Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance

by Bailey Bradford

  Still those indigo-coloured eyes stayed on his. This close, Chance couldn’t help but notice the blue had small flecks of amber close to the pupil. It was a stark contrast that fascinated him to the point of distraction, almost like little flames dancing in the midnight depths of the younger man’s eyes.

  Chance couldn’t make himself move away as Rory brought up a hand and stroked a finger up the line of his neck, stopping right below his ear. Chance shuddered at the touch, feeling it through every nerve ending in his body. Rory dropped his hand back to his side and looked away, giving Chance his profile once again.

  “She’s gonna call you anyway, Mr Galloway. Might as well get what you need. That everything, sir?” Rory’s tone never deviated from polite, but damned if it didn’t piss Chance off because of it. And sir? Was that really necessary? Probably. Chance’s brain kicked in and stomped his pride back down. It wasn’t like he’d been anything other than a dick to Rory.

  “No, Rory, that’s not everything. It’s Chance, not Mr Galloway or sir.” Chance let out a frustrated sigh as Rory continued gazing at God only knew what. There was no way mesquite brush was that interesting, though he did manage a slight nod of acknowledgement at Chance’s words.

  “There’s also the matter of your… God damn it. Okay. I’m an ass and I’m sorry and we need to discuss your salary, all right?” As apologies went, it wasn’t his best, and it was made RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  out of frustration, sure, but also sincere regret. Chance wasn’t normally such an asshole and he knew it.

  What set him off with this man was something he wasn’t ready to delve into yet, so he was afraid he might have to get used to making apologies.

  Rory kept his eyes locked in front of him as he nodded once again.

  “All right, Chance. As for the salary, I’m sure you’ll be a fair man, yeah? So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to…”

  It was then that Chance let his mad go, watching the younger man’s jaw twitch as he stopped talking. Whatever had happened with that phone call, it had hurt Rory and he wanted, or needed, to be alone to cope with it with some dignity.

  “Still need to discuss it, butlater. Whenever you’ve got time.” Chance bit his tongue to stop from offering to listen to whatever was troubling Rory. It’d be best if he didn’t know. He headed back to the bunkhouse and asked Max to keep an eye on Rory and lend him an ear if he thought it was needed. That handled, Chance went to the ranch house, resigning himself to listening to the voice mails he’d undoubtedly received from an irate Ian Calhoun.

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  Chapter Four

  Rory watched out of the corner of his eye as Chance walked away. He was sure the man had been on the verge of saying something else but reconsidered at the last moment and fled instead to prevent any words slipping from his lips he might later regret.

  Or maybe Chance wouldn’t regret anything he said. Rory didn’t really know the man, but in his opinion, Chance Galloway seemed to be a tightly wound man who was going to snap in half if he didn’t find a way to blow off some steam. Rory’d be more than happy to help Chance with that, but seeing as how Rory was so young and too damn close to being pretty—which played a part in why he made sure his body was every bit as masculine as it could be—with those two Chance-declared evil traits, he’d have better luck trying to nail the head of the right-wing coalition. Though, come to think of it, what with everything that had been in the news lately, that might not be such a tough nut to crack.

  And now he was coming up with his own lame jokes. Whatever Chance had must have been contagious. Rory snorted at that and pushed up off the barn, batting away the hurts and insults his father had pelted him with. He would have hung up but that never worked before—man would have just called back and left voicemails. Easy enough to delete, but Rory had never been able to do so without listening to them first. Glutton for punishment or hope springing eternal? Neither choice made him happy.

  What did lighten his mood a bit was the way Chance hadn’t been able to look away when their eyes met and that wicked heat had flared between them. Rory had expected it, but Chance hadn’t worked it out. He would soon enough—Rory had ensured it rather foolishly when he’d given in to temptation and stroked the path up the side of Chance’s neck his fingertips tracing over the purple love-bite under the man’s ear.

  The need to trace that path with his tongue was so overwhelming that Rory’d had to lock his knees to keep from moving in closer. Something about the cowboy drew Rory to him. It was a powerful feeling, an attraction so strong Rory didn’t care to fight it, especially since he doubted he’d ever encounter such a feeling again.

  One thing he was sure of—when they finally came together, it was going to be a heart-stopping, ball-breaking experience in the best ways possible—and it would happen. Just RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  thinking about it made Rory feel like he’d been filled with helium. Burdens lifted and floated off, taking away the residual pain in his heart and tucking it out of sight.

  His cock was another story entirely. Fully erect and throbbing to the rhythm of his heartbeat, that particular part of him was demanding attention. Rory considered it for a minute and concluded that this problem was not going to go away on its own. It was a sure bet that Chance wouldn’t be willing to come back and help him out with it either. He would just have to hope Max was busy or wouldn’t notice the hard on Rory would be sporting when he made it back to the bunkhouse. And, if luck was on his side, maybe Rory could make it into the bathroom and take care of it quietly.

  Chance was still trying to get past the anger that had blindsided him when he listened to the messages left by that bigoted ass who claimed to be Rory’s father. Chance had his doubts—even his own father hadn’t been that cruel when he’d found out his only son was gay. Ian Calhoun was full of more hate than any person Chance could ever remember meeting before, and having been outed while he was on the rodeo circuit, he’d met some pretty sorry excuses for human beings. Enough so that he’d thrown in the towel and quit.

  Some things just weren’t worth the hell a man had to go through. Chance had no desire to be a martyr by hanging around a bunch of homophobic cowboys.

  Pounding on the speed bag he’d hung in the garage apartment wasn’t having the usual effect of burning off his temper. Instead, his ears were ringing from the constant thump-thump-thump as his fists struck again and again, echoing in the empty space. He’d intended to make the place into a sweet little in-home—or maybe that would be on-property—gym for the ranch hands and himself. Still intended to once he got the ranch running smoothly and turning a decent profit.

  Until then, it was just him and the dangling bag, spending some quality therapy time together. Well, quality when it worked. Chance popped the bag one more time then caught it and stilled it between his hands. Might do the other guys, Rory specifically, some good to be able to come up here and work off their frustrations. Something else he’d need to talk to the men about.

  Chance unwound the tape from his hands, revelling in the burn and aches that streaked RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  through his joints. He wasn’t into pain, but the little hurts caused by a hearty workout were a reward for a job well done. Twisted, him? Most likely. One thing he did know for certain was, he needed to get cleaned up. He’d worked out for a good while and was soaking with sweat.

  Chance took the stairs down two at a time, worried less about tripping than he was about being caught out by one of the men—Rory, specifically. He’d rather the younger man not see him like this, tired and dripping wet from physical exertion. Chance scowled. What the hell was wrong with him? There’d be plenty of times Rory and Max would be seeing him sweaty and exhausted. It was stupid to be vain about it, and Chance didn’t consider himself to be a
stupid man. He made it in through the back door and headed for his shower.

  It wasn’t until he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror that he let his eyes be drawn to the path his fingers had itched to trace all day long. He’d swear he could still feel the warmth of that strong, callused finger running up his neck, coming to a rest at…oh. Oh shit.

  Right at that dime-sized purple mark under his ear. Chance had tried to hide the hickey left there by the stranger at the bar. He’d brushed his hair forward and that should have worked since it was long enough that it fell almost to his shoulders now. Chance leant in closer to the mirror. Yeah, his hair definitely covered it, which meant that sometime during the day he must have brushed his hair away from the mark.

  Here he had been bitching about young irresponsible men. Chance felt like a hypocrite, running around marked like a horny kid and liking it, damn it. It was no coincidence that Rory had touched that mark—now he’d think Chance was definitely a horny old goat once it became obvious he didn’t have a partner. Which meant Chance was in deep shit, no matter how happy his cock was and no matter how insistently it tapped against his belly its own Morse code message of approval. He groaned, but whether it was in pleasure or complaint he decided not to examine too closely. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t like the answer.

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  Chapter Five

  Rory caught Chance sneaking glances at him off and on all day. No doubt he’d got the man to wondering—soon enough the wondering would turn into a fully-fledged a-ha moment—then the fun would really start. Rory was tempted to cackle evilly and rub his hands together just to watch Chance’s back snap ramrod straight, but that would be a dead giveaway and he much preferred drawing out the suspense as long as possible. It would make the prize that much sweeter.

  Rory made sure he was standing in Chance’s line of vision when he tossed the last feed sack into its place. He kept his head casually averted and pulled the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his sweaty face. So the older man thought Rory was too young and pretty, hmm?

  Well, he’d give Chance a reason to correct his thinking, or at least view him in a different light. Rory pulled the shirt up higher, making sure his eight-pack was out there as well as his pecs and nipples…which happened to be pierced.

  If the groan he heard was any indication, he’d been successful in diverting Chance’s attention from anything other than his body. Rory turned his back to the man before he lowered his shirt, because a glimpse of his back piece might just draw out another stifled sound. It did, and Rory had to keep his back to Chance since he couldn’t tamp down his grin.

  This was too much fun. Rory had never been a cock tease before.

  “You about done here, Rory?” The gravelly sound of Chance’s voice, breath tickling the back of Rory’s neck, nearly had him jumping before he could stop himself. Sheer willpower pushed the sound back down his throat although he couldn’t do much about the startled twitch.

  “Looks like it’s all unloaded to me, sir. I mean, Chance.” That really was a nervous slip, but Rory found it hard to be sorry when the man bristled with indignation so splendidly. The heat between them ratcheted up a few notches higher—if this kept up, they might have to worry about spontaneous combustion.

  A growl from Chance was all the warning Rory had before he was grabbed by a shoulder and pulled around to face the other man. He didn’t have the time to school his expression into one of casual amusement. No, when he faced Chance it was with a hot, RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  hungry look and a cock hard enough to hammer nails.

  “Office. Now.” The clipped order wasn’t even all the way out before Chance was eating up the ground with long-legged strides—and Rory was hot on his heels, eyes glued to the perfectly rounded ass that flexed with each step. Jesus, this walk was going to kill him, stop his heart any time now.

  Rory’s cock throbbed painfully as he watched Chance take the porch steps. There simply couldn’t be a more perfect sight than that ass, unless it was one of said ass bare and flexing, pushing to pump those trim cowboy hips…

  The walk through the house to the office passed in a blur of potent need and bunching muscles. Rory pretty much decided he’d follow his boss anywhere as long as he could keep his eyes on that tight denim-clad bubble. The man was fine from top to toe, but his ass…that particular part just defied description. Disappointment soared through Rory when they reached the office and Chance turned around. Well, but that was a damn fine view, too.

  “Take a seat.” The boss man turned his back and Rory‘s spine stiffened almost as much as his cock. Chance was rolling free with the orders. Yeah, he was the boss, but if an order didn’t make sense Rory had no problem questioning it.

  “I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind. I’m kind of sweaty and don’t feel like sticking to the leather, or sliding off of it, either.” Rory would have tried to smile, but every part of him was tense and hard. There was so much blood rushing south that his lips felt numb.

  Chance turned on him, stepping into his personal space, just a hair’s breadth away from brushing their cocks together. Rory could feel the heat rolling off Chance—the man was like a walking furnace.

  A hard hand smacked into his chest as Chance walked Rory three steps backwards and shoved, sending him into the chair in an undignified sprawl. His temper spiked, but when he looked up and met Chance’s furious brown glare, he tamped it back down.

  The older man was on edge—anger and sexual tension pouring off him so thick Rory could smell it. If he thought provoking Chance would end in fucking, he would have seriously considered it—though an angry fuck wasn’t what he was after.

  However, the clenched fists and tightening across his boss’s face and shoulders pretty much assured Rory that any physical contact between the two of them would not be of the enjoyable sort. He made certain to take a quiet calming breath once Chance turned his back and walked to his desk. Rory also carefully schooled his features into what he hoped was an RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  expressionless mask. He didn’t want Chance to see anything there that might give the man cause to fire him, or, even more likely, something that would spook Chance. Watching the stiff, jerky movements as Chance reached his desk and pulled out the worn chair made Rory feel better about controlling his own temper. Maybe a little smug about it, too, though he didn’t want to examine that too closely.

  When the other man finally looked at him, Rory didn’t flinch or blink. The slight flaring of Chance’s nostrils was a tell for the increasing anger the man was feeling, and for some bizarre reason, Rory found that small movement erotic as hell. Jesus, was he going to develop some weird-ass nose fetish now? When had he become so cracked? There was something else he didn’t want to examine too closely. Must be a day for unwanted revelations.

  Now, to see how the boss man wanted to play this out. He was sure it would be interesting.

  Chance closed his eyes briefly, and in the space of a breath went from angry to composed. It was a fascinating change done so rapidly that Rory couldn’t help but be impressed. When those dark chocolate eyes opened again and latched on to Rory, his cock gave a sudden jerk he was sure couldn’t be missed—and this time he wasn’t going to try to hide it. Boss man could deal. The heat that snapped back into Chance’s eyes had nothing to do with anger. When he finally met Rory’s eyes, Rory merely tipped his head in acknowledgement— Yes, sir, boss, all for you.

  “No.” Chance was shaking his head like he’d heard Rory’s thoughts. Rory just arched a brow and waited—after all, he wasn’t the one who’d demanded this little chat. He took note of his boss’s knuckles turning white as the man gripped the edge of the desk. Maybe he needed a push.

  “No?”

  A sharp shake of his head and Chance was looking angry all over again. “No. None of…” He tippe
d his chin down in what Rory assumed was supposed to be the direction of his engorged cock. “That. None of that.”

  Rory didn’t know whether to laugh or snarl. He danced the tips of his fingers over his groin. “You mean this? My dick? None of it what?” Be damned if he was going to let boss man speak without saying anything.

  Chance’s cheeks went ruddy. “You know what I mean! I don’t mess around with RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  employees or…” He gestured at Rory in frustration, hand flapping through the air before landing on the arm of the chair. “Pretty young things.”

  “Didn’t ask you to, sir.” Not out loud, at least. The boss’s dark brows drew together and that fluttering hand came off the arm of the chair to point a finger at Rory.

  “Then what was that little show you put on outside?”

  Rory shrugged. “Wiping sweat off before it could run in my eyes? That was a show?”

  Chance opened his mouth, looking madder than nine hells, but Rory wasn’t going to let him get all indignant.

  “You were watching, boss, you had been all morning. What’re you hiding under that desk, right now?” That shut the man right up. Chance’s full lips disappeared into a thin line.

  Yeah, they both knew what he was hiding under that chunk of oak.

  “It doesn’t matter. You work for me, you’re too…” The boss shook his head and kept glaring at Rory.

  Alrighty, then. Rory stood up and strolled over to the desk.

  “Too young and too pretty? Right? That’s your hang up, cowboy, not mine. Just so happens I’m into older and cantankerous, just this once, though God only knows why.” Rory slapped his hat back on his head and left Chance sitting there, mouth dropped open like a blowup doll.

  Later that evening Chance stumbled into the shower, aching in places he’d never even known existed. He felt a moment of smugness at having managed to remain aloof any time he’d had to deal with Rory throughout the day—and just like that, a simple thought of the man’s name, and a particular part of himself that he was very familiar with became the most throbbingly painful part of his anatomy.