by Lynn Lorenz
“Simpler said than done.” He sighed. “But you’re right. I admit it. I do love Rush. I’m just not willing to go out on a limb and get my heart stomped on. Not again.”
“Trusting is the hardest part. I should know. And if I could trust you and Mitchell, then you can trust Rush.”
“Thanks for the words of wisdom, Sammi. I’ll call you when I find out anything.”
“Okay. Bye.” Sammi hung up.
Brian finished his meal, put his dishes in the sink for later, then went to his office. He brought up the folder with Sammi’s name on it and went over the records he’d gathered.
The first place to start was with Sammi’s mother, Lydia Mae Waters, and the first step was a quick Google search. Then he’d move on to tracking down her birth certificate, driver’s license, and, if he had to, even a death certificate.
After thirty minutes, Brian had found nothing with her name in it. It was probably as he’d suspected and she’d died shortly after giving up Sammi. But he’d need a death certificate for Sammi’s closure. Until then, it was just speculation.
This would require doing research down at City Hall in the Records Division, and that would take time.
Brian pulled up his calendar and checked his schedule. The next week looked busy with two new jobs, so he might not get to Sammi until the end of the week. He opened a new appointment for next Thursday and booked the day under Sammi’s new name, Sammi Waters, then saved it.
Then, remembering how long he’d taken in Austin, he booked the following Friday.
* * * *
Two p.m. Friday came and went.
Brian had pulled his phone out and checked it a dozen times. It was on, the battery was fully charged, and he had all four bars.
At three, Brian had to admit Rush wasn’t going to call, and it hurt so bad it shocked him. A kick in the nuts would have felt better.
Fuck, he should have called back. He should have at least acknowledged Rush’s calls. Sent him a text message, maybe. What would it have hurt to send, “Miss u 2”?
Was it too late?
He flipped open his phone and summoned Rush’s number when he froze.
Sure, Rush had left messages, had called every day. But he’d never said what Brian had really wanted to hear.
Those goddamned three stupid little words.
If Rush had said them, Brian would have run to him in a New York minute. Taken him back, forgiven him all sins and trusted him with his heart.
Rush had never said, “I love you.” He’d never even said, “I care about you.” Or even an insipid “I really like you.”
The only thing he’d ever said was he missed him, he wanted him, he needed him, and it had all been about sex. Not love, not commitment, not forever.
Brian wasn’t ready to trust his cowboy, not yet. For all he knew, Rush still thought of him as a piece of ass, a booty call. A fuck buddy.
He groaned. What a fool he’d look like, calling Rush back. It would be like begging for more, asking to be used. Like saying, “I’m a doormat. Step on me. Hard.”
No fucking way. Mitchell was right. He shouldn’t be treated any less than he deserved, and he deserved a lot better than Rush Weston.
He closed his phone, put it back in its holder, and decided to go to his favorite garden shop, The Arbor, and pick out some plants to add to his backyard garden. It was his favorite pastime and should take his mind off the fact that Rush hadn’t called.
* * * *
“Shit. Shit. Goddamn. Shit.”
Rush hovered over his phone as it lay in pieces on a towel on a table in the barn. How could he have been so clumsy? He’d been mucking out the large stall he used for birthing, putting in fresh hay for the mare who was about to foal, when he realized it was just past two p.m. and he hadn’t made his call to Brian.
He’d pulled out the phone to make the call, and it’d slipped out of his hand. As he’d bobbled it from hand to hand, he’d known he wasn’t going to catch it. With a sickening plop, it’d fallen into the bucket of water he’d brought for the trough. He’d retrieved the phone, but it wouldn’t turn on.
Cursing a blue streak, he’d taken it apart to dry it. But once dry, it still wasn’t working.
He cursed his decision to take out the landline from the house. Without a cell phone, he was cut off. Come Monday, he’d order the landline again and put one in the barn.
He didn’t even wear a watch anymore because he’d become so dependent on the phone to tell the time.
“Damn it.” He danced around the table, slapping his hat on his thigh, angry at the phone and furious at himself.
What would Brian think?
“Fuck. Just fucking great.” All his plans to win Brian back down the drain. He reassembled the phone, put his hat back on, and finished prepping the stall before moving the mare into it.
Rush shut the gate to the stall and headed to his truck, sure of what he needed to do.
It cost him thirty minutes to drive into Spring Lake, to drop by the vet’s to let him know about the mare, who assured Rush he’d be on call when the time came for her to deliver her foal.
Next, Rush headed down the street to buy a new phone. That took a bit longer because the young sales guy tried to talk him into upgrading to a bigger, flashier one Rush bought one similar to his old one, the guy changed out the sim card for him, and handed it back. He put the box in a bag and handed it over to Rush with a thank you for shopping with us.
Rush got back in his truck and pulled out the new phone. He had a plan of action. He’d call Brian. Leave another voice mail. Explain everything.
Rush stared at the phone. In his heart, he knew a call just wasn’t going to cut it this time. He tossed the phone into his cup holder on the console.
The time had come for desperate measures.
He waited for the vehicles on the main street to clear before backing out of the slanted parking space. Rush settled his hat on his head and put the truck in drive.
He could be in Houston in less than two hours.
At Brian’s house before seven p.m.
Chapter Eleven
Rush pulled up outside the neat bungalow and turned off the truck. Brian’s SUV sat in the driveway and the porch light was on. He was home.
So why was Rush just sitting there?
He rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans. Took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Flipped down the visor, popped open the cover to the lighted mirror and checked his teeth. Cupped his hand and blew into it.
Stop stalling, Weston.
He’d thought about what he’d say and what he’d do when Brian opened the door. The entire drive had been a blur because he’d been so intent on what might happen. What he would say. How Brian would react. How he’d react to that.
Showtime.
He opened the door and got out, his throat tight and dry while he rehearsed the words he wanted to say.
Up the steps, onto the porch, to the door. Rush stood with his finger hovering above the doorbell. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the button. With his heart beating so hard he could feel it in his head, Rush exhaled as the door opened.
Lips parted, Brian stared at him. Rush needed those lips on him again. He cleared his throat just when Brian asked, “What are you doing here?”
“My phone got wet. It wouldn’t work. I had to go to town to get a new one.” Rush fumbled with his phone and held it out as if it were evidence. All the things he’d planned on saying were lost. Shit.
Brian smirked. “What? Your dog didn’t eat it?”
“Dogs. I have two dogs.” Rush licked his lips and gazed into Brian’s deep brown eyes. Damn, but they made him forget everything except how he’d looked down into them while Brian had sucked his cock.
“Two? What are their names?” Brian’s smile grew.
He rested against the doorframe as they chatted. About his fucking dogs. This is not what Rush had planned.
“Bandit and Beau.” Their gazes locked.
The fire between them still burned.
“What kind?”
“Huh?” He couldn’t take his eyes from Brian’s face. Shit, just one look at the big man and he’d gone all hard with need.
Brian’s gaze slid to Rush’s crotch. Fuck, Rush’s jeans were straining. He couldn’t take much more of this.
“Aw, shit, darlin’.” He moaned, leaned forward and kissed Brian.
For a moment, Brian melted into the kiss, and Rush’s dick went rigid. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue over Brian’s lips. Goddamn, he wanted inside that mouth, to taste Brian again. He’d never felt such desire for a man, and it both scared him and excited him.
Brian pushed him away. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing.”
“Brian. Please. I’m so sorry.”
“And?” Brian tilted his head to the side, waiting.
“And I want to make it up to you,” Rush whispered.
“You told me you were going to at least try, Rush. Then you used me.”
“I know, and I regret it. I panicked.” Rush would get down on his knees and beg if Brian wanted him to. In fact, that’s just where Rush wanted to be.
Brian took a deep breath, his chest swelling, then released it. “If you ever treat me like a booty call or a cheap bar hookup again, I’m done. Understand?” The intensity of his stare did nothing to stop Rush’s reaction to the man.
“I understand, and I swear that will never happen again.” Rush reached out and touched Brian’s cheek, cupping it with his hand.
Brian leaned into it and closed his eyes. “You hurt me, cowboy.”
“Never again, darlin’,” Rush whispered, moved in for a tender kiss against Brian’s full lips. They both sighed. “What now?”
“Here are the rules.”
“Rules?” Rush straightened.
“You want to do this or not?” Brian growled. Rush nodded. “First rule is we go on some dates, get to know each other.”
Rush had never been on a single date in his life, and the thought of being out in public with a man made his stomach do flips. But if Brian wanted this, he’d do it.
“Okay.”
“Second, no leaving after sex. You spend the night or forget it.”
“This goes for you, too, right?” Rush asked.
“Right.”
“What else?”
“If we do this, it’s exclusive, Rush. No more hookups, no more bar fucks. I want a man I can trust.” Brian’s eyebrows furrowed, and he looked uncertain. He didn’t need to worry—Rush would give all that up. He didn’t want anyone else but Brian.
“Never again. I give my word and you can take that to the grave.” Rush grinned.
Brian stared at him for a moment, then continued. “Next, we keep calling during the week.” Brian grinned. “I really miss our phone calls, cowboy.”
“Me, too.” Rush groaned and ran his hand over Brian’s chest, trailing his fingers down his stomach, only stopping at the button of Brian’s jeans. He flicked his fingernail on it and made a tiny ting. “So, are you going to invite me in?”
“No.” Brian shook his head.
“What?” Rush blinked.
“Not yet. First, we’re having dinner.” Brian’s eyebrow arched.
“Here?” Rush leaned in, fingering the button of Brian’s jeans.
“At a restaurant. I’m driving.” He ducked back inside, grabbed his keys from a table in the hall, and stepped out, locking the door behind him.
“You’re the boss, darlin’.” Rush stood back as Brian walked past him. As he went down the steps, Rush admired the view. The way Brian’s jeans snuggled his ass was damn fine. Shaking his head, he followed. Lord, he had it bad for this guy.
After Brian pulled out of the drive and headed down the street, Rush asked, “Where are you taking me?”
“Actually, you’re taking me to dinner. I’m just getting us there.”
“So, where am I taking you?” He chuckled.
“Just a little Italian place I know. Nice people, good food, great atmosphere.”
“Sounds good. I love Italian. We only have a pizza place in Spring Lake. They have some pasta dishes, but I’ve never tried them. Figure, how good can it be?” Rush watched Brian as he drove. The man was so incredibly handsome it took his breath away.
“Well, I hope you’ll like this place.” Brian placed his hand over Rush’s hand as it rested on the console between them. God, it felt so good. So right. Brian’s thumb rubbed over his knuckles. “Is Spring Lake very big?”
“Well, no, not really. We have all the usual fast food, but for any serious shopping or dining, you have to come to Houston or San Antonio. We’re sort of two-thirds of the way between them.”
“But you usually come to Houston?”
“Yeah. Don’t really go to San Antonio for the bars. Might see someone from town there. But they do have good food.”
“So, Houston for hookups, San Antonio for the food?”
“Right.” Rush laughed.
“You live on a ranch, right?”
“Yep. The Double T.”
“What’s that stand for?”
“Double Trouble. My grandfather named it that after his twin sons, Travis and Trent. I suppose they were a handful.” He grimaced.
“Which one was your father?”
“Travis.”
“So was he trouble?”
“Must have been to make an impression like that. So are you like your dad?”
“What?” Rush snapped his head toward Brian.
“You know, trouble?” Brian’s voice dropped lower and he wiggled his eyebrows.
“I’m not much like my father.” Rush looked out of the window. He didn’t want to think about his old man right now. It would bring him down off the cloud he was riding on.
Brian sobered. “Hey, if I said something wrong, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” Rush shrugged. He reached for his pack of smokes in his pocket then sighed and dropped his hand to his lap. They were back in his truck.
“It’s okay if you need to smoke,” Brian said. “I don’t mind.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to mess up my minty fresh breath.” He grinned.
Brian gave him a shy smile. It was so charming. “I have a confession.”
“What?”
“I think it’s sexy as hell.” Shit. Brian’s deep voice was sexy as hell.
“You do?”
“Yeah. Watching you smoke that night got me so hard I thought I was going to bust my zipper.” Brian laughed.
“So, smoking turns you on?”
“Only the way you do it, cowboy,” Brian drawled.
Rush burst into laughter. Damn, it felt good to really laugh. Good to be sitting next to Brian, enjoying each other, and just shooting the breeze. He hadn’t really talked to another man in ages, not counting talking to Manuel, telling the hands what to do, or the occasional conversation while in town or with buyers. And definitely not the pickup lines he’d used on men in bars.
The laughter died down, and they drove in a comfortable silence. Brian rubbed his thumb across Rush’s hand again.
“That feels good.” Rush smiled at him.
“Me, too. I like the way your skin feels under my hand.”
Rush groaned. It was going to be a long night if he couldn’t get his hands on Brian soon.
* * * *
They’d been seated at a table for two in the half-full restaurant and their waiter gave them menus. Brian scanned his and chose the seafood Alfredo and a glass of Chianti. Rush picked the penne and shrimp in a spicy marina and a beer.
Handing back his menu to the waiter, he watched Rush across the table. Shit, he was gorgeous. The candlelight bounced off his golden hair, making the highlights dance. And his eyes. Damn, his blue eyes looked like a summer day, clear and deep blue.
Brian’s cock twitched. He’d been fighting an erection ever since he’d opened the door and discovered the cowboy on his porch. Rush had been the
last person he’d thought he’d find when the doorbell had rung.
Thank God, Rush had come to him. And how hot had it been that Rush was so contrite, so sexy standing there, uncertain whether Brian would take him back? The big cowboy had looked so fucking cute, fumbling with his phone and babbling about his dogs, that Brian couldn’t resist him.
Now, he was damned glad the red-checkered tablecloth covered his lap, and he adjusted his napkin on top of it, just in case. Brian placed his hand over Rush’s.
Rush jerked it back, darting his eyes around the room.
“Fuck, Brian,” he whispered. “What are you doing?”
Brian almost wanted to laugh at Rush’s reaction. He had no idea Rush was so paranoid. Didn’t he realize where they were?
“Rush. Chill. We’re in the middle of the gay universe in Houston. Look around. Circle the wagons, cowboy, we’re surrounded.” Brian tilted his head toward the rest of the dining room.
Rush swept the room with a glance. His eyes widened and he tightened his hand into a fist. Even though the restaurant wasn’t packed, most of the tables held men. Couples. Almost all of them were holding hands, staring into their lover’s faces. One pair even leaned over to steal a quick kiss.
“You know, gays don’t just hang out in bars.” Brian sighed. “We go to restaurants, movies, shop and go to work, just like regular people.” He couldn’t believe Rush was so unexposed to gay life. Or realized how plain and ordinary it could be.
“It’s not like this in Spring Lake,” he said, focusing back on Brian. “No couples and certainly no holding hands or kissing. That’d get you beat up or dead.”
“I imagine Spring Lake is not gay-friendly. But the Houston gay scene isn’t all bars and fucking in dark rooms, cowboy. In fact, I’ve never done that. I met most of my lovers in college, business, or through friends.”
Rush glanced around the room again. How could he have not noticed it? In Spring Lake, the diner was filled with men having lunch or dinner with other men, but they weren’t gay, just friends or doing business.
At least he didn’t think they were gay.
He chuckled at the thought of a secret underground gay brotherhood in Spring Lake. How could he get an invitation to join?