by Chase, T. A.
“Here. This way you won’t get a kink in your neck if you happen to fall asleep.”
A kink? If he fell asleep on the couch, he probably wouldn’t be able to move in the
morning. His neck would definitely seize up on him, along with most of his back muscles.
He’d had that happen a few times that year.
“Thank you.” He tucked the pillow under his head and neck, hoping it would be
enough support. “I do appreciate what you’re doing for me. Considering where and how
you found me, I’m a little shocked you invited me into your home.”
Peter curled up in the chair, pulling his legs up to his chest before resting his chin on his knees. He looked vexed, and Chaz wondered what he was thinking.
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“To be honest, I’m surprised I brought you here as well. I mean I don’t know you at all,
and I found you lying in an alley.” Peter bit his bottom lip, staring at his feet. “It might turn out to be the worst decision I’ve made.”
Chaz wanted to go and kneel in front of Peter, to take his hands in his, and promise
he’d never hurt the man, ever. It was a stupid inclination because Chaz didn’t believe he could keep that promise. He’d screwed up enough times in his life that he wasn’t the kind of guy to make vows to people.
“I don’t plan on robbing you blind or anything like that. I just need some place to crash for the night, and in the morning I’ll get out of your hair.”
He rolled over on his side, and hissed when his muscles tightened. Closing his eyes, he
took several deep breaths as the pain waned.
“Are you okay?”
He opened his eyes to find Peter crouched next to the couch, resting his hand on Chaz’s
shoulder.
“I’m all right. I have an old injury which flares once in a while,” he confessed. There
was no point in lying to Peter.
“All right.” Peter narrowed his gaze, seeming to studying Chaz. “Are those pills I found
in your pocket painkillers?”
Chaz nodded. “Yeah. I only take them when things get hard to move. I might have
overdone it this last time. That’s why I was so out of it.”
“I can bring you one of them, if it’ll help.”
One was better than none, and it would take the edge off for now. He managed to nod.
“All right. I’ll be right back with a pill and some milk.”
“Actually, I should probably take two. That’s my usual dose.” It had been his
prescribed dosage when he’d first had the injury, but over the years he’d had to up the meds to get the same effect.
Peter pursed his lips, but didn’t say anything. He simply stood before walking away.
Chaz closed his eyes again, trying to clear his mind of the pain and tension. His doctor had first suggested meditation as a form of relaxation, which was one of the things he needed to keep from tightening up.
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He must have drifted off, because Peter’s touch on his shoulder caused him to jerk
awake. Peter leaned over him, holding two pills and a glass. Peter was gorgeous, and Chaz didn’t think about what he did next.
Chaz reached up, and slid his hand around the back of Peter’s head. Applying a little
pressure, he encouraged Peter to come closer, and their lips met in a kiss. It wasn’t the hottest kiss Chaz had ever had, or even the best one, but it was good and it made Chaz forget about his back for a moment.
The sound of a door shutting broke them apart, and Peter rocked back on his heels,
staring at Chaz in shock. Chaz took the medicine and milk from Peter, then swallowed the
pills. He emptied the glass before setting it on the floor next to the couch. All the time, Peter watched him, shock and desire warring in his gaze.
“How did you know I wouldn’t punch you when you tried to kiss me?”
Peter’s question caught Chaz off guard. He settled back against the cushions and
shrugged. “I guess I didn’t really think about it. I think you’re cute, and I wanted to see what you tasted like.”
“Oh,” Peter whispered. “You’re lucky. Not every man out here in Wyoming would let
you stay after something like that. Hell, a lot of them would beat the shit out of you before they threw you out of their house.”
“True.” Chaz had run into a few like that. “Something told me you wouldn’t do that.
Not after welcoming me into your home without knowing anything about me.”
“It’s not really my house. It’s my bosses’ place. Les Hardin and Randy Hersch own the
ranch, but I work as an accountant for Les.” Peter seemed to be babbling, and Chaz found it cute.
“Randy Hersch?” Chaz racked his brain, but the painkillers were starting to take effect,
and his mind was getting fuzzy. “Did he use to rodeo?”
Peter nodded as he returned to the chair. Chaz watched Peter curl up in it, and he
noticed how it almost swallowed Peter up.
“Yes. Randy was the Nationals Finals Bareback Champion several years ago. He retired
right after he won.” Peter smiled, letting Chaz know it was a good memory.
“I think I might have met him once or twice. I work in the rodeo as a bullfighter. I
mostly do PBR events, but I do some rodeos from time to time. Randy was a good rider, and
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LEAVING HOME T.A. Chase 22
I was thrilled to see he won.” Chaz moaned as all of his muscles relaxed at once. “Christ!
That feels good.”
“Oh, you might know Tony Romanos? He lives on the next ranch over.” Peter gestured
in a vague motion towards the west.
“Tony? I guess this really is a small world.”
Shit! There was no way Tony Romanos, two-time world champion bull rider and one of the most popular guys on tour, could find out about Chaz’s problems. If Tony discovered
them, Chaz would lose his job for sure.
From the moment he’d gone to his first rodeo, he’d wanted to be a rodeo clown.
Wearing baggy, colourful clothes and putting on makeup might seem like a weird thing for a boy to want, but even at the age of six he could see that being a bullfighter was the most important part of any rodeo—aside from the animals.
Once he’d set his mind to it, becoming the best clown he could had been his only goal.
He’d studied videos of some of the best-known clowns, and he’d learned their tricks. Chaz had become obsessed. Luckily, his parents had understood, for the most part, being from
cattle country themselves. They’d indulged his whims, and his mom had taken him to all the rodeos in the area.
Watching Tony ride had been one of Chaz’s pleasures in life. The stocky bull rider was
pure poetry in motion, always anticipating each move of the bull. There weren’t a lot of
riders who could do that.
“Yes, it is. He retired after last year’s finals because his body just couldn’t take the abuse anymore, and Brody wants him home more.” Peter looked slightly ill. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything about that.”
“About what? Tony being gay?” Chaz chuckled. “Don’t worry, man. I’ve known for a
while that he likes guys. Pretty easy to spot a fellow gay. Besides I noticed the same guy comes to a lot of Tony’s events, and I heard that Tony bought a ranch out here with him. Has all the markings of a couple to me, though why he’s worried about it, I don’t know. He’s not on the tour any more.”
“He has his reasons for staying quiet for now. So you can’t say anything to anyone.”
Peter stared at him with fierce intensity.
Peter wasn’t very intimidating
, Chaz admitted, but he hadn’t been about to out Tony
anyway, so it was easy to give in to his demand.
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“All right. I won’t say a word, but on one condition. You can’t tell Tony about how you
found me. It was an honest mistake, but it could easily screw up my career if certain people hear about it.” Chaz did his own version of a scary stare.
Peter didn’t look convinced that what Chaz asked was the best thing, but finally he
nodded, and relief rushed over Chaz. He might not know Peter very well, but everything
he’d seen about the man told him Peter would keep his promise.
“A bullfighter, huh? That’s a dangerous job, even worse than being a bull rider,” Peter
commented as he settled deeper into the confines of the chair.
Chaz wiggled just a bit, not wanting to upset his back. When he got in the right
position, he shrugged. “Sure, it is. Why do you think I enjoy my job so much? Nothing like the thrill of possibly dying every night. I’ve had some serious injuries. Enough that my
doctor told me I risk paralysis every time I suit up and go out.”
Peter frowned. “Then why do it? Why risk that much for the thrill?”
“I’m sure people have been asking that question ever since the first daredevil tried to
ride a dinosaur or something. We get addicted to the adrenaline rush, I guess. Doesn’t mean we’re crazy or anything, just slightly challenged in the mental area.” He winked at Peter, who blushed, and Chaz wondered if anyone had flirted with the man before.
“Crazy seems like a good term to use for all of you in the rodeo. I think even barrel
racers like the speed a little too much.”
He couldn’t argue with Peter there. He’d seen too many women take those barrels at
speeds they shouldn’t, and end up crashing into them or having their horses stumble,
throwing them. Injuries at the rodeo were common, though it was more likely to be the
humans than the animals. No matter what the animal rights activists said about it, the rough stock was treated better than most of the humans. No one was crazy enough to do anything
to hurt a horse or bull that could bring its owner at least six figures if he were to sell it.
“You might be right there.” Chaz let his eyes close.
Two painkillers were just enough to take the edge off, but what Chaz really wanted was
complete oblivion. He needed those blank moments when he drifted along the currents of
the world’s rhythm without worry about how to get back to shore or how to fight against the tide. He wished for the space of emptiness where there was no pain or doubt. That place he’d found the first time he took the pills, and realised he could have forgetfulness, if he knew where to look for it.
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The rustle of fabric reminded him of Peter’s presence. Chaz knew he needed to keep up
the appearance of being all right, and spacing out wasn’t a good way to do that.
“What do you do, Peter?”
He could feign interest as long as he needed if it helped make Peter feel like he could
trust Chaz. Once he trusted him, it would make it easy for Chaz to look for the pills. He didn’t think Peter would have flushed them or anything like that.
Chaz winced as those thoughts dashed around in his head. Fuck! He was turning into a
real bastard, yet fighting those emotions took more energy than he had.
“I work for Les as an accountant. I do the ranch’s accounts, not Les’ companies’
accounts. There are too many of them for just one man. I work for Derek St Martin as well.”
“The country music star? How did you get so connected?”
Who knew quiet, unassuming Peter had some pretty big-named friends?
“Les knows his stepbrother, and when Derek needed someplace to vacation, he came
out here to rest. He got to be a good friend.”
Chaz could tell there was more to the story. He didn’t have the curiosity to find out
what it was, though.
“Aside from Les, is there a lot of business around here for an accountant? I would think
you’d go off to a bigger city. Can’t think there’s a big call for your line of work out here.”
Another rustle, causing Chaz to imagine Peter had shrugged.
“I used to work at my grandfather’s feed store in town. After he started harassing Les
and Randy, I decided I couldn’t work there anymore. Grandfather and my family disowned
me, so Les offered me not only a job, but a place to live as well.”
God, this Les must be a saint. Chaz didn’t know what to think about a man who gave a job to someone who was practically a stranger.
“Les and Randy are really nice about opening their home to people who need a place to
regroup or rest.” Peter’s words were filled with respect and awe. “I don’t think I’d be a nice enough person to do that.”
“Seriously? Man, you dragged my ass off the street and into your car. You brought me
here, not knowing anything about me. How can you say you wouldn’t be the same kind of
nice?”
“I was just doing what I thought any of them would do. All of them are great guys, you
know, and I always feel like I’m not good enough to be here with them.”
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“You hush that kind of talk, Peter Skinner.”
Chaz almost levitated off the couch when Margie spoke. He hadn’t heard her come
down the hall. He forced his eyes open to see her frowning in disapproval at Peter. Chaz shot a glance over at Peter, who had his head ducked down.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good boy. Now you should send this man to bed soon. He’s dead on his feet, so to
speak.” Margie smiled at them both. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning. Breakfast is at seven. I do like it when Master Leslie and Randy are gone. Gives me a chance to sleep in.”
“You do know they’d be more than happy to get their own breakfast if you don’t want
to get up early?” Peter pointed out.
“I know, but I’ve been taking care of Master Leslie since he was young, and Randy
needs someone to watch over him as well. It’s no hardship to cook breakfast for family.”
Margie gave Chaz a nod, but there was a hint of caution in the smile she gave him
before she left. Apparently not everyone in the house was as trusting as Peter. Chaz was
surprised to discover he was glad to know that. It hurt some hidden part in his soul to think of Peter living in this place on his own, getting taken advantage of by conmen and assholes.
What are you doing? Isn’t taking him up on his offer of food and a bed taking advantage? Chaz shut his eyes tight to try to get rid of the voice in his head that sounded amazingly like his younger brother Matthew.
When they were growing up, Matthew had been Chaz’s voice of reason and his
conscience. A wave of loneliness swept over him. Matthew was in the army, serving in
Afghanistan.
“Shit! What’s the date again?”
Peter looked over from where he’d been staring at the fireplace. “It’s August fifth.
Why?”
“I missed my brother’s call. Or, at least, I think I did. He was supposed to call me on the second. I don’t remember talking to him.”
Peter snorted. “I’d be surprised if you did. I probably shouldn’t have given you those
pills earlier, should I? Not if you’re an addict, and had overdosed.”
Chaz didn’t reply to that. “Did you find my phone in any of my stuff?”
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“No. It might be in your hotel room. Hey, now that you’re sober, do you remember
which place you were staying at?” Peter asked.
Chaz thought about it for a few minutes, then remembered checking in a week or two
earlier.
“Yeah. I’m staying at the Historic Plains Hotel. I came in a week before the Frontier
Days rodeo started.”
“Not a bad place. Why did you come to Cheyenne to begin with?”
He always came to Cheyenne for a week or two during the break. Sometimes Chaz
would earn extra cash during the huge rodeo they held every year in the town. This year, he hadn’t planned on working the event, hoping to leave town before anyone he knew arrived,
but he’d lost track of days because of the pills. Christ! He was lucky no one had seen him.
“The Frontier Days are over with, aren’t they?” Chaz shuddered. “I meant to be gone by
the nineteenth. Lost track of days.”
“You didn’t want any of your rodeo friends to see you, did you?” The knowing tone in
Peter’s voice irritated him.
“No, I didn’t. Hell, I deal with those guys pretty much every weekend from January to
November. I just wanted some time to myself that didn’t include cow shit and dirt. I didn’t need to work it this year. I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t have to work any of the other rodeos—besides the PBR—if I don’t want to.” Chaz sat up quickly, and stars circled in his vision as agony threatened to knock him unconscious.
‘No sudden movements’ had been his mantra for the last three years, and for the most
part he’d done a good job of listening to it. Except when he was working. Then he took some meds and let the absence of pain get him through the events.
“Fine. Calm down. Tomorrow, we’ll run into Cheyenne, and you can get your truck and
stuff. If you don’t want to see anyone, you might as well stay here until you’re ready to head out. Les’ rough stock company had some bulls and horses at the rodeo there and couple of
the other local rodeos, but they won’t be back for a couple more days.” Peter was trying to placate him. “The cowboys who work here are very discreet, and won’t say a word about
