Disclaimer: The usual. Don't own them, really wish I did!
Homecoming
Chapter 1
Millie Durant hefted another box of supplies from the counter of the small grocery store she owned and operated. As she lugged it toward the front door, she watched the young man she's sold a sandwich and soda to earlier.
He was munching his sandwich while eyeing the bulletin board near the door. As he finished his sandwich, he seemed to come to some kind of decision. After wiping his hands on his faded blue jeans, he fingered a help wanted sign, then pulled it down.
She knew exactly what that sign said, since she'd created it and talked Nick into letting her post it. This was the first interest anyone had shown in it since she'd posted it over a month ago.
Now, she paused, running a critical eye up and down the young man's physique. He was about six feet tall, slim, with shaggy brown hair spiked with gel. He was boyishly handsome, and as he realized she was watching him, he looked up and she saw he had eyes the lightest shade of brown she'd ever seen.
"If you're interested, I can give you a lift out tot he Stokes' ranch. I've gotta take a load of supplies and groceries out there for the owner," Millie said, as she shifted her grip on the box.
A grin split his face, and he said, "Yeah, that'd be great."
"Grab your gear, then, and if you get that last box on the counter, we can go," Millie replied, motioning to the remaining box with her head.
As he slung his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed the box, Millie introduced herself, "I'm Millie Durant. I own this place."
"Greg Sanders," the young man replied. "Just passing through, but I need some cash..." he trailed off as he walked out the door into the late summer Texas heat.
The town was small, Millie's store being the only grocery. There was one gas station, but several feed and tack shops. Ranching seemed to be the town's main economy. Greg wasn't even sure of the town's name, all he knew was that it was several miles from Dallas.
Millie had placed her box in the bed of her Silverado, then took Greg's, adding it next to hers.
He noted with a whistle that the entire bed was taken up with boxes and even two huge ice chests. "That's a lot of groceries."
"Nick doesn't get out much, and I can really only deliver every two to three weeks," Millie replied, as she climbed into the sweltering cab.
Millie brought the engine roaring to life as Greg climbed into the passenger side. After adjusting the A/C, she backed the big truck out of its space and headed down the road.
Eyeing the large hiker's backpack, complete with tightly rolled sleeping bag, Millie said, "Just passing through, huh?"
"Yeah. Believe it or not, I just finished my masters at Berkeley. Kinda wanted to see what the world was all about before settling down," an embarrassed flush settled over his features.
"So you're, what? Hiking your way across the country?" Millie asked, intrigued.
"Sounds corny, but yeah. It's been a real adventure, though," Greg looked out the window, watching the land slide by.
This time of summer, there was very little green. Most of the vegetation was brown and lifeless.
"What did you go to school for?"
"Chemistry and DNA extraction," he replied easily. "I wanted to work in a crime lab. Maybe San Francisco, or Las Vegas. Not sure, yet."
"You should get on well with Nick, then. He was a crime scene investigator in Dallas for two years, before his parents died and left him the ranch. I think he was supposed to transfer out to Vegas, when the accident happened."
Greg made a sound in the back of his throat. He wasn't too sure he wanted to know the man's whole life story. After all, Greg thought, I'm not going to be here more than a month or so, anyway.
The rest of the long ride was spent in silence.
After two hours on the paved road, Millie turned the truck off onto a dirt road. There was an arched sign over the dirt road, which read "Stokes Double S Ranch." They spent close to another hour bumping along at about twenty miles per hour on the pot holed track before they pulled up to a sprawling two story ranch house.
"I see why you only make this trip every couple of weeks," Greg said, as he climbed down from the truck, slinging his backpack to his shoulder.
"It's part of the reason Nick doesn't get out much, either," Millie replied, moving around to the back of the truck to lower the tail gate.
Greg was shielding his eyes with a hand, gazing at the house, a peculiar sense of homecoming settling over him, when Millie bellowed, "Nicky!"
Whirling around, Greg yelped, "Geez, give a guy a heart attack!"
A sheepish smile spread over Millie's face, but she didn't apologize, only bellowed, "Nicky!" again.
Shaking her head, Millie said, "Probably out riding the fence line. Come on, let's get this unpacked and we'll go saddle up a couple of the horses and go find him."
Shrugging, Greg muttered, "Sure, whatever."
Grabbing a box, Millie carried it up onto the wrap-around porch to the door. Resting her knee against the wall near the door, she balanced the box on her knee and twisted the door knob with her freed right hand.
"Isn't it a bit dangerous to leave the door unlocked like that?" Greg asked from where he stood behind her, holding another box.
"Out here!" Millie scoffed, "You're kidding, right?"
The tips of Greg's ears reddened in embarrassment. "Guess the secret's out that I'm a city boy," he laughed a moment later.
As he followed Millie into the house, Greg knew he should feel strange to be entering the house of someone he hadn't even met, but the sense of homecoming returned a bit stronger than before.
He tried to shake it off. This wasn't his home, never would be. He was just passing through, hoping to earn a little money to get him through to wherever he ended up next.
Pushing the feeling firmly into a little box in his mind, he concentrated on helping Millie unload the truck.
They both made several trips over the perfectly polished hardwood floors from the door to the kitchen and back.
Greg estimated the house dated back to the sixties, but he could tell the kitchen had been recently renovated and updated.
As he set the boxes on the island, they slid easily over the polished granite counter top. Stainless steel appliances glinted in the muted sunlight streaming in through the darkly tinted window over the composite granite sink.
Looking through the window, Greg could easily see why the renovator had decided on the dark tinting as opposed to blinds or curtains.
A small but well tended lawn, surrounded by colorful flowers, was only part of the magnificent view. The rest was a green pasture surrounded by white double rail fencing. In the pasture was a small herd of horses, about a dozen, Greg guessed.
The graceful creatures were grazing contentedly, tails flicking at flies periodically.
He didn't realize he'd been staring until Millie came back in a moment later, rolling one of the huge ice chests.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Wondering what it would be like to stand here, a cup of his favorite Blue Hawaiian coffee in hand, as the sun rose, Greg replied, "Very!"
Millie rolled the ice chest into the walk-in pantry, and began unloading it into the second stainless steel refrigerator. As she worked, she called to Greg, "Why don't you bring in the other ice chest for me."
"Sure thing," Greg replied, tearing his eyes from the view out the window.
He heard Millie muttering to herself, but only caught what sounded like, "Good grief, Nicky! You've been at it again!" and wondered what this mysterious Nicky had been up to.
Greg was wrestling with the second ice chest – wondering just how Millie had managed to get the thing into the truck bed, as it must weigh a ton – when the sound of hooves on the hard packed drive signaled that he was no longer alone.
Suddenly wary, but not sure why, he turned, eyes traveling up to a booted foot first, where it rested in the stirrup he could see.
From the cowboy boot, his gaze wandered up a jean clad leg to abs, a broad chest, and thick biceps, encased in a blue T-shirt.
Light brown eyes met Stetson shaded deep coffee brown eyes, and Greg felt his stomach flip.
Nick climbed down from the saddle of the roan, and dropped the reins to the ground. Pulling his T-shirt up by the hem, he dragged it across his sweat slicked face.
Greg caught a flash of rock hard abs and golden tanned skin with a brush of dark body hair.
There was that feeling of homecoming again, as if this were where he was meant to be.
Pushing his shirt haphazardly back into the waist of his jeans, Nick said, "Is Millie in there rearranging my refrigerator again?"
Greg managed to answer without a hitch, "Yeah, I think so."
At that moment, Millie called out, "Hey, Greg! Where's that other ice chest?" Then she was striding out to the porch, blinking in the sudden brightness. "Oh, hey, Nicky!" she smiled at Nick. "I see you've met Greg."
"No, not really. Hadn't gotten around to introductions, yet," Nick replied.
"Oh, well," Millie trailed off for a moment, then, "Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders. Greg Sanders, Nick Stokes. He's here because of the sign."
"Okay. Great!" Nick replied, sticking out a deeply tanned and work worn hand for Greg to shake.
Greg got the distinct impression Nick thought his presence was anything but great, as he shook Nick's hand.
As he pulled his hand back, Greg tried to appease the other man with, "I won't be here long. A month, maybe two."
Suddenly remembering the ice chest, Greg gestured at it and cocked his head to the side as he regarded Millie's slight frame, "How the hell did you get that chest up here?"
Smirking at Greg, Millie pushed him out of the way, opened the chest, and pulled out two full paper sacks. "I put it on the truck, then filled it." Hefting the two sacks, she said, "Try it now."
Nick snorted, and followed Millie into the house, leaving Greg to lift the considerably lighter ice chest to the ground.
Millie was unloading the two bags into the main refrigerator when Greg rolled the ice chest into the kitchen.
Nick was leaning against the kitchen island. He'd taken his hat off – setting it behind him on the counter – revealing short cut black hair. He was draining a bottle of water, his head thrown back as the last few mouthfuls left the bottle, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with each swallow.
His thirst slaked, Nick regarded Greg. "Ever worked around livestock or ridden a horse before?" he asked.
"No, but I'm a quick learner," Greg replied, trying to shove that feeling of belonging firmly away. From the way Nick was reacting to his presence, Greg knew he wasn't welcome.
"Well, I guess you can muck the stalls and feed the horses, until you learn to ride well enough to ride the fences with me. Less for me to do in the afternoons."
Millie was just finishing up with the ice chest. "There you go, Nicky. Lay off fixing chilli! I swear, you've got enough in the freezer to last until the apocalypse!"
Nick sighed in exasperation, "Millie, I've told you before, it's easy to make and freeze, easy to defrost and eat. I don't have time to cook every night."
Pulling the ice chest behind her, Millie stopped in front of Nick. Stretching up on her tip toes, she moved to kiss him on the lips, but he twisted his head to the side at the last minute, and her lips hit his cheek, instead.
As she pulled back, Millie said, "Okay, Nicky," as if he'd spoken. "See you in a couple weeks. Be sure and call if you need anything besides the usual."
"Yeah, okay," Nick replied.
Greg got the feeling that Nick was relieved the woman was finally leaving.
