Strung Up

by Lorelei James

  upgraded.

  Banjo scrambled down the steps and rolled in the dirt. Then he shook himself and barked at me.

  “Okay, okay, let’s get Petey saddled and we’ll be on our way to check cattle.”

  Had I always talked to my dog this much?

  Yes. Mick complained you talked to the dog more than you talked to most people.

  For the first time in a long time, thinking about Mick didn’t cause me pain.

  Hours later, I returned to the house and checked my cell phone for news from Wyn. Sure enough, he’d left me a voice mail. As had Sutton. And my dad.

  Shit.

  I listened to Wyn’s message first.

  “Hey. I’ll get to the point since I ain’t got a lot of time. The docs performed an emergency C-section. They put Melissa out for it and she’s still in recovery with some minor complications. Since the baby was eight weeks early and he only weighed two pounds, and he’d gone into distress prior to birth, and there’s no neonatal care unit here, they immediately flew him to Denver Children’s via Life Flight. Melissa can’t travel after the surgery for several days, depending on when they get her blood sugar levels managed and her blood pressure stabilized. Which means I’m on my way to Denver right now to be with the baby. I had to leave Melissa here. Christ, I didn’t even get to see her, Cres. And neither of us has even seen our son.”

  My guts twisted at hearing the anguish in his voice.

  “Between Sutton and London and Mom and Dad, Evan will be looked after. I hate for Melissa to be alone in the hospital, but she needs to take advantage of this time and freakin’ rest. So I’m sorry, bro, but you’ll be a one-man band while I’m dealing with all the family medical stuff.”

  Like that was something he needed to worry about with his premature baby in one hospital and his wife in another.

  “Text me when you get a chance and I’ll check in later when I know more.”

  I saved the message and played the one from Sutton.

  “Hey, Cres, I know Wyn called and filled you in on what’s goin’ on. I don’t have anything new to report except to say holler if you need help. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from Dad and he’ll try and convince you he’s up to the task of mowing, but he’s not and we all know it.”

  My dad had been a rancher all his life until a heart attack had forced him into early retirement. We’d had to adjust our lives then, and it looked to be the same thing now.

  “Mom will be helping London out with the boys as well as spending time with Melissa in the hospital. Once Melissa is able to go to Denver, Dad will drive her. If we keep Dad busy then he won’t insist on helping you with ranch work. Sucks, but it’d be best for everyone if you’re on your own.”

  No shit.

  “Anyway, Wyn forgot to tell you your nephew’s name is Truman. It’s hard for him to stop calling Tru ‘the baby’ since they weren’t ready for him and it’ll be touch and go as far…his odds. But the sooner we all call Truman by his name, the more it’ll show the world that we believe he’s a fighter and he is gonna make it. He has to make it. Has to.”

  Sutton’s voice broke on the last couple of words.

  “Text me when you get back from checking cattle.”

  I saved Sutton’s message and played my dad’s next.

  “Cres. I know what your brothers are doin’ with havin’ me be a glorified damn gopher and chauffeur—tryin’ to keep me from helping you on the ranch. But if you have problems with the baler, call me. If you need a gate opener, call me. I’m not a damn invalid.”

  That made me smile.

  After I slapped together a couple of sandwiches, I hitched the baler to my truck and headed out.

  Luck was on my side and the baler didn’t break down. I finished the last bale just before sunset.

  On the way home I managed to talk to both of my brothers and my parents. No change in Truman’s condition was considered good news because they’d gotten him stabilized. And Mel had been moved into a regular room—more good news.

  I hesitated to call Breck. This was the last week of class and he’d warned me his schedule would be tight. I missed him.

  Our agreement of no relationship and just indulging in a nine-week fuckfest…had lasted maybe one night. The last couple times we’d hung out, we hadn’t fucked. We binge watched two seasons of Breck’s new obsession American Ninja Warrior.

  He’d tried to teach me how to roll a poker chip through my fingers. When he questioned my dexterity after the hundredth unsuccessful attempt, I proved my dexterity was above average with an outstanding hand job.

  After that he hadn’t uttered a single crack about my fumbling fingers.

  He’d even set up a moonlit horseback ride for us. Breck had a romantic streak, which I loved, but he also balanced that with his dirty, adventurous side. He’d fucked me with such possession and intensity I’d had a hard time getting back on the horse.

  I loved every second of it.

  Shaking off that train of thought, I left the baler hooked up to my truck and trudged into my house. Exhaustion set in as soon as I took my boots off. I conked out on the couch in front of the TV.

  The next morning I woke up starving since I’d skipped supper. Banjo whined at the door. I’d forgotten to feed him too. “I’m coming, dog.”

  Day two was nearly identical to day one.

  The next three days were a blur of work and family phone calls.

  The fifth day Breck pulled up at dawn just as I exited the house.

  My belly fluttered and I felt a ridiculous sense of happiness that he was here.

  Banjo yipped and jumped all over Breck as soon as he got out of his Jeep.

  Smart dog. I wished I could get away with being all over Breck too.

  My eyes drank him in because my man looked like a million bucks in faded jeans, a long-sleeved plaid shirt, and a cream-colored summer-weight cowboy hat. His handsome face was smooth and his smile genuine as he petted my dog.

  “You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Banjo?” He straightened and propped his hands on his hips. “The dog gave me a more enthusiastic welcome than you have. Oh, and he’s texted me just as many times as you have too, Cres.”

  “Ha, ha. I’ve been busy, you know, running the ranch by myself and all.”

  When he started toward me, my pulse skyrocketed.

  “Berlin told me some of what’s goin’ on.” He stopped in front of me. “How are Mel and the baby?”

  If I concentrated on answering, maybe I wouldn’t be enticed by the scent of his cologne. “They’re releasing Mel this morning, if her numbers hold up. Then my folks will drive her and Evan to Denver. Wyn’s been there with Truman. Mel hasn’t even seen him yet.”

  “Is the baby okay?”

  “They’re doin’ everything they can to help him survive. He’ll have a long stay in the hospital. So Wyn and Mel and Evan will be living in Denver until Tru is healthy and ready to come home.” I sighed. “It’s rough on everyone.”

  “I imagine. But it sounds as if it’ll be really rough on you.” That beautiful blue gaze encompassed my face. “You look like hell, Cres.”

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

  “Here’s something else that oughta be obvious—I’m pissed off at you. But before we get into that…” Breck curled his hand around the back of my neck. “I need this.” He slanted his mouth over mine and kissed me. First with the passion that made breathing difficult, then with the sweet longing that had me swaying against him.

  He didn’t touch me except for maintaining the iron grip on my neck. But he held me one hundred percent in his thrall with just his kiss.

  When he finally had his fill of the lip-lock, he buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been worried about you and your family.”

  “Besides the fact you warned me not to bug you during this last week of the session?” Besides the fact I worried you’d already heard the siren’s call and had returned to your life on the road? And the thought
of driving to the campground and finding you gone, like you’d done to me in Denver—made me physically ill?

  He lifted his head and blinked at me. “I don’t remember sayin’ that.”

  “You did.”

  “When?”

  “The night we sat by the campfire with Stirling and Macon.”

  “I was in a sugar coma from those damn s’mores she insisted we eat and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  “Or…they weren’t s’mores at all, and those sneaky Gradskys were secretly product testing us.”

  “You were especially horny after that, so it’s a possibility.” Breck rubbed his mouth down my throat. “Fuck. I just want to take a bite outta you.”

  I groaned. “I’d let you bite me wherever you want, but once you start, I won’t have the willpower to stop you.”

  “We’ll pick this up later.” He stepped back. “What are we doin’ first today?”

  I raised my chin to look at him. “We?”

  “I’m here to help you.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Bullshit. You do need me—would it kill you to admit it?”

  Had he intended for that to have a double meaning?

  You’re exhausted, Cres. Let it go.

  He cocked his head. “Okay, we’ll talk about why you dodged that question also. Get it through that thick cowboy head of yours that I ain’t goin’ anywhere, so let’s get this done. Cattle check first, right?”

  I nodded.

  “You still haying after that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know that I’ll be much help with the haying, but I can help with the cattle. Then later on we can get to the other reason I showed up at the crack of dawn.”

  “Which is what?”

  “I missed you, dumbass.”

  I smiled. “Let’s see if you can keep up, farmboy.”

  Breck flashed me that megawatt grin. “Bring it, rancher.”

  “You have your own tack?”

  “Always. And don’t even think about giving me a shitty old horse.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Snobby about your horseflesh?”

  “I’m used to the best.”

  “Unfortunately for you, the best is my horse Petey. You can’t have him so you’ll have to make do with second best.”

  “Better to make do than to be second best,” he muttered.

  I squinted at him. “What’d you say?”

  “Nothin’. Let’s round ’em up.”

  “We’re not ‘rounding them up,’ bulldogger.”

  He smirked at me. “So it’d be against the rancher’s handbook of clichés to say ‘get along little doggie’ to Banjo?”

  “You are punchy.”

  “That’s because I’m spending the day as a cow puncher.”

  “Jesus.” I groaned. “I missed you.”

  Within the first half an hour of working with Breck, I knew two things. One, my cock would spend the next five hours in agony because watching him ride made me hard as a fucking fence post. And two, his abilities on a horse weren’t just for show. He was a good ranch hand. I appreciated the fact he didn’t yammer on and that he followed my directions.

  Over the course of the morning, the sky had transformed from watery blue, to dismal gray to almost black. The air had cooled considerably and hung heavy with humidity.

  “Let’s try and beat the storm,” I said just as the first fat raindrops fell.

  “Too late,” he said as the skies opened up.

  Once we’d reached the barn, we took off the saddles and draped the tack over the sides of the pens. We brushed the horses down and turned them loose in the pasture.

  I removed my wet hat and hung it on a peg. When I turned around, Breck was right there.

  “Shame about the rain keeping you from haying this afternoon.”

  The smolder in his eyes burned off any residual chill. “Yeah, I’m really broken up about it.” I angled my head and licked a bead of water in the hollow of his throat. Then I attacked the buttons on his shirt. “You’d better get these wet clothes off.” I pushed him against the support beam and sucked on his neck, grinding my groin into his.

  He was already as hard as I was.

  I peeled off his wet shirt. The nearly see-through undershirt clung to every ripple of muscle on his chest. I lowered my mouth to the dark nipple, the tip already hard enough to bite, and I started to suck through the fabric.

  He hissed out a breath.

  But when I began to work his belt, he stayed my hand.

  I moved to the other nipple and knocked his hand away, reaching down to palm his cock.

  Again, he pushed my hand aside.

  I lifted my head and looked at him. “You got a problem with me touching you?”

  Breck locked his frustrated gaze to mine. “No. Unless this is another attempt to keep us from finishing this inside. In the house you shared with Mick. In the bed you shared with him.”

  “Whoa.” I stepped back. Way back. His accusation quickly snapped me out of my horny state. “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “Why haven’t we ever fucked in your house? Goddammit, Cres, we’ve been together two and a half goddamned months and I’ve never made it past your front porch.”

  That startled me. “What? That’s…not true.” Or was it?

  “Come on. You can’t possibly be surprised by that,” he snapped.

  “Well, I am. I didn’t realize we were supposed to be keeping track of our overnights on a calendar,” I shot back.

  “Maybe if we had, you’d see that yours is completely blank. You always come to my place, which is great because bein’ with you is the high point of my day. Since you have to get up at the ass crack of dawn to do chores, wouldn’t it make sense for you to ask me to spend the night here sometimes? But you’ve never asked me. Not one time.”

  I stared at him, absolutely poleaxed.

  “I’d even gone so far as to justify your lack of an invite into your house and your bed as you avoiding a confrontation with Wyn. Bein’s you ranch together, I imagine he’s here early in the morning. If he saw my Jeep, then you’d have to confess you’re fucking a guy he can’t stand.”

  “How do you know that Wyn can’t stand you?”

  “Sutton told me.” He snorted. “But it’s never had a damn thing to do with Wyn. It has everything to do with Mick.”

  Goddammit. He could be so self-righteous…even when he was dead wrong. I got in his face. “I don’t need this shit from you today.”

  “Tough. You’re getting it. I’m tired of avoiding the ghost in the room. Or maybe I should say the damn ghost still living in your house.”

  He did not just say that.

  “You’re an asshole. And a fucking clueless one at that. Go home, Breck.” Fuming, I spun on my heel and walked out.

  From that first night, being with him had made me so happy that was all I focused on—getting to him as soon as my workday ended, seeing that special dirty smile as he leaned in the doorway of his motor home waiting for me. I hadn’t cared where we were together, just that we were together.

  I stepped outside. The gloomy angry sky fit my mood. The rain had gone from a steady drizzle to a torrential downpour.

  I’d barely made it fifteen feet when a hand landed on my shoulder.

  “Cres. Wait.”

  I turned to face him. “What?”

  Even soaked to the skin, standing in the rain, Breck didn’t look like a drowned rat; he looked like a male model at a photo shoot for a vacation in the tropics. Water streamed down the angles and planes of his face. Tiny droplets sparkled on the ends of his long eyelashes. His hair, without his cowboy hat to smash it down, had become a riot of black curls.

  Yeah, he’s gorgeous, but he’s about to tear into you without just cause, so focus.

  “Don’t shut me down when I finally have the balls to admit that I’m jealous of him. He gets a place of honor in your house and I get the barn.”

  “Breck. What the he
ll are you even talkin’ about?”

  “I’m talkin’ about you messing around with me in the barn because you don’t want to bring me into your house—the sacred space you shared with