by Sean Michael
Heather and Jodi were giving him the eye, blushing and grinning. “You gonna dance, Russell?”
“We talked to Trey about keeping you hid away, Russell.”
“You ought to come out to the Ranch house. We got dance lessons...”
He chuckled. “I don't think I'd make much of a dancer.”
“No? Oh, rumor is your making yourself a right fine cowboy.” Heather moved closer, teased and sprayed hair looking almost ... crispy.
“There's rumors about me?” That surprised him. He'd been on the ranch about six weeks, had only made it into town a handful of times, just another hand, he'd thought.
“Sure. Trey hiring himself a full-timer? Someone staying with the guy who was born old?” Jodi sneered. “Hell, you're the most interesting thing to happen here since Toby Mayfield started wearing leather pants and mesh t-shirts two years ago.”
“Leather pants and...” he shook his head, more interested in what they had to say about Trey, but wanting to be casual about it. “The guy who was born old? Now that's one of your Texas expressions that keeps me guessing for weeks, isn't it?”
Heather giggled. “Yankee. Nah ... Trey's a good ‘un. He's just real quiet, you know? Never did come to the dances or anything. Still, him and Marty have been friends from the beginning, and Marty's the worlds biggest partier.”
“I noticed that,” he said with a grin and a nod at the party at large. “They both seem like really nice guys though.”
“Marty's a slut and one hell of a dancer and Trey? Well, one day Trey will fall in love with some pretty thing who doesn't mind working hard and then he'll buy a farm.”
He had to bite his lip at that, wondering if any of them had a mind to be that pretty thing, knowing none of them stood a chance. He didn't think too hard about why that made him glad. The music slowed to a waltz and he gave the girls a smile. “Now there's something I do know how to dance to—if you ladies don't mind risking your toes.”
The girls squeaked, Heather bouncing right into his arms. “I'll take the risk, Russell.”
Oh man, he hoped he wasn't making some sort of declaration in code by dancing with her. He hadn't thought to check with Trey about stuff like this down here. As they moved towards the dance floor he caught sight of Trey heading quietly for the barn, beer in one hand, Marty laughing and following along. The spike of jealousy that went through him surprised him. He liked Trey well enough, all right, he thought his boss was pretty damned good looking and nice and had that sexy drawl and wore those sexy cowboy boots and ... Marty was straight. Right?
He stumbled over Heather's feet and apologized, turning his attention to not doing it again. Heather wrapped her arms around his neck and settled in, smiling at him like he was a rock star. Oh man, he was leading her on, wasn't he? They made small talk, dancing around and around until the song ended and Jodi was standing there, waiting her turn, red hair almost glowing in the lights.
Oh, dancing with two girls—that would tell them he wasn't serious. He was feeling a little lighter on his feet with Jodi. He had fun, the girls trying to teach him to two-step once the waltzing was over. He wasn't very good at it, but he had to admit he might have tried harder if it had been Trey teaching him. He and Trey just ... worked well together.
Laughing, panting from the work out, he refused a last dance. “I'm done ladies.” There were soft protests, but the girls were good-natured, heading off together to join a bigger group of ladies, giggling and chattering, hairspray causing a fog in the air.
He looked around, but the only other people he knew were Trey and Marty, who he couldn't see, and the Gonzaleses who he could see but he was out of their league. He figured he'd go give Chocolate another round of loving and then head home. He made a detour via the buffet table for some more carrots and an apple and then made his way to the barn.
There was a light on in the stables and he could see Trey brushing Pud, Marty sitting in the hay close by.
“...you mean you haven't made a pass at him? Christ, Trey. I deliver you a pretty young thing and you're just his friend?”
He felt his cheeks heat and would have beat a hasty retreat but his forward motion had him in sight now.
“I wouldn't just fuck wi ... Hey, Russ! Girls wear you out?” Trey gave him a grin and a nod.
He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah. Thought I'd have another little visit with Chocolate.”
“You're going to spoil that animal, just like Trey does.” Marty's voice was low, just a touch slurred.
“Trey spoils Chocolate?” he asked, giving Trey a wink. “I thought Chocolate was my horse?”
Trey chuckled and Marty laughed loud enough to startle Pud. “Did you think that you'd have yourself a horse already? Rumor is you've learned to ride, too.”
“What's with all these rumors about me? You guys really have that little to talk about?”
“Small town, Russ.” Trey gave him a wry grin. “Precious little secrets and the new guy's always the one at the top of the gossip list.”
Now he was blushing again. “Gee, what else are they saying about me?”
“That you've made friends with the county's youngest old man...” Marty's words made Trey turn bright red.
He shook his head. “That's the second time I've heard someone call you that tonight. I'm still not sure what it means.”
Trey rolled his eyes. “Means that I'm an old fart at heart, I guess. That I have a goal and I stick to it.”
“Means he's all work and horses and cattle and no play, is what it means.” Marty's voice was derisive, teasing.
He grinned. “That isn't what I've observed.”
That earned him a slow, wide smile, the worry that he hadn't even really noticed before fading from Trey's face. He found himself smiling back, just standing there grinning at Trey.
Marty cleared his throat and stood. “I'm going to find me a willing lady to warm my sheets. I suggest y'all do the same.” Marty stopped. “Well, sort of. Night.”
He ducked his head. “Goodnight.”
He gave one of his carrots to Pud and then went over to Chocolate's stall, rubbing her nose and slowly feeding her the treats. They both worked together, quiet and easy, the horses settling, Chocolate nickering and nudging him happily. It felt good, working alongside Trey, both of them doing their own thing and yet still together.
“You going back out to the party?” he asked.
“I don't think so, no. You?”
He shook his head. “I think I'm about all partied out.”
“Yeah? You want to go watch the Space Ghost marathon? Maybe have some apple pie? I swiped one from the party.”
He found a warm smile for Trey. “We have any of that vanilla ice cream left?”
“I reckon we do.” Trey put the currycomb away, brushing his hands off. “Come on, let's go home.”
Home. He liked the sound of that.
Chapter 4
Trey hadn't been able to swing a week at the beach, but four days out on Lake Buchanan with his sister and brother-in-law and three boys had done wonders for him. Wonders. He was rested and tanned dark as good wood. They'd taught Bubba to fish and Kate and Les were generous with the beer and the radio'd played good music. Swimming and fishing and boating and hell, sitting around the campfire three-sheets to the wind and counting stars—it was all good.
He pulled into the driveway, not bothering to throw on a shirt before hopping out to grab his bag and see how Russ had weathered the last few days. He followed the noise of the television into the sitting room, finding Russ fast asleep on the couch.
Trey took himself a good, long look, admiring the way a few months of good food and work had turned skinny into nice and firm. The Yankee was a pretty one, all right, and one hell of a friend, which was reason number 643 that he was going to put his shit away and have a nice long interview with his hand in the shower instead of seeing if Russ would like a little one-on-one.
Russ snorted, eyes blinking open. He got a smile as Russ
saw him. “Trey! Hey, you're looking good.”
“Hey there.” He grinned over, moving his pack to hide his crotch, which was a touch ... perky. “How'd it go without me? You manage?”
Russ nodded. “I managed. Barely. I'm really glad to see you back though.” The blue eyes were warm and did indeed look happy to see him.
“Yeah. It was fun, but it was time to get home. Only so much swimming and drinking a man can do. I was being plumb lazy.” He wondered idly if he looked as pleased. Probably.
“You look good.” Russ’ cheeks picked up a bit of color. “Rested I mean.”
“Yeah. I slept a good amount on the lake, just soaking up the sun.” He looked down at himself, shook his head. “'Course I smell like a hillbilly, too—all lake-water and smoke and beer.”
“You had fun though, that's what counts.” Russ stood and stretched. “There's some pie left, you want a slice?”
“Sure. Thanks.” He wasn't looking. Wasn't. So there. And good Lord, was he so much a letch that he couldn't go five days without release and it made him a horndog? Damn. “Going to grab a shower right quick.”
“Oh. Okay. I can make coffee or something then...”
“Sure. I'll be quick as a bunny, promise.” A bunny with a raging hard-on and a handful of lube, at all rate. Trey dropped his bag off and hit the bathroom, shorts hitting the floor and cock hitting his palm before the door finished shutting.
There was a knock on the door. “I forgot—the hot water's been acting up some,” Russ called out.
“Huh?” He arched, palm working the head, biting his lip to keep from moaning.
“I don't think the heater on it's working right—it's lukewarm at best. Figured you'd want a warning before you stepped in and froze something off.”
“Oh. ‘kay. Thanks.” He leaned over and started the water, letting the sound muffle his moans as he got down to business. Quick and sure, his fingers knew just how he liked it, how he needed and he managed to shoot into his hand and get clean before what hot water there was disappeared. By the time his hair was washed and his shaving done, he had his libido under control and was feeling almost human.
“Coffee's up,” Russ called from the kitchen.
He chuckled as he threw on some clean jeans and a t-shirt. “Lucky coffee.”
“What was that?” Russ asked.
“Huh? Nothing. So, what all's happened while I was lazing?” He wandered into the kitchen and poured them both a cup, handing one to Russ. Nope. Hadn't said nothing at all.
Russ shrugged, dishing up pie into a couple of plates and sitting at the table. “Aside from the hot water thing, same old same old. Though I don't know how you ever got everything done on your own—I was barely able to keep up with the basic chores.”
“I busted my ass and didn't sleep and let the non-essentials slide too damned often.” He offered Russ a grin. “Wish you could have come out to the lake. It was real nice. Pretty.”
Russ smiled back and winked. “I don't think the new guy gets vacation time the first year.”
“Yeah. Honestly, though. You decide you need a few days to rest and chill out, you let me know. I'll be happy to carry us for a bit.” He dug into the pie, humming a little at the taste. “Nice.”
Russ bit his bottom lip and looked off into space a moment before shaking his head. “I appreciate the offer, but where would I go? I'm enjoying working here.”
Trey frowned a little, tilted his head. “Hell, you could just spend a day with Chocolate, spend a day in bed ... Everything okay? You look sorta ... blah.”
“Just tired and...” Russ’ cheeks found a little color. “I missed you.”
“Oh.” He looked down at his pie, nodding. Yeah. Yeah, he knew about that. “I know what you mean.”
“Yeah, I guess you would. I mean—how long were you working here on your own before I came along? The Gonzaleses never seem to be home and there's only so much you can talk to a cow before you start wondering if you're still sane.”
That made him laugh, a little jolt of pleasure just warming his belly up nice. “You're damned fine company, too. I can't imagine going back to before.” God knew that was true. Hell, Kate had called him on bringing Russ’ name up every other damned sentence, told him she wanted to meet this fascinating Yankee.
Russ’ color got higher, but that smile also got brighter. “Thanks.”
“Yeah. How's the filly doing?” He wasn't anywhere near ready to think about what it might mean—Russ missing him, him missing Russ. So he steered them into the easy topics—what was for supper tomorrow, whether the calves were ready for auction, the horses. Safe things.
Chapter 5
Russ hardly even noticed time passing. All he knew was one day he woke up and it was cold. Not the three feet of snow, wind-chill factor cold of home, but cold compared to the heat that was Texas for most of the year.
He stamped his feet as he fed Chocolate, rubbing her nose and cooing at her. Man, he loved this horse. He thought maybe he was going to stay in Texas. At this ranch, even. It wasn't like he was going to be able to afford to stable Chocolate anywhere else. Not to mention traveling across the country would be a bitch with a horse in tow. He nodded. Yeah, he'd hate to leave Chocolate. Wasn't sure he could even if he wanted to.
Trey hurried in, rubbing his hands together. “Damn, that cold sure came quick. I'm thinking we'll make chili for supper, yeah?”
He grinned at Trey. “Yeah, sounds good.”
Yeah, he didn't want to leave Chocolate behind, that's why he was thinking of staying on long term.
They worked together so easy, Trey whistling along, laughing and joking with him. In the six months they'd worked together, Trey'd lost the tired bags under the dark eyes, was looking healthy, happy. Looking pretty sexy.
He ducked his head. Trey was also his boss. His friend. A really hot guy.
Trey brushed by him, carried some feed over to Ellen, who was unhappy with the weather. “You okay, Russ?”
He cleared his throat and surreptitiously adjusted himself in his jeans. “Yeah, just fine.”
“I reckon we ought to find something inside to do this afternoon. It's colder than a witch's tit in a brass brassiere.”
He chuckled, Trey's expressions always amused him. “You reckon?” he teased.
Those eyes, warm and deep and brown and laughing, caught his gaze. “Yeah, Yankee. I reckon.”
“So how exactly to you know how cold a witch's tit in a brass brassiere is? I mean, have you got personal experience with that?”
One dark eyebrow arched. “Cold as a Baptist's brass jockstrap doesn't have the same ring.”
He nearly choked as he started laughing. “You have experience with that, do you?”
Trey blushed, but grinned wide. “I just might ... Not that I'd kiss—or grope—and tell...”
“I'll remember that.” Oh, he was flirting. With the boss. With the very hot boss.
“Yeah?” He got another grin, a wink. “You find riding tough with that thing between your legs? The brass jockstrap, I mean...”
“I don't!” He squeaked and chuckled. “It would chafe wouldn't it?”
“Hell if I know, Yankee. I'll stick with tightie whities.”
“Tightie whities? No silk thongs?” He was a little past light flirting now. Once you started imagining what your boss was wearing underneath his jeans you had to admit you were interested. And he had to admit he'd done more than his fair share of wondering what was under those jeans.
“Silk...” Trey turned and gave him a look, then made a show of peeking in the waistband of his jeans. “Nope. No silk. No buttfloss.”
He chuckled again, though the sound was a little rough. He was definitely hooked. And not just on Chocolate.
* * * *
The chili was bubbling along, cornbread cooking, the house nice and warm. Sort of like his cheeks.
Buttfloss? Did he *actually* say buttfloss? Trey shook his head and sighed. Christ, he was way out of practice at that casu
al flirting thing. Probably a good thing too ... But still ... Buttfloss?
Russ came into the kitchen, bright and shiny from his shower, hair still damp, skin glowing. “Something smells good.”
“Chili and cornbread.” And you. Damn. Just ... Damn.
Russ smiled at him, leaning on the counter to pull down a couple of bowls. “You think it's gonna stay cold for long?”
“Oh, no. It'll be back nice again soon enough. We won't get steady cool ‘til way after Christmas.” He got the cheese and diced onion out of the fridge. “Feels good, nice and crisp.”
Russ nodded. “You should see it this time of year at my folks place. It's probably already looking like Christmas.”
“Yeah? You ... you going home for the holidays?” He grabbed a couple of beers, not thinking about how long Christmas would be, staying here alone.
“Wasn't planning on it. I'm the new guy—gotta be available to work the holidays.” Russ gave him a wink, moving to sit at the table.
“Yeah? My folks are going to Germany to see my brother in the service. I'll be around too. We ought to get a tree.”
“Yeah, just you and me? It's gonna make secret Santa pretty pointless.”
“Still ... it's better than being alone. Hell, we could have a ball. Christmas caroling, stringing lights, dressing the cows up as reindeer...” God, he sounded desperate, needy. Like a big-assed cowboy dork.
Russ laughed, face lighting up like it always did. “You sure the cows won't sue for damages from the trauma?”
“Oh, it's not the cows you have to worry about...” He poured the chili out. “It's the goats—they're smart little critters.”
“They're scary bitches, those nanny-goats.”