by BA Tortuga
Curtis cupped his ass, the touch gentle and solid, all at once. They rocked together, rubbing their belt buckles.
He felt naughty, like they shouldn’t be kissing and humping here, but it felt so good. No way was he giving this up. No way in hell.
“Relax, babe. Let yourself go, just for a second.”
“I’m trying.” He laughed, linking his hands behind Curtis’s neck. “I’m just a little crazy.”
“I know. I swear to God, Roper, you think on things, so much.”
“Is that bad?” He leaned back just enough to meet Curtis’s eyes.
“Only when I feel dumb.” Curtis shrugged a little. “That sounds asinine. I mean how is it about me? But sometimes I do wonder if I’m just not that deep.”
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Then don’t, babe. Breathe. Be here with me, just for a little while.” Curtis leaned against him, forehead and nose pressed to his. They shared the same space, the same breath.
His shoulders shook as the tension tried to let go, the muscles trembling.
“Oh, baby.” Curtis reached up to rub his shoulders.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’ve held the world for years.”
“I feel like it.” He leaned, goose bumps rising on his arms. “Who was that guy that carries the earth around? Atlas?”
“Isn’t that a map book?” Curtis waggled his eyebrows at him, teasing him like the butthead he was.
“Right. Ass.”
“Yeah, but I’m yours and you reckon to keep me.” Curtis kissed him once more before heading to the bathroom. “Sorry, baby, all of a sudden….”
“When you gotta go, you gotta go.” He shucked his coat and went to sit next to the window. Did he think too much? Did he stress things too bad?
The toilet flushed; then the sink sounded. Curtis came back into the main room. “Whew. Man, all that cappuccino….”
“You got warm and your bladder unfroze.”
“I guess so. Want to go down and explore? The dining room was the saloon once. I saw the brochure.”
“Kiss me one more time?” Then they could rejoin the world at large.
“Hell, yes.” Curtis came right to him, grabbing him for a kiss, holding him tight as if he understood.
Maybe he was losing his shit, but they weren’t home, they weren’t lost, and he wasn’t alone.
Dammit.
Chapter Twenty
CURTIS LOVED the old saloon feel of the restaurant. They had steaks and burgers and New Mexican stuff, so he didn’t feel like he was pushing Stetson to eat anything weird. That could wait for California.
The tin ceiling made him grin. He thought maybe those were bullet holes up there.
“You think those are bullet holes?” he asked, nudging Stetson with the toe of his boot under the table.
“If this was the saloon? I do. This was the Wild West back then, you know?”
“Yeah. Gun law.” Curtis didn’t pine for those days like some guys did on the circuit. He liked his smartphone and his pickup. “This place is amazing. Smells good too.”
“Meat. It smells like heaven.” Stetson looked around, eyes following the carved wood frame of the mirror over the bar. Stetson kept acting surprised when Curtis said he would want to go back to wood carving, but that creative streak would pop right back up now that Stetson had the time. It was sunk deep into him. He used to be able to watch that for hours—Stetson and his chisels and knives, focused totally on the wood and what it was telling him.
“Hey, folks. What can I get you to drink?” A cheerful older lady came to wait on them, handing them menus.
“A light beer?” Curtis asked.
“A margarita on the rocks and a glass of water, please.”
“Salt?”
“Please.” Stetson smiled, and finally, blessedly, it wasn’t strained.
God help him, he wanted to see that smile every goddamn day. He wanted to wallow in it. He dreaded the rodeo season starting up again, because if nothing else, he’d be expected to go sign autographs at some of the big events, and he wasn’t wanting to leave Stetson.
Maybe this time Stetson could come with him. At least to a few places. He wanted to show Stetson the world.
Stetson dragged his fingers over the table. “This isn’t old like the bar is. Pretty solid, though.”
“I like it. Dark wood. It has a nice patina to it.” Hell, he had no idea what he was babbling about.
Stetson chuckled for him, shook his head. “I do too. Can you imagine traveling out here in the olden days? Stagecoaches and horses.”
“No. I mean, that had to be wicked uncomfortable.” Stuffed in a tiny space with a bunch of smelly strangers.
“I would have had to ride, even in the worst weather. Outside is better than in.”
“You and your horses.” Curtis loved to ride too. They’d go a lot once the weather was better, he reckoned.
“Yeah. Spring is coming, and they’ll all want their exercise.”
“Christmas first, though, right?”
“Yeah. Christmas first.”
He fist-pumped the air. “Yee-haw.” He winked at Stetson, then leaned back to let the server put down their drinks.
“Y’all ready to order or do you need a few minutes?”
“I haven’t even opened my menu, ma’am.” Stetson smiled up at her, and she melted a little bit. “Do you mind giving me a couple?”
“Not one bit. I’ll bring you some bread.”
Stetson looked at the menu, and Curtis did the same, his eyes stopping at the chicken, just like always, but he wasn’t on tour right now, and that steak smelled like pure heaven. Steak it was. He’d make the baked potato plain and have a salad with it.
“What are you going to get, Roper?”
“I think the….” Stetson looked again. “They got a burger, it looks like.”
“With all sorts of add-ons. You don’t want lamb?” He had to tease.
“No, sir. No, even if it wasn’t as much as a steak, I wouldn’t order it.”
“Well, I’m buying, so if you want steak, splurge. You fed me the whole time I stayed before. It’s my turn to pick up the tab.”
“Are you sure? You got the hotel room and all….”
Curtis nodded easily. “I got that check with the gold buckle, and I got a good bonus from my hat sponsor, baby. We’re good.” He just wanted Stetson to stay relaxed and happy.
“I’ll be back on my feet soon, I hope.”
“I know you will. Medical bills are tough. Remember how I sent home all my checks that year my dad broke his leg? Mom thanked me, at least, but it was ramen noodles for a while.”
“Yeah. I remember that. You’re a good son.”
“Shit. I was just scared she’d ask me to come home.” His mom loved him, but if he heard “hate the sin, love the sinner” one more time in his life, he might snap.
Stetson nodded, the look sympathetic. “At least Momma never got onto me for being the way I am, not even at the end.”
“She was your staunchest defender.” Curtis smiled fondly. Miz Betty had been fierce.
“No. She was disappointed in me. She wanted me to be more like you.”
“Oh, baby, she was so proud of you. She liked me ’cause I reminded her of your daddy, I guess, but you were her boy.” Curtis knew that, deep down. Betty had told him so.
“I was. Am. Whatever. I can’t be more than I am. I’m just a….”
“You’re a cowboy. You’re more of a cowboy than ninety percent of those ‘rodeo athletes’ that have never strung a foot of fence or pulled a calf. Don’t even go there. You got it in your bones.”
Stetson blinked at him, and then a slow smile spread over his face. “Thanks, cowboy. That means a lot coming from you.”
“You folks ready?” The server was back, but she wasn’t being intrusive.
“Steak, baked potato plain, salad with oil and vinegar, please.”
“I’d like the same,
please, but with butter and sour cream and ranch dressing.” Stetson winked at him. “I ain’t worried about fitting into my jeans.”
“It’s the belt buckles.” Curtis hooted, and so did their server.
“You ride the rodeo, I guess,” she said.
“I do.” He didn’t elaborate.
“Excuse me.” An older gentleman stopped at their table. “I don’t want to be a turd, but are you Curtis Traynor?”
“Yessir.” Curtis stood, holding out a hand to shake.
“Bill Mackey. I saw you win the Finals. It’s a pleasure. A real pleasure.”
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure I’d ever win it.” He let Bill pump his hand, always tickled to meet a fan.
“Are you in town long? I’d be pleased to buy you a beer later.”
“Oh, well, that would be real nice, but we’ve been on the road….”
“Sure. Sure. Well, do you mind if my wife gets a picture on her phone?”
“Not at all.” He posed with the man, and Stetson even took a picture of the three of them.
“Thanks so much, Curtis. We appreciate you.” The couple left the dining room, and he plopped back in his chair.
“Lord. Cimarron of all places.” He chuckled.
“My famous Mr. Traynor.”
“I’m all that and a bag of chips.”
“You’re all of it to me.”
He flushed with pleasure, then reached out to touch Stetson’s hand where it lay on the table. “I’m glad.”
“Me too.” There was a little shadow in Stetson’s eyes, but the man had just lost his momma. It had to hurt in waves.
They got their food, and Stetson perked up. Now, that smile was worth all the work.
“Damn, that looks fine.”
Stetson was right. In fact, that butter and sour cream looked like heaven.
Curtis licked his lips. Damn it. “Ma’am? Can I get some butter and sour cream?”
Stetson’s grin was knowing, teasing, but he didn’t say a word.
“Yeah, yeah.” He drizzled oil over his salad, then liberally applied vinegar. “What can I say?”
“What? I judge not. Butter is a great thing.”
“It looks so good.” He dumped it all on the potato once it came, mixing it all in. Smell that. Damn.
“Salt? Pepper?”
“Please.” He went light on the salt, heavy on the pepper. Just the simple act of sitting down to a meal without counting calories amazed him.
They ate, taking their time, laughing and telling stories. He had a second beer and ordered another round for Stetson. He was addicted to the sight of his lover with his shoulders relaxed.
“You boys want dessert?”
They looked at each other, then at the waitress. “What have you got?”
“We have a pecan pie, an apple pie, a brownie sundae, and a tres leches cake.”
“You want to split pecan pie?” Curtis asked. He knew Stetson loved pecans.
“I’d love to. Absolutely. It’s damn near Christmas, after all.”
“It is!” He nodded. “Pecan it is.”
“Ice cream?”
“God yes.” Curtis was gonna need a cart to wheel his ass back to the room.
If he was lucky, Stetson would push it for him.
Pie and ice cream made Stetson moan happily, and they had coffee to boot. Maybe they would wander out in the snow and work it off…. Or go upstairs.
Stetson licked the ice cream off his spoon, humming low.
“That might be the best part so far, Roper.” Curtis knew it was for him. Stetson. Licking.
“The ice cream is good, huh?”
“Uh-huh. The pie stuff makes it taste like butter pecan.”
“Mmm. I have a bit of that in the freezer at home.”
“I’ll remember that, you know.” Reddi-wip. He would get that on the way home.
“I’ll share it with you.”
“We’ll get whipped cream and more candied pecans to go on top.” He’d have to order one of those little trampolines on Amazon and start jogging. Hell, he’d bet Stetson could put him to work.
He found that idea surprisingly perfect.
He was going to have to unpack that a little, but there was something so right about thinking about fixing up the house, the barns, exercising the horses.
“You sure you can go that decadent?” Stetson teased.
“I think maybe I can, Roper.”
“Good deal.” Stetson leaned back and groaned, patting his belly. “Oh, I’ll sleep good tonight.”
He would take that. He thought Operation Distract Stetson was working.
If it stopped, he had more than one surprise in his proverbial bag of tricks. Including, but not stopping at, a blow job. Wait. Was that skeezy?
Eh. If it was, Stetson would forgive him. Or just tell him.
“What are you thinking about so hard?” Stetson asked, bringing him back to the half cup of cold coffee and sticky plate.
“Later tonight.”
“Oh. Those are good thoughts, then. I’ll leave you to them.”
“Nah, you can join me.” He held out a hand, wanting Stetson to touch. There were only a few other people around, all ignoring them.
Stetson took it, fingers wrapping around his, holding them.
Warm, callused, that grip sent tingles up his arm. He loved this man so much.
“Come upstairs with me, huh? Tell me what all you were pondering?”
“You got it.” He rose, grabbing the bill to see if he could charge it to the room. Score. Curtis scribbled his name and room number, along with the tip, before he signed.
“I’ll thank you for supper later, cowboy.”
“Promise?” Curtis stepped aside at the stairs so he could follow Stetson.
“You got my word.”
Well, all right, then.
Chapter Twenty-One
“ARE YOU sure it’s not sacrilegious to decorate the house, Curtis?” Stetson ducked the pillow that went flying past his head.
“It’s just a little tree and some garland, Roper. It’s not like we’re doing Santa’s workshop in the kitchen.”
“Which is a shame.” He did love the way the lights looked, sparkling against the walls.
“Next year we’ll do it up right.” Curtis wrapped a bit of garland over the mantel.
“Yeah? You thinking you’ll be hanging your hat next to mine, still?”
“Hell, yes.” Curtis glanced over at him, biting his lower lip. “I figure if I have to ride, I’ll do the Cowboy Christmas this summer and maybe Rodeo de Santa Fe. I can miss the stock show season now. I might have to go a couple of places to sign at the sponsor booths, but you could come with.”
A pang of hope hit him, right in the breadbasket. “Yeah? You think?”
“Yeah. I worked my ass off last year so I could win that buckle before I got too old. I—I like having a place to be home.”
I’ll do my best to keep it here for you. “You know you always have a place with me.”
“I do now.” Curtis hung this crazy little felt reindeer on the garland. Examining the tree, ornaments, and decorations Curtis had bought on the way home had made Stetson laugh until his belly hurt. There was a flocked beaver, hand to God.
A flocked beaver, a llama in a rainbow tutu, and a glow-in-the-dark Kokopelli.
He grinned, stringing the weird little fake popcorn doolie around the three-foot tree.
Curtis kept bringing in things—a speaker thing that filled the house with Christmas music, a bunch of new lightbulbs for the lamps, even a new television came in a UPS truck.
Stetson would open his mouth, then close it, not even sure what he would say. He’d told Curtis this was his house too. How could he tell the man not to spend money to make it homey for them?
Especially when he had to admit that big-screen was sort of amazing. You could count the hairs under people’s noses.
Right now the TV was playing crackling log….
It went re
al nice with the fire in the hearth. The whole thing seemed utterly unreal.
“It’s dueling fires,” Curtis whispered, coming up behind him, one arm snaking around his middle. “Like dueling banjos, but with flame.”
“You’re a nut.” He leaned back, letting Curtis hold him up.
“Nuts! I bought nuts in the shell. Where did I put them? For the stockings.”
“You did? I picked up candy canes.”
“Oh, we’re rocking it.” Curtis kissed his neck.
He’d traded for a tooled wallet for Curtis’s stocking and a three-year-old paint that was looking to be broke. Stetson grinned a little, hoping Curtis was gonna be tickled.
They stood there, Christmas music sliding through the air around them, and he said a little prayer of thanks for what he had right now. Right here.
It was the best he could hope for. He’d worry about the rest of it tomorrow.
“You want hot chocolate?” Curtis asked, sliding around to hold him.
“I do. We’ll make some up, huh? Together?”
“Totally.” They held hands and wandered to the kitchen. The dogs all thumped tails on the floor, because Curtis had brought them in. It was supposed to get down to eight degrees tonight. He thought Curtis didn’t approve of them being out at night, especially with them housebroken.
Curtis hummed along with the music, always moving, always making noise. Stetson adored that, and he found them dancing, two-stepping back into the front room, nice and easy.
Who needed hot chocolate? Curtis kept him plenty warm.
The house phone started ringing, and he sighed, shook his head. “Let me grab that.”
Curtis let him go. “Okay, baby.”
He grabbed the phone in the kitchen. “Hello?”
He needed to pull out milk, cocoa mix.
“Is Mrs. Betty Major available?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know when she’ll become available? We have questions about some medical bills.”
How the hell did he answer that?
“I’m her son,” he finally settled on. “I have her power of attorney.” He had no idea if it was okay to tell them she was dead until he knew who this was.