Shooting Star

by Carol Lynne

  The screen door opened and Jessup stuck his head out. “Dinner’s ready. You feel like eating on the deck?”

  “Sure,” Brac replied, making no move to get up. “How far would you go to save your job?”

  Jessup looked surprised at the question, but after several heartbeats he walked over and joined Brac on the swing. “That depends, I guess.”

  “On what?” Brac fought to keep his hands to himself, when what he really wanted was to feel Jessup’s muscular arm wrapped around him.

  “On how much you want the job. I heard you say you had some kind of dirt on Randal, but would exposing him make you feel good about yourself? A job is a job. But you can’t put a price on a man’s self-worth. I have a feeling Randal knows you could use whatever information you have on him, but I’m pretty damn sure he also knows you’re a good man and won’t stoop to his level.”

  “The job’s not that big of a deal. Hal’s always turning down offers on my behalf. It’s more than that.” Brac met Jessup’s gaze. “I loved him once. I’d have had his back until the day I died.” He shook his head. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting him to do something like this to me. There’s a part of me that wants to hurt him back.”

  “Sure there is. Eye for an eye and all that. But I think what you have to look at is who you’ll be doing more damage to, you or him? I’m betting the answer would be you.”

  Without thinking, Brac reached for Jessup’s hand, but before he could touch the man, Jessup jumped to his feet. “Dinner’s getting cold,” Jessup said, walking into the house.

  Brac stood and followed. “Why do you do that?”

  Jessup continued on through the kitchen to the back door. “I told you, I don’t like to be touched.”

  Brac stopped long enough to grab several bottles of beer out of the fridge before joining Jessup at the table. He pulled out the deck chair and took a seat, offering one of the beers. “I don’t do it to piss you off, you know?”

  “I know.” Jessup slid one of the steaks onto Brac’s plate. “And it’s not just you, so don’t take it personally.”

  “Well I do,” Brac answered honestly. “I see the way you look at me.”

  “Lookin’s not the same as touchin’.” Jessup took a drink of his beer. “I don’t react well.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t.” Jessup set his bottle down and stabbed a piece of steak with his fork.

  Brac heard pure pain in Jessup’s response. He reached out and placed his hand on the centre of the table. “Is it the same if you touch me?”

  “Are you that hard up?” Jessup asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Brac held his tongue. He was one of the few men in Los Angeles who didn’t let his dick rule him so Jessup’s comment didn’t hold the heat it could have. Despite the apparent rebuff, he didn’t move his hand, waiting, willing Jessup to touch him.

  Jessup cleared his throat. Brac expected another comment but when none came, he peered up and met the man’s confused eyes. Jessup held Brac’s gaze for several moments before looking away. “Why is this so important?”

  “I don’t know,” Brac whispered, “but it is.”

  Jessup made a noise that sounded remarkably like a growl, but finally, finally, Brac watched as the sun-bronzed hand landed on the table next to his. He didn’t look up. He barely breathed until he felt the soft brush of Jessup’s thumb against his skin.

  “This is stupid,” Jessup mumbled.

  Brac shook his head. “Doesn’t feel stupid to me.”

  “I’m not some kind of charity case, you know? I know you Hollywood types like a good cause, but I won’t be one of them,” Jessup growled.

  Once again Brac remained silent. Instead, he concentrated on the warmth slowly covering his hand as Jessup became even bolder. It wasn’t until Jessup’s entire palm rested on the back of Brac’s hand that he spoke. “That feels nice.”

  Although he didn’t say it for fear of scaring Jessup away, Brac had never felt so connected to another human being. Kit meant the world to him, but even she hadn’t brought on the emotions currently ripping their way through Brac’s soul. He’d slept with his fair share of men but never had he felt the warmth of trust Jessup was gifting him. Brac itched to turn his hand over and entwine his fingers with Jessup’s, but he knew it would take baby-steps to fully gain the man’s trust.

  Eventually, Jessup removed his hand and stood. “Need another beer?”

  Brac stared into Jessup’s brown eyes, hoping to find something of what he’d felt in their depths. Confident that the brief moment between them had also affected Jessup, Brac nodded. “Sure.”

  * * * *

  Before retrieving beer from the refrigerator, Jessup quickly made his way to the small half-bath on the main floor. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face before studying himself in the mirror. Just like it had the night of Ezra’s party, his skin tingled from the physical contact with Brac.

  The possibility of enjoying a sexual relationship with a man again was at the forefront of his mind. Not just any man—Brac. Jessup pressed his half-hard cock against the edge of the sink. Snippets of his sex life before Syria crept into his mind.

  The torture he’d endured had spoilt the one thing in life he’d always craved. Being bounced from foster home to foster home had taught him from an early age not to engage emotionally with people. Love wasn’t part of his vocabulary, but fucking sure was. The physical release of a round of raw sex was all he needed to remind himself he was still human. Maybe Brac was the one person who could kick-start his libido.

  Jessup was under no illusion that Brac would stick around for more than a few weeks, nor did he want him to. Like everything else in his life, it was best not to get attached. He’d lived by that belief his entire life. Despite his sizeable bank account, he’d never considered buying a house. Renting was the way to go as far as he was concerned. When things didn’t work out, he moved on, simple as that. Messing around with Brac would be even easier because it was Brac who’d be leaving town. He grinned at the bonus, because although things in Cattle Valley weren’t perfect, they were as near to it as Jessup had ever known.

  After turning off the water, Jessup grabbed two bottles of beer and rejoined Brac on the deck.

  “This is really good,” Brac said, cutting another piece of meat.

  Jessup was thankful Brac wasn’t planning to dwell on their earlier contact. Although he hoped to work his way up to more than simple hand-holding, Jessup refused to be the kind of pussy who talked about his thoughts and feelings. Those were his and as long as he kept them to himself no one could use them against him. He glanced up from his plate long enough to nod in thanks before starting again on his cold dinner.

  One thing prison life had taught him was to be grateful for food, no matter what it tasted like. In Syria he’d been given only enough to survive. The mouldy bread and greasy broth he’d been served once a day had quickly helped him come to the conclusion that as long as your belly was full it didn’t matter how it got that way.

  “You play cards?” Brac asked.

  “Not for years. I prefer dice.”

  “Like craps?” Brac took a sip of his beer and sat back in his chair, food seemingly forgotten.

  “No, just games.”

  “What’s your favourite?”

  “Steal Your Thunder.” In the past, Jessup had spent hours sitting at a table with other soldiers while on missions. Dice were easily carried and didn’t succumb to the elements.

  “Would you teach me how to play?”

  “Maybe after you finish the dishes.” Jessup couldn’t help but grin. Brac hadn’t done the dishes since they’d stepped foot on the EZ Does It ranch.

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Brac shifted in his chair. “You know I would’ve done them before but you always jump up as soon as you’ve shovelled the last bite of food in your mouth and rush to the kitchen.”

  “I don’t linger,” Jessup mumbled, still eating
. “But I’ll take care of the cooking from now on if you’ll do the clean-up.”

  “Or we could do both together,” Brac offered. “I’ve always found it relaxing to cook with someone.”

  “I’m used to doing it by myself,” Jessup countered.

  “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me.” Brac stood and picked up his plate. “You finished with the salad?”

  Jessup nodded, and Brac took the bowl away. Alone on the deck, Jessup sighed. There seemed to be a war going on inside him, and he still wasn’t sure which side would win. What was it about Brac that made him want to reach out one moment and run like hell the next?

  Chapter Three

  “What is that?” Brac asked.

  “A cane pole. Don’t you know anything about fishing?” Jessup sat under the tree beside Brac and pulled out a small container of worms. He’d had to go all the way to Sheridan for the pole, but he was tired of Brac bugging him about going fishing.

  “Yeah, but I thought only eight-year-olds used those damn things.” Brac shook his head and turned up his nose as he watched Jessup thread a big juicy worm onto his hook. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Keep talkin’. We’ll see who catches dinner tonight,” Jessup said. He met Brac’s gaze and grinned. He was beginning to get more and more comfortable around the handsome man. Too bad their time was quickly coming to an end. “I didn’t see any photographers in town,” he admitted. Actually, he hadn’t seen paparazzi for the last two days, but decided to keep the information to himself until he figured out a few things.

  “No shit? Does that mean I have to leave?” Brac asked with a chuckle.

  After swinging his line out into the water, Jessup scooted a smidge closer to Brac. The fact that he was willing to fish at all had been the answer he’d been waiting for. “Not unless you want to. You could always stick around for Cattle Valley Days. I haven’t been to one, but Ryan said it’s a helluva time.”

  Brac brushed his shoulder against Jessup. “Are you asking me on a date?”

  Jessup thought back over his statement. He hadn’t intended to ask Brac on a date, but he had to admit the idea of accompanying the man appealed to him. “Maybe. Guess that depends on what you’d say.”

  “Guess that depends on if you’d let me hold your hand,” Brac countered.

  Setting his pole beside him, Jessup rested his hand on his thigh, palm up. Don’t freak out, he told himself several times.

  Brac hesitated for several moments, his hand hovering over Jessup’s. “You sure?”

  Jessup shrugged. “I hope so.”

  Brac lowered his hand until it rested palm to palm against Jessup’s. He slowly threaded his fingers through Jessup’s much darker ones. “This okay?”

  Jessup nodded, his throat clogged with emotion. He hadn’t jumped or shied away from Brac’s touch. As a matter of fact, he’d welcomed it. “It’s nice,” he admitted.

  “Yes, it is.” Brac looked out over the sparkling water. “Do you think we could work our way up to a kiss before nightfall?”

  “I’d like that. It’s been…a long time.” Nearly four years, but Jessup kept that bit of information to himself. While he was in prison, he’d clung to the memories of his last night spent with Priest. It hadn’t been romantic, or emotional, just another hard fuck with the closest thing he had to a friend, but the memory had kept him going while in prison.

  Still holding hands, Jessup leaned in and touched his lips to Brac’s. He froze at the contact, waiting for the panic to set in. When nothing but desire coursed through his veins, Jessup loosened up enough to give Brac a proper kiss. He brushed his tongue against Brac’s lips and waited for entrance.

  Brac sighed as he opened his mouth and accepted Jessup’s tongue.

  The grip Brac had on Jessup’s hand became almost unbearable as the kiss deepened into an erotic tongue play Jessup would’ve never thought possible. Even Priest didn’t ignite such overwhelming mind-numbing lust in him, never had. Jessup shook his hand free and wrapped his arms around Brac, pushing him back onto the soft grass.

  Jessup’s passion overrode his sense of fear. He insinuated himself between Brac’s thighs and pressed his aching cock against Brac’s. Jessup was nearly out of his mind until he felt tight bands wrap around his waist. His body went rigid the moment he felt trapped. In a heartbeat, Jessup went from turned on to gasping for breath. He tried to push away from the force holding him in place.

  “Fuck!” Brac yelled.

  Once free, Jessup retreated to safety on his hands and knees. His body shook as he struggled to calm his breathing. Time stood still as he fought his way back from the dank cell. He pushed away the memories of the beatings he’d suffered at the hands of the guards. Wyoming not Syria, he reminded himself. He wiped the sweat from his face and tried to gather his wits. When he chanced a look at Brac, his heart plummeted. Shit. What have I done?

  Holding his groin, Brac was doubled over, vomiting onto the grass.

  It seemed even Brac’s sex appeal only went so far in helping Jessup forget his past. Not only had he made a fool of himself, but he’d injured an innocent man in the process. Jessup rose to his feet and walked over to Brac’s side. His knees almost buckled at the expression on Brac’s face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, not knowing what else to say.

  He expected Brac to cuss him out for what he’d done, but instead Brac’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What did I do wrong?”

  Jessup couldn’t handle the disappointment he detected in Brac’s voice. What could he possibly tell the man? Somehow ‘you reminded me of my time in prison’ didn’t sound right. “Can I help you back to the house?”

  Brac shook his head. “I think I’ll lay here for a while longer.” He finished the sentence by spitting on the ground.

  Not only had Jessup hurt Brac but he couldn’t even remember doing it. “I’ll get you some water.”

  “No. I’ll be fine. Just sit down.”

  The last thing Jessup wanted to do was sit and watch Brac recover from an injury he’d delivered. Running away was the obvious option, but before his capture, retreat hadn’t even been part of his vocabulary. Where the hell was his courage? Chalk it up to one more thing he’d lost in Syria.

  “Please?” Brac asked.

  Jessup sat several feet away from Brac and rested his hands on his knees. He plucked a blade of grass from beside his ankle and began to separate it into thin slivers. The right thing to do was to explain his actions, but would someone who wasn’t there understand them? “I was working a job in Syria when I was arrested. I’d been hired to observe a particular group of protesters that the United States wanted information on. All I was supposed to do was watch them and the Syrian people’s reaction to them. The next thing I knew I was picked up by a small group of undercover police officers and arrested. I suffered three years of hell before they finally released me.”

  “And it’s because of that hell that you don’t like physical contact?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” Jessup realised Brac wouldn’t understand what he’d gone through unless he spelled it out for him, but Jessup wasn’t prepared to travel down that road. “Anyway, I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  Jessup stood and gathered the fishing supplies he’d brought to the pond. “I’ll go start lunch.”

  * * * *

  Recovered from the blow to his balls, Brac gathered his fishing gear. A noise off to his left caught his attention as he started down the path towards the cabin. “Jessup?”

  When no answer came, he continued down the meandering path. He still hadn’t figured out what to say to the deputy. Hell, maybe he shouldn’t say anything. No. He had to address what had happened if the two of them had any hope of continuing what they’d started by the pond. And, damn, did he want to continue. The passion between them had nearly set Brac on fire.

  The noise came again, only closer. “Hello?” he called out. “Jessup?”

  A rabbit jumped out of the brush, causing Brac’s heart to skip
a beat. “Fuck. You scared me, asshole.”

  Feeling stupid, he tuned out the sounds coming from the brush and returned his attention to Jessup and his mouth. Memories of the man’s tongue started to make him hard, no small feat after the blow he’d received earlier.

  Brac pressed the back of his hand against the front of his shorts and nearly poked his eye out with the fishing pole. He did it again, dodging the pole. He might return to the cabin blind, but at least he’d have a smile on his face. The second touch felt so good, he wanted more.

  After a quick look around, Brac dropped the pole and tackle box. With his hands free, he hurriedly unzipped his shorts and shoved both of them down the front of his briefs. “Aaahhh,” he sighed when his palm met the length of his cock.

  Closing his eyes, Brac imagined Jessup’s hard naked body. Although he hadn’t seen Jessup without clothes, yet, he had felt it against him. “Want it,” he moaned, running his free hand over the spongy tip.

  Whether it was the near perfect body he knew was under the clothes or the pain and sadness he detected under the skin, Brac wanted more of Al Jessup. He wanted to run his tongue down the length of the man’s chest to the prize he’d felt poking against him earlier.

  Brac huffed out a loud breath as his speed increased. If only he could break through Jessup’s walls. Brac couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew there was a loving man underneath the gruff exterior and he wanted more than anything to release Jessup from the self-imposed prison he’d built around himself.

  “Jessup!” he yelled at the point of climax. The intense orgasm dropped him to his knees right there in the dirt. Shit. He had to get a handle on his feelings. It was completely possible he’d never get through to Jessup and the two of them would part company without experiencing the joy of fucking.

  “What happened?” Jessup panted, tearing down the path at a full run.

  Brac blinked several times, still lost within his thoughts. “What?”