The next morning they finished up the chores quickly. Just because they were taking a couple of days off though, didn't mean they suddenly had no responsibilities. Louis still went out on his mare briefly after feeding the animals, to be sure everything was secure.

When Louis hadn't come back right away, Harry had saddled up and gone looking for him. There was always the chance something had gone wrong. He found Louis chasing an escaped cow.

Harry, taking advantage of the situation, halted his horse and enjoyed the view. Louis was so capable, adept, and yes, independent. He could do a job just as efficiently by himself as he could when working with Harry. Well, maybe not with an obvious two-man job, but Louis had the confidence and the experience, as well as the strength and drive to tackle much more than your average ranch hand. If Harry had had to pick a ranch hand out of five hundred blokes, he surely would have picked Louis after watching them give a demonstration of their work. There wasn't a doubt in his mind.

Louis deftly swung the rope and slapped it against the saddle to chase the errant cow back through the hole in the fence. He was so fluid in the saddle, moving in perfect time with that big black mare of his who could be surprisingly quick and handy for her size.

As the cow obediently charged back through the fence, Harry rode toward the gate to join Louis in fixing the hole. As they worked, Harry thought about how he'd rarely ever given Louis any real incentive to want to work for him, truth be told. He'd put off saying things along those lines way too long. Except for once or twice a few weeks ago, Harry had more or less taken Louis for granted. Louis needed to know he was appreciated.

"You've got a massive work ethic," Harry hazarded to say.

Louis shot him a glance, surprise just barely registering on his face.

He's learning to pull a poker face like me.

"Why do you say that?"

"Fishin' for compliments? Well, take from it what you will, but it should be self-explanatory."

"I'm not replaceable? Incomparable? Priceless?"

Louis sure did know how to rib him.

"Let's not go overboard," Harry smiled bigger than a grin this time, and Louis' chest was squeezed. It seemed to happen every time Harry let his lips turn up.

"No, seriously," Harry continued. "I'd tell you ranches would be fightin' over you, but I don't want it to go to your head, and I don't wanna lose you."

Louis' ears perked up.

He'd mentioned not wanting to lose him before.

Whoops! Slip of the tongue. Harry quickly fixed it.

"What I mean is . . . I don't wanna lose your help."

Louis had been frozen, completely absorbed in what Harry was saying. But when Harry had amended his comment, he knew he'd been too eager to hear something else – something entirely different from what Harry meant to say. He slapped a muffler on his disappointment, however, to be appreciative.

"Don't wanna work somewhere else anyway," he said unceremoniously.

There were a few brief seconds of silence.

Then, "Good," Harry said quietly and unpretentiously.

That evening, they had an early dinner and then Harry suggested they chat. Chatting could be a perilous thing for them. It could go well, or it could go very, very badly. They both knew it.

Louis' true personality had completely blossomed, and he had a barbed tongue on him even worse than Harry's at times. But unlike Harry, Louis only used it when he was way past perturbed.

"Say we celebrate our holiday with a few beers?" asked Harry.

Louis snorted to himself. Oh, this was just borrowing trouble. If either of them got annoyed, it could be a catastrophe. But this was Harry's house, and Louis felt he should go along with what Harry suggested. Besides, the last time they'd had a few, Harry had been pretty mellow and open. So, thinking it over, he found himself actually looking forward to it.

Smiling at the numerous, neatly stacked packages of microwavable ramen noodles as he took glasses out of the cupboard for their beer, Louis shook his head fondly. Yep, Harry's OCD carried over to ramen noodles as well as toothbrushes, shampoo, body wash and, yeah, of all things, Milk Duds. There were always at least fifteen boxes of Milk Duds in the cupboard. If the number ever fell below twelve, Harry freaked. The weird thing about it was Louis had only seen Harry eating them maybe once or twice. Louis hadn't asked Harry about any of it. He reckoned it wasn't his business.

It was curious as to why it was only certain products Harry felt a need to hoard, or "stock up on," as Harry called it, but Louis found it oddly charming. Harry was nothing if a little quirky.

"Sunset!" announced Harry.

"I know, I'm comin!'" answered Louis good-naturedly as he carried the glasses outside.

"Glasses?" Harry threw Louis an astonished look. "For beer?"

They'd always drank beer straight from the bottle, like most men did.

"Special occasion, remember? Holiday!"

That seemed to satisfy Harry, and they sat side by side, as the sun bid them good-night, accompanied by those beautiful pastel colors that Harry never tired of, and Louis had grown very fond of himself.

Just as the sun disappeared, Harry's phone picked that serene moment to sound out an alert that someone was calling.

Louis glanced over, not trying to see, but couldn't help noticing "mum" was displayed on the screen in the near-dark. He'd always given Harry space when his mum called, or Harry called her, by leaving the room or stepping outside. Tonight, Louis walked over to a paddock, sticking a boot heel through the pipe corral fencing as Harry spoke with her.

Louis wondered what it was like to have a mum. He wasn't quite jealous, but a little envious, he supposed. Harry's sisters had also called a few times, but no one, of course, had called for Louis. But then again, he had no phone. Hell, no real identity either. He felt a little disposable. Was he that bad of a person that no one had come looking for him? These thoughts intruded now and then, and he seemed to have little control over them.

Harry sauntered silently to Louis less than ten minutes later, Louis having had no idea he had completed the call. Harry stood next to him, also hooking his boot heel into the fencing, turning his head toward Louis.

"Sometimes mothers get a little too protective," he said.

"How so?"

"Well, she's always pesterin' me about if I'm eatin' right, makin' enough money on sellin' livestock, that kind of thing."

"She's just worried about you."

Louis had wondered often if Harry had told his mum about him, but hadn't felt it was his place to ask. He would have given his hat to hear the conversation, but something told him Harry hadn't, in fact, told her. Knowing Harry, he'd want to be sure things worked out first. Because if they didn't, his mum would probably grill him about why. Harry had more or less admitted to Louis that his mum jumped on every little detail in his life, and Louis imagined that could be quite uncomfortable. Louis didn't know anything about mothers, or at least he didn't remember anything about them, but he figured they might be on the demanding side out of concern for their sons. He liked the way Harry always said he loved her before ending the call. That said a lot for Harry. There was a lot under the surface Louis hadn't yet discovered.

"So, how many more days are we gonna take off?" asked Harry.

Louis knew he looked confused, but it wasn't up to him. Why was Harry asking him?

"I don't know. You're the boss," he replied.

"We're friends, not boss and employee. Remember?"

Those words were magical to Louis' ears. So . . . Harry really had meant he wanted to be friends. It had taken Harry saying it twice for Louis to really believe it. He suddenly felt light as a feather. He felt, for the first time since his head injury, that he belonged. He was wanted. At least by one person, and at least for now.

He couldn't hide the smile that took over his face. Harry obviously saw it, but didn't make an issue out of it. He most likely realized Louis was shy about it.

"So, what's the answer? How many more days?" Harry asked again.

"Two more? Is that too much?" asked Louis.

"I don't reckon it is. Two more it is, then."

"Need to do some housecleanin' tomorrow," Louis said when the silence stretched out too long.

"Oh no you bloody don't!" Harry was so quick to jump on that, that Louis was startled.

"We took this holiday in order not to work. That's what holidays are all about, yeah? I want to spend the time with you."

Another slip of the tongue. Harry was appalled at himself.

Louis' breath hitched, not sure how he should take that statement. In what capacity of spend the time with him had Harry meant? He wished, on a rather wispy dream that it could be something special growing between them, but that was too much to wish for. So he said nothing; just nodded his head as if this was normal conversation, and there was no cause for alarm or special regard.

Or hope . . . or excited expectation.

Harry seemed a little disconcerted, and Louis wondered if it had to do with what he'd said. Maybe he was regretting saying it. It was possible Harry was embarrassed about spewing it out.

Louis went inside and refilled their glasses without waiting for Harry to make a move to do it. He had put two extra glasses into the freezer before he'd brought the first two out, and poured the beer into the now frosty glasses. He wanted Harry nice and mellow and easy to talk to as he'd been the last time they'd had more than a couple of beers.

There was no light outside, and it was darker than a cave out there, but the inside lights illuminated their area just enough, in Louis' opinion. He didn't like bright lights. Dim was fine with him. It also seemed to soothe the spirit.

Harry smiled when Louis returned with their refilled glasses. He also noticed the frost around the brims. He smiled, nodding his approval and saluted Louis with his glass before taking his first sip.

Louis was glad he approved, although he was learning that Harry was no one to fear. Most all of his complaining was bluff. Louis could learn to manipulate him if he was so inclined. And maybe he was a little bit inclined, come to think of it. He couldn't see much wrong in coaxing Harry in a subtle, unoffensive way to open up and relax.

Looking straight ahead, out at the pastures, Louis turned just his eyes and watched Harry take a long pull of his beer, his throat rippling as he swallowed. He wanted to touch that neck, caress Harry's slight stubble. He snapped himself out of it before his thoughts went further. He was shook up.

"Why you lookin' at me?" Harry asked only moments later.

Louis grasped that Harry had caught him, and it was paralyzing. He had to come up with something fast.

"Oh, I was just wonderin' what you might be thinkin.' and what you wanted to talk about tonight." Louis schooled his voice to sound slightly nervous in hopes that might get Harry off the track, and make him think he was uneasy about what Harry might want to chat about.

"Just wanted to chill. Like I said, just wanted to talk. Not about anythin' in particular."

Okay, so maybe Harry had bought it. Louis was immensely relieved. He'd have to be a hella more careful in the future. There weren't many excuses for staring at someone.

Louis nodded and sat back, pretending to be casual and at ease. He crossed his ankle over his opposite knee and tilted his head back a bit, the way the average man did when relaxed.

"Well, maybe there was sommat I wanted to bring up," Harry said suddenly, jolting Louis so much that he very nearly bolted up straight in his seat and gave it away. Damn it to hell, but Harry could keep him on his toes.

"Oh?" he asked, being careful to turn his head toward Harry slowly, so as not to look too anxious.

Harry's voice had been halting, like he had something significant to say. This couldn't be good, could it?

"What are you plannin' to do with your life?" Harry asked in his slow way, not showing his cards at all. Not showing any emotion either. His voice was completely impartial.

"Um . . . " Louis wanted to be as honest as he could, but without revealing how much he would love to stay with Harry and forget about any other life he might have had. He had to be very wary, and not give away how he felt about Harry. Not so easy as it sounded.

"I really wanna stay here, or at least work on a ranch somewhere," he said carefully and with as much precision as he was capable of in his current state of barely controlled anxiety.

"Which is it? Stay here, or work on a ranch somewhere else?" Harry's voice was a little grating, a little demanding. Louis couldn't really decipher if he was angry or what. He did sound impatient and a little edgy.

Louis caught Harry's eye, and didn't let go, in order to drive his point home.

"I'd like to stay here." He said it with all the sincerity that he truly felt.

"How do I know if you really mean it?" asked Harry.

Whoa. This was dead-ass serious. Louis knew he had to let Harry know, genuinely, that he was . . . well, dead-ass serious.

"I'm dead-ass serious," Louis said, since it was the only declaration that he felt would be convincing enough. At least in his own head.

Harry went silent, and Louis could see he seemed to be pondering what he'd said. The night, minus the crickets, seemed to be much too quiet. The occasional bat flew through the trees, but aside from that, it was so nearly soundless that Louis could hear Harry breathing.

"Why?"

Why was he dead-ass serious? The question caught Louis unaware. Completely. This hadn't been anticipated at all. He hesitated, eyeing Harry heedfully. This had to be handled with finesse. He wasn't sure where Harry was going with this – what he was on to, but he couldn't afford to give the wrong answer.

Just be honest, he told himself. In this situation, however, being honest could get him into difficulty in two seconds flat. So, he couldn't be too honest.

"I'd rather work for you, on your ranch."

"But why?" Harry was going to be insistent again, the thing he seemed to do best in life.

"Because I like you." Now Louis waited for the world to come crashing down over his head. He'd been honest, but not too honest. Too honest would have scared the shit out of Harry, he reckoned. But the truth was, at this point in time, he couldn't imagine being away from Harry.

Harry, shocked, and looking like a thunderbolt had gone off in his head, sat quietly, attempting to conceal his real feelings, maybe? Louis read the turmoil on his face. Louis knew the second Harry decided not to press it. It was all there in his eyes.

"Good enough," Harry said, still looking a bit dazed at the way Louis had answered him.

What did he expect though? When he kept pushing Louis that way, asking loaded questions . . .

"Happy days," said Louis mildly, taking a healthy swallow of his beer.

Now that Harry had had two beers, Louis got up and got them both a third. It wasn't a guarantee, but he had a pretty good chance of Harry remaining mellow and in good spirits, like the last time they had drank together.

"No fair! You hold your liquor a lot better than me," Harry objected.

"Ah, you know you want it."

Harry snorted, looking the slightest bit tipsy. When Louis came back not two minutes later after using the restroom, most of Harry's third beer was gone. There was hardly an inch left in the glass.

"Slow down there, Styles," said Louis with a smile. "Unless you want to end up goin' to sleep with me on the couch again."

That got Harry's attention. He sat up, his back ramrod straight.

"That was a fluke," he grumbled. "Besides, we hadn't been drinkin' that night."

"That's right. And if we had been drinkin,' I might have had to take advantage of you." Louis was feeling playful, but hadn't meant to go quite that far. The words had sneaked out as slippery as black ice. He laughed, attempting to cover up his sudden nervousness.

"You do that, and I think you know where you'd end up. On the floor with a broken nose," Harry bit back at him.

Louis knew better than to lob a comeback in return.

"Come on," he said. "I was jokin,' and you know it."

Harry didn't look happy at all. His eyes looked like shards of glass that could rip Louis to shreds. And he was justified after all – Louis shouldn't have said that. It was in poor taste, besides being disrespectful.

"You're not gay, are you? I mean, do you think you might be?" Harry demanded. He looked as if the words tasted bitter on his tongue.

Now Louis was stopped cold, not a single word or thought occurring to him – knowing that if he said the wrong thing, Harry would know his secret. He was more uncomfortable than he'd ever been with Harry. How had they gotten themselves into this territory? He had opened his big mouth, that's how. He had enjoyed the occasional flirting sessions. He'd been testing Harry a little bit, and now it had backfired on him.

He thought furiously for a few moments, desperate to throw Harry off the scent.

"How should I know? I have amnesia, remember?" He was proud of himself. It was perfect, because it wasn't a direct answer. Maybe it would be good enough to put Harry off.

"You tryin' to avoid my question?"

Louis pulled himself up short. He thought of how attracted he was to Harry, and felt guilt sneak in to join all the other emotions. It hadn't worked. He'd hoped that would be the end of it. But then, anything Harry said really shouldn't surprise him anymore.

"I'm not tryin' to avoid your questions," he said helplessly.

"No, of course not," Harry's voice held a tinge of sarcasm. Harry was on the ball. He'd figured it out, although, realistically, it couldn't have been that difficult. Louis was aware he was probably more obvious than he'd thought he was.

Louis shuddered slightly, hoping Harry didn't take note of it. But how could he miss it?

After a couple of very tense moments, Harry began to soften right in front of Louis, but didn't utter a word. Louis could almost feel what he was thinking. At least he wasn't disapproving. Not that Louis could tell, anyway. His whole demeanor was reassuring, though there were no real outward signs. It was just one of those things you know.

"I'm a lot more tolerant than you seem to think," Harry murmured through his slight tipsiness.

Oh really?

"Where you gettin' these ideas from?"

"Just a hunch."

Louis was flustered. He couldn't think of a thing to say, so he just said, "Hmm."

Harry dropped it. He was being a gentleman, and Louis could not have appreciated it more. He'd been backed into a corner with no way out, but Harry had let him off the hook. If he'd been honest and admitted he believed he was gay, in fact, was pretty sure of it, he would have been in danger of being fired, shunned, and maybe even beaten up by Harry. He had no idea what Harry was capable of if the right buttons were pushed.

But deep down, Louis realized he knew Harry better than that. He didn't truly believe he'd do any of those things. He realized he wanted to believe the best of him. He knew Harry had a lot of good in him because of the fair way he treated Louis – now that they were friends, and the kind things he'd done for him. He'd just been hiding behind that nasty attitude, not wanting to get close to anyone. Louis understood; he really did.

"Harry . . . uh, thanks," Louis said.

Harry gave him a knowing smile.

"I won't judge you. You never have to worry about that."