by Lynn Lorenz
Brian squeezed Rush’s hand and got a responding pressure.
Rush leaned down and kissed him. It was brief, but it was the first kiss they’d shared in public that Rush had instigated. Brian’s heart leaped at the thought that Rush had become so relaxed and open in showing his feelings. Maybe, just maybe, he’d want more. And he’d want it bad enough to muster the courage Brian knew it would take for Rush to come out.
But he didn’t spoil the moment with words. The gleam in Rush’s eyes was enough for him. They strolled side by side back to the Tahoe, climbed in and headed home.
When they got back to Brian’s, there was no rush, no heated hurry to get to naked. They both knew it would happen and they both seemed to want to take their time.
Brian slipped under the covers and pressed his body to Rush’s body, the soft pull of hair against hair on muscled, firm arms and legs was delicious. Rush warmed Brian, his heated flesh on Brian’s, his hands slowly caressed and teased, and his lips worshiped Brian’s forehead, throat, shoulders, even his fingertips.
That night Rush made love, slow and easy, Rush beneath Brian, Brian rocking lazy and steady into Rush as if he had all the time in the world to give his man. As if morning would never get there. As if Rush would never have to get out of Brian’s bed and leave.
At last, when Brian found sweet shuddering release in Rush’s arms, he lay with his head on Rush’s shoulder while the cowboy stroked his arm.
“Mind if I smoke?”
“Go ahead. It doesn’t bother me. Let me get you something for an ashtray.” Brian got out of bed, went to the kitchen and found an old saucer. The matching cup had broken. He returned and placed it on the stand next to Rush’s side of the bed and got back under the covers when Rush reached over and pulled a pack and a lighter out of the pocket of his shirt. He tapped one out and lit up, inhaling deeply as Brian watched.
“Tell me about your family.” Brian broke the silence.
Rush shrugged beneath him. “Not much to tell. Everyone’s dead.” A stream of gray smoke rose in a column above them. He grabbed the saucer off the stand and placed it on his belly.
Brian raised his head to gaze into Rush’s eyes. “I’m sorry. Were you an only child?”
“No, but my father wished he’d only had one son.” He gave an angry grunt then took a deep drag. “I had a brother, Robert. We called him Robbie. He was the apple of my father’s eye.” The tone was bitter and Brian didn’t have to be a detective to know there was a story in there somewhere. He’d have to be careful and tease it out of the big man. Big he may be, but he was skittish, new to all this sharing of feelings.
“Younger?”
“Yeah. By four years.” Another drag on the cigarette.
“How’d he die?”
“Like a true Weston.” Rush blew smoke rings, each one a perfect O.
Brian waited for the rest of it. It would come when Rush was ready, he knew that from interrogating others. Rush had been so talkative the entire evening Brian had hoped it would continue.
“Robbie was a bronc rider. He was nineteen. He died doing what he loved.”
“Jesus. Were you there?”
Rush flicked his ashes into the saucer then inhaled another drag. “Yep. We all were. He was going for the championship buckle.”
“Can you tell me what happened, or is it too hard?”
Rush bit his lip then blew out the smoke from the corner of his mouth.
“The horse he’d drawn was really rank. That means badass. A real kicker who’d stomp your guts out if it could. Robbie made the eight seconds but couldn’t get free of the rope. He hung on, his feet dragging in the dirt, until the horse made a huge leap, twisted and came down on its side. It crushed Robbie. He was dead before we could get to him.” He tamped his cigarette out in the saucer with an angry twist and a hard-blown plume of smoke.
“Christ, Rush, that’s awful.” Brian felt sick to his stomach. To have watched his brother be killed must have been horrific.
Rush’s eyes closed and Brian could see traces of tears trapped in his long blond lashes. He wanted to kiss them away but kept still, waiting for Rush to get it all out.
“When my dad realized Robbie was dead and he’d been left with me”—he shook his head—“I could see it in his eyes,” he whispered.
“See what?” Brian whispered back.
“He wished it had been me.” Rush’s jaw worked as he struggled with those words and God only knew what other demons plagued him.
“Son of a bitch.” Brian snuggled deeper into Rush and squeezed him tighter, trying to give him comfort and not knowing what to do or say.
“It’s okay.”
“Okay? Fuck, Rush. You’re telling me your father wished you’d been killed and you say it’s okay?”
“It’s ’cause I’m gay. He knew. I told him when I was seventeen.”
“He didn’t approve, I take it.” Brian tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but it wasn’t easy. How could someone hate their own child for something so stupid as who they found attractive or who they fell in love with?
“He beat the crap out of me and told me if I ever gave him reason to think about what I’d told him again, he’d either kill me or kick me off the ranch. Disown me.” Rush’s grip on Brian tightened. His naked need for love and acceptance clawed at Brian’s heart.
“Shit.” Brian held Rush, and neither of them spoke again.
Rush’s breathing steadied, slowed and in a while, he snored softly. Brian moved the saucer to the stand, turned out the light and pulled the covers over Rush’s shoulders.
Brian understood now.
Rush had been in the closet his whole life, and the one time he’d tried to come out, he’d been slapped back inside so hard and so fast that he’d given up any hope of ever seeing the light on the other side of that closed door. Add to that the guilt he must feel over Robbie’s death and his father’s disappointment.
Rush’s father was dead. There was no need to for him to hide anymore.
But how in the world would Brian be able to convince Rush?
Chapter Eighteen
Rush’s phone rang. He groaned, rolled over and reached for it, slapping his hand on the bedside table. He found it, flipped it open and held it to his ear.
“Weston,” he muttered.
“Boss, it’s Ricky. That mare’s going to foal today, you better get back.” At first, Rush didn’t recognize the young man’s slight accent then his eyes snapped open.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s down. I called the vet. He’s coming out as soon as he can, but he’s on another call.”
“Call Manuel, get him there.”
“Already did. He’s on his way.”
“Good. I’ll be there as soon as I can, but it won’t be for at least an hour or so.” In the time it would take him to drive back to the ranch from Houston, she could have the foal or die during a difficult birth. He had a lot of time and money wrapped up in this foal, and he didn’t want to lose either the mother or the baby.
“See you then.”
“Call me if there is any change.” Rush flipped the phone closed. “Shit.”
Brian got out of bed and began to separate his clothing from Rush’s. Rush rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom.
“Got a mare going to foal. She’s having problems,” he called out.
“I got that. Can I fix you breakfast?”
“No, but some coffee to go would be great.” The shower started, and as much as Brian wanted to slip under the water with Rush, he knew it’d be best if he didn’t start anything.
“Sure thing.” Brian hurried down the hall to the kitchen and the coffeemaker.
By the time Rush came out, dressed and drying his hair with a towel, the coffee was dripping into the pot. Brian got down a travel mug, filled it up with steaming hot black coffee, then reached into the fridge and pulled out a couple of biscuits. He popped them into the microwave to heat them up.
/> The buzzer went off. He took them out, quickly buttered them and wrapped them in a paper towel, then shoved them into Rush’s hands.
“It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Thanks, darlin’. You sure know how to treat a man to a good time.”
“I had a good time, too.”
Once there, Rush leaned his back against the door. “I hate for this to ruin our weekend. I’d gotten Ricky to do the chores.” His face twisted in a grimace.
“Looks like we’ll just have to try it again next weekend.”
They kissed, careful not to crush Rush’s hastily prepared breakfast between them.
“Being apart from you is killing me.” Brian cupped Rush’s face in his hand.
“Me, too. I thought we’d have more time.” Rush turned slightly and laid a kiss on Brian’s palm.
“It would never be enough, cowboy.”
Rush’s face flushed. “I can’t give you any more, darlin’. You know that.”
“I know.” Brian exhaled in acceptance and stood back.
Rush strode through the door, trotted down the steps and got into his truck before the breath returned to Brian’s lungs. With a quick wave, he was gone.
Brian leaned in the doorway long after the truck had turned the corner and disappeared. Then he pushed off, went back inside and crawled back into bed.
Inhaling, Brian could smell Rush’s scent and the remnants of their lovemaking in his sheets. God, it was heaven. He closed his eyes and relived their time together. Each touch, each kiss, each whispered cry.
There was no way he was going to wash these sheets until next Friday.
* * * *
Rush called late that evening.
“How’d it turn out?” Brian asked.
“It’s a boy!” Rush sounded happy, as if he were still on a high.
“That’s great. Is that what you wanted?”
“It didn’t matter to me, as long as it was healthy.” They both laughed.
“And is the mother okay?”
“She’s fine. The vet helped her. He had to tie a rope around the foal’s leg and pull the little guy out.”
Brian groaned. “Did you get there in time?”
“Yep. Saw it all, even helped with the delivery.”
“Really?”
“I helped. Manuel kept the mama calm. Even Ricky pitched in, running to and from the vet’s truck to get stuff.” He chuckled.
“I’m so glad. Really. And you certainly sound like a proud papa.”
“Well, he has your eyes. Big, brown and liquid,” Rush whispered.
“Now don’t you start any of that sweet talk you cowboys are so famous for.” Brian laughed. “Comparing me to your horses and cows.”
“No sweet talk?”
“No.”
“How about some dirty talk?”
Brian groaned.
“I’ll take that for a yes.”
For the rest of the call, Rush told Brian exactly what he’d wanted to do to him the next time they were alone together. It involved whipped cream, cherries and lots of licking.
When they hung up, Brian laid in bed making a mental shopping list for next weekend. A huge grin spread over his face.
Rush hadn’t said anything about chocolate. Or bananas.
* * * *
On Tuesday morning, Mrs. Waters called Brian.
“I just wanted to let you know I’ve made my decision.”
Brian’s heart pounded and he tried to keep control of his voice. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Tell that young man…”
Brian waited. Please, God, for once, do something right for Sammi.
“Tell him I’d like to meet my grandson.”
He exhaled loudly. “That’s great. He’ll be so happy.”
“I’ll leave it to you to set it up sometime this week or next.”
“I will. I’ll call as soon as I have a date and time, Mrs. Waters.”
“That’s fine, Mr. Russell. And thank you.”
“Just doing my job.”
“Well, some folks might have thought that meant pressuring me into seeing him instead of letting me make my own decision.”
“They might.”
“You’re a good man, Mr. Russell.”
“I try to be, Mrs. Waters.”
With that, she hung up.
Brian called Sammi to tell him the news.
“I can’t believe it!” Sammi shouted. “Mitchell! She’s going to see me!”
Brian could hear them laughing and rejoicing in the background. He’d been forgotten for the moment, so he just sat back and listened.
A minute later, Sammi came back on. “When?”
“She left it up to you. What’s your work schedule like? Can you take some time off during the day?”
“I’ll ask Otis today and call you as soon as I can and set it up.”
“Sounds good.”
Mitchell’s voice came over the line. “You’re the best, Brian. I love you, man!”
More whoops and hollers then a very full silence.
Brian closed his phone and left Sammi and Mitchell to their celebration.
Now to do something about his own life.
He straightened, brought up the Internet then Google. After typing in Spring Lake, Texas, he hit the Go button.
The screen filled with a page of entries. He scanned them, found the one he was looking for and clicked on it. If the mountain wouldn’t come to Mohammad, maybe he should go to the mountain.
Spring Lake, Texas—Employment Opportunities
He scrolled down the list. Maintenance workers. Cafeteria workers for the high school. He grimaced. He could cook but he looked terrible in a hair net. A librarian. Not much call for an engineer in a small town. They probably hired one on an ‘as needed’ basis.
Some openings for accountants in the tax department. That sounded mind-numbing, but all they wanted was a four-year degree, which he had.
Bingo.
Spring Lake Police Department—An equal opportunity employer
Brian sat back and took a deep breath. He copied the web address for inquiries then brought up his email.
He spent more time composing the letter than he’d thought he would. He kept checking their requirements to make sure he had what they needed. Then, finger poised on the mouse hovering above Send, he stopped for the first time since the crazy idea had hit him and thought on what he was about to do.
Being without Rush was not an option for him. This was no way to live, and he’d decided somewhere between last weekend and this moment that he couldn’t spend the rest of his life waiting on weekends.
Rush’s entire life, all he was and what he knew how to be, was wrapped up in the Double T. Brian, on the other hand, had a degree that could take him just about anywhere and do almost anything. Law enforcement was in his blood and under his skin.
There might not be enough business for a PI in Spring Lake, but they had cops.
Could he really have his dream man and his dream job at the same time?
He’d never know unless he tried.
All they could do was say no thanks. It was worth a shot.
He clicked Send.
* * * *
“I see on your application that you have the required law enforcement courses in addition to your degree in engineering.” Jack Whittaker, the Chief of Police glanced up from the papers and straight into Brian’s face. He’d been cordial but not overly so, but not cold. A tall, well-built man in his early forties, he seemed to have the small-town station under control. Brian had been impressed with the efficiency of the officers who’d come and gone while he’d sat in the patrol room waiting for the chief to arrive for the interview.
“You could make a lot more money as an engineer.”
“Yes. But it’s always been a dream of mine to be a cop.”
“You’ve been a PI for eight years. Licensed to carry concealed.”
“Yes, sir.” Brian nodded.
>
“Business good?”
“In Houston, yes, it’s very good.”
“So why leave?” The chief looked him in the eye.
“I’m tired of the big city. I’ll like to try a small town.” The question bordered on too personal, but to not answer might appear bad or as if he had something to hide.
Whittaker didn’t seem like he believed it but didn’t press further. Brian had thought about what to do about being gay. Not about what to do, exactly, but what to say to Whittaker.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Whittaker leaned forward, keen interest in his ice blue eyes. Brian was sure he’d used that same stare with the criminals he’d come into contact with. Undoubtedly, they confessed right away, as Brian was about to do.
“Well, sir, I want to be honest with you. I don’t want there to be any problems down the line because I didn’t make you aware of it so I’ll just get it out on the table.” Brian paused, swallowed and went for it. “I’m gay.”
The chief of police blinked. Several times. Then he leaned back in his chair.
“Gay.”
“I know.” Brian put up his hand to stop Whittaker. “I don’t look gay.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.” He shook his head.
Now it was Brian’s turn to blink. “What were you going to say?”
“That I understand. Ten years ago, times were different. Not so lenient, especially in law enforcement.”
“Yes, sir.” Brian nodded. “Back then, I didn’t want to live a large part of my life hiding who I am. Still don’t plan on living that way, even here.”
“As stated on the application and the website, we’re an equal opportunity employer, Mr. Russell.” Amusement flashed in Whittaker’s eyes as he spouted the city’s diversity line. “Even out here in ‘Hickland’, we have to try to be open-minded.” He gave a wry grin. “But that doesn’t mean everyone will treat you with respect.”
“I understand.”
