by V. L. Locey
I ran my fingers through his hair simply because I had no other means of offering solace to the man at the moment. My head, still aching and oozing, was packed full of questions with not an answer. How did the poachers know this small group was here? Unless someone had ridden onto the Prairie Smoke land from a nearby ranch and saw what was going on. I tossed a hard look in the direction of the Hollow Wind Ranch as we waited for the kids to return and take us home. My hand stalled in its petting of silky hair.
“You and the kids are no longer sleeping out here,” I announced. The humped-up professor found his voice and spunk after that decree. We were still arguing about my edict when the kids pulled up two hours later.
Bishop Haney might be a chill surfer dude at heart, but he had a spine of steel as well. And a rather extensive vocabulary that included many ways of calling someone he’d kissed a few hours ago a pushy asshole among other vibrant expletives. Guess all those degrees paid off in more ways than one.
***
One of the good things about being the foreman was that my word was the word. At least until Landon came home, which wouldn’t be for another couple of weeks. Which was why I now had four college students and a highly pissed off assistant professor crashed out in my living room. Bane had abandoned my bed for the coveted position of resting between Bishop’s long legs on the sofa. Sneaking past the snoozing group at 4:45 the next morning, I took a moment to listen to the soft snores and sleepy breaths of my guests. Even Bane was sawing wood. It was nice. Real nice. I tried not to dwell on how appealing it was.
Showered and dressed, I got the coffee made, poured myself a mug full, and then stepped outside to make a call. Landon had to be informed of what had taken place last night. Also, Kyle had been politely inquiring—aka pestering me daily—about a position for his brother. I’d asked Landon the last time we’d spoken, and he’d needed time to think. Which was fair. The night air had a bite to it, but my flannel shirt was enough for a quick call. The cell service here wasn’t great but there were enough bars to get the call made. As I waited, I sipped. Landon picked up within a few rings.
“Morning,” I said as I lowered my mug.
“Afternoon,” he replied. “We are eight hours ahead of you.”
“Course you are. So, how’s the German tour for A Brush of Blue going?”
“Incredibly well. They’ve sold out every club they play at and have added more shows.”
“Good. So last night we had the sheriff out.”
“What?!”
I relayed the previous night’s events to Landon. When I was done I took another swig of dark roast and wished I’d taken an aspirin. My head hurt still. The goose egg was noticeable and would, no doubt, be with me for a week or so.
“You really have a gift for small talk. Hi, boss, how’s the tour, someone tried to kill me and the professor last night,” Landon griped.
“It’s a gift.”
“Is everyone okay?”
“We are yes. My hat is in rough shape, but I think it’ll pull through.”
“That’s a relief. That is a damn fine hat.”
“That it is.”
“So what did the sheriff say?” I heard him exhale as if he’d taken a seat. Probably had to now that I’d dumped the bad news on him.
“Not much. Took our statements, said he’d look into any newcomers to Copper Falls.”
“Jesus. Did you tell him that someone shot at you? That seems important enough to make them do something more than drive around town giving tourists an evil eye.”
“No proof of there being a shot taken, but he did note it. I know Mark, he’s a good guy. He’ll do what he can, but I don’t hold out much hope. If the poachers were smart they’d be in Montana by now with Millicent’s tail bones.”
“Millicent?”
“The name the team gave to the Triceratops they’re digging up.”
“How can they tell if it’s a female?”
“Bishop says he has a feel for feminine things. Don’t ask me to explain him.” Or us. Or the strange need I have to nestle between his legs like my old barn cat. “Not to cast dispersions but it did occur to me that our neighbors would have knowledge of the site. We share the same boundary lines and roads. And we know how the McCrary’s feel about us and the hands.”
He took a moment to reply. “You have no proof?”
“Not a lick.”
“Then we’ll keep that suspicion to ourselves for now. It’s been quiet with the Hollow Wind for a bit, and I’d like to keep it that way.” I thought to say that it was quiet because there had been three feet of snow on the ground. Kind of hard to stir up shit when you’ve got snow up to your asshole. “Feel free to hire some extra hands to cover for the ones who are now on guard duty at the site.”
“Speaking of new hands...”
He exhaled deeply. “Fine, tell Kyle to bring his brother to the ranch but inform them that if this Will acts up just once, he’s gone. I will not tolerate bullshit at the Prairie Smoke.”
“We got enough bullshit without importing more. I’ll pass that along to Kyle. I have Aaron Yellow Horse coming out today to dowse for a new watering system. I’ll let you know how that goes.”
“Do you need me to come home now?”
“Nope. Nothing you can do.” Which was the God’s honest truth. I’d run this ranch for years while Landon played hockey in New York City. I could handle whatever came our way. “We’ll beef up security around the dinosaur and take care of the day to day.”
“I knew there was a reason I hired you.”
“I came with the place like an old outhouse.”
He chuckled a bit. “If anything else happens, call me immediately. I know the professor signed papers saying we weren’t legally liable for his safety during the excavation and that the college went along with it—”
“But you still feel responsible.”
“I do, yes.”
“Me too. We’ll keep them safe.” I had no plans on letting some bone poacher put a bullet into Bishop. I’d just fumbled my way into this thing with him. I didn’t want to lose him now, not over something as piddly as petrified dino pooh. “Time to get to work. You don’t pay me to stand around shooting the shit.” Bane clawed at the doorframe and yowled to go out, so I opened the door for him. He gave my leg a rub then set off toward the horse barn. Which was where I was headed first thing after this call.
“I don’t think I pay you enough for half of what you do.”
“I agree.”
“Call me if anything else goes to hell.”
“Rest assured. Enjoy the beer gardens.” I hung up, pocketed my phone, and went inside to have a quick bowl of apple cinnamon instant oats. Everyone was still asleep, so I left a note on the counter telling them to help themselves to whatever they could find. I left via the back door, following the same path Bane had taken a moment ago. I walked into the horse stable, inhaling deeply, smiling at Bane as he trotted up to me. He reached up, claws grabbing the denim of my pant legs. I grimaced but gave his chin a scratch anyway. Once he’d had his pet, he darted off in pursuit of something only he could see.
The horses knickered as I walked by. I was feeling introspective this morning. Being shot at and totaling a four-wheeler with only minor bumps and bruises will make a man thoughtful. I stopped to talk to each horse in the barn, finally coming up to Tiberius. He threw his head a few times then stretched his nose out over the gate. I rubbed his neck as his chin came to rest beside my ear. Eyes closed, I listened to his heavy breaths and felt the soft, serenity of being one with a horse seep into me.
My thoughts whirled around inside my head like a tornado. Last night had been a pivotal evening for me. The poachers using Bishop and me as targets aside, I’d kissed a man. Bishop. I’d kissed Bishop and told him things that I’d not spoken of to anyone for twenty years. Why? I’d kissed other men since Devon. I’d even had sex with a few. None of those quick, random hookups had left me this confounded. There was something about Bish
op...I rubbed my whiskery cheek against Tiberius. He mouthed at my shoulder, tugging gently on the shirt.
What had led me to blather on about Kailey, my sister, and my family as I had? A man that I’d only known for a few weeks had been able to extract information from deep within me that I usually guarded like Cerberus protected the gates to the Greek underworld.
“What is it about that bun wearing, beach bum?” I whispered to my horse. I felt his presence before he spoke. Tiberius stiffened and pulled way back, a clear sign of an unknown person in his space.
“Hi,” Bishop whispered. I turned from the gate to find Bishop, tank top falling off one shoulder, sleep shorts twisted around his lanky frame, glasses resting on the tip of his nose, with two cups of coffee in his hands. He stood in the middle of the walkway his eyes wide with apprehension. I took note of his sandals.
“Morning. Just a word of advice here, most folks don’t wear open-toed shoes into a barn. Stepping in a steamer is unpleasant but having a horse tromp down on a bare foot is something you don’t want to experience.”
“Ah.” He glanced downward then back up. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“A rough night makes for a bumpy morning.”
He held out one of the two blue mugs in his hand. “I come bearing coffee and apologies.”
I walked the few steps to him, noting how nervous he appeared to be. “Thanks, but you don’t have to apologize to me.”
“I think I do. I called you a motherfucking dickheaded asshole.”
“Meh. I’ve been called worse.”
“Then I insulted your hat.”
I reached up to stroke my Stetson. “I will confess to that one hurting badly.” He gave me a shamefaced little smile. Tiberius whinnied. I glanced back at the horse then looked at Bishop. “Come meet my horse.”
His sleepy blue eyes flared. “I’m fine seeing him from here.”
“Want to tell me about why you’re so leery of horses?”
He blew out a shaky breath, his attention now on Tiberius. “I was five and tried to give a pony at some small local fair an apple slice. He bit my fingers. Hard.”
“You always have to keep your hand flat when feeding a horse.”
He gave me a look over the top of his glasses. “I know that now. Back then though I thought he was going to eat my arm. Ever since then I just...I’d rather keep my distance. I can see how pretty he is from here.”
“You know, there is a law that if you date a cowboy you have to at least be able to kiss a horse’s nose.”
His gaze flew from Tiberius to me. “Is that what we’re doing? Dating?”
My already dizzy thoughts spun faster. “I don’t...I don’t know. No, I suppose not. One kiss does not a date make. I was joking. Which is something I rarely do because anytime I tease someone it ends up...badly.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “You’re bumbly when your Clint Eastwood High Plains Drifter persona drops.”
“I haven’t gunned down any desperados in ages.”
He chuckled. “See, you’re quite funny when you stop worrying about being funny.”
“I wasn’t worried about being funny.” He cocked a golden eyebrow. I took a sip of coffee. “Maybe I was but not...would you stop smirking?”
“Sorry, but the more bumbly you become the cuter you are.”
“Are you sure you didn’t crack your head during that tumble from the four-wheeler last night? I have been called many things, most foul, but never cute.”
That was when he stole another kiss. It was just a quick press of his lips to mine, but it rocked the damn world, or at least the stable. Somehow my left hand slid into his mussy hair as he grabbed hold of my hip with his free hand. We nibbled and tasted, balancing coffee mugs and an ever larger attraction. I wanted more. Needed more. There was loose hay right above us. If we snuck up into the loft and threw ourselves into the mound of chaff and busted bales, we could have a fine roll in the hay. My cock rose like a rocket as he cinched me closer, licking along the seam of my mouth then slipping inside.
We ended up against a wall, my back slamming into it soundly, Bishop’s arm like a steel band around my back. Coffee spilled over my hand. Did not care one bit. He bit down on my lower lip. A jolt of lust streaked to my aching balls. I fisted his hair. He groaned into my mouth. Then Tiberius rubber lipped the side of our faces. Bishop froze, his eyes wide open, his lips puffy and pink.
“He wants a kiss,” I breathlessly teased. Bishop’s head slowly turned toward my horse’s soft muzzle.
“He wants to eat my face,” he whispered, his anxiety clear.
“That horse has never once eaten a face. He will pinch an ass on occasion if you’re too slow with his grain.”
He sniggered a bit then hesitantly let go of me and touched Tiberius’s nose. A quick poke of a finger then he danced back a foot or so, leaving me leaning against the wooden wall, hard as a cement block yet smiling like a damn fool.
“There I pet him. No, don’t argue. A finger counts as a pet. Now we can date.”
I blinked at him and felt myself being pulled deeper into the whirlpool that was Bishop Haney.
“Is that what we’re doing?” I parroted and he shrugged a bare shoulder.
“This thing with us,” he said, paused, and then took a hit of coffee as if it were bourbon. I knew how he felt. “It’s crazy. I’m not sure where to go with it. I know that I want you.”
“That can be all it needs to be,” I tossed out, my stomach dipping a bit even as I made the half-assed announcement. I’d never really been one for casual relationships. Yes, I did hookup on occasion, but that was to relieve an itch. This was something far different than a fast fuck in a bathroom stall.
“I’m not sure I want it to be just that. I’m not sure what I want. No.” He jerked his chin up. “No, that’s a lie. I know that I want to get that damn dinosaur out of the ground. I know I want people to stop stealing my finds! I know that I want to kiss you again. You, not you,” he said as he pointed to me then Tiberius. My horse gave him a happy short neigh then pawed at his stall gate. He wanted some hay and grain. And here we stood, two dumb humans, kissing and talking about dating when he was one meager breath away from expiring from hunger. “And I know that I’d like to take you to dinner some night. Somewhere nice where there are no piles of dung or dusty bones or jabbering undergrads. But I can’t leave the students alone at the dig site. Not after what took place last night.”
I ran my fingers along the seam of my pants, giving my head and heart a second to catch up with what he had just said.
“It’s been years since I dated a man,” came tumbling out of my face. I felt like a moron.
“They say it’s just like riding a horse.”
“You mean a bike.”
“Horse, bike, surfboard. The point is that it would just be a dinner.”
“Dinner,” I mumbled. Tiberius pawed at his stall door again. “I could cook dinner.”
He studied me over the top of his terribly smudged glasses. “You cook?”
“I do, yes, rather well as a matter of fact. My ex was a Michelin starred chef at Humphrey’s in Chicago. I picked up a few tricks from him. It’s been years since I cooked for a man as well but horse, bike, surfboard, right?”
“Right! Dinner at your place sounds good. I can escort the kids to their own cabin then join you. If you’re sure?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I think I am.” A bubbling fountain of happy erupted in my chest. “My feet are cold. I need a shower and some food before the hungry bunch get up. We have a fucking mess to clean up. Honestly, just thinking about what happened last night infuriates me all over again.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it, you have my word. And Landon’s.” I pushed off the wall and walked to him. I passed along my coffee mug as our gazes locked. “Friday night then?”
Some of the ire leeched away from him. He stole a fast kiss and nodded.
“Friday night sounds good.”
/>
“I’ll pick you up at six at your cabin.”
“Uhm it won’t be on him will it?” He motioned to my horse with a half-empty cup of coffee.
“We’ll work up to that,” I replied, my fingers twitching as I stared at his hair framing his face. He was a beautiful man. Young, yes. That nibbled at me. But he was more than just a young thing to play with. He was warm, funny, a bit of a chatterbox, intelligent, dedicated, and one hell of a kisser.
“Cool,” he replied and padded off, his sandals slapping his heels as he went.
My gaze stayed on his ass until he was out of sight. Tiberius gave the wall of his stall a sound back foot. I jumped a bit then began the morning chores. My head now unable to sort anything of great import. Other than I had a date in two days and the fact that someone had ridden onto the Prairie Smoke land and stolen things that belonged to Bishop. It was time to dig a wee bit deeper into that theft, and I was starting at the neighbor’s ranch.
Chapter Seven
Generally, Gordon calmed me.
But as I cut the engine of my truck in front of the sprawling McCrary ranch house, even the soft refrains of “Rainy Day People” wasn’t working. You know you’re in a snit when Gordon Lightfoot fails to chill your ass out.
I got about four feet from the front door, a pumpkin orange thing, when it opened to expel Clayton, Morgan, and Shepherd. Kyle referred to the trio of brothers as Moe, Larry, and Curly but that cast them in the light of stooges. They were not. All three were astute businessmen and ranchers. And mean as a rattlesnake.
Morgan, the middle boy, had a cloth napkin in his hand.
“Sorry to interrupt your breakfast,” I announced, planting my feet on the smooth cement driveway and crossing my arms. “Just wanted to drop by to discuss the theft that occurred last night.”
Shep stood silently a foot or so to the left of Clayton, his brows tangled.
“If you’re here to toss around bullshit accusations about us taking your cattle...” Clayton started. I shook my head. “Good. I’m damn tired of being called a rustler.”
“This has nothing to do with cattle. It has to do with bones. Dinosaur bones to be precise.”