by Riley Knight
“Seattle, is that where you’re from?” Malcolm asked, both of them standing there, hand in hand, looking at each other. It was an utterly ridiculous situation to find himself in, holding hands with a man that he didn’t even like, but somehow, he couldn’t quite make himself pull away. Or apparently stop asking inane questions about Kyle’s background, like it even mattered.
“Yeah. Born and raised. The trees there are different, but they’re everywhere,” Kyle murmured, and in his eyes there was just a hint of something that Malcolm could relate to. A love of natural spaces, which he wouldn’t have expected from the city boy, but it was undeniably there. Maybe even Kyle didn’t know how much.
“What do you mean, they’re different?” Malcolm asked, honestly interested, though he shouldn’t be. Standing around holding hands with this man was a bad enough idea, but holding hands with him while he talked about a home that he obviously loved? That wasn’t going to do anything good for this ridiculous crush that he had on the guy.
“I mean, they’re all evergreens. Sort of darker and thick, you know? This is so bright,” Kyle mused, as if to himself, as he turned to look up at the puffy, emerald foliage of the trees overhead. “The trees back home are almost the same color as your eyes.”
That comment did weird things to Malcolm’s heart. No one had ever said anything quite like that to him before, and more than that, from the tone of Kyle’s voice, he didn’t disapprove, either. In fact, it was almost like Kyle was admiring him, giving him a compliment, which was the exact last thing that Malcolm would have expected.
It must have shown on his face, because the open expression, almost vulnerable, which had been on Kyle’s face was suddenly gone. For a moment, the curtain behind his eyes had been drawn aside, and Malcolm felt almost like he was seeing the real Kyle, the Kyle without all the bullshit, all the snark, and sarcasm.
That openness was suddenly just completely gone, utterly vanished, and Malcolm found himself stupidly sad to see it go. Of course, it was for the best, and he wouldn’t claim otherwise, but he missed it. For just a second, he had felt like they were really communicating.
Unless Kyle had wanted it to look that way? They were, after all, both working toward their own ends on this, Malcolm might not like it, but it was true.
“I’m hungry,” Kyle reminded him, and his fingers slipped out of Malcolm’s grasp, leaving him in the incredibly awkward position of wanting to grab that hand back and refuse to let it go. Not that he was going to do anything so stupid, of course, so he focused on laying out the food.
Anna, as always, had sent quite the spread, and they settled down to eat with a silence that was only a little uncomfortable. Maybe what had just happened didn’t mean much to Kyle, which would be for the best, but Malcolm was still tingling all over.
When lunch was done and packed up, they just sat there on the smooth, velvety carpet of grass, the late spring sunshine lighting up the air and picking out the golden flecks in Kyle’s eyes. They looked at each other, their eyes drawn to each other in a way that was becoming more and more normal, like neither of them could help it.
Are you gay, Kyle?
It didn’t matter if he was, though, not to mention it was way too personal a thing to be asking. So Malcolm bit his lip and rose to his feet again, getting into the saddle and trying to act like nothing had happened.
“So what now?” Kyle asked, and Malcolm frowned. He had expected Logan here by now, and it was a little strange that he wasn’t. Logan wasn’t usually the kind of guy to miss a meal.
“I have more to show you,” Malcolm announced and then winced a little when he realized how suggestive that could sound. Or maybe it only sounded that way because of his own guilty conscience in the matter, his own irresistible attraction to this man?
“Okay,” Kyle said, but what more would Malcolm expect? Some sort of erotically charged look? He was living in some sort of erotic fantasy world to think that Kyle felt anything for Malcolm other than a desire to do what he had been paid to do.
Once Kyle had mounted, Malcolm turned his horse away from Kyle, very deliberately not looking at him. He crossed the creek without incident and started to ride away, knowing that Kyle’s mare would follow him without him needing to do anything about it.
Until a sound rang out, ripping through the air, spooking Malcolm’s normally calm horse to the point where she threatened to rear up and gave an alarmed whinny. That was totally unlike her, but that noise, which was probably nothing but a car backfiring but sounded eerily like the shot of a gun, freaked her out.
It really did sound like a gun, was all he had time to think, as he struggled to keep his horse from bolting, which took every last ounce of riding skill that he had. Star would have run, wildly and without direction, and the biggest problem that he had with that was that he was very aware that Kyle’s horse would probably be having even more problems with an inexperienced rider on her back.
Just as he realized that the horse in question sprinted past at a flat out run, tail streaming out behind her and mane flying over her back. Her broad, strong back, which Malcolm couldn’t help but notice didn’t have the gorgeous, dark-haired, sexy-as-sin lawyer clinging on as if for dear life.
She’d thrown him. With a noise like that, it was no surprise, but Malcolm still swore viciously as he reined his horse in, forcing her to turn so that he could see what had happened to poor, inexperienced Kyle.
And even though it probably should have been on his mind, the last thing he was thinking of was whether or not this lawyer would sue him or not. His concern, though he might try to deny it later, was all for Kyle himself, for the man who was, slowly but surely, winding his way into Malcolm’s heart.
Even he, as adept as he was at denial, couldn’t pretend that his heart didn’t stop cold in his chest, like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head or injected it into his veins to run in place of his blood when he saw Kyle on his stomach, with the normally clear creek water turned muddy around him and his face in it.
SEVEN
The absolute last thing that he needed, Kyle knew, was to relate to Malcolm. He was finding it strange enough to be in this place where everyone seemed to accept him, despite his open intentions, and it had honestly been a little bit reassuring to have someone act as hostile to him as Kyle honestly thought the situation warranted. At least Malcolm seemed to take him seriously, and not just see him as some vaguely amusing child.
It would be easier to do his job if he didn’t worry about being liked. And he never had before, so why should he start now?
So it had been deeply unsettling to stand there, looking up into luminous eyes that didn’t seem, at that moment, at least, to be judging him, to be disliking him. Like there had been a sort of communication that went beyond even their words, and the words, let’s face it, had been bad enough. He wasn’t here to find out about Malcolm’s life, or to talk about his own, but no matter how much he reminded himself of that he couldn’t deny that the conversation had gone there.
Wyatt, he tried to remind himself, the one who was paying him, the one who could make or break his career, would not be impressed. And that should matter much more than it did.
But the place was beautiful, in a wild, green way that reminded him of home, even while it was completely different. And something about it, and yes, something about Malcolm, too, was getting to him, winding into his heart in a way that Kyle knew very well that he couldn’t afford.
Maybe if he hadn’t been so distracted by all of that, he would have been able to hold on when the gunshot rang out, to cling to the back of the horse despite the fact that the saddle suddenly seemed to be made at least half of a very slippery oil. But his pride liked to think that he would have at least given it a try if he hadn’t been so distracted by the conversation he’d just had with Malcolm.
As it was, he didn’t have a shot. When the noise spooked his horse, his horse, normally so calm and restrained and content to just placidly tromp around a
fter Malcolm’s horse suddenly turned into a demon, rearing up into the air, and that, at least, Kyle did manage to hold on for, though it shook his grip almost completely loose.
When the horse bolted, that was when Kyle lost even that tenuous grip, the supple leather of the reins slipping right through his fingers so that he slid humiliatingly right over the rump of the huge animal and into the water of the creek.
It was probably a good thing that he did, to be honest. He was going to fall, that much was inevitable, so it was nice that there was a creek to break the fall. Only it didn’t feel quite like that at the time.
Stunned by the fall, with the breath blasted right out of his lungs, Kyle tried to will his body to work, his lungs to fill. Only he was face down in the water, and he breathed it in, too dazed from his fall to keep his automatic responses from kicking in.
The creek wasn’t deep. No one could drown in that much water, but his body, panicking, seemed to be doing its best to prove him wrong on that. He spluttered and coughed when the water entered his nose and mouth, and that, at least, gave him the adrenaline that he needed to kick his body back into action, back arching to try to get his head above the water.
This was going to be hell on his clothes, which had never been intended to be a swimsuit. Not to mention his poor, poor phone, which, of course, he had brought with him because he brought the damn thing everywhere.
He probably would have made it out on his own. The fall had stunned him, and it had been rough for a second there, but he hadn’t hit his head or lost consciousness or anything. But when arms closed around him and snatched him up out of the water, when he landed on his back with a force that knocked most of the water right out of his lungs just like that, he had to admit that it probably would have taken him at least a little bit longer if Malcolm hadn’t stepped in.
“Turn your head to the side, let the water out,” Malcolm advised, and it was good advice so Kyle took it, his chest burning as he coughed out the last few stubborn droplets of water so that he could draw in a clean breath.
At first, he was pretty focused on his own body, but then the water was gone. And he found himself in the highly humiliating position of being soaking wet on his back, far more disheveled than he would normally ever allow himself to be, such a mess that he knew no one back home would even recognize him, which was a comforting thought, in this current situation.
And then the awareness really kicked in. Because he wasn’t just lying on his back. He was lying under Malcolm, who had dragged him out of the water and now was half on top of him, legs tangled together intimately as Malcolm looked with considerable worry down into Kyle’s eyes.
When had the last time been that anyone had much cared if Kyle lived or died? He wouldn’t even be sure that his parents would give a damn if it came down to it. They would probably, he had to admit, give a speech at his funeral about how he had let them down so much by dying before his time, as depressing as it was to think about.
Malcolm cared, though, that was very clear in his eyes, in the tension in his lips and strong, rugged jaw. Looking up at Malcolm, it was just like before, when they’d stood hand in hand just looking at each other, only this time, they were so much closer.
It had been so long. That was the only excuse possible for the way that Kyle was feeling. It had been so long since he’d gone to pick up some random guy, telling himself the whole time that it was no big deal, that he wasn’t gay. It was just a sex thing.
Well, Malcolm on top of him was a sex thing. Malcolm probably didn’t have the slightest idea about any of this, but that strong, rugged cowboy body against Kyle was driving him wild, and maybe it was partially the endorphins from being thrown from the back of a horse into a creek, but Kyle was finding it particularly hard to resist.
Of course, he would never do it, but as his eyes locked with Malcolm’s he found himself wondering just what would happen if he leaned up and locked his lips to Malcolm’s? If he slid his fingers into the other man’s hair, if he knocked the incredibly sexy cowboy hat off of his head to the ground and pulled Malcolm down so that their lips met? It would never happen, Kyle would never be that unprofessional and to be honest, wasn’t it likely that Malcolm might just deck him right then and there if he tried?
Only Malcolm was just looking at him, still on top of him, even though there was clearly no medical emergency anymore. Malcolm’s body was strong and dense and heavy, pressing Kyle down into the ground, one leg pressed up between Kyle’s in a pose that was undoubtedly intimate. Malcolm had to know that too, and yet, he didn’t shift up off of Kyle, and he didn’t make any move to free him, just stayed on top of him and gazed down into his eyes.
Kyle had seen people look at him like that before. Not often, but on the occasions when he couldn’t handle it anymore, when he needed sex so badly that he would seek it out, he would go to a bar and pick up some guy and bring him home. When those guys had realized he was serious about taking them to bed, they would look at him in a very similar way to how Malcolm was looking at him,
There was admiration in that look, surprisingly warm for a man who had always been pretty hostile toward him. Admiration and desire, and Kyle could try to lie to himself all he wanted and tell himself that he was safe because he wanted Malcolm but Malcolm could never want him back, but looking up at the huge, strong man on top of him, he had to admit that it wasn’t true.
Malcolm wanted him, and Kyle wanted Malcolm, and the fact that they were on opposite sides of this whole ranch thing didn’t seem to matter when it came to the pure, primitive responses of their bodies.
Malcolm’s leg pressed up, just a little, between Kyle’s, and Kyle breathlessly let his knees be pushed apart. He fought off a groan, but maybe that was okay because Malcolm was breathing hard, a flush in his cheeks, and even though it was terrible news he couldn’t deny that he was glad that he wasn’t in this alone.
“Hey, am I interrupting something?”
What would have happened if Logan hadn’t ridden up just then? Well, they would have kissed, Kyle had no doubt about that, and that would have opened a whole huge bucket of worms that he wasn’t ready for, didn’t want, would take a relatively simple assignment and turned it far too complicated. So he should be grateful for the interruption, but for just a moment there, Kyle almost screamed at the top of his lungs in a way that he would normally have far too much control for that Logan should go the fuck away, right now, so he and Malcolm could get back to something which hadn’t even really started yet.
Kyle’s lips tingled just from the thought of it, blood rushing through his veins, arousal and need and desire all mingling in him so that he wanted to grip Malcolm and pull him down on top of himself and he almost didn’t care who saw.
But then Malcolm was gone. Probably embarrassed to be caught like this. Who wouldn’t be? Kyle sat up hastily, hoping that his pants, far too wet and clinging to him in a humiliatingly intimate way, would be enough to hide his erection from Logan. Malcolm, there was no chance. He had been pressed right up against Malcolm, and he knew that the other man would have felt it because he had been able to feel Malcolm’s own erection pressing against his hip.
A line had been crossed, and Kyle knew it, and he could swear that Malcolm knew it, too. If not for Logan, they would have kissed, and that would have sparked off a whole chain of events which Kyle, at least, felt like he would have been nearly helpless to avoid. Part of it was that he hadn’t had sex with anyone for far too long, but while that was a factor, he had to admit, even just to himself, that there was more to it than that.
Part of it, a big part, was just Malcolm. It was possible that there had never been two people in the history of the world who had been as poorly suited for each other as he and Malcolm, but the draw was there, and now Kyle knew it and he knew, too, that Malcolm also knew it.
And the worst part was, he still couldn’t make himself stop regretting that they had been interrupted. Couldn’t stop wishing that he’d at least gotten to kiss the guy
, even just once. Maybe it would have been terrible, weird and awkward, and then he could have gotten it out of his system.
“That’s a good look for you, Kyle. Are you aware that your shirt is pretty much completely see-through right now?” Logan commented, but Kyle just nodded absently, his gaze, whether he liked it or not, fixed on Malcolm.
Who was looking right back at him.
They were so screwed, weren’t they? So very screwed, because denial had been working for them before, but Kyle knew that he, at least, wasn’t delusional enough to be able to deny that what had just happened had happened. And more than that, that they had both liked it.
His heart was still hammering away a mile a minute, and he couldn’t seem, not for anything, to stop looking at Malcolm. And the most terrifying thing to Kyle was, even though Logan was standing right there, even though they had an audience, he couldn’t seem to make himself look away for anything.
* * *
The rest of the day passed by in a sort of a blur. Kyle’s body did, eventually, stop reacting as much. Which meant that his cock wasn’t quite as desperately hard, though his body seemed to be completely focused on Malcolm’s, always aware of where the other man was.
And whenever Kyle glanced over at Malcolm, it was to find Malcolm’s burning hot gaze on him. Logan was there the whole time, which was probably a good thing. No matter what this weird thing that was going on between them was, neither of them could do anything about it with Logan right there.
It was a relief, mostly, when the clouds rolled in and put an end to the work early. Being from Seattle, Kyle was hardly scared of rain, but even he had to admit that this was a hell of a torrential downpour. His clothes, which had only just started to dry out from his impromptu swimming session, were soon soaked through again.
Really, it had been a hell of a day. Kyle had spent his fair amount of time in the gym, keeping himself healthy, but he had never had to do hard manual labor like this before. He had a hot shower, got himself warm all the way through again, and then was faced with the fact that he had absolutely nothing to wear that was even remotely appropriate for relaxing.
