Cedarwood Cowboy

by Megan Slayer

  “She said all that?” Although he wasn’t surprised, he wished she’d have told him during one of their phone calls. Hell, he was shocked she hadn’t tried to hook him up with Mick and expected them to have a happy ending at the farm.

  “What?” Mick tipped his head. “I see the wheels turning.”

  “Nothing.” He’d have to give up his career. He hadn’t gone anywhere with his music—not really. He’d languished in the small-club scene. If he wanted to be a star, his time was almost gone. Why not stay in Cedarwood and work the land like his grandparents had done? Cedarwood wasn’t the same place he’d left and it wasn’t bad. Maybe he could have a future in the last place he’d ever thought possible.

  Chapter Three

  Mick stayed with Evan for the remainder of the afternoon. Part of him wanted to go and give Evan a rest, but the rest of him enjoyed Evan’s company. Once he got Evan to talk, they laughed a lot. It’d been so long since Mick had spent time with a decent single guy. He could see being friends with Evan. What was Evan? The last single guy in Cedarwood? And he was gay, too.

  All the good guys were taken. Evan wasn’t. The good ones were gone because they’d found their happy endings. Great for them, but terrible for Mick. He wanted a happy ending of his own.

  Mick wasn’t fond of sappy movies, but he sat with Evan as they watched two so-so movies featuring country music stars.

  Evan rested his head on Mick’s shoulder. “I knew that guy.”

  “Which one?” He should move Evan away, but he didn’t. He enjoyed having Evan close. He smelled good and felt even better against his skin.

  “The one trying to get the girl. I was on his tour five years ago.” Evan brushed Mick’s hand as he reached for the popcorn. “He’s a son of a bitch.”

  Mick had loved holding Evan’s hand earlier in the day. He didn’t want to take advantage of Evan, but the electricity every time they touched was too much to ignore. “Maybe that guy had a rough year?” Or he’s truly an asshole.

  “The tour sucked. It wasn’t his fault—not entirely. He kept coming on to my bassist and when Daryl said no, Deke tried to kiss me,” Evan said. “He’s bisexual, confused and struggling with the same issues I’ve struggled with. If he comes out as being anything but straight, he’ll be massacred in the press.”

  “Did you like him?” A twinge of jealousy hit. He didn’t want to think of Evan with someone else. “He’s handsome.”

  “No, I didn’t have feelings for him. I’m not wild about slobby people. I can handle picking up after someone, but not being a maid,” Evan said. “He thought the sweaty look worked for him. It does, when it’s baby oil for photos or he’s done work. When he’s being lazy, it’s not sexy.”

  “That makes sense.” At least the guy on television wasn’t competition.

  Evan yawned. “I’m tired.”

  “Get some sleep.” He should do the same.

  “The house is so quiet. I doubt I will.” Evan sat up. His hair stood out in wild tangles. “Did she still play music at night?”

  “She did.” He missed her leaving the radio on when he left. “Evan, you’re exhausted. You’ll fall right to sleep. Your body won’t let you stay awake much longer.” He stood and stretched. “I’ll put this away.” He picked up the bowl and carried it to the sink.

  “Do you want to stay?” Evan asked.

  Mick froze. He hadn’t expected Evan to ask that. “I don’t know.”

  “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.”

  He turned on his heel. Evan stood in the doorway to the kitchen. With his bare feet showing, the jeans contoured to his legs and the T-shirt clinging to his upper body like a second skin, he struck a sexy pose without trying. Every cell in Mick’s body screamed for him to stay. “I should go.”

  “I’m repellant still?”

  “You’re mourning.” He crossed the room to Evan. “And I’m your grandmother’s lawyer. You don’t want me to stay.” You hated me in school and we’re only getting along now because we’re both lonely.

  “I want you to stay.”

  “It won’t look right.”

  “I’ve never cared how things looked,” Evan said.

  “Whoa.” He paused. He knew Evan better than this. “Yeah, you do care. If you didn’t, then you’d be out to everyone.” He wasn’t about to be push-pulled by a guy not ready to come out. So the man was sexy. So what?

  “True.” Evan kept his distance. “Then I’ll consider you a lawyer.”

  “Evan.” Mick groaned. He hated pushy men, but he hated whiny ones even more. Yet he wanted to spend time with Evan. “Why don’t we get the will sorted out, get through the funeral and let things settle, then explore this?” He’d said the words faster than he could take them back. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved with Evan. Then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to push him away, either.

  Evan rubbed his forehead. “Okay.”

  “I’ll be right beside you through the funeral and help in whatever ways I can,” Mick said. Christ. He kept digging himself in deeper.

  Evan nodded. “She said she’d made plans.”

  “She did. All you have to do is call Kubach Funeral Home. If you want, I can let them know you’re ready to discuss the details. They have her body.” He should’ve disclosed that detail earlier. Damn it. He was losing his edge.

  “I called them yesterday while she slept. She’d insisted and said she wouldn’t rest until I did, so I complied.” Evan hooked his fingers in his belt loops. “Thanks, though.”

  “Not a problem,” Mick said. “Then I’ll speak to them in the morning to ensure things are going along smoothly.” He patted his pockets for his keys and phone. “See you tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “Call if you need me.” Part of him wanted Evan to need him. The rest of him needed time to sort out his feelings.

  “Will do.” Evan walked Mick to the door. “Feel free to drop by whenever. My door is always open.”

  “I will.” Shit. He’d led Evan on. Being so forthright wasn’t his style, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “Good night.” Evan stood in the doorway to the porch. “Want me to walk you to your car? This is a rough neighborhood.”

  He chuckled. At least Evan could make a joke at a time like this. “I think I’ll be safe.” He walked with Evan onto the porch. He could see them together on this very porch, swinging, talking, kissing…growing old together. Shit. He’d put the cart way before the horse. “Good night.”

  “See you.”

  Mick left the porch before he turned back and kissed Evan. If he kissed him, he’d never leave. He had to work in the morning and there were arrangements to check. He forced himself to climb behind the wheel of his car. He looked over his shoulder once before he backed up.

  Evan stood on the porch. In the glow of the porch light, he looked so lonely. He waved.

  Mick waved and drove away. Evan had a magnetism about him. He could be sweet, despite his streak of selfishness. He’d never heard Evan sing, but he could imagine Evan would be electrifying on stage. Maybe he wasn’t a great vocalist. Maybe he was.

  Mick drove home and tried to push Evan from his mind. Once back at his townhome, he parked in his garage and locked up. He forced himself through a shower, then tumbled into bed nude. Evan consumed his thoughts. He missed having friends and wanted a relationship, even if platonic, with him. The electricity between them wasn’t imaginary. Couldn’t be. He wanted to kiss Evan. No, he needed to. Now.

  Shit.

  * * * *

  Mick woke to streams of sunlight across his floor. His cock tented beneath the sheets. Fuck. He’d need a cold shower to get rid of his erection. He checked the clock. He’d overslept his alarm. Double fuck. He raced out of bed and into the bathroom. The cold water in the shower stung his chest but did little to deflate his cock and. He’d rather rub one off, but he had no time. He dried and dressed, then fixed his hair.

  He drove to the office and
prayed someone had made coffee. He needed java right now. He strode into his miniscule space.

  Bud, one of the other lawyers, followed Mick. “You look rough.” He offered Mick a cup. “Bad night?”

  “I feel rough.” He accepted the brew. The smell curled in his nose and woke him up. He’d need more caffeine, but this would work for now. “Thanks.” He sipped the java, thrilled for the wake-up.

  “You didn’t come in early.” Bud leaned against the doorframe. “Did you meet a guy? Or just have a tough night?”

  “Martha Conley passed away yesterday.” He sank onto his desk. “The cancer finally won.”

  “I’m sorry.” Bud frowned. “Isn’t Evan Conley her grandson?”

  “Yes.” He wanted to ask why it mattered to Bud, but sipped his coffee instead.

  “Is he going to come home?”

  “He’s already here,” Mick said. “Got in before she passed and was with her when she died.”

  “He’s quitting his career?” Bud flexed his fingers around his cup.

  “Is that a question?” Mick hated when Bud did this—he’d ask a question while knowing the answer, yet act ignorant. Only Bud could be so half-assed.

  “Yeah. He’s never been real famous. He had a hit a few years ago and got on the charts a couple times, but only two songs. The rest just don’t work.” Bud held the cup in both hands. “He needed to get away from the twangy shit. Country music isn’t twang.”

  “Do you know country music?” He hadn’t pegged Bud as a fan. Hell, he doubted Bud knew anything about the genre other than that Evan had been part of it. “Country music has lots of twang. If that’s how Evan interpreted it, then that’s on him. He’s being true to himself. Not every musician wants to sound the same or like they’ve been digitally enhanced.”

  “I enjoy what’s out now. The twang stuff is old. No one wants steel guitars and that yodel shit.” Bud laughed. “But he’ll get a dose of reality. Cedarwood likes its baseball players—not has-been musicians.”

  “Aren’t you a beacon of positivity?” He groaned. “Evan Conley just lost his grandmother and you’re being a jerk. You should have some sympathy.”

  “He drinks. Did you know that?” Bud snapped.

  “So? I enjoy a beer from time to time.” He hadn’t drunk in almost a year, but still, he liked a good hard cider.

  “He’s rumored to have a drinking problem.”

  “Rumored. You don’t know for sure.” He hated when people spread innuendo about other people. Either own what’s being said or don’t say anything at all.

  “I guess not.” Bud clicked his tongue. “Do you know the truth? I heard he’s gay, too. That might also be why he’s not famous. No one wants to listen to a gay singer.”

  “Tell that to all those people in the music business who are gay. Lots of people are homosexual and make damn good music.”

  “I guess.” Bud shrugged.

  “You’re awful. The man just lost his grandmother and you’re making cracks about him. He’s on his own. Be nice.” He put the cup down. He’d rather have coffee he’d poured himself. “I need to call the funeral home.”

  “Why? It’s his job.”

  “Martha stated in her will that I should help Evan. I’m doing my job,” Mick said. “She knew he’d be overwhelmed and would want assistance.”

  “He should be able to handle this. It’s not that hard.”

  “So says the man who hasn’t had to deal with the death of anyone in his family,” Mick said. “Be nice. If you were in Evan’s shoes, you might think twice about what you’re saying.”

  “I have been. My grandparents died when I was a kid,” Bud snapped. “I’ve been in his place.”

  “It’s not easy.” Bud had no idea.

  “I know that. I’ve helped many of our clients,” Bud said. “Big deal. If she did the preplanning, then the rest should be easy.”

  “If you’re grieving, it’s hard. There are a lot of decisions and even with preplanning, it can get overwhelming.” He left his desk. “I should call Kubach.”

  “Yeah.” Bud remained in the doorway. “It’s funny. I’ve never seen you get this concerned about your other clients. You don’t worry about them—not like this.”

  “Martha was my friend.” He settled behind his desk. “I care.”

  “I think you care about Evan. Is he gay?” Bud laughed. “Jesus. He probably isn’t and you’re barking up the wrong tree. Ever think of that?”

  “I think you’re out of line.” He opened his laptop. “Martha was a nice woman and she deserves my best.”

  “And if you get into Evan’s pants…all the better.”

  “Get out of my office. I’m late for my calls.” He gritted his teeth. He’d been friends with Bud ever since he’d earned this office, but right now he wanted nothing to do with his fellow lawyer.

  “You need to get some. You’re grumpy when you’re single.” Bud shook his head and left.

  Mick wanted to argue with Bud, but opted against it because Bud was right—he was smoother and nicer when he was in a relationship. He relaxed. The same could be said when he had work to do, too. If he was slammed and under a deadline, he thrived. So he’d be spending time with Evan. So he’d see Evan in those tight jeans and T-shirts. He couldn’t leave Evan alone—not at a time like this. He liked the way Evan worked those outfits and wanted to gawk at him.

  Maybe Bud was right. He had a thing for Evan. He liked Evan and wanted to get together after the funeral and the details of the estate were hashed out. Would Evan still want him around if they didn’t have to be together?

  He could only hope.

  * * * *

  The next afternoon, Mick drove over to the farmhouse. Martha had said she wanted him to keep an eye on Evan. That’s what I’m doing, he kept telling himself. Making sure Evan stayed out of trouble. He parked behind Martha’s truck, which he supposed was now Evan’s vehicle. Good for him. Clem and Martha would be happy to see Evan working the land.

  Mick heard the tractor, but he didn’t see anyone. He left his car and stood beside the fender. Was Evan at the house? Or were the boys running things? If Evan wasn’t there, then why would the truck be there?

  Mick listened hard. If he wasn’t mistaken, it sounded like two motors working. Two tractors? No… A tractor and an implement. He strode over to the barn and peered around the side of the building.

  Evan drove up to the elevator in front of the hay mow with a wagon full of straw. One of the boys stood on the empty wagon and gestured to Evan.

  The noise of the machinery made listening in to their conversation almost impossible. Mick wished he could hear them, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed the ballet before him.

  Evan put the tractor into park and left the driver’s seat. He wiped his forehead with the tail of his shirt. The movement wasn’t intended to be sexy, but turned Mick on. One of the boys stayed on the wagon while the other teen emerged from the barn. Evan left his hat on the fender of the tractor while he removed his shirt. He put the hat back on and strode into the barn. Sweat glistened on his upper body. His muscles flexed with each step and he shimmered in the sunlight. He moved with grace.

  Mick left his spot by the barn in favor of a place just out of sight in the building, where he could play the voyeur to Evan’s work. The air in the barn, thick with straw dust and heat, swirled around him. He wanted to loosen his tie, but didn’t dare. If Evan saw him, he’d have to explain why he was spying.

  Evan swigged something from a gallon jug cooler, then picked up a baling hook. Again, Mick couldn’t hear the conversation, but he knew what would happen next. Both teens stayed on the wagon and loaded bales onto the elevator. The angled machine carried each bale up to Evan’s position on top of the stack. Evan dragged each bale from the front of the mow to its proper place until he’d stacked every one.

  Mick sighed. Damn. He loved watching Evan. The man was magnetic and Evan had to know he was handsome. Had to. How else would he command attention on the stag
e? He pandered to the audience and did lots of posing in those videos for his songs. But right now? Evan didn’t realize he was being watched. The natural Evan was so much hotter than the one online.

  Mick’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Shit. He scurried out of the barn, despite wanting to watch Evan for the rest of the day. Playing the voyeur felt a little naughty and he liked the feeling. He stood in the shade of the barn and answered the call. “Hello?”

  “Baby.”

  Oh, fuck. His ex-boyfriend, Aldus. “Hi.” He wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want to speak to Aldus, but he’d answered his phone.

  “Don’t you want to talk to me?” Aldus asked. “It hasn’t been that long.”

  “It’s been long enough.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s up?” And how could he get out of this phone call the fastest?

  “Me.” Aldus laughed. “I’d love to see you. I’m in town—well, Cleveland. We had fun. We could again.”

  “We did, but we won’t be having any for quite a while. I can’t get to Cleveland,” Mick said. “Besides, we split. Remember? You said you hated me because I wasn’t going to leave Cedarwood? You said a hotshot lawyer needed to be anywhere but Podunk, USA. Well, I like Cedarwood.”

  “God. Don’t remind me,” Aldus said. He groaned. “You saw the good in that town. It’s so…blah. Come to the city. You’ll be happier.”

  “I doubt it.” He rested his shoulders against the side of the barn and crossed his ankles. “What did you want? You called me.” He could be chatting with Evan, watching Evan work or going through the final drafts of wills. Anything would be better than talking to Aldus.

  “I thought we could get together. I miss you and wanted another ride,” Aldus said.

  “It’s three in the afternoon. Are you drinking?” He’d rather be celibate than get back with his ex. They’d been terrible together.

  Evan drove past Mick’s spot by the barn. He paid Mick no attention—either that or he hadn’t seen Mick. Good. He didn’t want to be found yet, but wanted to gawk at Evan. He sighed. Evan had turned his hat backwards. His shirt was still off, but he’d donned sunglasses. The look worked for him. Damn, he was sexy. Mick wanted to take photos. He’d bet Evan would want to use them for an album cover.