Cowboys Down

by Barbara Elsborg

  Jasper sighed and perched on the edge of the coffee table.

  “Have you any news, darling? Will we soon hear the patter of tiny feet?”

  “No,” he said quietly.

  Her face fell. He could have said yes. She wouldn’t remember by the time he came again, probably by the time he got out of the building, but tonight he had a perverse desire not to please her. Then her chin wobbled and he regretted not lying.

  “Have to find the right person first,” he whispered.

  “Don’t leave it too late,” his mother said. “Life’s too short.”

  And yours is too long. Oh fuck.

  Jasper dragged his fingers through his short hair. “I’ve been on holiday, that’s why I haven’t been in to see you.”

  “Silly boy. You were here yesterday.”

  “Ah yes, I forgot,” Jasper said.

  She either imagined he came every day or accused him of not visiting for months. The specialist’s advice was not to contradict, not to argue because it distressed her more. What about distressing me? Don’t I count?

  “I’m Jasper,” he said. “Ben’s not here.”

  “Why not?” She turned from the screen to look at him and confusion washed her face. “Who are you?”

  Jasper’s heart beat faster. “I’m your son, Jasper.”

  “I don’t have a son called Jasper. My son’s called Ben. You must be in the wrong room. Go away.”

  Remember me, Mum.

  Jasper looked into her eyes but found no spark of recognition.

  “Remember when Ben and I fell in the pond and came out covered with duck weed? You said we looked like sea monsters.”

  There was no response. She looked as though she’d gone somewhere in her head, a place too far for him to pull her back. It was a waste of time visiting yet how could he not?

  “’Bye, Mum,” he whispered.

  As he reached the door, she called, “Jasper, thank you for the roses.”

  He had to fight hard not to rush back and tell her everything, how someone had tried to kill him, how he’d found a guy he thought was perfect, how sorry he was that Ben was the one who’d died and not him. But he kept walking.

  Jasper slipped back into his normal routine and one week slid into another. Gym before work—taking it easy because of his ribs. Not leaving the office before eight. Eating a meal picked up on the way home. Falling asleep in front of the TV. As the nightmare of suffocating slowly gave up its grip, Jasper switched to dreaming of Calum—the way he talked, the way he felt, the way he tasted. Thoughts of the cowboy became so much part of his life that Jasper found himself talking to him as if he were there. When that habit travelled from home to work and someone caught him addressing an empty chair, Jasper knew he had to do something, though he didn’t know what. So he muddled on, growing more and more unhappy.

  It took a month before the bronzes came back from the foundry and Fintan sold them all in the first week. When he heard the exuberance in Fintan’s voice as he gave him the news, it occurred to Jasper that Calum might not have wanted to sell them, but it was too late now. Jasper shipped one to Calum, paid a fortune to have it express delivered, enclosed a check for $8,200 and wrote, after several attempts—

  Dear Calum,

  Hope everything is well with you and that your father is improving. I took the liberty of having your fantastic gift cast in bronze. I had ten made and the dealer sold the other eight—I kept one—I hope you don’t mind. The check is enclosed. My dealer friend is pestering for more. He’s in awe of your talent.

  I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to speak to you before I left but I felt it might make matters worse. I wish you all the best with your life. I’ll never regret a second of the time we had together. Be happy.

  Tell Angie I’m still wearing her bracelet.

  Your friend,

  Jasper.

  The letter sounded more stilted and formal than Jasper would have liked, but for all he knew, Calum’s father would open the parcel and read the note. Jasper didn’t want to cause trouble. After he’d shipped the bronze, he felt more settled, as though he’d held out his hand and now it was up to Calum whether he shook it or not.

  “Calum, Calum, Calum,” Angie shouted. “You’ve got a package.”

  Angie leapt at him the moment he walked in the door. Calum tried to think if he’d ordered anything. Nothing came to mind.

  “It’s from England.” Angie tugged at his arm to pull him into the family lounge.

  From Jasper? Was he sending the model back? Calum had expected him to call or email or write, but he’d heard nothing. He’d been hurt, but then he’d made no effort to contact Jasper. Calum had tried to tell himself it was for the best but he remained to be convinced.

  “I need to wash up,” Calum said and gently lifted her hand from his shirt.

  “No, now,” she said and he gave in.

  When he saw his father and Vera, he wished he’d resisted a bit harder.

  “I got scissors.” Angie leapt forward to grab them from the coffee table and then pushed them into his hand.

  Vera laughed. “She’s been desperate for you to get home. You don’t need to open it here.”

  “It’s okay,” Calum muttered.

  “It’s heavy,” Angie said. “Feels like a rock. Mom says it cost a zillion dollars to ship it. I don’t think it’s a rock. Why would someone put a rock in a box? Unless it was from the moon. Is it moon rock?”

  Calum lifted the polystyrene box out of the cardboard and peeled off the tape. Angie stood behind him, her chin on his arm. When Calum lifted off the top, he didn’t understand for a moment what he was looking at. Then he felt as if he’d been hit with a sledgehammer.

  “It’s not a rock,” Angie said and sounded disappointed.

  “Something I made,” Calum whispered.

  He took out the bronze and set it on the table. Tears welled in his eyes and he blinked hard.

  “You didn’t make that,” Angie said.

  “I made it out of clay. It’s been turned into bronze.”

  Vera came to his side. “Oh Calum, it’s beautiful. Come and look, Erik.”

  Calum saw the note tucked in the side and opened it. A check fell out along with a business card for Fintan’s Gallery.

  “Erik, come and look,” Vera said more sharply.

  His father dropped his newspaper and huffed as he walked over.

  “What’s the money for?” Angie asked.

  Calum skimmed the note, his heart pounding hard enough to burst through his ribs. “Oh my God. Jasper sold eight bronzes like this. I made over $8000.”

  He wanted to jump up and down and hoot with joy but the scowl on his father’s face wiped the delight from Calum’s.

  “What are you going to do with the money?” Angie asked.

  “Go on vacation.” Calum met his father’s gaze when he looked up. The tightened mouth told him what his father thought of that.

  “Good thing you got that passport before you settled on college,” Vera said.

  Calum smiled.

  “This is very…nice,” his father said. “Could we put it where the guests can see it? You might be able to sell it.”

  “Not this one,” Calum said. “Hey, Angie. Jasper says he’s still wearing your bracelet.”

  “That’s in case he gets lost again. I’m glad I gave it to him.”

  “So am I.” Calum kissed her head.

  Calum landed early on a Friday morning at Heathrow airport. He’d not slept on the transatlantic flight because he was too wired. He could still hardly believe he was there. Calum hadn’t told Jasper he was coming because he wanted it to be a surprise, but ever since he’d boarded the first plane at Jackson Hole, he’d worried Jasper might not find it a good surprise. Calum was armed with Jasper’s home address from his vacation reservation, and the business card for Fintan’s Gallery. He couldn’t see the point going to Jasper’s house and waiting all day for him so decided to go to the gallery and see if the
guy wanted any of the models he’d brought with him.

  The Heathrow Express took him into the city, but Calum found the transport system and the number of people and cars overwhelming. Everything was fast and noisy. He’d never been any place bigger than Laramie. London was like an alien planet swarming with life of so many different colors and dotted with amazing buildings that Calum found something to stare at around almost every corner.

  He found a bus that took him to London Bridge, which turned out to be a disappointment, just a plain concrete structure. The bus was more interesting, though he worried about going upstairs. Once he got off, he pulled his Stetson harder down on his head, tugged up the collar of his coat and walked, his bag on his shoulder, box in his hands.

  Calum stopped for coffee and watched the world pass, people chattering in every language but English. He stopped again at a children’s shop to buy a plastic bag of air-drying modeling clay and again at a wine store to buy champagne. He’d been nervous and excited since he got on the plane and now all he could think was—Jasper.

  It was almost noon by the time he found the gallery. Calum tipped back his hat and smiled when he saw the bronze in the window. A burst of pride warmed his heart. A sign underneath said—Cowboys Down by Calum Neilson. Not for sale. He wondered who’d come up with the title. Cowboys Down. He kind of liked it. Calum pushed open the door and went inside.

  The only guy in there was dressed in a knee-length blue coat with a stand-up collar. He had his gray hair tied back in a ponytail and was talking on the phone, waving an arm in the air.

  “Have to go. A lovely customer just walked in.” He put the phone down. “Please tell me I can help you. I’m going to be so disappointed otherwise.”

  Calum knew his eyes had opened wider, together with his mouth. He snapped his jaw shut.

  “Beautiful, blond and dumb? Oh my, I’m in heaven.”

  “I’m Calum Neilson,” he managed to force out.

  The guy in front of him squealed. It was an honest-to-God girlie squeal. Calum just about jumped back outside.

  “I should have recognized you. You have such a talent. Why didn’t Jasper tell me you were coming? The naughty boy.”

  Were Jasper and this guy more than friends? Calum suddenly felt uneasy.

  “Do you have anything to show me in that box? Oh, I’m so sorry. Where are my manners? I’m Fintan Dorian. This is my gallery.”

  Calum held out his hand. “Howdy.”

  “I’m going to wet myself,” the guy whispered and Calum laughed.

  He put the box he’d carefully packed on the counter. Piece by piece he lined up his creations. A wrangler wrestling with a steer. A mountain lion sprawled on a rock. Jasper leaning against a horse. Calum was relieved all the legs had survived intact.

  “What do you think?” Calum asked.

  “I think you have fantastic hands. You’re going to be a very wealthy young man. And I also think you should leave these with me, and go and tell Jasper how much you love him.”

  Calum swallowed hard. “It’s not like that.” How the hell does he know?

  Fintan smiled. “He works at Stonehouse and Taylor. Right around the corner. 117 Fenton Street.”

  “I’m much obliged.” Calum touched the brim of his hat.

  Fintan groaned. “Now you’ve given me an erection.”

  Calum fled before the guy asked him to do something about it. He’d never seen anyone like that outside of TV. To be honest, he hadn’t thought such flamboyant gays really existed. Fintan wouldn’t survive five minutes in Wyoming. But could be Calum was wrong. Maybe it was better to be obvious because then people knew where they stood.

  No more hiding what he was and what he felt.

  Jasper pressed the button to accept the call from the reception desk. “Yes, Jenny?”

  “There’s someone here to see you.”

  Jasper frowned and checked his diary. “Do they have an appointment?”

  “No, he’s not a client, but he says it’s important. Something to do with metal futures. Copper in particular.”

  Jasper’s pulse sprinted like an accelerating car. He was being stupid and reading far too much into nothing, but copper was the largest component of bronze.

  “Name?” he asked.

  “Angus.”

  Very stupid. His heart slowed again. “Send him up.”

  Jasper put down the phone. He’d heard nothing from Calum. Jasper didn’t even know if he’d received the bronze. He still found himself skimming down his inbox every morning to see if there were any emails from the Neilson Ranch. One day, he’d have to open his heart again, but not yet. He pulled on his jacket and straightened his tie before he opened the door and stood ready to greet his prospective client.

  Christ, now I’m hallucinating.

  Except…

  Jasper’s jaw dropped and his cock rose. Stetson in place, Calum walked down the corridor wearing a navy-blue mid-thigh pea coat and faded jeans, a bag on his shoulder. Jasper couldn’t have moved to save his life. The only part of him stirring was his cock, inflating behind his zipper. Luckily his suit jacket hid it from view. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, as though he were watching a slowed-down film, and for a moment, Jasper’s brain slowed too and he wondered if he’d tipped over the brink into madness.

  But then Calum came to a halt in front of him, smiled, and the wave of emotion that hit Jasper made him stagger back from the doorway until he hit his desk.

  Ken Adams, passing behind Calum, halted. “Are you all right, Jasper?”

  “Tripped. New client. Lunch out.” Oh Christ, was that even coherent?

  Calum moved into the room, closed the door, took off his hat and put down his bag.

  “Angus?” Jasper blurted.

  “Middle name. You have one?”

  “Not that I’ll ever reveal, no matter how painful the torture. Oh God, God, God.” Jasper threw himself at Calum and kissed him. It was a headlong rush straight to frenzied without passing “Go” or collecting two hundred pounds. Calum tasted of coffee and chocolate and that unique essence of him, and Jasper couldn’t get enough. Tongues tangled while four hands marauded like Vikings. They pawed at each other, hands squeezing, fingers pulling hair, sliding under clothes as their kiss veered toward biting violence.

  Lust roared like a tiger in Jasper’s head, but he could feel Calum stroking his back, trying to calm him, and before he obeyed the idiotic voice in his dick and ripped off Calum’s clothes, Jasper jerked his mouth away. In an instant, Calum was back, brushing his lips over Jasper’s face, whispering words Jasper had no hope of understanding because his brain was about to explode with happiness. As Jasper struggled to control himself, Calum gave him the sort of gentle, lazy kiss that Jasper dreamed of waking to and never had.

  Calum lifted his lips from Jasper’s and slid his hands to his neck, stroking his nape with his fingers. Jasper’s gaze moved over Calum’s face in a circle of desire, from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes.

  “Glad to see me then?” Calum whispered.

  “My middle name’s Aloysius.” Jasper said.

  “Is that right?” Calum drawled and smothered a laugh.

  “See. That’s why I don’t tell anyone.”

  “That’s not why I laughed. My initials spell CAN and yours spell JAR. Are we a match, or what?”

  Oh God. Jasper smiled. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I brought over a few more models to that gallery. Fintan’s a…character.”

  “Yep.” Jasper kept the smile on his face, but his internal organs sagged. Was that why Calum had come?

  “That’s not why I came.” Calum pulled Jasper closer by the neck and kissed his forehead.

  Note to self: Careful what you think. It appears Calum can read minds.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jasper looked so smart and handsome in his dark suit, white shirt and striped blue-and-gray tie that Calum was grateful he wore a coat long enough to hide his cock’
s reaction.

  “Hungry?” Jasper asked.

  Calum licked his lips, and then chuckled when Jasper growled.

  “Leave your bag here. I’ll lock the office and we’ll—”

  “You can lock the door?” Calum’s cock twitched.

  Jasper’s “Yes” came out as a strangled squeak.

  “Everyone going out for lunch?” Calum asked.

  Jasper nodded. Calum locked the door and took off his coat. When he spotted Jasper’s fingers fiddling with the button on his jacket, he shook his head. “Leave it on.” he said. “Sit down.”

  Calum hadn’t intended to do this. He’d hoped for a leisurely lunch and then maybe he’d wait while Jasper worked, and then they’d go to his home and fuck each other stupid. Plan B was much better. Jasper sat behind his desk, his eyes slightly glazed, but his attention focused on Calum’s face.

  “Let me do everything,” Calum whispered.

  He spun Jasper’s chair so he sat perpendicular to his desk and then Calum dropped to his knees. Jasper’s hands gripped the arms of the chair and Calum leaned to kiss his knuckles.

  “Oh fuck,” Jasper whispered.

  Calum flipped open the solitary button on Jasper’s jacket and pulled the two halves apart. He tugged Jasper’s shirt out of his pants, and starting from the bottom, unbuttoned it slowly.

  Jasper’s ragged breathing sounded over-loud in the room.

  “You okay?” Calum asked. “Gonna need CPR again?”

  “Not by mouth.”

  Jasper’s cock had tented his pants and Calum dragged his fingernail over the raised mound.

  “Sh…it,” Jasper gulped.

  Calum undid Jasper’s tie and let it hang loose around his neck. Tight, dark nipples tempted and Calum leaned forward to lick them.

  “Calum,” Jasper whispered.

  Jasper was tight as a wire, vibrating with tension. As Calum rubbed his fingers along Jasper’s lower ribs, he laved Jasper’s pecs, trailing the tip of his tongue around his nipples before pulling at them with his teeth. Calum let his body brush repeatedly against the bulge in Jasper’s groin before sliding down to mouth his cock through the dark material of his pants, exhaling against it until Jasper whimpered.