Trouble On My Left, Trouble On My Right
Chapter 2: Operation, Find Caroline a Cowboy
Kayce Dutton x Reader/OC - Friends to Lovers
He doesn't even have to take half a step to catch back up with me. “Come on Caroline, you know I’m just teasing you.” He pats my back as a peace offering. “Although,” Okay, maybe not. “I have it on good authority that I can please the ladies, so save a horse and all that.” Winking flirtatiously, he belts out a laugh, finally removing his hand from my bare back. And what a blessing that is, because if he had kept touching me while talking about… that, I’d be liable to combust.
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Sorry it took me so long to update! I'm a teacher and my free time is fairly limited. We're at a point in the school year now though that is much less stressful, so expect fairly regular updates, at least for the next few chapters.
Comments are so appreciated! I'd love to know what ya'll like and what ya'll think I could improve upon.
As always: I do not own Yellowstone (2018) or any of its characters. This work is not monetized.
THIS FIC IS CROSSPOSTED TO AO3. It is not posted to any other site. I am lookingcold on AO3 and that is all. I do not give permission for my work to be posted by others to any other platform.
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We don’t talk for the rest of the walk, but the silence is comfortable, like it always is between us. Kayce and I have never asked too much of each other, have always read each others’ moods as if they were our own, and that apparently hasn’t changed from the five years we’ve spent apart. It’s glaringly obvious to us both that neither is up for idle chit chat.
And while I’m really not up for small talk, the silence does, unfortunately, give me entirely too much time to overthink. What felt like such a natural decision, what felt like fulfilling my duty this morning, now feels foolhardy, and quite possibly too risky. Now this isn’t to say that I’m doubting my choice. Helping Mr. John, helping Kayce, helping the family and ranch that raised me, that picked up my pieces and glued me back together over and over, is a no brainer. Helping the people and the place I love most in the world feels as natural as breathing. But smoothing over a murder? That’s- No, I’m not doubting my choice, but I’m sure as hell doubting my sanity. When I said the Duttons needed a criminal defense lawyer, not a PR specialist, I wasn’t exaggerating. And if I’m being honest, this job feels more like that of an accessory than a public relations consult.
The front porch of the big house comes into view well before I’m ready. This dinner may be a reunion of sorts, but it’ll undoubtedly be a business meeting as well. Steeling my nerves for such talks doesn’t come quite as naturally to me as it once did. I feel like a knight with rusty armor. Weak at critical points, weak where it matters. More aptly, I feel like a little girl again, staring into the headlights of a train with no way to move and no way to stop it. I’m no coward, please don’t think that of me, but you know that feeling of impending doom? The one that makes your spine tingle and your stomach drop to your knees? Dread is probably the best word. That’s all I can feel as I stand at the bottom step of the Dutton’s porch.
I must hesitate for too long, or stare off into space, or look absolutely fucking terrified, because in a flash Kayce is back down the two steps he’d already taken and by my side. He doesn’t say anything, you’d think we’d taken a vow of silence, but just looks at me imploringly, resembling a curious puppy so much I almost crack a smile. And then Kacye, sweet Kayce, wraps his calloused hand around mine and tucks it against his chest, over his heart, before tipping his head, ushering me up the stairs. Once I’m half way up I get a fond, “Atta girl,” and what woman doesn’t love being praised like an obedient mare. I snort in response and kick out my foot to trip him, but only a little bit, on the last stair. Can’t have hime getting too full of himself.
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Dinner is nice, but rather awkward if I’m totally honest, mainly due to the fact that Beth and Jamie are in attendance. Let’s just say Gator clears the table well before dinner should truly be over. To my surprise, we don’t talk business, but rather I’m questioned, interrogated really, over what I’ve been up to the past five years and why haven’t I called and would it really kill me to send a text every few months. Beth is the one who leads this inquiry. Jamie and I were never particularly close, so he remains silent for the most part, and he leaves in a huff shortly after Beth throws a fork like it’s a trident directly at his forehead. Can’t say I blame him, even I can only handle so much of Beth when she’s at her worst.
My interrogation is blissfully, or so I thought, cut short by Mr. John when he asks, “So, ya’ll have any plans tonight?” He folds his napkin meticulously, trying to look nonchalant but missing the mark by a shameful amount. If I thought that feeling of dread had left me, I was wrong.
I narrow my eyes and prepare to defend myself against an interrogation of a different kind. Before I can grit out a suspicious, “No, why,” however, Beth pipes up. “Actually Daddy, since you asked,” at this she turns to me, “Caroline, how do you feel about heading into town and getting gloriously drunk and then gloriously fucked? You’ve been gone far too long, so you’ve got to be re-initiated, re-tainted if you will.” She looks me up and down, assessing. “You’re far too shiny, like a little cherub.”
Jesus Christ, I think she’s suggesting I fuck a townie. And Mary and Joseph I haven’t even so much as kissed someone since my divorce - ok, well maybe a peck or two here or there, but that’s besides the point. Here I was, so worried about talking business, about skirting around the subject of murder, only to be blindsided by an age old Dutton scheme. Operation: Find Caroline a Cowboy. Well if Beth thinks I’m about to get biblical with some rando she is absolutely, positively looney tunes. Now, how to communicate all of that in a tactful way? Taking a shallow breath, I part my lips and prepare to spout some placating, buzzword bullshit. Something along the lines of, “Well, as fun as that sounds, I’m actually really tired. Maybe later this weekend?” or “How about we just kick back in the bunkhouse tonight, save the salaciousess for this Saturday?” Before I can even utter a word though, Kayce butts in on my behalf.
“Do you maybe think you could save the corruption for later, Beth? I’ve already promised the boys that I’ll bring Caroline around for cards tonight.” While his voice is calm, casual even, Kayce gives himself away the moment he begins to bounce his leg, the tap tap tap of the heel of his boot loud in the otherwise quiet room. He’s uncomfortable, maybe even irritated, which aren’t we all at least a little bit when speaking to Beth, but there’s something else. A boyishness to his demeanor that I haven’t seen since high school. There’s also the fact that we had decidedly made zero plans to visit the bunkhouse tonight. So. Interesting.
I’m certainly not the only one to notice his odd shift in behavior, as Mr. John’s lips curl into a smirk and Beth’s face arranges inself into a pleased, self-satisfied expression. She frequently wears the look of someone who knows enough to destroy literally any given person’s life, but this look is more playful, one of a cat that’s pinned a mouse by its tail. Ignoring Kayce, she turns her attention back to me. “Caroline, sweetheart, don’t even think about screwing any of those cowboys. I know old habits die hard, but trust me when I say not a single one of them is worth a ride.” Now, to be clear, Beth knows, I know, Mr. John knows, and even Kayce knows that Beth has only ever screwed one of said cowboys out in that bunkhouse, still, her dig elicits the desired reaction from Kayce. And furthermore, she makes it clear that she’s not just trying to set me up with any old cowboy. I’m on to her. Operation: Find Caroline a Kayce.
With a cringe of disgust and a flushed face, he exclaims, “Fuck’s sake Beth, I’m not taking her out there to pimp her out.” He’s stopped smoothing the tablecloth, but now he’s exasperatedly running his hand through his still damp hair. Shit, Kayce. You think he’d have learned by now how to not play into Beth’s hand. Some people just have to learn the hard way I suppose.
Beth’s eyebrows lift and the corner of her mouth quirks. “Well you’re not a very good bestfriend then, are you?”
“Fuck you.” Kayce mutters, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms petulantlly.
“Maybe you should be saying that to her.” Beth points at me with her napkin, dropping it onto her plate as she rises from the table. “This has been fun. Possibly the best family dinner we’ve had all year.” Planting a kiss on Mr. John’s cheek she says, “Love you Daddy, have a drink with me later, will you? I think we should talk.” Then, rounding the table to me, she strokes my hair, almost motherly, “Caroline, sweetheart, clear your schedule Saturday. Me and you are going to paint the town red.” Finally, reaching Kayce, she sighs, “Goodnight, dummy. Let me know if you’d like help finding your balls.” And just like a tornado, she’s there wreaking havoc one moment, and gone the next.
The dining room is uncomfortably silent for a beat after she exits, until Mr. John blessedly breaks the awkwardness yet again. “Beth’s antics aside, I don’t think ya’ll should be going out anywhere tonight. We’ve got several important meetings lined up tomorrow morning and I need both of you sharp. Especially you Kayce, tomorrow will require you to tell a very particular version of events and I can’t risk you fucking that up. Alright, Son?”
Looking slightly cowed, Kayce nods his head in agreement. “Alright.”
Having determined this hell of a dinner has gone on long enough, I begin to make moves to excuse Kayce and myself. “Dinner was delicious Mr. John, thank you for having me. And thank you for such fine company.” I may be lying out of my ass, but my momma didn’t raise me to be rude.
Mr. John exhales a dry laugh and rises from the table. It’s moments like this where his and Beth’s resemblance is striking. “No need to thank me, honey. You’re family, you’re welcome at my table anytime.” Pushing in his chair he surveys Kayce and I with calculating eyes. “Why don’t you two head on home, you both look like you’ve been put through the wringer.”
Gee Mr. John, I wonder the hell why?
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Our walk back isn’t nearly as silent as our walk to the house. To say Kayce is pissed would be putting it lightly. “What in the actual fuck was all that? I mean, Beth was no surprise, but what shit is Dad trying to pull?”
“Kayce, your daddy barely said a word.” I’m more focused on the words left unsaid.
“He didn’t have to say anything Carrie, he sat there like a smug bastard and let Beth say it all for him.” Kayce may as well be pitching a fit the way he kicks at the ground, arms hugged tight to his chest like a wronged toddler. Honestly, the image is kind of amusing, so much so that I have to stifle a laugh. I must not do a good enough job, because I can feel the glare that Kayce shoots through the side of my head. “What?”
Not wanting to add fuel to the fire, I’m quick to hide my growing grin. “Well first off, I’m gonna overlook the fact you pulled out my forbidden nickname. But second, do you remember that Christmas when we were thirteen? How Beth hung mistletoe from literally every single doorway, and how your daddy actually enforced the kissing rule?” I raise my eyebrows high, daring him to conveniently “forget” an awkward moment from our childhood as he often pretends to do.
The tips of his ears turn pink, but he sighs his agreement. “Yeah I remember, we must’ve kissed two dozen times. At the time I thought dying would’ve been a kinder fate.”
Asshole. I punch him in the arm, hard. “Wow. Thanks a lot. The sentiment is shared.” Rolling my eyes and checking for invisible dirt beneath my nails, I continue. “Anyways, what they’re doing now, Beth and your daddy, is just an enormous escalation of what they did then. I don’t think Mr. John will rest in his grave until I give him a grandbaby - with you.” I look at Kayce pointedly. It’s no secret that Mr. John, and Beth by extension, have been holding out hope that me and Kayce would fall madly in love and have lots of babies. When Kayce married Monica the teasing and hinting stopped, after all Mr. John would never disrespect their marriage in such a way, and when I married Judd it was almost like a fence went up between us, between myself and the Duttons that is, but now that both of our spouses are out of the picture? I’m certainly not surprised the trouble has started back up.
I expect Kayce to splutter and turn a darker shade of red. Despite his gruff exterior he’s always been reserved and easy to embarrass. He surprises me though when he mutters, “Maybe we should just give him what he wants then. Get him and Beth off our backs.”
I shock myself with the cackle that bursts its way out of my body. It bubbles out partly because of the utter glee I get from Kayce having a sense of humor for once and partly from the insanity of such a suggestion. “So you’re telling me, that your solution to getting your daddy and Beth to leave us alone, is to have a baby together? Yeah, because they definitely would have no interest in our love lives after a stunt like that.” I bump his hip with mine. “I can just hear Beth now, ‘I’m thinking a Fall wedding, you look horrible in bright colors and nobody wants to wear a suit in eighty-eight degree weather.’ We’d never hear the end of it.”
Kayce shrugs, shooting me a wry grin. “Hey, if we marry each other at least we’ll know what we’re getting into. No surprises.”
“Yeah, and no sex,” slips past my lips before I can swallow it down. What a stupid fucking thing to say. Good job Caroline, talk about fucking, or not fucking, your best friend some more why don’t you. Now I’m the one who’s blushing. Pink from the roots of my hair to my chest. And what a fatal mistake I’ve made by opening my fat mouth. My whole life I’ve had to be one step ahead of Kayce, embarrassing him before he can embarrass me worse, yet here I am giving him a golden opportunity.
His grin only widens. “I hate to break it to you Carrie, but to make a baby people have to have sex.” He slings an arm around my shoulders, adding insult to injury. “You know when a man loves a woman…”
I elbow him in the ribs before he can continue. He laughs at my embarrassment just as much as he groans from the pain. “Oh shut up.” Now I cross my arms, increasing my stride so that his arm falls from my shoulders.
He doesn’t even have to take half a step to catch back up with me. “Come on Caroline, you know I’m just teasing you.” He pats my back as a peace offering. “Although,” Okay, maybe not. “I have it on good authority that I can please the ladies, so save a horse and all that.” Winking flirtatiously, he belts out a laugh, finally removing his hand from my bare back. And what a blessing that is, because if he had kept touching me while talking about… that, I’d be liable to combust. If Kayce had always been shy and reserved in his day to day life, where I had been bright and obnoxious in mine, the topic of sex is where we switched places. I think calling myself a prude may be a tad harsh, but I certainly have never been one to broadcast my sexual business. Kayce on the other hand has never shied away from flirting, or kissing, or having sex in nearly every one of Mr. John’s pastures - you don’t get someone pregnant at nineteen by keeping it in your pants after all.
Playing the game I had with Kayce in the bathroom earlier today had felt safe, probably because I was the one in control, but this battle of wills feels altogether different, like someone is poking at an insecurity, at a bruise I didn’t even know I had. It’s confusing at best and humiliating at worst. Throwing his words back at him, I huff, “Now Kayce Dutton, you know this conversation is entirely improper, so I suggest you drop it. And also,” I whirl around on the step I’ve just taken. Thank God we’ve reached the foreman’s house because I don’t know how much longer I can participate in this back and forth before I’m forced to will myself out of existence. “Who says I’d even want to have a baby with you? Good authority or not. I know ya’ll’ve gotten new ranch hands since I’ve last been here, all of whom I haven’t gotten to size up yet. You never know, maybe one of them is babydaddy material.” I poke him firmly in the chest. “Don’t assume I haven’t got options.” Before Kayce can respond I storm up the remaining steps and into the house, kicking my boots off perhaps a bit too aggressively before striding into the kitchen. What I plan to do in the kitchen, I don’t know, but I still don’t know which room I’m staying in and the living room feels too cozy to stew in, so the kitchen it is.
Kayce saddles in much more calmly, but his fierce expression gives his true feelings away. “Are you serious?” He grunts, and if I wasn’t so embarrassed, mad, confused, hurt - for some reason that alludes me, I might have found the rocky timbre of his voice sexy.
“Serious about what?” I avoid his gaze petulantly, pouring myself a glass of water for a lack of anything better to do.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He groans, tipping his head back and rubbing at his eyes. “Are you really picking a fight over whether or not we should get imaginary married, have imaginary sex, and have an imaginary baby? You do hear how crazy that sounds?”
“So now I’m crazy?” My voice is cool, and serious, even though at this point I realize I’ve lost the argument. Even though I’ve realized there never should’ve been an argument in the first place.
Any fight Kayce had left in him drains away. I see the moment that it leaves his body, his eyes softening and his shoulders relaxing. “Caroline, honey, what’d I do?”
Almost as if there’s an invisible string connecting us, my body relaxes too. I blow out a breath, dump my water down the drain, and come to stand in front of him. No island between us. “You didn’t really do anything, just poked at a sore spot, that’s all.”
Sensing that this may be a conversation best saved for later, Kayce graciously changes the subject. Scratching at the back of his neck with one hand and gesturing towards the bathroom with the other he murmurs, “Well uh, if you still wanna have that spa night we should probably get going, we’ve got a early morning tomorrow and if I’m gonna let you take my spa virginity we’ve gotta do this thing right.” That earns him a hard exhale, the ghost of what could’ve been a laugh. But he must know not to expect much else, that I’m still nursing my bruised ego, because he carries on. “So why don’t I go get that bubble bath started and you can sort through your uh lotions and potions, decide on how best to pretty me up. And then maybe we could talk, about anything you want.” He begins to walk backwards, making his way towards the bathroom. It’s odd to hear the soft pad of his socked feet on the hardwood and not the click of his boots, but also kind of nice, endearing.
“Okay,” I breath, “Yeah, that’d be - that’d be nice.” I move to walk past him, into the hall where I’d left my bags. “I think you’ve got a bit of a sunburn so I’ll see if I’ve got an aloe mask for you. If you plan on putting yourself back on the market you’d better start taking care of your looks.”
I’m very purposefully facing away from him, so I don’t see the melancholy on his face so much as I hear it in his voice. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s likely to happen. My days of chasing tail are definitely over.” I don’t reply, not too keen on opening that can of worms further, and so an uncomfortable silence settles over us. It’s only broken when Kayce sighs, “Well, I’ll uh, I’ll be in the bathroom whenever you’re ready.”
Still looking down, I pause the mindless shuffling I’d been doing through my bags, “Alright, just give me a few minutes.” Having found the masks I was looking for well before now, I finally rise from out of my crouch, left knee popping in protest. “Like you said, you deserve a proper first spa night,” I turn my body to reveal my profile, pretending to check the label of the plastic tub in my hands, “I’ve gotta make sure I pull out all the stops. You know I don’t half ass anything.” Feeling generous, I finally offer him a small smile, turning to fully face him.
The relief in his eyes catches me off guard. “Don’t I know it.”
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I don’t know what I expected when Kayce said he’d go run a bubble bath. Too absorbed in my own thoughts, I didn’t consider that such an activity is typically done alone, certainly not with a friend, and even more certainly not with a totally platonic, albeit sexy, boy bestfriend. When I finally make my way into the bathroom however, I’m greeted by the sight of Kayce settled into the comically large clawfoot tub, chin tucked to his chest so that bubbles cling to his beard, eyes unfocused and contemplative. “Didn’t realize I invited Santa Claus.” I joke, at a loss for anything else to say. Too scared to say the wrong thing or ask the wrong question.
At the sound of my voice his head jerks up, the sudden movement sloshing water just shy of the lip of the tub. “Santa Claus?” He furrows his eyebrows. He really does look like a puppy.
“You’ve got bubbles,” I gesture to my chin, miming a full beard.
He chuckles, “Oh, yeah, I guess I just got bored and,” he shrugs, “I’ve gotten used to playing with Tate in the bath. You’re lucky I didn’t break out the bubble mohawk.”
“The bubble mohawk?” I giggle, “I don’t know, I think I’d like to see that actually. Just make sure I’ve got a camera on me when you do break it out, yeah?” Lining my “lotions and potions” up on the counter, I look away, still trying to figure out what exactly is going on here, or what Kayce expects me to do, to say.
He must sense my hesitancy because he volunteers, “I hope I got the water hot enough. I know how you women like to scorch your skin off, but I’m afraid I’m just a bit too delicate.” He’s pushed himself into a full sitting position now. The water pools just under his chest and it takes everything in me to meet his eyes.
“So we are taking a bath together then?” I huff. “Because that’s not weird at all.” Still, I move to pull my blouse up and over my head, clipping my hair up so that it no longer hangs down my back. “And if you’re not actively in pain, then no, you don’t have the water hot enough. But that’s alright, I’ll manage.”
Ignoring my comment about the water, his eyebrows furrow once again in confusion. “Why’s it weird? You’re the one that suggested it.”
“No. I didn’t.” I shoot some side eye at him, because who in their right mind would suggest such a thing. Hopping around to remove my socks before balling them up and tossing them into the hall so that they don’t get wet, I continue, “And it’s weird because usually when grown adults take a bath together it’s only because something else is gonna follow.”
Rolling his eyes, he insists, “Yes. You did. You said you normally take a bubble bath for spa nights, so here we are, taking a bubble bath. And it’s not weird. I’m wearing my underwear, and I assumed you’d wear yours too. It’s no different than going swimming together.” He sounds way too exasperated for a conversation that is this stupid.
Remember how I said Kayce and I have never had trouble reading each other? Yeah I take that back. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I sigh, “That was not a suggestion. That was a statement. But thank you for the clarification. Now before I literally die of embarrassment, would you like the lavender hair mask,” I forcefully lift one colorful jar into the air, and then another, “or the apple?”
Looking as fed up as I feel, Kayce responds gruffly, “The lavender.”
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