Nathaniel out

Remember that tonight I am doing a chat through M/M goodreads. I will be giving away two books to readers. The chat starts at 6 PM Eastern, 3 PM Pacific time. Hope people can drop by.

My novella Nathaniel is out so here is a taste.

On Monday, Nathaniel danced in the dust outside Aaron's cabin, his boots kicking up little tufts of dirty air that hung suspended, as if lazy in the morning heat.

It all began as Aaron dished out pancakes, something that he'd learnt to make from a mix to which he added only water. He still wasn't sure just what was in this mix. Everything seemed like a chemical, making him uncomfortable with the result--he couldn't help but think what his wife Anna would have thought of that, but then if she were still alive, he wouldn't be here.

The hands he was feeding thanked him, their eyes touching on his face, his shaggy beard and suspenders and homespun clothing and then darting away. Aaron didn't know what to say to them; they were like Happy Nathaniel, speedy hand gestures, laughter. He knew they thought he was strange, quaint. He should not feel pride, but pride locked up his words.

Only Nathaniel had ever treated him as if he were just like anyone else on the Rocking M Ranch, his eyes alight like the water in nearby Sylvan Lake sparkling under sunlight. But now he barely looked at Aaron, and Aaron felt like a closed up house, truly stuck inside now, his fault, but he had no idea how to pry open the boards so he could only look outside, watch the interaction of the other men and women.

"How was your date, playboy?" Albert asked Nathaniel when they were next in line. Aaron's hand jerked as he handed a plate of bacon and pancakes to Nathaniel's friend. Albert and Nathaniel's eyes flashed to him and Aaron reddened, dropping his gaze.

"Fine," Nathaniel snapped off, but his tone said more. It said, not here, not in front of him; he doesn't get it.

Nathaniel had never sounded like that before. Always before he included Aaron, even taking the time to explain things like movies Aaron had never seen. Aaron's throat tightened, but he silently poured out coffee, remembering who liked it with sugar, who with cream, who plain.

The work was a comfort at least. He had the work still, the rhythm of being useful. He was thinking of that when he handed out Albert's cup and his hand somehow collided with Nathaniel's.

Coffee spilled all over Nathaniel so he gave a soft cry of pain.

"No!" Aaron said, grabbing a cloth, standing there with it in his hand. He stood frozen. Should he hand it to Nathaniel rather than touch him? What was proper? "No, I didn't mean to—"

"Save it," Nathaniel said, eyes heavy with some kind of cynicism Aaron could not begin to understand or relate to.

"Ouch, you okay?" Albert asked, ignoring Aaron who stood there, like a stupid big mountain, watching, wanting to say…wanting to—

Nathaniel took the cloth, giving a wry twist of his lips. "Fine. Good thing I'm wearing blue today; stains won't show up as much, huh?"

Albert rolled his eyes. "You are hardly going to meet any hot men mending fences."

"Au contraire, my friend, there are hot men all over this ranch," Nathaniel teased. Just then his smoky quartz gaze caught on Aaron's before he dropped it just as quickly.

Albert shrugged. "Sheila and I went to the diner for meatloaf. She wanted me to talk about my feelings and shit again. I think you're lucky, sticking with guys."

Albert and Nathaniel were almost at the door of Aaron's kitchen now. Aaron watched Nathaniel reach out and rub some of the basil between his fingers that Aaron had planted for a window garden. It was something Aaron had noticed he did every morning, as if he liked the pungent scent.

"I am sorry," Aaron boomed.

All the hands froze at the sound of his loudness and Aaron swallowed, feeling eyes on him.

Nathaniel had been saying something to his friend, his lips still stretched in a smile. He had smiled just two days before like that at Aaron. He turned his head and his gaze again collided with Aaron's.

"I am sorry," Aaron repeated in a softer voice.

Nathaniel frowned, as if he were trying to make something out. He gave a stiff little nod and then he stepped outside, leaving Aaron and his kitchen.

***

He was wiping up the kitchen table, long maple planks scored like a picnic table with dents and carved initials when a shadow fell at the door. He looked up and there was Nathaniel, his hands full of dishes. He used to return them, but just lately, no, he hadn't done that.

He hesitated and Aaron went to him, taking the dirty plates.

"I can scrape out the stuff for your, uh, recycling."

Aaron blinked. "Recycling?"

"The stuff you put on that heap of earth in the vegetable garden," Nathaniel said.

"Oh, that is a compost heap. Next year I will scatter it on the garden," Aaron said. "Better tasting vegetables."

"That's hard to believe. Your tomatoes are really great."

Aaron dropped his gaze, basking a little now. He knew he shouldn't, but he liked that Nathaniel had noticed the superior quality of the stock he grew.

"The pail is under the counter," he said, even though it was unnecessary since they'd done this before. He stacked the plates by the sink and then watched Nathaniel as he began the chore, the easy swing of his hips as he dipped to drop leavings in the pail and the way his chaps seemed to emphasize where he was a man.

Nathaniel looked over his shoulder at Aaron and then huffed out a breath. "Okay, are you homophobic?"

Aaron blinked. It sounded like one of the ingredients in the mix he disapproved of. "I don't like chemicals," he said.

Nathaniel's too serious face cracked into a smile. "Oh, Aaron. Do I even ask?"

Aaron guessed this was one of the things he didn't understand. He had picked up as much as he could, but it was a like a quilt with gaps in the sewing. "I don't like that you stay away now," he said. He cleared his throat. "Samuel misses you."

Nathaniel held Aaron's gaze, the other man for once not dancing, or talking and smiling. He contemplated.

Familiar with thinking time, Aaron felt his muscles relax.

"You may not know much about the outside world, but you're a confident man; it's sexy."

Aaron blinked. "I am…sexy?"

Now Nathaniel smiled again. "Yep." He winked, as if encouraging Aaron not to take him too seriously.

"Why did your friend call you a playboy?"

"Do you know what it means?"

"Yes." Aaron was short. He wasn't stupid. They had all rented a movie with James Bond and watched it in the bunk house. From this, Aaron understood what a playboy was.

"I, uh, date a lot of guys," Nathaniel said.

"Taste a lot of flowers," Aaron said.

Nathaniel blinked and then he grinned. "Yeah."

Nathaniel excerpt and purchase link