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“Yo, Bradshaw!”
Bradley rolls his eyes at the southern holler; arms bunching and flexing as he moves the carefully packaged packets of meat products from the van behind him onto the chiller boxes on the market stand; the repetitive movement helping to keep him warm against the early fall chill, along with the woollen scarf wrapped around his neck. “What, Seresin?”
He turns his head to look at the annoying blond who worked on his family farm with him. Jake pops his eyebrows at him and gives him a big shit-eating grin; arms folded over his chest, the table in front of him full to the brim with ready-to-sell cheeses from the farm. “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to make you turn around.”
“You are a child.” Bradley flips him off; ignoring the hyena-like cackle he gets in return.
Every Saturday the Bradshaw farm (actually called Nutmeg Farm on the little plaque drilled into one of the stone pillars either side of their front driveway) sets up shop at the local farmer’s market. Originally it had been just the one stand with some meat joints and some milk, but then over the years their farm has gotten more successful, and now they have four different stands; the one Bradley is setting up with all the meat products from the various farm animals they have, Jake’s with the cheeses and other dairy products such as milk and ice cream, Bob was manning the stall that houses the vegetables that were harvested from the farm crops, and Tasha—she has the wool and yarn from the sheep and alpacas; vibrant colours all naturally dyed, with homemade items knitted by her and Bradley’s mom. Like the scarf around his neck.
Normally Bradley shuns the market in favour of doing jobs around the farm; having grown up around animals, he usually prefers them to humans. But his mom and dad were out of state going to pick up a new tractor for the farm, and so he was on market duty.
As he finishes setting up, he sort of hopes the day goes by quickly.
He’s still thinking the same thing, five slow as fuck hours later, absently thinking about what he might have for dinner that night and being polite but distant with customers, up until the most gorgeous man he’s ever fucking seen wanders up to his meat stall.
About five inches shorter than Bradley; dark hair that stuck up in tufts like he’d been running his hands through it. He was older than Bradley, though he couldn’t confidently say by how much. There were wrinkles fanning out from sparkling green eyes, but other than that, he could be anywhere from late 30s to—
Fuck, Bradley has no idea.
He’s stunning though.
Compact muscle that his tight, white t-shirt highlights to perfection; perky nipples budding against the cotton from the chill in the air, that has Bradley’s mouth suddenly aching with the desire to bite and suck. He’s wearing jeans that look like they’re painted on and as he leans in to look at the different meats on display; Bradley clocks the peachy curve of his ass, and Jesus fucking Christ—
It’s a masterpiece.
Like, he could bury his face there and die happy.
Bradley gulps; the man humming to himself. He has headphones in; head bobbing like he’s listening to a tune he really likes as he peruses Bradley’s wares.
(Bradley wishes he would peruse the wares on his person rather than the ones in front of him, but he’ll take what he could get. At least he was at Bradley’s stall and not Jake’s. No way could he deal with his brand of smug bragging right then).
He gets so caught up staring at the beautiful man, he doesn’t realise that he’s staring back.
Oh shit.
“Uh….” The man pulls a headphone out of his ear and takes his phone out of his back pocket; pressing pause on his music to give Bradley his full attention. Being the focus of such an intense gaze scrambles his brain. At least that’s his excuse when his mouth opens again and he blurts out—
“Can I interest you in some meat?”
He immediately cringes, because fucking hell, really Bradley? That’s what you say to the hottest person you’ve ever seen? He’ll be lucky the guy doesn’t file a complaint. Or laugh in his face.
“Shit, I’m so sorry—”
“What kind of meat can you offer me, Sweetheart?”
Bradley’s mouth snaps shut. “Huh?”
The man quirks a brow; mouth pursed like he was biting back a grin. “You have a lot of meat on display here…” he roves his eyes over Bradley; taking in Bradley’s broad shoulders and the plaid shirt that covers them. Suddenly he feels like the woollen scarf wrapped around his neck is unnecessary; the intensity of the man’s gaze making him feel like he was burning under his skin. “So…what can you offer me?”
“Whatever you want,” he says faintly. His eyes widen, because that wasn’t what he meant to say. Shakes his head hoping it might knock some braincells loose. “I mean, um, we have stuff—joints, I mean joints of meat and other items from a variety of animals, which are all here right in front of me—which is….what you asked.” He chuckles nervously; rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he winces when the man looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “We got beef, pork, lamb, chicken, turkey, and goat.”
“Hmmm. No ostrich steaks? Alligator meatballs? Bigfoot burgers?”
He was teasing him. Bradley kinda likes it.
“Uh no. We have, uh, horses on the farm, but those are for riding.” His mind flashes to a different kind of riding; imagines the man in front of him splayed out on his lap, or hell, the other way around, he’s not fussy. Heat swirls in his gut.
“Do you ride?”
“What? men?”
The man chuckles and Bradley just wants to die. Fuck, he knows he prefers the company of animals, but he’s pretty sure even the Rooster on the farm that follows him round, watching him with judgy, beady eyes as he scoops up eggs for breakfast, would come up with something a lot less embarrassing than what he’d just vomited up like verbal diarrhoea.
“Oh my fucking god,” he buries his face in his hands; cheeks flushing hot and red, “I’m so sorry, I—”
“I meant horses, but that’s good to know.” Bradley’s mouth snaps shut at the purred out words. “I’ll take some beef burgers and sausages though, please.”
He nods dumbly. Grabs the best burgers and sausages he has; putting them in a bag and handing them to the man with tentative smile. “Here you go.”
The man hands him the money. “Thanks.”
He turns to leave; slipping his headphone back in his ear. Suddenly, Bradley wants to know at least one thing about this man before he goes, so at least he knows he hasn’t hallucinated his dream man from boredom. “What are you listening to?”
The man smiles at him and shows him his phone; the album cover of Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska there for him to see. Bradley’s mouth quirks and he nods. “Good choice.”
“See you around, Sweetheart,” the man gives him a lazy salute and then he wanders off, taking his pretty face and mouthwatering ass with him.
“Hate to see him go, but love to watch him leave.”
Bradley elbows Jake in the gut; his eyes still focused on the man who was now straddling a Kawasaki motorbike after putting his purchases in a saddlebag. “You’re just jealous he didn’t go to your stall.”
“Damn right I am! But also, at least I don’t have to live with the knowledge that I just screwed the pooch in front of the hottest man under the sun, so there is th—oof! Keep your pointy elbows to yourself, Bradshaw!”
“I will if you keep your stupid commentary to yourself.”
“D’aww someone’s upset they didn’t get sexy man’s number.”
Bradley just huffs.
Number? He didn’t even get his name.
What. An. Idiot.
+
Bradley’s not saying he spends the next two weeks sulking at his own stupidity, but that’s what he’s doing.
His mom and dad had looked at him with concern when he’d come back from the market that Saturday, but he’d just told them he was fine. He didn’t know how to explain that he’d somehow met the love of his life that day, and he was so blinded by his charm and beauty that he hadn’t even thought to ask him who he was, or if he could do something crazy, like, maybe, marry him? before he’d lost him to the horizon.
He'd stayed away from the market since then; a little heart broken and a lot annoyed at himself. Made use of the new tractor his parents had bought to plough some of their fields, helped one of their mares give birth to a foal, and just plodded around the farm like he usually did, grunting at Seresin when he got up in his face, and enjoying Bob’s talents in the kitchen, eating his homemade doorstop sandwiches.
There’d been no reason for him to be at the market the past two weeks; his mom and dad had had it covered along with Tasha and Bob.
And if he’d spent at least a couple of hours every day thinking about the man from the market since he met him, then that was just between him and Dave; the stray cat that he’d found behind one of the storage barns four months ago that helped keep the mice from getting in the pantry.
He’s accepted that he’s never going to see the man again, which makes what his dad says, all the more devastating—
“What do you mean I need to cover the market tomorrow?”
“Exactly that, kiddo.”
“But whyyyyyyy?” he whines. And yeah, he knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help it.
His dad rolls his eyes. “Stop pouting. You’re going—end of. I know it involves having to talk to people, which—shudder—but you never know, you might meet someone.”
He narrows his eyes. “Is mom trying to set me up again?”
His dad whacks him with a dish towel. “Don’t talk about your mother like that.” Bradley arches a brow. His dad caves quickly. “But yes.”
“Fine,” Bradley huffs, because he knows his dad isn’t going to let it go. Though he can’t deny that the thought of potentially seeing the man of his dreams again has his butterflies fluttering in his belly.
+
“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine today.”
Bradley finishes serving a woman two lamb chops with a polite smile, and then turns to Jake who’s sidled up beside him, giving the asshole his best glare. “Don’t even start. My parents ganged up on me and now I’m here.”
“And we’re just thrilled to have you, darlin’,” Jake snorts. He claps Bradley on the shoulder, “but hey, maybe something—or someone—will brighten your mood, hmm?”
And with that mysterious sentence, he saunters off to go sell cheese with that cheesy mug of his.
“You’re back!”
Bradley startles at the voice—one he thought he’d never hear again. Whirling around, his eyes widen. “It’s you!”
“It’s me,” the man dips his head with a bashful smile. “I made an impression, huh?”
“Uh, duh! You have seen yourself, right?”
He laughs. “You’re very sweet.” Bradley blushes. “I didn’t get your name last time.”
“Oh, um, Bradley?”
“You sure about that?”
He huffs, nods. “Yeah, Bradley Bradshaw.”
The man’s eyes light up in recognition. “Like the name of the farm.”
“Mmhmm. Family business.”
“Ooh, so the man who was here the last two weeks that has a moustache like yours..?”
“My dad.” Bradley frowns, because his dad hadn’t mentioned meeting this man. And he knows his mom would’ve remembered meeting someone this pretty; she loves people’s eyes and Mav had beautiful green eyes.
The man hums. “I thought it was you first of all, but when I realised it wasn’t I just…”
Bradley steps closer; suddenly hating the fact that there was a table covered in meat between them. “You what?”
“I left.”
He blinks slowly. “You left because I wasn’t here?”
The man’s cheeks flush a pale pink. “I…I wanted to see you again.”
“Oh. So it wasn’t just me who thought our previous meeting hadn’t been long enough?”
“No. It wasn’t just you.” He spears his fingers through his hair; the panel of his brown leather jacket falling open as his arm lifted, exposing the compact muscle of his torso. “I’m Mav, by the way. Well, technically my name is Pete, but I go by Mav—Maverick. It’s a callsign.”
“Nice to officially meet you, Mav.”
Mav shakes his hand, and Bradley suppresses a shiver. Wants to feel those hands all over him. “You too, Sweetheart.”
“So, uh, what can I interest you in this time?”
“Apart from your number?” Mav winks. “Two steaks please, if you have some.”
“Fancy date?” he blurts out before he can stop himself.
“Depends on if you say yes.”
He chokes out a breath. “You…You’re asking me on a date?”
“And I’m hoping you’ll say yes.”
Bradley nods enthusiastically. “Damn right, I’m saying yes.”
Mav laughs, delighted. “Excellent. Then I’ll take those steaks, please.” He grabs the two best ones he has and hands them to the older man. Refuses to take his money.
“I can’t let you pay for them if you’re going to cook for me, Mav. But here—” he scribbles his number on the back of a scrap bit of paper and hands that over too. Watches as Mav keys the number into his phone and then calls Bradley so he has his contact information as well.
“Well, thank you. You free tonight?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Great. I’ll text you my address.” Mav walks backwards a few steps; a smirk dancing on his face. “Bring that meat of yours.” He looks pointedly at Bradley’s body, trailing down to where the table blocks him from view from the waist down.
“Mav!” he splutters out a laugh.
Mav grins wolfishly and then blowing him a kiss, he spins on his heels and walks away; swaying his hips like he knows exactly how much Bradley appreciates the view.
Bradley stares after him for a good five minutes, until Jake scares the crap out of him shouting Boo! right in his ear. Unfortunately the bastard manages to evade his whacking hands.
“Told you it would get better.”
He doesn’t dignify him with an answer. Mainly because he was right.
+
Later that night when he has perfectly cooked steak and delicious red wine sitting in his belly, and he’s sprawled out naked and sweaty in Mav’s lap; he realises exactly how much better his day is with Mav in it.
“So it’s not just horses you ride,” Mav murmurs; petting his palm down the length of Bradley’s spine.
He snorts out a sated laugh. “I’ll ride you whenever you want, Mav.”
Snuggling into the warm softness of Mav’s chest, Bradley decides then and there that humans aren’t all bad.
(Animals are generally better though).
(Except when it comes to Mav. Mav was better than everyone. He could tell that from the moment they met).
(Ten years later when they take a horse ride through the nearby woods and have a picnic and sex under the canopy of the trees, Bradley is happy in the knowledge that he hasn’t been proven wrong, not even once).
(And Saturday shifts on the meat stall get a hundred times more tolerable when his husband is there to keep him company).