by Lynn Lorenz
Rush screamed.
Brian plunged down to catch the hot load of cum that barreled out of Rush’s cock to hit the back of his throat. He swallowed the cream. And swallowed. And swallowed until he’d sucked Rush bone dry.
Rush, shaking and eyes closed, fell back against the seat gasping for breath. Brian left his spent dick with a sweet kiss, licked his lips, and leaned in to give Rush a kiss. Their open lips met, questing tongues tasted, then Brian pulled away.
“Made you scream, cowboy.”
Rush opened his eyes. Brian couldn’t keep the smug look from his face. Rush shook his head. In a shaky voice, he said, “Christ. You win. Uncle.”
“Don’t ever forget it, either. I’m the one that made you scream.” Brian sounded proud and possessive. “You’re my cowboy. Everyone else could just back the hell off.”
They locked gazes. Rush could see the all emotions Brian’s dark eyes held, fought to keep the same from showing in his.
That’s when Rush panicked.
How could he let this happen? As he looked at the man of his dreams, feelings he’d sworn to never have swelled inside him. Feelings he’d rather not name. Feelings he knew had no future.
This had been a bad idea. He never should have come, never should have agreed to meet Brian, and never should have left the ranch.
What he should do was leave.
“Rush?”
Rush gazed into Brian’s questioning eyes. What he saw in them made it impossible to swallow and his chest tight. Shit. He wasn’t ready.
Not for this.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
He fumbled when he buttoned his fly and as he fastened his belt, anxiety and fear ripped through him, putting urgency into his movements.
“I can’t stay, Brian.” He looked everywhere but into Brian’s beautiful brown eyes.
“What?” Brian sat back. “What are you talking about?”
“I only came for this. I have to be at the ranch early in the morning. A buyer is coming out to see some bulls.” He tucked his shirt back into his jeans.
“Why didn’t you say so before?” Brian tried to keep the hurt from his voice, but Rush avoided his gaze. Brian’s stomach flipped, but in a bad way.
“In the heat of the moment, it slipped my mind.” Rush shrugged and put one hand on the wheel and, with the other, started the engine.
Brian glanced at Rush’s hand on the wheel, then up to his face. “Oh. I understand.” He didn’t understand at all. How could Rush forget to mention something like that? What happened to their plans? He’d thought Rush was going to at least try.
“Great. Look, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Brian knew a brush-off when he heard one, and this one felt as if he’d been hit in the nuts with a broom handle.
“Sure. Okay.” Stunned, Brian opened the door. He hadn’t seen this coming, like a car that appeared out of nowhere and T-boned him, sending him spinning.
“Sorry I can’t stay.” Rush smiled at him.
Brian got out and held the door open. He took what in his heart he knew to be his last glimpse of the cowboy, then shut the door, and Rush’s truck pulled away.
Rush was running.
Running back to the safety of his ranch.
And running away from Brian.
Chapter Eight
Rush made it to the highway before the shaking stopped. Acid churned in his stomach and he was on the verge of throwing up.
“You fucking coward!” His shout echoed in the cabin. Slamming his fist on the dashboard, he cursed then wiped the back of his hand across his eyes.
This proved it. Of all the Weston men, he was the lone coward. Couldn’t face his sexuality, couldn’t face his parents, couldn’t face the town.
Couldn’t face the man he—shit, no. “Don’t go there, Weston. Don’t you dare go there,” he warned his reflection in the rearview mirror.
He didn’t know how anyone did it, got the nerve to take the plunge and just came out and said, “I’m gay. This is who I am. This is how I’m going to live my life.”
The amount of courage that took boggled Rush. It was more than he had, for damn sure. Tonight just proved it. It was one thing to go into town for some action and blow off a little sexual tension, another to have a homosexual relationship.
But, sweet Jesus, he wanted Brian.
He snorted. He’d known it would come to this if he’d continued this dangerous, delicious, flirtation with the man of his dreams. Someone was going to get hurt, and tonight it had been Brian.
Everything had been so clear in Brian’s face. The pain, the bewilderment. Shit. The hurt. Seeing it had made Rush feel lower than pond scum. He was a coward and an asshole. Great. What a combo. Hurting Brian had been the last thing he’d wanted to do, but he’d managed to do it up right.
It hit him like a fist to the gut, and his breath exploded outward. He’d never get another phone call from Brian. Never hear his deep voice, his warm laugh, his sighs of pleasure and that sweet little moan he made just after he came. Rush’s stomach caved in on itself and his eyes filled to overflowing.
He’d blown his chance with Brian. Fuck. How was he ever going to—what?
Go on? Live? No, he’d get over it. He’d been alone all this time with no intentions of spending the rest of his life with someone. What had changed?
Brian. Brian had changed everything. Brian had made Rush dream of another ending to his life story. A fool’s dream.
Rush jerked his chin up.
Good thing he’d ended it when he had.
But, goddamn, how sweet Brian’s lips had tasted. So damn good on his cock.
* * * *
Brian trudged up the stairs to Mitchell’s apartment then knocked on the door.
As soon as it swung open, Brian blurted out, “I need to talk.”
“Come in.” Mitchell stepped aside and let him in. Brian headed straight to Mitchell’s bar and poured a whiskey. With one quick toss, he downed it.
“Hell, you look like you’ve lost your best friend, but I’m right here, so it must be a man.” Mitchell sat on the couch, waiting for him to speak.
Brian slumped into the recliner, flicked the lever, and laid back. “Yeah. It’s a man.” He ran his hand through his hair then across his face.
“The cowboy?” Mitchell asked.
“I don’t know what happened. We had a date. Or at least I thought we had a date. He was supposed to come over tonight. Do dinner. Do me.” Brian gave a half-hearted laugh he didn’t feel. “He was waiting in his truck when I got home. Told me to get in and I did.” He stopped and gathered himself. “Then we… Then I…”
“Jesus, Brian, did you do him in the truck?” Mitchell sat up.
“Yeah.” Brian couldn’t help but feel guilty. He’d never even had sex in a car before. He’d always considered it trashy and low class. He was better than that. Right.
“I don’t fucking believe it. You had sex in a truck parked outside your house? Mr. I’m-Not-That-Kind-Of-Guy? Whoa, this man must be something special for you to do that.” Grinning, Mitchell shook his head. “So what went wrong?” His eyebrow cocked up.
“I don’t know.” Brian shrugged. “As soon as he came, he said he couldn’t stay. Started the engine and I got out. Said he’d call me later.” Brian grimaced and rolled his eyes. “Shit.”
“Goddamn, Brian. I’m so sorry. I know you were really looking forward to seeing him.”
“Just tell me he didn’t use me. Tell me I wasn’t just phone sex and a hookup.” Brian frowned at his best friend. If anyone would tell him the truth, it would be Mitchell. It might hurt, but it would be the truth.
Mitchell shook his head. “Sounds to me like a classic ‘booty call’.”
Brian groaned and put his hands over his face. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Mitchell was silent. Brian knew Mitchell wouldn’t give him a hard time about it. That’s why he’d run straight to Mitchell. Just like always.
“I’ve work
ed so hard to not get involved in the fast life. Not to be a stereotypical queer.” He spit the word out. “No bars, no nameless hookups. Just nice men in nice relationships. They may never have worked out, but they never made me feel as low and as cheap as I do right now.”
“Don’t blame yourself. He misled you. Plain and simple. He let you believe it was a real date. It’s not your fault, Brian.” Mitchell leaned over and put his hand on Brian’s knee.
Brian smiled. Mitchell had always been there for him. He gave Mitchell’s hand a soft squeeze, then sat back. “Enough about my disaster of a life. Where’s the love of your life?”
“At work, but he’s getting off at eleven. I was just about to eat. Want to join me?”
“I’m not hungry, but thanks.”
“How about sit and keep me company? We haven’t just talked, me and you, in ages.” Mitchell smiled.
“Well, it’s been hard to pry you away from Sammi.”
Mitchell smiled that goofy grin, and Brian just knew he was thinking of Sammi. They were so lucky, so in love. Would it ever be that way for him?
“What can I say? Soulmates.” Mitchell shrugged and stood. “Come on. You can watch me eat. We’ll talk. I want to hear about your cowboy.”
Brian stood, followed Mitchell to the kitchen, dragged out a chair and sat. As Mitchell puttered about, pulling out the makings for a sandwich, Brian told him about his phone calls with Rush. Sammi’s news would wait until he could tell him in person.
“So, what do you think?” Brian asked.
“Rush is scared.”
“Of me?” Brian’s eyebrows rose.
“Of what you represent. Of commitment. A relationship, not just a casual fuck.” Mitchell finished his sandwich and took a swallow of his coffee.
“I suppose so.” Brian bit his bottom lip. “What if he calls?”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to decide whether or not to speak to him, much less see him again. I can’t tell you how to feel. You’ll have to judge that for yourself. But I will tell you one thing.”
Brian gazed up into his best friend’s brown eyes. “What?”
“Don’t ever let anyone treat you less than you deserve. And, baby, you deserve the best.” Mitchell stood, gathered his plate and cup, then leaned down and gave Brian a peck on the cheek.
“Thanks, Mitchell.” He touched the spot where he’d been bussed. “So, will you marry me?”
Mitchell burst out laughing. “Now you ask! After all the times I’ve asked you.”
“My timing sucks.” Brian shrugged and laughed.
“It’ll happen for you. I know it.”
“Yeah? How?”
“Sammi said he felt it. That night you came over.”
“What did he say?” Brian slid out of his chair and stood.
“That you’re in love.” Mitchell’s eyes twinkled.
Brian groaned and shook his head. “Tell Sammi he’s crazy.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Even if it were, what does it matter?” He sighed. “Look, I should be going, but tell Sammi I need to talk to him.”
“Did you find something?” Mitchell jumped on his words.
“That’s client-private investigator-privileged information. Strictly need to know.”
“I need to know.” Mitchell cocked his head.
“Let Sammi tell you, or if Sammi wants, you can be there when I tell him.”
“You’re right. It’s his info, his decision to tell me or not.”
“See you later. And Mitchell? Thanks for being there.” Brian walked to the door as Mitchell opened it.
“Are you kidding? Later,” Mitchell replied.
Brian headed down the steps, climbed into his Tahoe, and drove home.
* * * *
Naked, Rush lay on his bed and watched the glowing red digits on his clock change. Two-twenty-seven a.m. He hadn’t been able to sleep since he’d gotten into bed. After the long drive, and what he’d been through this evening, he should have been exhausted.
He should have passed out. His body felt drained. Lifeless.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Brian’s face and those deep brown eyes. So hurt. Rush had wanted Brian so badly, and that brief time with him had been better than any other time he’d been with a man. Ever.
Rush knew he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.
His phone lay next to the clock. He could see its outline on the table in the dark. He picked it up, flipped it open, hit Contacts, and scrolled three entries to Brian’s. He hovered his thumb over the Send button.
He should call and apologize. Explain what had happened.
He hit the button and held the phone to his ear.
* * * *
Brian’s phone rang. He pushed off the sofa, put down the glass of whiskey, and staggered over to the phone on the kitchen table. Leaning over, he looked at the caller ID.
Rush.
“Fuck you,” he slurred.
Brian turned around and headed back to the couch. The phone’s chirping pissed him off. Not that it took that much to push him. He spun around, snatched it up, fumbled with it, then finally got the sound turned off. He held the phone up and shouted, “Go to hell, you bastard.” Then he put the phone back on the table and went back to the living room.
He picked up his tumbler, downed the contents in one shot, then, with exaggerated care, placed it on the coaster. He lumbered off, removing his clothes on his way to his room. Once in his bedroom, he flopped face-first onto the bed and passed out.
* * * *
Rush closed the phone and placed it back on the table. Pulling his pillow to him, he curled on his side and closed his eyes. Thinking of Brian, he stroked his cock, and his head reeled as blood rushed to fill his dick.
When he finally climaxed, his ragged sob echoed in the room. He rolled onto his back, limp with exhaustion and the letdown of his release, but sleep still wouldn’t come to him.
He wanted Brian. But if there was one thing he knew, it was that he’d never have him.
Chapter Nine
Brian sat on a porch swing, his hand resting on Rush’s thigh. Rush’s arm was wrapped around his shoulder, and he was snuggled tight against the cowboy’s chest. Their boots were propped up on the rail.
It felt like home.
Darkness flooded in and the scene changed.
Brian lay on his back, the hard, cold ground beneath him. Overhead, the stars flickered as clouds moved across a dark sky.
He was terrified, unable to move, frozen to the spot, and his heart beat as if it would fly right out of his chest. At the unmistakable sound of a rifle’s bolt being slid back, he searched the blackness of the night.
Rush stood a few yards away with a rifle pointed down at him.
“Don’t!” Brian’s shout seemed to take forever coming out of his mouth, the sound of the word long and exaggerated as if time had slowed.
The flash from the muzzle was followed a nanosecond later by the crack of the shot.
Brian bolted up in bed with a shout, his arms fighting the sheets. Chest heaving, he swung his legs over the edge and cradled his head in his hands as he sucked in air.
Shit. What was that? Nightmare? Premonition?
Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. It felt just like his hunches—dead certain. How the hell would they ever get to the point where Rush would try to kill him?
After launching himself off the bed, he went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. As he stared into the mirror, he could see the effects of last night’s drinking on his gray-tinged skin.
A moment later, his stomach rebelled and he lurched to the toilet.
* * * *
Brian stared at the name on the small display screen.
Rush. Again.
With a deep sigh, he shoved his phone back into its holder clipped to his belt. His anger of the day before had cleared like the alcohol he’d consumed to ease his pain, leaving only sadness and frustration and a hangover
that was kicking his ass.
With a groan, he remembered that he should call Sammi. He needed to report what he’d learned in Austin. He searched the contacts on his cell and hit Sammy’s number.
“I have some news for you,” he told Sammi after they’d said their hellos.
“Mitchell told me.” He heard the excitement in Sammi’s response.
“I’d like to meet you, not do it over the phone. When are you free?”
“I’m off on Sunday. Can you come by for lunch?”
“Sure. What time?”
“About one.” Sammi’s breathy voice, even over the phone, was sexy. “And, Brian? Thanks.”
“No thanks necessary. You’re paying me to do a job, remember?” Brian chuckled.
“Right. See you tomorrow.”
* * * *
Nothing was working right.
That afternoon at two, Rush had reined in his horse, motioned to the two hands he rode with to go on, pulled out his cell phone, and checked the time. He hit speed dial.
Brian’s number rang. And rang. And rang.
After five rings, Rush hung up.
Brian was probably blocking his calls. And he had every right to.
He stuffed the phone back into his pocket and urged his mare to catch up with the others. The rest of the day he’d been out of sorts, grumpy and just a plain pain in the ass to his men. Everyone was glad when their work was done.
Now, Rush lay in bed and yanked the pillow over his head to block the sight of the clock marking off the minutes of the rest of his goddamned life. A life without love, without someone to share it with. The ups and downs, the good times, the simple pleasures.
A life without Brian.
This was stupid. He was pining over a man he’d treated no better than a cheap hookup. Not only was he a coward and an asshole, he was an idiot. He’d made the choice. He’d been the one who ran away.
Once again, no one to blame but himself.
His dad must be laughing in his grave.
He heard his old man’s words as if he were right there. “There’s nothing for you on the primrose path, boy. Nothing but shame.” Travis Weston had stood over Rush, his fist still clenched. “I’m going to forget you ever said those words, boy. If you make me remember them again, you’ll get another taste of my fist and feel my boot in your ass when I kick you off my ranch.”
