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“Happy birthday!”
Jacob blinks at the clutch of smiling people who have appeared on his doorstep and wonders if he’s having a bad dream. John is front and centre, arm in arm with their sister-in-law, Louise. Behind them stand a petite woman and a tall, skinny man. Jacob slept like shit, as usual, and his morning coffee hasn’t kicked in yet so it takes him a few seconds to respond. By that point John is already pushing past him into the lobby.
“My birthday’s not ’til November,” he grumbles.
“I know that, Mr Sagittarius,” John replies. “But today is a different kind of birthday. You’re about to be born again.”
Louise moves in to hug Jacob over the swell of her baby bump. He kisses her on the cheek.
“Why do I really not like the sound of that?” he says, half to her and half to John.
The girl, Faith, steps over the threshold next, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss Jacob hello. He gives her a quick squeeze around the waist. She’s been around almost as long as the brothers have been back together, first in Georgia and now here, so along with Louise she feels like part of the family. Faith may not share their blood, but she shares the haunted look of a past that she longs to be distanced from. Each Seed brother knows that feeling too well.
“You know Randall, don’t you?” she says, gesturing to the smiling man who enters behind her.
“Uh,” Jacob replies, shaking the guy’s hand. He doesn’t recognise him, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t met. Jacob isn’t exactly the people person of the family. Randall looks normal enough in his jeans and plain shirt, but if he’s part of Joseph’s entourage then he’s probably a fucking plant acupuncturist or Shamanic aura cleanser or some shit.
“Doesn’t Joe have a sermon today?” Jacob asks Louise.
“He’ll survive just fine without us,” Louise replies. “And besides, I was hoping to borrow your gorgeous kitchen for a few hours.”
“Uh, sure. Knock yourself out.”
He follows John, who has wandered into the security room and is looking over the various CCTV images on the screens. Judge has picked up on Jacob’s spike in anxiety. He stays pressed to his master’s side and pushes his soft head into Jacob’s palm.
“What the fuck is going on?” Jacob asks.
“You have someone to look after all this today, right?”
“John. Why are all these people in my house?”
“Shhh, don’t worry. I’m not expecting you to entertain. They have things to do here, and you and I are going out.” He raises a finger to silence Jacob’s next question. “Don’t ask where, it’s a surprise. But it’ll be fun.”
Jacob wants to remind John that he hates surprises, especially ones that involve uninvited guests, but he bites his tongue. John has done him more favours than he can count lately.
“A little notice would be nice, JJ.”
John waves a dismissive hand. “I only got back from Atlanta last night, and then I was preoccupied with Trevor.” He smiles at the mention of his new beau. “What else do you have on that’s so important?”
“There’s a delivery coming in, for starters.”
“Don’t worry about that. Those two beauties and their peculiar friend will be here to supervise.” He sighs at Jacob’s dubious expression. “It’s a Saturday, Jake. You have to give yourself a day off sometimes.”
Twenty minutes later, Jacob finds himself in the passenger seat of John’s convertible as it speeds out of St Francis’ grounds. He wanted to drive his Jeep so Judge could come along in the back seat, but John somehow convinced him to leave his dog with Faith and Louise. Judge needed a little persuading at first, but by the time Jacob was heading out the front door, Faith had somehow coaxed that damn traitor onto his back and was rubbing his belly while his tail slapped against the kitchen tile.
“Where we going, JJ?” Jacob asks as they turn onto the main road.
“Out of county. You’ll see when we get there. I’ll look after you, I swear. We’re going to have some nice, gentle fun.”
Jacob is unconvinced that his idea of fun has much overlap with John’s. He’s promised both brothers he’ll try to go with the flow more, so he breathes deep of the morning mountain air and settles in for the drive. John does have a very nice car, and with the top down the breeze feels great on Jacob’s skin. And he can’t complain about a chance to soak in the scenery. This part of the country really is beautiful.
-
John drives him to Kalispell, where the first port of call is, of all places, an upmarket tailor.
“We’re getting you a suit,” John announces as they enter the shop, a little bell tinkling above their heads as the door swings open. The interior smells of polished wood and clean carpets. “Obviously you’re not going to need it just yet, but if we get you measured today then there’s plenty of time to have it ready.”
“A suit, huh,” Jacob says. He would be taken aback, but now they’re here he does recall John saying something about making sure they were all dressed to impress for a big event he has coming up. Jacob has never had anything tailored in his life, and the only suits he’s worn were cheap and poor quality. His army dress uniform is the smartest clothing he’s ever worn.
“Couldn’t you just send them my measurements?”
“It doesn’t work like that,” John insists. “And besides, that would be no fun at all.”
“Good morning, gentlemen.” A slim man with olive skin and an incredibly neat haircut steps through from the next room. He is dressed in a three-piece suit that even Jacob can tell is beautifully cut. “I’m Stefano, can I assist you with anything today?”
“Good morning Stefano,” John announces, and crosses the shop with his hand outstretched. “I’m John, and this is my brother Jacob. He needs a suit.”
Both men turn to assess Jacob, looking him over as though he’s a less presentable version of a store mannequin.
“Comfort is a priority, so I want him in lightweight wool for summer.”
“A three or two-piece?”
“Two. Let’s not over-complicate things.”
“Mm hmm. Two-button?”
“Absolutely.”
“Perfect.” Stefano nods, tilting his head and scanning Jacob up and down. “What are your thoughts on colour? With his hair and eyes, he’d be a knockout in indigo or olive green.”
“Mmm.” John is uncertain. “You’re absolutely right, of course, but I’m trying to drag him kicking and screaming away from olive green.” He glances at Stefano and adds, “Ex-military.”
“Ahh.”
“And indigo is my thing. I’m in a generous mood, but I draw the line at compromising my vanity.”
“Fair enough. In that case, how do you feel about light grey? We have a divine heather grey worsted wool that’s just a smidge warmer in shade than the silver.”
John’s eyes light up. “Show me.”
Jacob feels even more like a store dummy when it’s time for Stefano to measure him. He’s sent off to put on the dress pants and white shirt John has approved, whereupon Stefano sets to work tucking, tweaking and pinning them to fit and flatter Jacob’s shape. The jacket comes last. Jacob watches his fingers nimbly twitch and tug at the fabric, and even his uncultured ass can appreciate the art in it.
While Stefano busies himself with the adjustments, John flits back and forth between the shelves and Jacob’s side, holding up ties and handkerchiefs and shirts in different colours against Jacob’s shoulder and frowning at his reflection. For once he barely speaks, only an occasional hum of uncertainty or a clipped “Yes” or “No”. Jacob can’t even tell the difference between some of the options he brings over, but he trusts that he may as well be colour blind and style illiterate beside his youngest brother.
“What do you think?” John asks, holding up a dark green tie. Stefano doesn’t reply, just a step back and checks his handiwork.
“Jacob. I’m asking you a question.”
“Oh, I get to have an opinion now?” He raises his eyebrows at John in the mirror. “Which part, the tie?”
“All of it.”
Jacob assesses his reflection. He’s been zoning out so far, uncomfortable staring at himself for this long, but he tries to pay attention now to the ensemble they’ve put him in. It’s hard to tell with the weird way the suit is folded around him, no shoes on his feet and John just dangling the tie in front of him, but suddenly he has a sense of how it will look finished. He’s more impressed than he expected to be.
He nods. “I think... it’s great.”
John’s smile is wide. “It is great. You, my brother, are a very handsome man.” He pats Jacob’s shoulder. “Or at least you will be by this afternoon.”
Jacob eyes him suspiciously. “What’s this afternoon?”
John clasps both his shoulders and meets his eye. It’s a move he’s picked up from Joe. The mischief sparkling in his eyes is all John, though.
“Just another beautiful day in Hope County,” he breezes. “We don’t need an excuse to look our best, do we?”
Jacob isn’t fooled for a second. “I guess that means you’re not done with me yet, right?”
He is right. After purchasing three ties and some pocket squares, John drags Jacob to his next destination. It’s a barbershop, but not like any that Jacob has set foot in before. It’s an intimidatingly modern salon with exposed brick walls and black chairs, the fixtures all steel and natural wood, and not a red and white striped pole in sight. Jacob didn’t even know they had places like this for men.
The barber is a burly, bearded guy with two full sleeves of tattoos. It sets Jacob more at ease than the immaculately dressed Stefano, but once again, John steers the whole encounter.
“I know he hasn’t left you much on top to work with, but let’s at least get it to fade in more at the back and sides. And then we want to tidy all this,” he finishes, motioning around Jacob’s face.
Jacob gives him a Look. “We?”
“Trust me,” John assures him for the hundredth time today. “Don’t worry, we’re not taking it all off. It just desperately needs our help, that’s all.”
Jacob can only imagine how much it’ll cost to have the tattooed guy do what he could have just fine at home, but if John’s paying then he supposes he can sit back and be his Barbie doll a little longer.
“I draw the line at a mani-pedi,” he grumbles as the barber beckons him into a fancy chair.
John peers at his own reflection, fixing non-existent stray hairs. “Don’t tempt me, brother. If we had more time today I would. You know, I think that since we’re here I’ll get a touch up too. So to speak.”
He wanders over to chat with the other barber, who is also tattooed, but skinny as a rake.
It’s actually not a bad experience. The barber’s name is Tom, and he’s laid back and easy to talk to. He doesn’t patronise Jacob about his grooming the way he would have expected in a place like this. His suggestions make sense. Jacob doesn’t feel awkward telling him that he keeps his head hair so short and his beard on the longer side because of his scarring. It makes the hair grow in patchy on his cheeks and the sides of his head.
“Because your hair’s pretty fair, you can get away with a little more on the sides, and no one’ll notice those patches,” Tom explains. His hands are big, built for manual labour, but he snips away lightning-fast at the back of Jacob’s head. He indicates around the top of his head. “I’m gonna give you a slight fade so this line at the top isn’t quite so aggressive. It’ll still look really tight though, don’t worry. I know how it is when you’ve kept it military issue for so long.”
Jacob laughs softly. “That obvious?”
Tom shrugs and keeps on working. “As for the beard, ironically it can end up looking more patchy when it’s longer. If we bring it in tighter, it’s gonna look more solid and show off your jawline too.”
In the background, John chatters away to his barber and fucks around on his phone at the same time. Jacob allows himself to relax and tune it out. It isn’t bad letting someone else take care of him for once. He’d be happier without his gnarled face glaring back at him yet again, but he can focus on Tom’s hands instead, or the reflection of the vintage clocks hanging on the back wall.
John chuckles at something on his phone. “There, how’s that for a fine head of hair?” he says, and holds his phone up for his barber to see.
“Very nice,” the guy replies.
“Mmm. I’ll have to save that one for my brother.”
Jacob opens his mouth to ask what the hell he’s up to now, but John will only brush him off. He’s sure to find out soon enough. And besides, he has a feeling he already knows what—or rather who—was on John’s phone.
Once Tom is done with his head, he fiddles with the chair and tilts Jacob back to work on his beard. Jacob closes his eyes and breathes slowly. It’s easy to focus on the buzz of the clippers and let the rest fade out.
It’s easier to relax his body than his mind. There’s always something nagging and gnawing at him, day or night, and right now it’s the unpleasant thought that John is trying to orchestrate something between Jacob and Deputy Pratt. He tried to set him up with guys a couple of times back in Atlanta, although Jacob was too oblivious to realise on either occasion until it was too late. Ended up making a fool of himself in both cases. He’s told John plain as day that he doesn’t want his help with men. But John’s not only stubborn, he’s impulsive and, to round it off, a hopeless romantic, which makes him almost impossible to deter.
He’s back at it now, Jacob knows it, but he’s being sneakier. It seemed innocent enough when John first subtly arranged for Pratt to come up to the veteran centre to apologise. Easy to write it off as smoothing things over for the sake of the family. But Jacob is getting to know the way John’s mind works better and better as time goes by, and he can see the ulterior motive. Dangling a cute guy under Jacob’s nose. Letting Pratt, with all his awkward defiance, get under his skin. Worst part is it worked. The deputy with his big, dark eyes has been on Jacob’s mind since that day.
The first thing he tends to think of is the night of his arrest, sitting cuffed and cooped up in the back of Pratt’s car. Jacob wasn’t lying about having had a Stryus back in the day, and it had taken him back to being a younger, bolder man, fooling around in the back seat with a guy he’d exchanged nothing more than looks with across the bar before motioning for him to follow Jacob out to the parking lot. Couldn’t help but substitute the memory of that stranger for Pratt.
Staci Pratt doesn’t seem the type for something as bold as a wordless bar hook-up. He does have a kind of cockiness about him, but he isn’t arrogant; quite the opposite. There’s something both fierce and fragile under Pratt’s skin. It draws Jacob in. That’s why he gets a kick out of ribbing him, even when he really shouldn’t, like when he was under arrest. But he wants to make those little frown lines appear between his eyes. He likes the way Pratt’s voice gets gruff and petulant at the same time. His tongue is sharper and his eyes brighter when someone gives him shit. He stood his ground at the convent when Jacob all but slammed him into the Sheriff’s SUV. It makes Jacob want to toy with him even more, like a cat with a bird, to see how far he can push it before Pratt flies away. It’s not something either of them should want. And Jacob knows better than to give into temptation when it feels like this. Pratt excites him, but he makes his heart heavy, too.
Jacob swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing under the gentle press of the clippers. He wishes he could push Pratt out of his mind for good. Never have another thought of his golden skin and lean body. How he’d feel pressed into Jacob’s lap, kissing him like he’s trying to win some battle.
Tom brushes the loose hairs from Jacob’s neck and eases him upright again, snapping him out of his thoughts as he presents his new reflection. Jacob has to admit he looks a lot better. His hair is shorter but less severe than before, and his beard is much neater. It makes his face seem squarer and better defined. He looks younger, too, which he’s never going to complain about.
“I’m impressed,” he says.
Tom grabs a couple of glass jars from the shelf beside the mirror. The first is a white paste that he rubs sparingly between his fingers before spreading it through Jacob’s hair. He talks him through what to do as he works.
“What product have you been using til now?”
“Just regular Brylcreem.”
Tom nods. “This is lighter. It’ll keep the style, but without that weight or stickiness you get with the Brylcreem.” He washes his hands quickly before unscrewing the smaller bottle. “And this is your beard oil. Just a couple drops in your hands like so, rub ’em together, spread it through every morning after you shower. Keeps it nice and soft and tidy.”
John is done now too, not that he needed any attention in the first place, and he comes to stand behind Jacob’s chair.
“Tom, you are an artist,” he says, smiling broadly. He points at the jars. “He’ll take one of each of those. What shampoos do you have here?”
“I own shampoo,” Jacob protests. “I’m not a barbarian.”
“Not after today, you won’t be,” John replies. “And whatever dish soap garbage you buy at the local mini mart is going in the trash.”
Jacob just catches Tom’s eye and lets John get on with it. Being spruced up has him feeling lighter somehow, so he’s too upbeat to be irritated.
He shakes Tom’s hand while John pays, and they head out to look for lunch. There’s a hip coffee shop near the barbers that looks okay and isn’t too full now the main lunch rush has passed. Jacob asks for filter coffee while John orders something overly elaborate that’s probably half foam. They choose sandwiches off the board and head to a corner table by the window to wait. Even after all these years, Jacob prefers to be in the corner. John on the other hand likes it open and light; he still struggles in dark or enclosed spaces. The seating is a compromise, unspoken but acknowledged in a quick shared glance.
Jacob settles into the dark blue leather of the bench and looks at his brother. “So are you gonna tell me what all this is in aid of?”
“It’s long overdue.”
“Little shit,” Jacob chuckles. “I was gonna say thank you, but I take it back in advance.”
“No you will not, and you’re welcome. And it’s just something I wanted to do for you. You have many talents that are completely outside my skill set, and I admire you enormously for those, but personal style is not the biggest tool in your box. It is, however, something I can offer.”
“Even if I never asked?”
“It’s the ones who don’t ask who need it the most. And stop pretending to be ungrateful. I saw that spring in your step as we left the barbers.”
Jacob nods. “You got me there. I do like what he did. But you… You don’t owe me a damn thing, JJ. You never will as long as we live. If anything, I’m indebted to you.”
He’d have no home if it weren’t for John. No business. John even set him up with the best dermatologist in Atlanta to help ease the appearance of his scars. Jacob’s medical care after the army left him with nothing, but between them, his brothers have given him back more than he’s ever had.
“Well first of all, I’m allowed to do things for you because I want to. I’m enjoying myself. I don’t get to see much of you what with flying back and forth all the time.”
“All right.”
John’s face grows earnest. “Second, you are not indebted to me. You never will be. Whatever I’ve given you I have done so because I had the money and the expertise. Money is a means to an end, nothing more. I use it to care for my family. What I’ve received from you and Joe is worth more than every cent I’ve ever owned.”
Jacob looks back into John’s eyes, his baby brother’s eyes, and nods once. Okay. They’ve had this conversation before, or versions of it, so he knows the parts John doesn’t say. That Jacob saved his life when he was small, and Joseph saved it again just a few short years ago. Jacob can’t argue with Joe’s role, but the other part is still a bitter lump in his throat that he isn’t sure he’ll ever swallow. He did so much wrong back then, probably caused more pain than he helped with his rash behaviour. Ended up leaving them to suffer so much without him. Even now he can’t get the balance right. He came to Hope County to protect the family and ended up starting a feud and getting himself arrested. And who was there to clean up his mess yet again? John, of course.
“Thank you, Johnny.”
John smiles. “It’s my pleasure.”
“So who’s next? Reckon you can convince Joe to part with the manbun and Jimmy Buffett shirts?”
“Oh, god. That man’s wardrobe needs a divine intervention beyond even my powers. I have tried, but for someone so laid back, Joseph is as stubborn as an ox.”
“Runs in the family.”
“Anyway, he already has Louise. I’m not as invested in making him handsome.”
Ahh, so now he shows his hand.
“John,” Jacob says. “I appreciate all of this. I do. But please, don’t try to… set me up, if that’s what you’re doing. I mean it. I don’t want it.”
John tilts his head slightly to the side and watches him, as though he’s still sizing up Jacob’s hair or clothes.
“Don’t you?”
“No.”
“And what if he does?”
“He?”
“You know who.”
Jacob huffs and looks out the window. “He doesn’t. And even if he did, that wouldn’t make it a good idea.”
“Why?”
“John,” he warns.
“No, wait. Explain it to me. I’m not trying to be difficult, or make fun of you, or anything like that. I just want to know why it would be bad to try connecting with someone you’re attracted to who feels the same way.”
“‘Connecting’?”
“Yes. Sex, dating, having a conversation: it all means connecting with someone, opening part of yourself to them. Even if it’s only for one night. You’ve already started connecting with him. In fact, if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be as nervous about it as you are now.”
“I’m not nerv—”
“And I think you know as well as I do that he is interested. So stop being a grumpy cynic and tell me honestly what you’re worried about.”
The barista appears with their drinks at last, giving Jacob a moment’s relief, but John’s eyes are back on him the second they’re alone again. Jacob takes a few seconds to stir cream into his coffee.
Finally he shrugs. “Isn’t it obvious? The age difference.”
John just watches him, waiting.
“What? I was enlisted before he was even born, for Christ’s sake. You don’t think that’s a good enough reason?”
“It’s nothing insurmountable.”
“What could we possibly have in common?”
“You both want to fuck?” John grins. “Trevor and I have nothing in common, but we complement each other perfectly.”
“You’ve been seeing the guy for five minutes.”
“It doesn’t matter. I could tell right away. He’s wonderful. He makes me feel wonderful.”
Jacob sips his coffee and fights the urge to roll his eyes. “And I’m happy for you, but this isn’t as easy.”
“Why not?”
“Jesus. Because I’m not as easy. I’m a... difficult person, JJ.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that.” John drinks from the tall glass cup his pretentious coffee is served in, and dabs the foam from his moustache with a napkin. He speaks again more softly. “You’re not difficult to love, Jake. Not in the least.”
Jacob could argue, list off all the reasons why he’d be a horrible date, but he knows John would only argue. And not only because arguing is his profession. He believes in Jacob, and so does Joe. It’s more than Jacob deserves or ever hoped to find, and it’s enough for him. He sits back on the bench and cracks a smile. The three brothers are so different they may as well be from different planets, but he will be grateful until his dying day to have them back in his life.
“All right, all right. I love you too. Can we please change the subject now?”
“In a minute.” John pulls his phone from his jacket pocket and fiddles with it for a few seconds. “There’s something I want you to see first.”
“Tell me it’s not another…” He lowers his voice. “Ass picture?”
“Why? Did you delete the other one?” Jacob hesitates a fraction too long to lie and say he did, which makes John laugh out loud in wicked glee. “It was a particularly nice ass though, wasn’t it?”
Jacob turns to look out at the street again, shaking his head, but he can’t keep from laughing too. “Yeah, it’s a very nice ass.”
“Correct. And no, this is not an ass picture. But it’s still worthy of your attention.”
He turns his phone around and slides it across the tabletop towards Jacob. It shows a black and white picture of a young man from behind, his long hair loose against his bare neck, bare shoulders. Without context, it would not be immediately recognisable as Staci Pratt. But Jacob has no doubt. He takes in the gloss of Pratt’s hair, the curve of his ear, the light stubble at the edge his jaw, and that sinking ache socks him in the chest again. It’s too easy to imagine lowering his face to the soft skin where neck meets shoulder and tasting him. Gently biting his throat.
“He changed his Grindr pic, obviously,” John says. He leans over to swipe a fingertip over the screen. “But this is the really good part. Look at his profile. Notice anything different?”
“Why would I?” Jacob replies. “Never saw the old one.” He doesn’t have the app installed. Just the thought of dating sites makes him anxious. All John sent him was the underwear shot and his assurance that it was from Pratt’s account.
“Well then, allow me to explain. The last time I looked, which was the evening I sent you that rather peachy booty photo, his profile stated that he was looking within an age range of twenty-five to thirty-five.”
Jacob sighs. “And?”
“Now look what it says.”
Damn him, he’s piqued Jacob’s curiosity. Not wanting to appear eager, he leans in slowly to squint at the screen.
“Screen this fucking big, why do they have to make everything so damn small?” he grumbles.
“It says, brother dear, that the upper limit is now late forties.” John wipes more foam from his smirking lips. “Whatever do you suppose could have provoked that?”
“He might change it every week for all you know.”
“Bullshit. That young man wants a piece of you, Jake. My god, in a town that small and heteronormative he must be desperate for it, the poor boy. Just give him some dick. It’s the charitable thing to do.”
His small town comment makes Jacob think of the creep hovering around Pratt at Joseph’s camp last weekend. Pratt denied he was an ex-boyfriend, but the way the guy stared after him and eyed Jacob like a thief painted a different picture. Fuck, Jacob had gotten a kick out of Pratt being so pleased to see him, even if it was only to escape. As for the stalker… Jacob had almost wanted him to come after them so he could knock him out. It’s not big or clever and he knows it. It’s just that misplaced protective instinct coming into play all over again. Pratt must already think he’s a Neanderthal after he smacked Sharky Boshaw down.
John finally lets up on him once their food arrives, and they talk about the various family projects while they eat. Focusing on work is easier.
He’ll still be glad to get home. He isn’t comfortable in stores and around strangers, particularly without Judge’s calming presence. His performance at the Hollyhock Saloon is proof of that. But John’s grand plan is not yet complete.
Their third stop—and final one, John promises—is another clothing store, though this one is a lot more casual than the first.
“I have jeans, John,” Jacob complains as John starts loading him up with pairs in slightly different shades of blue.
“Correction. You have shabby work pants. What you’re wearing now is fine if you’re plastering a wall, but that’s it. Take some pride in yourself.”
Easy for him to say. Jacob hasn’t felt proud of much in years. As long as he works hard and keeps striving to be the brother he always wanted, then maybe he’ll let himself indulge in a little pride. But it doesn’t extend to caring what anyone else thinks of him.
John stops abruptly in front of Jacob. They’re in the shirt section now, and John taps a finger against his lips as he scans the wall. He grabs a couple of t-shirts in muted colours and thrusts the hangers at Jacob.
“I need a large,” Jacob tells him.
“That is a large. It’s muscle fit.”
Jacob squints at the tag. “Not even gonna let me have a regular fuckin’ t-shirt, huh?”
“Jacob. You have a great body. Stop hiding it under those shapeless grey bags.” John snatches some long-sleeved Henleys from another rail. “Just try them on, that’s all I ask. I’m not going to force you to wear anything you hate.”
Jacob grunts in reply and keeps trailing him. Eventually John decides it’s time to head to the changing rooms, so he leads the way while Jacob follows, arms laden.
“Try these first,” John says, passing him a pair of jeans before flipping through the shirts on the rail they’ve all but filled. “With this, aaand… I think this. I’ll go find you some shoes while you change. You’re a thirteen, right?”
“Yeah,” Jacob replies. “How do you even remember all this stuff?”
John has already vanished, so he gets no answer. He sighs and tugs the curtain across the booth. He tries the pants on first, then peels his shirt off once they’re on. He prefers not to see too much of his own skin at once. The muscle fit t-shirt feels a little odd, snugger on his chest and biceps than he’s used to, but when he looks in the mirror even he can tell it’s more flattering. His shoulders seem broader and his arms thicker. The jeans give him more shape, too, but they’re still perfectly comfortable. He shrugs on the second shirt John picked out. It’s a short-sleeved flannel in black and blue-grey, something Jacob would likely have worn anyway, although he’d have likely chosen a long-sleeved version a size bigger. He leaves it unbuttoned.
The curtain is yanked back suddenly, and John appears with a pair of boots in each hand. “Here, try these—Oh, wow.” He takes a step back. “Yes. If we weren’t related I would absolutely hit that.”
“Jesus, John.”
John shoves a pair of boots at Jacob, and a belt in the same shade of brown. Turns Jacob this way and that by his shoulders and fiddles with the t-shirt, tucking it in loosely before hunkering down to tweak the cuffs of his pants. Once he’s finished primping, he manoeuvres Jacob back in front of the mirror.
“There. See? Perfect.” John smiles, chin resting on Jacob’s shoulder. “See how the cut makes your legs seem even longer? And check out those guns. Flaunt those babies.”
Jacob isn’t the flaunting type, but he’s impressed with the way he looks, especially with the newly-trimmed hair and beard. And the tweaks to his usual style are smaller than he feared. John even permitted a couple of olive green items into his selection.
“What do you think?”
Jacob shrugs. “I like it just fine.”
“Glowing praise indeed.”
“I mean it, I like it. Thought you might try dragging me further out of my comfort zone.”
“Well there wouldn’t be much point. I wanted you to actually wear this stuff.”
He makes Jacob try on a few more combinations before he’s satisfied with the exact styles and sizes to purchase. By the time they’re done Jacob’s patience is wearing dangerously thin, and he’s longing for some quiet. John seems to notice how prickly he is around the sales assistant who has caught the whiff of money and trotted over to help, and he announces that they’re done. Not a moment too soon.
John is several hundred dollars lighter and Jacob a few glossy store bags heavier by the time they leave. Jacob even has new sunglasses on after John snatched his scuffed up old ones off the front of his shirt and instructed the sales assistant to throw them in the trash. On the walk back to the parking lot, Jacob gets the feeling more eyes are turning in his direction than usual. He’s used to John getting the attention, but not himself. Maybe he’d like it if he weren’t so agitated. Then again, he never felt too comfortable being looked at.
The drive home passes mostly in silence. John leaves him in peace to stare out at the passing scenery and get lost in his thoughts. It’s late afternoon when they finally pull into the courtyard at St Francis’. Faith is outside playing fetch with Judge, while Pruitt and Sutter, back from the day’s patrols, hover nearby making eyes at her.
Jacob waves them off like bothersome flies as he gets out of John’s car. Judge bounds over with the tennis ball still in his mouth and jumps up, paws on Jacob’s chest. The tennis ball leaves a trail of slobber down Jacob’s front when he drops it. At least he’s still in his old clothes. Judge sniffs and licks at his face while Jacob scritches his ears.
“Get down, you big idiot.”
They head indoors where amazing smells are emanating from the kitchen. The guy from earlier—Randall—is chopping salad vegetables at the kitchen table.
“Hey!” Louise greets, turning from the row of dishes spread out on the counter top to give Jacob a once-over. “Oh, wow. You look so handsome, Jake.”
“Hey, just wait ’til you see me suited and booted,” he replies. “Then you’ll know for sure you married the wrong brother.” He looks over the array of food. It’s all vegan—Joe and Lou won’t touch anything else—but it makes even a carnivorous caveman like Jacob’s mouth water. “What’s all this for? Another part of my surprise?”
“You wish. It’s for the barbecue.”
“Who’s having a barbecue?”
Lou sighs. “John!” she hollers. “You didn’t tell him about the barbecue?”
John pokes his sheepish head around the door. “I was working up to it,” he says.
Jacob looks from John to Louise and back. “Go on. Just tell me, while I’m still in a reasonably good mood.”
John comes in and sets down the shopping bags. “Our day isn’t quite over yet,” he explains. “We—and by we I mean the whole family, including Joseph and the whole marching band—are going to the barbecue at Nick Rye’s place. It’s the event of the summer, so I’m told.”
Jacob frowns. “I’ve never even spoken to Nick Rye.”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s open to everyone. Apparently the whole county turns up.”
He shakes his head. “John… You know I’m no good at this stuff.”
“Nonsense. You think that, but you are perfectly house trained. Isn’t that right, dear sister?” Louise nods enthusiastically. “Let’s just go along, eat some charred meat, drink some beer, and show the locals that the Seeds are here to stay. What do you say?”
“This why you wanted me presentable?”
“It’s one of the reasons I wanted you feeling your most confident,” John corrects. “You’ll have Judge, and any time you want to leave, you can sneak off back to the ranch. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fun.”
Jacob just eyes him wearily, hands on his hips. “The whole county, huh?”
“Mm hmm.” John tries an innocent smile, but achieves only boyish mischief.
“That better not include Sharky Boshaw.”
“Trevor has already promised to keep him far away if he turns up.”
If Ash is going to be there, Jacob can be certain Pratt will too. He’s torn for a minute between the urge to call a rain check and wild curiosity about how Deputy Pratt might react to his new and improved look.
Eventually he gives in. He nods. “Fine, let’s do this.”
“Excellent.” John grins and winks over Jacob’s shoulder at Louise. “Now go and get changed into something new and beautiful. We have to be out in an hour.”