. “How long’s that been now?”
“I got it when I was a junior in high school.”
“Well, I guess you don’t want to rush things.”
“That’s right.” Yates laughed. “And I might go home after all.”
“When was the last time you checked on your brother’s horse?”
“Ummm, three weeks ago, I think. You know Mom takes care of him.”
Yates threw his duffle into the trunk of his silver Chrysler 300,
wishing once again he still had his old red Ford Ranger to handle the
gravel road which led to the barn. Driving out of the complex, he was
impatient with the congestion. However, he appreciated the amenities and
close proximity to his office in midtown Atlanta which this location
offered.
He maneuvered the car through the heavy traffic around the perimeter
highway and headed up route 400, preferring everything about the
northern suburbs except the horrendous rush hour commute. He was
especially fond of Alpharetta. When his folks moved up there in 1980,
one traffic light served the town, and large family properties and horse
farms dominated the area. Now, the once-beautiful pastures were
expensive subdivisions, and Alpharetta was as congested as any other
community one might find on the north side of Atlanta.
Yates thought again of his brother, and offered a quick, silent prayer
for his safety. Colin was a medic in the U.S. Army, assigned to a
headquarters company in Kabul, Afghanistan. He was grateful Colin was
able to call home as often as he did, but he surely did not want to have
to tell him his horse was badly hurt. Colin had bought Rouge as a
four-year-old. The big sorrel was now sixteen, and considered a family
pet.
He pulled off the highway and headed east. He was above Alpharetta now,
in a community known as Shake-Rag, and he welcomed the open spaces,
white fences and green pastures which surrounded him. At least up here
there were still trails one could ride for miles without crossing paved
roads. Not far now – there it was on the right.
The sign was elegant, colorful, and engraved. Below the words ‘Pinetree
Stables’ were images of a loping mare and a foal. He turned down a
gravel road flanked by pastures where well-fed horses contentedly
grazed.
The fall morning was fair and brisk. The sky was cloudless and
brilliantly blue. The barn was near. An ornate wrought iron signpost
stood at the junction of two paved drives. One marker pointed to the
right and read ‘Trailers.’ The other guided cars to the left and read
‘Stables,’ which was Yates’s destination.
Maneuvering the winding byway, he drove his Chrysler into the designated
area. Parking beside a powerful black 3500 RAM Laramie pickup, Yates
got out of his car and walked toward the barn. Crossing the smooth
cobblestones which covered the stableyard, he savored the antique
ambience and the lure of the past he always felt when he came here.
Built as a hunting lodge in 1898, the magnificent stone and timber
structure had been repurposed into a fine barn about sixty years ago,
when the property became part of the thousand-acre Strickland family
estate. The Stricklands were horse people – right now it was their
grandchildren who rode. The stables were well-kept; the stalls offered
to boarders were always full, and Rouge had lived here in contentment
for the past five years.
Yates ran a hand through his sandy-colored hair. He appeared tall and
lean-hipped in his well-worn jeans, and his blue polo shirt revealed a
trim and muscular form. Professionally, he spent his days behind a desk.
On his own time, he was handy with tools, and known as a hard worker
who was knowledgeable in many construction trades. All his summers, from
child to grad student, had been spent working at a century-old summer
camp nestled in the beautiful North Georgia foothills.
Entering the coolness of the barn, he welcomed the heady scent of fresh
hay, oiled leather and well-cared for horses. This was his getaway –
thoughts of deadlines or professional concerns were not allowed through
the big barn doors. Amused, he considered this place his ‘stress-free
zone.’
He ambled past the office and feed room and down the stable aisle. Most
of the stalls were empty now, as the horses were turned out, and the
barn was quiet. A ginger-colored cat perched precariously upon the ledge
of a stall door, and Yates paused to pet him, responding to old Tommy’s
demanding mew.
A deep, soothing voice filtered through the whirr of the ceiling fans.
He approached and saw Rouge cross-tied in the stable hallway. A tall
stranger was speaking softly as he caressed the handsome sorrel’s head.
Yates was intrigued to meet someone his mother had spoken of kindly for
years. Gavin slowly turned, and Yates was struck by the drama of his
gaunt cheeks, angular features, and soft brown eyes. A thin, neat beard
outlined his jaw. His dark hair was soft and thick and worn longish at
the nape.
Rouge raised his head and pricked his ears. The sorrel was strikingly
beautiful, with his rich red coat and lustrous white mane and tail.
“Hey!” Yates offered his hand and an engaging grin.
Gavin met his grasp. “Glad you could come.”
With a gentle hand, Yates swept aside Rouge’s heavy forelock. “Oh, you
sweet boy,” he crooned, stroking the silky jaw. Slowly, he ran his hand
down the arch of his neck, withers and onto his broad back. He frowned
when he saw the half-moon cuts high on Rouge’s flank, and all those
stitches.
“So what did Doc Mackey need to do?”
“He cleaned the wounds well and sewed him up. He also gave him tetanus and antibiotic shots.”
Yates stroked the big sorrel’s neck. “How’d Rouge take all of this?”
Gavin’s tone was affectionate. “This horse has a lot of sense. As soon
as the local anesthetic took effect, he was pretty stoic about it,
really.” He turned aside. “And it could have been worse,” he reasoned.
“He may be hurting from the kicks, but he’s not lame.”
“Well, I’m glad you were here.”
“I’m sorry Rouge was hurt, but I got between them as soon as I could.”
Yates watched him move away. “I know your horses.” The buckskin gelding
and bay mare had been Rouge’s stablemates for two years. “Strange we’ve
never met.”
Gavin turned and leaned his back against the stall gate. The handsome
bay placed her head over his shoulder. Gavin seemed amused. “From what I
hear, your schedule is as demanding and unpredictable as mine has
been.”
“What’s your line of work?”
“I’m a PA-C and a CSA…a physician’s assistant and surgical assistant.
Until last week, I worked closely with a prominent neurosurgeon.”
“Until last week? What? Did you win the lottery? Are you retiring?”
“I wish.” Gavin chuckled. “Soon, I’ll begin a position with a neurology
group in Alpharetta. I traded high stress and big bucks for regular
hours and a shorter commute.” He stroked his bay mare’s pretty head. “I
want to spend more time with my horses.” He turned toward Yates once
again. “And what do you do?” He seemed amused. “I must admit, though, I
feel I already know you. Your mother has mentioned you and your
professional endeavors often over the past years.”
“I bet,” offered Yates dryly, “in that ‘my son, the accountant’ sort of way.”
Gavin’s tone was kind. “There’s nothing wrong with being proud of a son
who knows what he wants and works hard to realize his potential.”
As they exchanged glances Yates’s smile was soft. He felt comfortable
with this man. Again, he studied Gavin’s features, which seemed to him
vaguely familiar. “Have we met before?”
“I wondered if you’d remember.” Gavin’s grin was lopsided. “We went to
the same high school. You were a freshman when I was a senior.”
“That’s right,” Yates suddenly recalled, “a lowly freshman. We never once spoke, and yet I remember passing you in the halls.”
“I used to watch the baseball games,” Gavin said. “I remember you played third base and had a helluva throwing arm.”
Yates narrowed his gaze. “I remember something else, too – about the
last weeks of school that year. A bunch of older guys had cornered me in
the locker room, giving me a hard time.”
“Jealousy, most likely – they felt threatened by your skill.”
Yates nodded. “The usual disparaging remarks – insinuating I was less than a man, and calling me names, calling me gay…”
“You mean, back when words like that had the power to hurt you?” Gavin murmured.
“Yesss,” Yates admitted slowly. “I was just a kid, and not yet
comfortable in my own skin.” Silence fell as their eyes met. “But then
you entered the locker room,” Yates said. “I remember now. You told
those guys to knock it off, or you’d knock it off for them. And they
backed off in a hurry! I … I only learned later who you were – captain
of the track team and president of the student council. More importantly
to me at the time, you were openly gay and didn’t care who knew it.”
“It’s not particularly pleasant to remember such vulnerability. And yet
it was a rite of passage most of us have shared. I suspect, though, you
gained strength from the challenges they threw at you.”
“I did.” Yates smiled. “I never looked back.” He returned to Rouge’s
side. The powerful sorrel liked having his face rubbed in a certain way.
Chuckling softly, Yates was pleased to comply. “A thousand-pound baby,
that’s what you are.”
Gavin strolled away and returned with an armful of hay, which he placed
in the corner of Rouge’s stall. Yates unhooked the cross-ties and led
the horse in. He pulled the halter over Rouge’s ears and stroked him for
a long time before he closed the door.
“Thanks again for taking care of him, and talking to the vet.”
“Sure,” said Gavin. “You would have done the same for me.”
Yates nodded. In the stall next to Rouge was Aztec, Gavin’s big dappled buckskin quarter horse. “So what’s on your agenda?”
Gavin smiled as he led his bay out of her stall. “It’s a beautiful fall day, and I want nothing more than to ride my horses.”
“Sounds like a pretty good idea to me.” Yates stroked Aztec’s soft nose.
“Well, why don’t you come with me?” urged Gavin. “I have two horses who would certainly be pleased with the attention.”
“But what about Rouge?” Yates was hesitant. “Shouldn’t I stay here and watch him?”
“Rouge is fine where he is, and likely feeling a little dozy from the
anesthetic,” Gavin assured him. “Well, you can stay here and watch him
if you like or…” He gestured up the stable aisle. A stocky girl with
short red hair and dressed in overalls rolled a wheelbarrow toward them.
She picked the pitchfork from the barrow and turned toward the men.
“Look, Janie is back now. She knows all about what happened this
morning.” Gavin turned to the girl. “Hon, could you keep an eye on Rouge
for awhile?”
“Sure, I can,” she said with a bright smile. “I’ll be here for a couple of hours, cleaning these stalls.”
“Well, good then. Thanks, Janie!” Yates glanced at Gavin. “Who would you like me to ride?”
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