He turned away, unable suddenly to bear looking at Clint‘s powerful profile. At last he‘d found a man who understood him—who took charge the way Tyler longed for, and it was slipping away just that fast.
Clint said nothing. After a while, Tyler shot him a sidelong glance. Clint‘s lips were pressed together in a thin line, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.
Hey, Tyler said. I don‘t know why I said that. It was stupid. Clint didn‘t reply. Look, Tyler went on doggedly, feeling miserable. Is my being there going to cause you a problem? Because I can wait in—
No, it‘s okay. Clint looked his way, his smile asking, it seemed to Tyler, forgiveness, or at least a truce. We got a mystery to solve.
~*~
Tyler felt almost foolish, staked out behind the shed where George Riley said they kept their semen tanks. Clint had spoken with George on his cell as they drove, sketching out a plan of action for the stakeout. They‘d agreed not to talk to the vet or his assistant directly, since their suspicions were as yet unfounded.
They‘d decided to wait instead and see if they couldn‘t catch the guy in the act. Clint had gone to park his truck out of sight while Tyler hid near the shed where the semen tanks were kept, his small digital camera at the ready.
Though Tyler had wanted to talk more about their situation, he couldn‘t seem to get any words past the lump in his throat. Clint hadn‘t seemed inclined to talk about it either. The ease had somehow been drained from their relationship, and Tyler didn‘t know how to get it back. Could it be this Jonas guy meant more to Clint than he was letting on? Was Tyler now the third wheel, just in the way?
He should have known better than to buy all Clint‘s pretty lines about honesty and understanding. After all, Clint was the one who had been holding out, never once mentioning he had this friend with benefits waiting for him at the ranch next to his own. So much for his assertions about how important trust was in a relationship.
Relationship, my ass, Tyler thought bitterly. What a fool I was, thinking this time would be any different.
But it hadbeen different, and he knew it. What they‘d shared had been way beyond the realm of a quick fuck. It had mattered. Well, at least to him it had. The jury in his mind was now out on the cowboy, and it was quite possible a mistrial would be declared before they came back with a verdict.
There was the sound of an engine and then the crunch of the large wheels of the vet‘s equipment van as it was backed toward the shed. Tyler tensed, all thoughts of Clint momentarily flying from his head as he watched, waiting to see what, if anything, happened next.
A young man emerged from the van, walking toward the rear doors, which he opened. He appeared to be in his early twenties, if that, tall and gangly with short sandy hair and a narrow sallow face. Glancing quickly around him, he walked toward the shed.
He pulled open the doors and walked inside as if he owned the place. A moment later he emerged, hefting a rather large liquid nitrogen tank that contained who knew how much valuable bull sperm.
Tyler zoomed the digital camera lens in on the culprit and clicked a series of pictures, shooting continuously as he watched the guy load the tank into the van, slam the doors shut, and drive back toward the cow barns, which was no doubt where he‘d been supposed to be heading in the first place.
Tyler‘s heart was beating fast. He‘d caught the thief in the act, the proof now tucked away in his shirt pocket. He could follow up on the rest of the story once the authorities were called. He could enlist Clint‘s help in getting the background stories on the vet and the folks affected. He could delve into the thief‘s motivations and how he‘d sold the semen, if that‘s what he‘d done.
He could see his byline now featured prominently at the top of a two-page spread. Maybe he‘d even get a teaser line on the cover: Bull Semen Stealing Spree Stopped in its Tracks.
As he hurried back to the main house, eager to find Clint and tell him the news, he stopped short. This investigation had been his ostensible reason for sticking around. Now that the case was solved, what would happen between them? Especially now that Clint was back on his home turf, and back with the friend who had put such a pall on their newfound relationship. Was this the end?
As Tyler approached, he saw George Riley talking to the vet. George looked up at Tyler‘s approach, a question on his face. Since it was his tank that had just been stolen in broad daylight, Tyler felt compelled to share what he‘d found right away, though he wished Clint was there to witness his moment of glory. It‘s what we thought. I got it all on my camera. You‘ll find one of your tanks in the back of Doc Crawford‘s equipment van.
Oh my lord, Doc Crawford exclaimed. He appeared to be in his late sixties or early seventies, with watery blue eyes and a head of thinning white hair brushed straight back. George was just tellin‘ me of your suspicions. Steve‘s been known to have his troubles, but I really thought he‘d turned himself around this time. He hasn‘t missed a day of work since he started. Has a knack with the livestock too. I really thought he‘d turned a corner. The vet sighed heavily. Poor Angeline, rest her soul. I‘m glad she didn‘t have to see this day. She always had her hands full with that boy.
He looked to Tyler. You say you‘ve got evidence? A stolen tank is in my van?
Tyler produced the camera and showed the two men the pictures. George Riley called the sheriff‘s office and reported the theft. They‘re on their way, he said. Turning to Tyler he added, That was some good detecting work by you boys. Clint says you‘re a reporter for Lone Star Monthly, that right?
It is, Tyler affirmed. And I‘ll be writing an article for the magazine about this whole thing. I‘d like to follow up—do a full exposé, delve into his motives and how he thought he could resell the stuff without proof of its origins.
Sheriff Oates will get it out of him, if anyone can, George said grimly.
Oh my lord, Doc Crawford again intoned, his face etched with misery, and Tyler felt almost guilty for proving his new assistant to be a thief.
Where‘s Clint? he asked, annoyed at the tiny leap his heart took just at the mention of the cowboy‘s name.
He parked his truck back at the old hay barn. Probably chewing the fat with some of the boys. George pointing toward a barn in the near distance. To the vet he said, We better get on back to the dairy barn and see what your young Steve‘s doing. No telling what other mischief he‘s getting up to, with no one watching.
The two men hurried away. Tyler headed in the direction George had pointed. The first barn he came to looked freshly painted, with bales of hay piled just outside. Clint‘s truck was nowhere in sight.
Tyler walked past the barn and spied the building George must have been referring to. Clint‘s truck was parked in the dirt in front of an old barn with faded red sides, the paint peeling to bare wood in spots. But where was Clint?
Tyler moved toward the door, pulling it open as he called out, Clint? The large room was lit only by a small window, the hazy sunlight filtered through dust and grime. It took Tyler‘s eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom.
He realized two men were scuffling in the corner, grunting and breathing hard. It took a few seconds for Tyler‘s brain to register that one of the men was Clint, the other guy a big burly bear of a man. The man flipped Clint to ground in a sudden move and fell to his knees, straddling Clint‘s chest as he leaned forward.
A different scene leaped from its troubled sleeping place in Tyler‘s memory— Wayne pinning Tyler in the dirt, his fingers pressing hard against Tyler‘s larynx. Wayne had crossed a line that night, leaving bruises on Tyler‘s throat and fear in his gut that things had gone way too far.
The scene before him now flickered and jumped in the half-light, like the scenes on a spool of film clattering madly through a broken projector. Tyler‘s body jerked into action, hurtling across the space toward the men. Clint was in trouble!
He grabbed Clint‘s attacker, wrenching the man‘s thick arm back, while his
other hand curled into a fist. What the fuck you think you‘re doing? he heard himself shouting, as his knuckles made contact with the man‘s hard jaw.
The man, still on his knees, angled sharply toward him and before Tyler could react, landed a punch on Tyler‘s shoulder that sent him sprawling back into the dirt. Pain shot down Tyler‘s arm, but he barely noticed it as he leaped to his feet, his blood boiling. The man, too, had risen.
Clint scrambled up, moving fast so he was suddenly between them, his arms held out toward either man, palms up. Hey! he shouted. Both of you calm down! We got a misunderstandin‘ goin‘ on. Tyler moved to the left, determined to keep his eye on the burly guy hiding behind Clint, but Clint moved too, blocking his view.
Tyler, get a hold of yourself. I‘m tellin‘ you everythin‘s fine. Ain‘t nobody bein‘ attacked here. You hear me? Clint reached for his shoulders, which he shook until Tyler focused on him, finally hearing his words.
We were just tusslin‘, Ty. Give it up. Clint released his shoulders and caught Tyler in a firm bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides in the process.
Tyler understood it all in a rush. He hadn‘t burst in on a fight, but on lovers locked in a playful tussle. He felt stupid and embarrassed, the feelings blurred together into something that felt more like anger. Well, excuse me for giving a fuck, he snapped, jerking out of Clint‘s embrace.
This must be the boy you were tellin‘ me about, the man who Tyler knew must be Jonas Hall said in the same slow drawl that Clint favored. I reckon he needs a few lessons in manners. He rubbed his jaw, but Tyler saw he was grinning.
I thought you were fighting, Tyler offered, the anger sliding back down into embarrassed chagrin.
Clint nodded, a smiling lifting one side of his mouth, though he shook his head. Understandable. Jonas and I just enjoy a little horseplay now and again. It‘s our way of sayin‘ hello. Jonas likes to try and take control from time to time, until I remind him who‘s really in charge.
Tyler looked toward the big man, who laughed. Clint likes to think so, anyway. He and Clint exchanged a look of tenderness that, despite his promises to himself not to care, made Tyler‘s heart spasm.
Hey, you, Clint said, again putting his strong arms around Tyler. Everythin‘s okay. Like I told you on the way here, me and Jonas, we‘re friends. Friends with benefits, and for the way we have to live around these parts that‘s a special thing.
Tyler stole a glance at Jonas, who was nodding. Clint let Tyler go and stepped back. Jonas and me go back years, and I ain‘t gonna apologize for his existence, or deny it. Yeah, maybe I should have told you sooner, and for that I‘m sorry but that don‘t change the way I feel for you.
He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts while the warmth of his last words soothed Tyler. You know, Clint continued, his voice soft but firm, love comes in all kinds of forms and sometimes in the most unexpected places. It‘s a shame to turn your back on it, just cause you‘re scared or confused.
He fixed Tyler with a penetrating gaze. That‘s where trust comes in. I hope you can trust me enough to get past this bit of craziness between us. You‘ve come to mean a whole lot to me this past week, Ty. I want you in my life, and if this hasn‘t scared you clean away, I‘d like to introduce you, proper-like this time, to my friend, Jonas Hall.
In spite of himself, a grin curled itself over Tyler‘s face. He realized he‘d acted like a fool, but Clint was giving him a second chance. I ain‘t goin‘ nowhere, he said firmly, allowing himself to drift into the local vernacular that he‘d purposely shed when moving to Austin.
Well, then. Clint nodded toward Jonas. Let‘s just start this whole thing over. Tyler Sutton, this here‘s Jonas Hall.
Jonas moved toward him, a huge hand extended. Pleased to meet you, he said, chuckling again as he caught Tyler‘s hand in a strong grip. Though I got to say, bein‘ sucker punched ain‘t exactly the most friendly greetin‘. He rubbed his jaw with an exaggerated gesture. Now, maybe if you give me fair warnin‘ next time, you and me could have a friendly wrassle, and we‘ll just see who comes out on top.
And the loser gets a nice hard spanking from me, Clint chimed in, his eyes dancing.
Don‘t you mean the winner? Jonas quipped.
Tyler realized all the anger and indignation had evaporated in the face of their easy good humor and he laughed along with them, ignoring for the moment just how far gone his heart was for the cowboy poet.
Clint clapped Tyler on the shoulder. Okay then, he said. Now tell us about the vet‘s assistant. Did you catch him in the act? You got news?
Tyler, who had completely forgotten about why he‘d been seeking Clint in the first place, nodded eagerly. He patted his shirt pocket, but realized with a shock that the camera was gone.
You lookin‘ for this? Jonas bent down and retrieved the camera, which must have fallen out when he‘d knocked Tyler to the ground. Jonas wiped the dirt from it against his jeans and handed the camera to Tyler.
Thanks, Tyler said, anxiously turning it on. To his relief, it appeared intact, all the pictures still saved. Turning back to Clint, he said, We were right. He was the one. I caught him hauling off a tank in broad daylight. I‘ll say this for him—the kid‘s got balls. The sheriff‘s on his way. Might even be here by now.
Clint pumped his fist in the air. Boy howdy, that‘s great news! Let‘s go see what‘s goin‘ on.
Jonas cleared his throat, again rubbing the spot where Tyler had socked him. Ahem. I think we still got some unfinished business here.
Tyler and Clint turned toward him. And what might that be, Jonas? Clint asked with a straight face, though a smile seemed poised on his lips, trying to break through.
I‘m thinkin‘ we need to teach this city boy some proper country manners. Some kind of punishment is definitely in order.
You know, Jonas, Clint replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, I do believe you‘re right. A good old-fashioned over-the-knee spankin‘ might be just the thing.
Tyler looked from one to the other, not entirely sure if they were kidding or not. He knew one thing for sure, if they were serious, he‘d be ready and willing to receive his just desserts.
Chapter 7
Clint was humming along with Patsy Cline on the radio as she sang about sweet dreams of a past love and trying to connect with someone new. Tyler listened to the words, trying not to attach any meaning to them as far as Clint and he went. Jonas had definitely thrown a wrench into their fledgling relationship. Despite Clint‘s reassurances, Tyler still wasn‘t entirely sure where Jonas fit into the mix in Clint‘s mind, or for that matter where Tyler himself fit.
It had been a long day, with the two of them giving their statements down at the sheriff‘s office, once Steve Buford had been taken into custody. Clint was driving Tyler back to Lubbock, where he could check into a motel.
Clint had invited Tyler to stay with him at his ranch in Ransom Canyon that night, but Tyler had been the one to demur. He told himself it was because he still hadn‘t submitted his article for the poetry festival, and his editor had sent a rather terse email reminding him of the deadline. He knew he had to buckle down and give it his full attention, something he would never be able to do with the sexy cowboy anywhere in the vicinity.
But if he were honest, there was more to it than that. He‘d been thrown for a loop by his own reaction to what he‘d perceived as Clint‘s plight back in the old hay barn. He‘d given no thought at all to leaping in to save his new lover, ready, on some level, to give his own life for Clint‘s.
He couldn‘t remember in all his thirty years ever falling so fast or so hard for someone. He was head over feet for the cowboy poet, and had no idea what to do about it.
Clint pulled into the parking lot beside Tyler‘s car and turned to him. I got to see you again.
Yeah, Tyler agreed, regretting his decision not to go back with Clint to his ranch then and there. He was on the verge of saying so but Clint spoke first.
I know you got to finish that article a
nd all, Clint said. But we got some unfinished business to attend to.
A teasing lilt had entered Clint‘s tone and Tyler knew at once what he was talking about, though he pretended not to. Every time he thought about the two cowboys in the old hay barn, talking to each other about how he needed a good old-fashioned spanking, Tyler felt the blood rushing to his cock. He could almost feel Clint‘s hard, calloused hand landing with a wallop on his bare ass.
Oh, there is? Tyler suppressed his grin. What might that be?
You know good and well what that might be, boy. Jonas and me‘d be derelict in our duties if we let you get away with your bad manners back in the barn. No, sir, he grinned. We‘d be doin‘ you a real disservice if we failed to give you the punishment you so richly deserve. I‘ll expect you at my cabin tomorrow night. Eight o‘clock suit you?
Tyler couldn‘t help it—he grinned back, though a tiny flag of anxiety unfurled in his gut at the thought of Jonas being there to witness the spanking. Jonas‘ll be there? he said with a gulp.
Clint‘s grin eased into a gentle smile. If that‘s okay with you, Ty. Jonas is a good friend. My best friend for nigh on fifteen years now. You matter to me, Tyler. A lot. I want to share with you the things and folks in my life who matter too. Clint reached out and gave Tyler‘s thigh a squeeze. Ain‘t nothin‘ gonna happen you don‘t want to happen. Not tomorrow night. Not ever. That‘s how it is with you and me, Ty. You have my word on that.
Okay. Tyler nodded, still not entirely sure how he felt about Jonas witnessing his spanking, though he couldn‘t deny the big, burly man was handsome, in a rough and tumble kind of way. But Clint had left the choice open with his words. Nothing would happen that Tyler didn‘t want to happen.
The thought of being bent, bare-assed, over Clint‘s powerful thighs, slipped into his mind, sending a shockwave of longing through his body. Not eager to get out of the truck with a hard-on, Tyler forced his brain to switch gears.
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