Keeping a Cowboy [Recovery 2] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove)

by Sunny Day

  He was taking off his jacket when he heard footsteps. “Leslie? Is that you?”

  “Yeah, I’m home.” He raised his head to see Ash pausing in the wide archway separating the long living room and the dining room at his left side. He was wearing jeans and a tight black T-shirt. Leslie’s mouth watered. Ever since fifteen years ago, the sight of his lover never failed to arouse him. Tonight was no exception. There was no question that Ash was a handsome man. Ash’s black hair was tousled, giving him an oddly appealing look. He was over six feet tall, with a slim body and long limbs. His eyes were dark blue under surprisingly long lashes. Leslie knew from experience that his lips were as soft as they looked. His gaze slid over Ash, his eyes pausing on the belt resting on narrow hips and the gleaming silver buckle. It was his gift to Ash, brought from one of his trips out of town. He’d always loved to see Ash wearing it. His blood heated.

  Whoa, wait, he told his cock. It’s not time for that.

  “Calvin said he would pick you up,” Ash continued, oblivious to Leslie’s turmoil.

  Leslie’s annoyance increased. “I see.” What am I, a dog his owner called to heel?

  “You are late.” Ash turned away from him.

  “Am I?” Leslie drawled, following after him. His heart sank. The long table that occupied almost the whole room, and which he rarely used, preferring to eat at the counter separating the dining room from the small kitchen, was laden with food. There was even a bottle of wine, red, because that’s what went with steaks that Ash likely brought with himself.

  “I made dinner. Figured you’d be hungry,” Ash said, setting the plates. “Give me a minute, I’m almost done.”

  Ash was actually a pretty good cook, when he could be bothered to do it. Leslie knew there was a cook on the Fourteen F. He usually loved it when Ash cooked for him. They didn’t often have the chance to eat a meal together.

  “I need to shower,” Leslie said, taking a step back. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Ash stopped what he was doing. He smiled at Leslie, slow and sweet. Leslie’s heart jumped. “Hey,” Ash said, stepping closer to him. He grabbed a fistful of Leslie’s clothes and pulled him closer. Their noses bumped. Deep mint and forest scent, a cologne Ash favored, enveloped him. Leslie took a deep breath.

  “Don’t,” he heard his voice say. He reluctantly extricated himself. “I’m dirty. I’ll mess you up.”

  “Later, then.” Ash obediently moved back. Leslie escaped to his bedroom.

  Closing the door after himself, Leslie cursed. He started stripping down in angry, jerky movements. This was getting out of control. He really needed to talk to Ash. He knew he couldn’t leave Ash. They had tried that once. It hadn’t worked out for either of them. No, he needed to fix this somehow, and for that, he needed to talk to Ash. It was stupid to be angry at Ash for making him dinner. Stupid and ungrateful. Leslie pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Stop it, he ordered himself. They were going to talk. Not tonight, though, he amended. He was too tired to think rationally. Tomorrow would be soon enough. He crossed to the small alarm clock on the nightstand on Ash’s side of the bed. Since he had to leave for Fourteen F, Ash usually woke up earlier, then set the alarm for Leslie. Sometimes they got ready together. Now, though, Leslie set the alarm to an earlier time, since he wanted to talk to Ash in the morning.

  “There,” he said as he replaced the alarm clock on the nightstand. That should take care of it. In the morning.

  Coward, his brain said. You could talk to him now.

  Leslie ignored the voice and continued to the bathroom. As always, dark-blue tiles and gleaming fixtures, the sheer size of it, the darkened glass of the shower, and the Jacuzzi tub in one corner gave him a jolt. The bath had been Ash’s idea. With a sigh, he stepped into the shower and turned the water on, making the temperature this side of too hot. His muscles uncurled slowly. Raising his head to meet cascading water, he wondered how he and Ash ever got together, let alone lasted fifteen years. They were so different.

  Seven years earlier

  When Leslie had bought the place, his idea of fixing the house consisted of fixing the roof. He’d hired a contractor to work on the bunkhouse and the foreman’s cabin, which had suffered the most damage during his uncle’s illness. Leslie had plans for the Midnight Stars, and for that, he needed people. Calvin was already on the grounds, and both of them worked tirelessly. Unfortunately, that meant he was gone, from early in the morning, and returned late at night, after the workers had already left. Leslie wasn’t worried about that. He trusted Sam, the head of the crew, and he had spent hours with him explaining what he wanted done and how. The house didn’t figure into his plans.

  The house was old, but he’d stayed in grimy hotels during his rodeo days and had vague memories of places he lived with his mother, all of which were much worse. It had been empty for some time, but it was still habitable. He could live without fancy trappings. He had cleaned it with his cousin’s help after he bought it, and even, on Rich’s insistence, kept some of the furniture, most of which was too massive to fit anywhere else. It actually suited the house. The rest of the house was old and worn, but Leslie had lived here before he left for rodeo, and as far as he could see, both the kitchen and bathroom were still functional. The porch steps were rotten, but he could fix that later, and the floor in the bedroom creaked. Most of the nights he had spent in the living room, curled in his sleeping bag, staring through the windows. He had always loved Midnight Stars, ever since the social worker had brought him there and his uncle gruffly showed him inside. He loved it despite knowing that he never was truly welcome there. His mother had left the place when she was sixteen and never returned. One day she just left him, and the neighbors called social services. They had found his uncle, and he’d grudgingly taken Leslie in, mostly because he knew there was no one else. He was always more fond of Leslie’s cousin, Rich, even though Leslie was the one who worked with him on Midnight Stars. He had left the Midnight Stars to Rich. Leslie didn’t care. He loved Midnight Stars and was grateful to his uncle for teaching him how to take care of it. Now Midnight Stars was his.

  Ash had been, of course, privy to his plans. He had listened to Leslie ramble excitedly while they lay curled together, his head on Leslie’s shoulder, both of them sweaty and sated after sex. He never said anything, or maybe Leslie didn’t notice. Either way, he returned one afternoon to find Sam staring bemusedly at the plans on a makeshift table in the front of the bunkhouse. He didn’t see Sam’s men, but he heard noise coming from the house. He had made it clear to Sam that the bunkhouse and the rest of the buildings were his priority. The house could wait. So Sam was fitting it between the other work. Luckily, it was summer, and Leslie needed only the roof fixed. It was a practical decision. The damp was ruining the house. Fixing the roof meant he was preserving its value.

  “Hi.” Leslie waved at Calvin, who waved back. “Give me a minute, I want to talk to Sam. How’s it going?” He glanced curiously at the box of dark-blue tiles sitting open next to Sam. They looked lovely. They also looked expensive.

  Sam harrumphed. “Well, the supplier finally delivered the tiles. After the third call. The rest of it was already there, so the boys are doing the bathroom.”

  Leslie blinked. “I thought you already did the bathroom.” Besides, he didn’t remember ordering those tiles.

  Sam waved a hand at him, pursing his lips and frowning at something obvious only to him “Oh, we did. This is the one in the house.”

  Leslie went rigid. “The house?” he repeated. Sam must have noticed something in his voice, since he glanced up. “Yes, the house. Didn’t Foster already talk to you? He said it was a surprise.”

  Leslie reined in his temper. He didn’t have to ask which Foster. Sam frowned. “You were there when he picked up the tiles,” he said in a reasonable tone. Leslie blinked at him. Now that he thought about it, Ash was indeed present when Sam had brought samples and catalogs for the tiles. Since Leslie already knew what he wanted, h
e had finished quickly with most of them. He was in the middle of a discussion with Sam about double-glazed windows when Ash said, “Those look nice.” Leslie had glanced to the sample book on Ash’s lap. It featured royal-blue tiles. “They are,” he agreed, figuring Ash was going for the most expensive of the bunch. Ash didn’t say anything more, so Leslie forgot about it. Now it looked like he should have paid more attention. “I see.” He turned around before saying something he would regret. He was fuming inside. What did Ash think he was doing?

  “Hey, boss, I’m—” Calvin called to him, leading his horse. He stopped when he saw Leslie’s face and faltered. “Oh.”

  “Go on without me. I have something to take care of first.”

  “With Sam?” Calvin asked tentatively.

  “No. Something else. You know what to do.”

  He turned on his heel and walked behind the stable, where no one would see him. He pulled his cell phone out and punched in Ash’s number. “Leslie?” Ash sounded surprised. He also sounded like Leslie had interrupted him in something. Well, that was too damn bad. Leslie didn’t care.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me, Asher?” he asked, barely stopping himself from yelling. He was pacing like a caged animal. He didn’t usually use his lover’s full name. He’d been “Ash” since they were seventeen. There was a pause on the other side.

  “I need to take this call,” Ash said to whomever he was talking. There was a brief pause, like Ash was leaving his company to have some privacy for the call.

  “I guess you found out.”

  “What do I have to find out?”

  “What do you know?”

  “Ash,” he growled, “neither you nor me want to have this argument through Sam. Trust me, it’s better for you to tell me everything there is to tell, instead of letting me find out on my own.”

  “I know.” Ash sighed. “Don’t be mad at Sam. It was my idea.”

  “If I was in your place, I wouldn’t worry about Sam. When can you be here?”

  “Not right away.”

  “Ash, I’m warning you—”

  “Leslie, I need some time,” Ash explained patiently. “I honestly can’t leave everything right now. I need an hour. Can you meet me then?”

  An hour of work he would lose, since he had no doubt he would be incapable of doing any job.

  “Fine,” he barked.

  “Our old place?” Ash asked when Leslie wanted to disconnect the call.

  Leslie narrowed his eyes, even though Ash couldn’t see that. “Why? Hoping to soften me up?”

  He knew what Ash was talking about. Their old place, a rock outcropping on the borderline of Midnight Stars and Fourteen F. It was a fairly isolated place, only accessible by horse. It was also a place where they used to meet. They were both men. They couldn’t go on a date in town. This was their secret, their hiding place from rest of the world. He wondered whether Ash was trying to manipulate him by suggesting it. Maybe. Maybe not consciously.

  Ash sighed. “Because there is no need for anyone to hear us arguing.”

  Point to Ash.

  “I’ll be there. But if you don’t show up on time, Ash, I swear I’ll head to Fourteen F and then everyone there will hear us argue.”

  He closed the phone with a snap and went to the stable.

  Leslie dismounted, not bothering to tie Delilah. She was his old horse, one of the rare ones he’d inherited with the place. Delilah used to be his mount. He had ridden her here before. She started munching on the grass happily. He knew from experience she wouldn’t bolt no matter what he and Ash got up to. He put his palm on the moss-covered face of the large oval rock protruding from the earth. It was warm to the touch. He remembered countless times he rested against it, Ash settled in his lap, both of them basking in the nearness of the other. This stone had witnessed their first clumsy kiss, their first argument, the first time they made love under the night sky filled with stars. Strangely, Leslie thought as he pulled his hand off, it wasn’t here where Ash had broken up with him. Did Ash do that on purpose, wanting to keep this place unsoiled in their memories? He shook his head. It didn’t matter now.

  In a way, he supposed, he was at least partially to blame for this. He wasn’t surprised by what Ash did. He knew his lover well. Ash could, and would, do things behind his back, do them, knowing well that it was against Leslie’s wishes—sometimes even against his own. Hell, that was how they had broken up. What baffled him was this time he didn’t have a clue what was Ash’s motive. What was this about?

  Leslie sighed and leaned on the rock, rubbing his face tiredly. He had been too satisfied, drunk on the happiness, lost in the simple fact that he had Ash back, that Ash asked him to come. There was Midnight Stars, too, but it couldn’t compare with having Ash once again. They had spent almost every night since Leslie’s return together, wrapped in each other. He enjoyed having Ash pliant under his arms, seeing those blue eyes darkened with lust, his full mouth slackening as the full force of his orgasm hit him. Leslie pushed heated memories out of his mind forcefully. He shouldn’t have let it distract him.

  “I guess the honeymoon is over,” he muttered to himself. He raised his head as he heard the sound of horse hooves. Ash was riding a dark-chestnut gelding. He was wearing his hat, the brim hiding his face, so Leslie couldn’t read his mood. He swung out of the saddle and tied his horse to a tree. He paused next to Leslie’s mare.

  “You brought Delilah,” he said, patting her neck. She nuzzled him in return. “She remembers me.”

  “She would,” Leslie answered. For some inexplicable reason, that simple fact annoyed him. He’d learned to ride on Delilah.

  “She is old.” Ash threaded his fingers through her mane.

  “That she is. I almost don’t ride her anymore, but she was fresh, and I thought she would appreciate exercise.”

  “You were right.”

  Ash patted her once more before turning to face Leslie. “What do you want to know?”

  “What did you tell Sam?”

  Leslie figured he better know the extent of Ash’s transgression before getting worked up about it. Ash didn’t hesitate. Something flickered in his gaze, but his voice was steady enough.

  “I told him to do some work on the house.”

  That hurt. Leslie felt like he’d been hit.

  “You knew I wasn’t planning to. It wasn’t only because of the money, Ash.”

  “I know. Speaking about the money, I’m the one paying for it.” Leslie laughed hollowly.

  “Figured that out. What’s your family going to say to that? They already dislike the thought of their golden boy being involved with a man, and when that man starts using him for money—” He had no illusions of what Ash’s family thought of him. He wasn’t a fitting companion for Ash even before they realized it was more than friendship. Luckily, there weren’t lot of opportunities for them to meet. Leslie had visited Fourteen F only twice, and had no wish to go back again.

  “They have nothing to say. It’s my money.” Ash’s tone was hard. Leslie flinched. Something told him he better leave this subject alone.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “So you told Sam to work on my house. My house. Why?”

  Ash hesitated, looking away.

  “You needed it, Leslie.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You needed to make it yours, Leslie. You haven’t. You don’t spend time inside if you don’t have to. You don’t feel comfortable in there. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You feel comfortable on the land, but not in the house.”

  “What are you talking about? I own the house.” Dumbfounded, Leslie stared at him.

  “You bought the house. It’s not your home,” Ash corrected. He let go of Delilah and approached Leslie, speaking earnestly.

  “I know your uncle took you in because he felt it was his duty. He always favored Rich. He left him the ranch.”

  “I owe my uncle,” Leslie interrupted him. “He taught me everything I know. It was his ranc
h, and he could leave it to whomever he wanted. He was never mean to me, Ash.” They had had this discussion before, and Leslie saw no point in reviving it. It was one point they were different on. Ash’s family was huge and loving. He never had a reason to doubt their support. Leslie had learned early that his uncle, the one person who treated him decently, wasn’t ever going to love him, not the way he loved his family, Leslie’s cousin, Rich, and his parents. He had loved Midnight Stars instead. The land had no favorites. In a way, Ash was the first person who ever loved him back.

  “He never loved you, Leslie. I know that you think you didn’t have a bad childhood.”

  “I didn’t.” Leslie cut him off. He hated to talk about this. He hated to think about this. “We can’t all have a large and close family, Ash.”

  Ash ignored the dig. “But you’re measuring him comparing to your mother, who just left, with no concern for you whatsoever. So maybe it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t an especially good childhood, Leslie.”

  “And renovating the house compensates for that?” Leslie folded his arms over his chest and stared mutinously at Ash. He was close enough to touch. With the all-encompassing silence around them, a quiet snorting of horses in the background, this was too much like one of their secret trysts. He’d always treasured every one.

  “No, but it’s a step. Never mind that in the past the house was your uncle’s, and you were there on sufferance. It’s yours now. Your home.”

  “How does that translate into you making decisions?”

  “I’m a big part of your life, Leslie.”

  “You aren’t going to move in, Ash!” Leslie objected. Ash flinched, making Leslie regret his outburst. He was surprised by the bitterness he was feeling about that decision. He’d told himself numerous times that it was a smart decision, a practical decision. Ash had a job on Fourteen F, a job he loved. His family was there. While they weren’t willing to accept Leslie, they were perfectly willing to ignore Ash’s affair. Leslie knew Ash couldn’t just move in. Despite all those sound reasons, on some level, it still hurt.