Home for a Cowboy (Windsor, Wyoming Book 1)

by Amy Aislin

  “Double fisting it this morning, are we? Long night in the hayloft?”

  There was something teasing in her voice, but when Marco chanced a glance at her, her expression was innocently vague. Yeah, he had sisters. He knew that look.

  “Just a late one,” he said. “Because of the stargazing.”

  Alice brought her mug to her lips. “Uh-huh.”

  “And no, this one’s for Las.”

  Her face scrunched in confusion again. “Las doesn’t drink coffee.”

  “Sure he does.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  God, it really was like living with his sisters. Why did they always think they knew best?

  Las had come to the Coffee Cart every Thursday for their first two years of college. Marco hadn’t seen him at all during the first half of their junior year, which made sense now that he was thinking about it. Those first two years, he always came with Ben, and Ben purchased a coffee, not Las. Las didn’t get anything. Not until he started coming back, on his own since Ben was in England, in the spring of their junior year.

  To buy coffee.

  So yes, obviously Las drank coffee. Maybe the stress of exams in their junior year had him seeking out caffeine?

  He didn’t mention any of this to Alice. She’d already moved on from the conversation while Marco was ruminating and was currently taking eggs and vegetables out of the fridge.

  Before he could offer to help, she said, “Las’s bedroom is up the stairs and at the end of the hall.”

  “Thanks.” He grabbed both coffee mugs and had one foot on the steps when she called, “Oh, and your hikes are canceled for today.”

  He went back into the kitchen. “Why?”

  “The trails will be flooded and too dangerous to navigate.”

  “Oh. So I’ve got the day off?”

  “I’ll let you know. The guests signed up for the hikes might sign up for different activities instead, which means we’ll have too many people scheduled for any one thing. I might have to divert the trail guides to something else.” She waved a hand. “I’ll know in a couple hours.”

  “Right.” Unsure of what the day would bring, he headed upstairs.

  The wall leading up to the second floor was covered in photographs. Family portraits at varying times through the years, a wedding photo of what he assumed were Las’s parents, high school and college graduation photos of Alice and Las next to baby pictures. A family picture of a trip to Disney, another around the Christmas tree when Las was nine or ten, Alice a gangly teenager.

  Upstairs, the walls were done in neutral gray. Hung on the walls were paintings of Windsor Ranch.

  At the end of the hallway was an open bedroom in which he found Las sorting through a dresser drawer.

  “Hey,” Las said. “Sorry, I’m trying to find my extra sweatpants.”

  “No worries. Here.” Marco placed the Star Wars mug on the dresser. “Brought you some coffee. Milk and sugar, right?”

  Las eyeballed it for a second, then went back to sorting through drawers. “Right.”

  The bedroom was painted a muted blue, the color of a cloudy sky at night. A double bed, the blankets pushed to the end as if Las hadn’t bothered to right them after getting out, was pushed against the wall underneath the west-facing window that overlooked the front of the house. Across from it, the dresser Las was still searching through. It was a sturdy thing, made of dark wood and black knobs for handles. A desk with a laptop took up the space to the left of the door. Beyond it: a telescope set up in front of the southward window.

  Marco sat in the desk chair, kicked his feet out, and sipped his coffee while he inspected what else was on Las’s desk.

  A squat old milk bottle filled with pens and pencils. Loose change. A stack of yellow Post-its. A package of gum. The coffee mug Marco brought up. A plate littered with breadcrumbs. A notebook opened to a page with a list of what looked like addresses in Laramie.

  “Are you moving?”

  “Huh?” Las emerged from the closet in his underwear, having shucked his damp jeans at some point. “Oh yeah, at the end of August,” he said when he noticed the notebook in Marco’s hands. “I need to go down and look at rentals.”

  “You’re not staying on campus?”

  “That was the plan.” He fell onto the bed crosswise and scooted back until he hit the wall next to the window. “But they might not have a single for me, so I need to look at other options.”

  “You don’t want to share?”

  Las grunted. “I shared a house with three other guys for four years of college. I want my own space. Want to come with me to look at apartments? I’ve got a few appointments next weekend.”

  A whole weekend with Las? “Sure.”

  Las patted the spot next to him.

  Rising, Marco took both coffees over to the bed, handed Las one, then sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Las held the mug in a loose grip on his lap.

  “Couldn’t find my sweatpants.” Las leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

  “It’s fine. Except I’m getting your bed wet.”

  “It’ll dry.”

  Las’s face was drawn, purple circles under his eyes, mouth slack. Dark stubble had grown in overnight.

  Because he could, Marco pushed Las’s hair back, the dried strands soft between his fingers. Tilting his head toward him, Las sighed deeply.

  Marco smiled. Looked like they both liked having their hair played with. “You look tired.”

  The sound Las made was barely a grunt.

  “Nap?”

  “Can’t.” Las blinked drowsy eyes open. “Gotta work.”

  “Alice said I might not have work today.”

  “I figured that’d be the case. It rained a lot last night. Mudslides are a concern after that much rain. What will you do instead?”

  “Go into town, I think.” Marco sipped his coffee. “Check out the camera store.” If Alice didn’t need him, that was.

  “Camera store?”

  “I need a camera for Austin’s workshop. It starts next week.”

  Brow furrowing, Las regarded him. “Is there a camera store in town?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me. I just assumed there was.”

  “I don’t think so,” Las said slowly, thinking it through. “I’ve never looked for one so I’ve never noticed if there is one or not. There’s an electronics store.”

  “Good enough. They’ll have cameras.”

  Other sounds reached them: a shower turning on somewhere down the hall, Alice washing dishes downstairs, shouted instructions from the ranch hands outside. Marco kept carding his fingers through Las’s hair, fascinated in the way of the too-tired at how the strands separated around his fingers, then fell back into place.

  “If you keep doing that,” Las murmured, “I’m going to fall asleep.”

  “You look like you could use it.”

  “No.” Bursting into action, Las flew off the bed, deposited his mug on the desk, and scrubbed both hands over his face. “Ugh. I’m awake.”

  Chuckling, Marco rose too. “I’ll get out of your hair so you can get ready.” He wove an arm around Las’s shoulder. “But first kiss me.”

  Las’s smiling lips met his. Once, twice, three times, quick little kisses that made them both laugh into each other’s mouths until Marco forced himself away after a final, lingering kiss.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow for the market?” he said on his way out.

  “Count on it. Good luck camera shopping.”

  When Marco walked out of Las’s bedroom, the coffee was still untouched.

  AUSTIN’S PHOTOGRAPHY WORKSHOP FOR BEGINNERS was two hours every Tuesday and Thursday evening. By the end of the first class, Marco only had a vague sense of what all the various knobs and buttons on his new camera were for.

  New borrowed camera.

  “Hey, Alice?”

  He’d popped into her office aft
er a trip to the electronics store in town that sold DSLR cameras for much more than he could comfortably afford, and after a Google search for used cameras that weren’t all that much cheaper. Austin’s assistant had mentioned that Austin would have loaners available at the workshops, but Marco wanted to practice outside of class too.

  Alice was his last hope.

  “If you can find the charger to your camera—” He gestured to it on her shelf. “—can I borrow it?”

  She had found it, and let him borrow it, although it wasn’t until four classes later that Marco felt comfortable enough to venture out on his own to test out its functionality.

  He sat on a boulder next to the river at Las’s tent. As the sunlight gradually faded, he played with the ISO setting while Las, sitting on one of the logs near the fire pit, put the finishing touches on the proposal for the USNC project that he’d present to his mom soon.

  It was quite the hefty proposal. Marco had read through the draft last weekend. Las had background on USNC, including real-life examples of similar projects in other states and their outcomes for the participants; the scope of the project, which also included a detailed timeline that Las had discussed with his potential advisor at UW and USNC’s project manager; potential benefits to Windsor Ranch in terms of finances, reputation, and efficiencies; the risks involved; a list of the key Windsor Ranch employees who would most likely be involved and their probable roles; and detailed backgrounds on the players at USNC who would be part of the project.

  Cell phone in one hand, Las sat next to him on the boulder. “Just heard from the building manager of that place near campus. She gave the apartment to another applicant.”

  “Damn.” Marco lowered the camera onto his lap. “I’m sorry. Did she say why?”

  “The other applicant is a grad student too, but on a non-thesis option, so he or she can commit to the full two years.”

  Whereas Las had only one year of in-class courses, followed by two semesters to write his thesis, which, if his mom approved the proposal, he would do from here.

  Marco bumped their shoulders. “We can go back. Look again.” Las had seen four apartments last weekend when they’d driven to Laramie. The first three had been a bust—bad neighborhood, paper-thin walls, a bad vibe from the building manager. The last one had been perfect: good building security, recently renovated, within walking distance to campus and the nearest grocery store, and it came with a parking spot in the lot across the street.

  “Yeah, I know.” Las turned the phone around and around in his hands. “Just with classes starting in six weeks, I’m starting to get nervous that there won’t be any decent apartments left. And I’ve already declined the double room the school wanted to assign me.”

  “We can drive to Laramie tomorrow if you want. I’ll drive; you can look up apartments and make appointments.”

  With another sigh, Las rested his head on Marco’s shoulder. “Maybe.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” Marco squeezed his knee.

  Las went silent. Marco fiddled with his camera some more, trying to get that softened moving-water effect he’d once asked Austin about. After several unsuccessful tries, he aimed the camera skyward, but the stars in the darkening sky came out blurry.

  “You need a tripod to capture the sky,” Las said, straightening. He was becoming featureless in the dark. “Or something steady to brace yourself on if you’re using a long exposure.”

  Marco side-eyed him. “I didn’t realize you’re into photography.”

  “I’m not. But I am into that.” He gestured skyward. “In elementary school, Ben and I used to tag along with Austin when he’d spend nights camped out somewhere with his camera gear. Ben would pass out in the tent, but I’d stay up with my flashlight and reference book and telescope, mapping the constellations and galaxies and clusters.”

  “You can see other galaxies through your telescope?”

  Las flashed him a pleased smile. “You can see them with the naked eye on a clear night with little light pollution. Like tonight.”

  “Shut the fuck up. Show me.”

  “Do you see Cassiopeia?”

  “Lassiter. I couldn’t tell the Big Dipper from the Little Dipper.”

  Las was laughing at him as he pointed. “Big Dipper.” His arm trailed right. “That bright star there? That’s Polaris, the North Star.” Over to the right a little more. “See that w that looks like it’s on its side? That’s Cassiopeia.”

  “Okay, I see it,” Marco said while Las outlined the w, stopping on the five stars that made its points.

  “The point of the deeper v on Cassiopeia?” Las’s arm went down diagonally. “Leads right to the Andromeda galaxy.”

  “That hazy smudge?”

  “That hazy smudge holds about one trillion stars. The Milky Way only has two to four hundred billion by comparison.”

  Marco scoffed. “Only.”

  “Scientists say that in about three or four million years, the Milky Way and Andromeda galaxies will collide.”

  “Remind me. Your degree is in business and environmental science with a minor in history?” He waited for Las to nod. “Why not astronomy?”

  “GH doesn’t have an astronomy program.”

  “Bummer.”

  Las hummed under his breath. “I don’t know that I would’ve majored or minored in it anyway. It’s more of a hobby. I think studying the stars would’ve sucked the joy out of them.”

  “Made them too real and tangible,” Marco said quietly. “Less whimsical and fanciful.”

  “Yeah. Exactly.” Las tucked his nose into Marco’s throat, cuddling in. Affection for him made Marco’s throat grow thick.

  “I get it. That’s basically what happened with me and hockey.” Running a hand up Las’s back, Marco cupped the back of his neck, the soft bristles of hair at the base of Las’s skull tickling his fingers. “The competitiveness of it all sort of ruined the fun of it for me.”

  “You could play recreationally.”

  “I’ve thought about it.” Had gone so far as to visit the Windsor Community Center and grab a copy of their fall/winter schedule. There was a recreational hockey league that played every Monday starting after Labor Day.

  Gripping Marco’s thigh, Las straightened. “I don’t want to go to Laramie tomorrow.” He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “I’m really not in the mood for a long drive.”

  “’Kay. We’ll go next weekend.”

  “It’s the weekend of the dance party.”

  “All the more reason to escape this place. I mean—not that I don’t love it here,” Marco said, trying to backtrack. Not that it mattered—Las didn’t appear to take offense; he was chuckling as if he understood Marco’s reasoning, but Marco explained himself anyway. “I just mean that next weekend will probably be the busiest of the month, right?”

  “True.” Las stood and stretched with a groan that reverberated into Marco’s bones. Turning, he headed back to the fire pit, his little red flashlight leading the way. Over his shoulder, he said, “We could go next weekend.” With a smirk, he added, “But I was hoping to dance with you at the party.”

  Marco launched himself off the boulder. “What?”

  “But yes. Let’s go to Laramie.”

  “Wait, no. I want the dancing thing.”

  It wasn’t quite dark enough for Marco to miss the wide grin on Las’s face as he turned to walk backward toward the tent, crooking a finger at Marco.

  Oh, hell yes.

  LAS STOOD ON THE BACK porch after dinner, nursing a beer. It was hot, one of the hottest evenings so far this summer. More or less typical for the third week of July. After spending his morning with Marco at the Saturday market, they’d gone their separate ways: Las to fill in for one of the ranch hands who needed the afternoon off; Marco back to his cabin. Apparently, he and Reid had a date with Windex and a vacuum.

  Alice came around the side of the house where she’d taken the trash to the bins. She wore the same type of outfit sh
e’d had on the last time she’d gone on a date with whatever his name was. Ankle-height cowboy boots, a knee-length summer dress, and a jean jacket. It was pretty fancy for a family dinner. Las hadn’t commented on it earlier; he did so now.

  She arched an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know that I’m heading to the movies with Travis later.”

  “The guy you went out with a couple weeks ago?”

  “Who?” She climbed the porch stairs. “Oh no. That was John.”

  Las’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Are you juggling two guys at once?”

  Alice flung herself onto the chair swing, looking all too pleased with herself.

  “Seriously?”

  “What?” Rolling her eyes, she chuckled softly. “It was one date with John and one movie with Travis. It’s not like either one is my forever guy.”

  What was the point then? Not to mention it seemed like a lot of work to juggle more than one guy at once.

  Alice tucked herself into the corner of the chair and swung her legs onto the seat, her booted feet dangling off the end. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Waiting for Marco.”

  “Are you going somewhere? I thought we were playing Ticket to Ride.”

  “He’s coming for game night.”

  Alice drew out a silent ohhhh. “Is he now? You guys seem to be all hot and—” She made a sound like squeaky bed springs.

  Las shuddered. “Ew. Stop that.”

  “Guess my advice to seize the day paid off, huh?” she said, flicking an imaginary piece of lint off her shoulder.

  Las heaved a sigh. “You’re so annoying.”

  Alice rose with what he could only describe as a delighted cackle, disappearing inside right as Marco’s little silver car rolled to a stop at the top of the driveway.

  “Are your sisters as annoying as mine?” Las asked when Marco had exited the car and was making his way up the porch steps, running shoes muffled on the aged wood.

  “Sometimes. Hi.” Marco’s lips met his, chaste but lingering, making tiny butterflies take flight in Las’s stomach.