Cowboy Tamed

by Taylor McKay

  Brock chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll be damned.” First Kenny and now Zeb and obviously, Pamela knew what was going on as she kept glancing at Brock with a tentative smile on her bright pink lips.

  “Oh hell, Brock, if I could justify the expense in the budget, I’d give him a job. He’s a damn good worker. He’s just a dumbass that got caught with his pants down.” He choked. “I meant that figuratively.”

  Brock stood and stretched. “Temporary work, Zeb, just until he gets a lead on something else around here.” He pointed at Zeb. “I know you have your nose in everyone’s business. But I’ve had about enough of people getting into mine. Sniff out a job for Preston, but I don’t want anyone sniffing around Ward land for gossip.” Because there wouldn’t be any. Work, nothing else. There was still a cougar on the loose killing stock, and now he had the care of the new foal, Brock could use another man. Thinking of the new foal… “I need to get back to the ranch.”

  Zeb smiled and came around his desk. He slapped Brock on the back. “I’ll get him. His truck is in back, but his registration is expired. Can’t let him take it.”

  More likely, Zeb didn’t want Preston to have transportation. Keep him close to watch him. Preston’s run of hard luck was coming to an end one way or another. Looks like Brock was the means to Preston getting back on his feet. Hell, most of the town probably blamed Brock for Preston’s current situation.

  Regardless, Brock would advance Preston a paycheck so he could square away his business. Not that he had a choice. Between Kenny and the other hands, he’d have a hard time kicking Preston off the ranch again once he was back on it. But if Brock had to be honest, Preston was good to have around. Brock just had to find away to keep Preston out of his bed.

  Brock stared out the glass door into the darkened night as he waited for Zeb to bring Preston up from holding. Part of him couldn’t believe he’d be taking Preston back to the ranch…another part had never wanted him to leave.

  “Brock?” He turned at the sound of the sheriff’s voice. Preston stood next to Zeb, his hands tucked into the dusty jeans hanging on his hips.

  A lump lodged in Brock’s throat. He couldn’t find words to say. Preston looked the same—same hypnotic jade green eyes, but now marred with dark circles. He looked tired. Whiskers shadowed his jaw and his coffee-colored wavy hair, cut above the ears but longer on top, bore the usual indent from his cowboy hat.

  “Let’s go.” Brock spun and strode through the door.

  * * * * *

  Regret slammed like a meaty fist into Preston’s gut, the force stealing his breath. Brock came. He looked tired…he looked pissed. “Sheriff?” If Brock hadn’t wanted to bail him out, he shouldn’t have come. Preston had assumed that’s why Brock had hung up on him. “He’s pissed.”

  “What did you expect? A hug and a handshake.” He gave Preston a shove toward the door. “Consider this probation. Get your shit together, Preston.” Zeb hitched up his trousers and puffed up his chest on a deep breath. “Brock’s bringing you back on his ranch, temporary like. So it’s up to you to figure out the rest.”

  Preston nodded and followed Brock out the door. Once outside, he said, “I need to get a few things out of my truck.”

  Brock flung open the driver’s side door. “I need to get back to the ranch.” He slid behind the wheel as Preston opened the passenger door. Brock stared at him across the cab of the truck. His mouth formed a hard line and his jaw ticked with tension.

  For the last two months, Preston had simmered in his own self hate. He had a gift for fucking up everything good in his life, and he’d certainly fucked up with Brock. He hated depending on anyone, even Brock. Although in fairness to Brock, he’d hid his feelings well. But Brock had to have hated their relationship. Brock provided everything. He had money, friends, a hard body and a sharp mind. What did he need Preston for? Besides a piece of ass.

  Preston had only ever been able to count on himself and now he had the sheriff pulling in favors. As much as he missed Brock, this wasn’t going to work. “I’m not sure what to say to you. I’m so fucking grateful that you’re here, but you’re obviously pissed about it. If I could say, don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine and then go on my way, I would. But I’m on my knees here.”

  “I don’t want you on your knees.” Brock growled and turned away. “Get in the truck.”

  Preston sat in the truck and shut the door. “My pickup is around back.”

  Brock nodded, turned the ignition and shoved the gear into reverse. The cab was dark and silent as he drove around to the back of the building and pulled alongside Preston’s truck.

  “It’ll just take a minute. Be right back.” Preston climbed from the vehicle. Two months ago, he’d felt exactly as he did right now. The crushing weight of regret made his chest ache and his gut clench. He’d throw up if he had anything in his stomach. Pamela had offered to feed him at the jail, but after Brock had hung up on him, he couldn’t bring himself to eat.

  Grabbing his hat off the front seat of his truck, he slapped it on then went to the rear of the bed. He grabbed his duffel and sleeping bag and tossed them into the bed of Brock’s truck. Less than a minute later, he opened to door and climbed back in. “I’m ready.”

  Brock threw the truck in gear and cruised out of the courthouse parking lot. Preston took a last look over his shoulder, then sighed and relaxed into the seat. However, he felt far from calm. As Brock shifted gears, Preston couldn’t tear his gaze away from the play of muscle in Brock’s thighs. His palm rested on the gear shift, his fingers curled around the knob. Two months hadn’t diminished his rugged sexiness.

  They drove a few miles without speaking. Preston stared out the side window, wishing Brock would say something. “You didn’t have to come.” His words broke the silence.

  “I didn’t want to.”

  He turned to Brock. “Then why did you?”

  Brock’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. “Because I had to.” He cast a quick glance at Preston then turned back to the road. “I suppose we’re going to have to discuss a few things.”

  Preston choked on the lump in his throat. He’d been naked with Brock, had spent long nights kissing him, running his hands over the hard contours of Brock’s body. He’d been fucked by Brock—fucked until he walked with a limp. He’d also sucked Brock’s dick, swallowed his cum and rimmed his hole before he shoved his cock into Brock and fucked him until they were both sweaty and spent. They were friends and lovers.

  Until Preston fucked it up.

  “Whatever we were is over.” Brock stared straight ahead. “Don’t play games with me because I’m not interested. I’m not interested in hooking up again. I don’t want you trying to manipulate the situation.” He turned down the long dirt road to the ranch. “I’m serious, Preston. Push me and I’ll push right back. You want a job?”

  Could he work for Brock and not want more? No. But he understood…he deserved Brock’s anger. “I’m not sure?”

  “Well, that makes two of us.” The truck bounced over a rut in the road. Headlight beams cut through the night. Preston missed this stretch of dirt, the anticipation of coming home. Only tonight, he wasn’t coming home to Brock.

  “I know you don’t want to hear excuses.” Brock wouldn’t listen that night and didn’t appear to want to talk now. “But I’m sorry.” Preston stared at the glow from the homestead. He’d hated living in that house, feeling as if he didn’t contribute, that he didn’t have claim to be there. Now he wondered why he couldn’t have appreciated all he’d had.

  The truck skidded to a halt. Dust billowed up from the tires. “I have to check on Avril.” Brock opened the door, slid out and slammed it closed before Preston could respond.

  Preston scrambled from the truck. “What’s wrong with Avril?” He caught up with Brock.

  “She’s foaling. She went into labor today.” Brock glanced to the pen. “Kenny must have her in the stables.” They strode toward the large outbuilding. “It’s actually
Kenny you can thank that I went to the jail, and Zeb has a way of getting what he wants. Seems you still have a lot of friends around here.”

  “I won’t deny it feels good. But I’m hoping to earn back your friendship.” Preston followed Brock into the barn. Familiar scents, familiar sounds. “God, it feels good to be home.”

  Brock paused. “Right now, just worry about earning a paycheck,” he mumbled as he made his way to the rear of the building. Lights were off in the large open barn except for a dim glow in the far corner. “How is she?”

  “Up and down.” Kenny moved out of the way.

  Brock knelt next to the horse and rested his palm on her muzzle. He ran his hand along her neck. “She’s warm.”

  Kenny shifted his gaze from the horse to Preston. “It’s good to see you.” He sidled out of the stall and pulled Preston into a tight hug, slapping Preston on the back a few times. Then he stepped away. “We’ve all missed you.” He grinned. “Well, most of us. Some just won’t admit it.”

  “That’s enough, Kenny.” Brock continued to assess Avril’s progress. “Has her allantoic membrane ruptured?”

  Kenny crouched next to Brock. “Not yet. She was getting anxious and was kicking at her belly so I brought her in here.” Avril growled. “She’s contracting.” The horse’s abdomen tightened and her legs stiffened. Kenny shifted over. “Preston, you should be proud.”

  Preston throat tightened with emotions. Brock probably didn’t want to remember, but Preston’s stallion was responsible for the foal. Avril’s colt would be the last to carry on Shiloh’s lineage. Shiloh had been beautiful. Dark brown mane and tail and a chocolate coat. Strong and skilled, Shiloh had been a great ranch horse, but he’d also been Preston’s mount. Six months ago he died of a brain aneurysm. Blood from the nose had been the first sign, but Brock had paid for an autopsy. Because Avril had conceived, they’d needed to be sure Shiloh’s death hadn’t been caused by something genetic.

  Kenny backed out of the stall. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asked Brock.

  “Sure, that’d be great.”

  Kenny raised an eyebrow at Preston. “You?”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  Kenny left the barn and Preston leaned against the wood beam. Brock wiped down Avril’s flanks with a towel, comforted her with a loving stroke, then backed away. He sat in the fresh straw and leaned against the wall that separated one stall from the next. He bent his legs and rested his wrists on his knees.

  “If you’d rather I not be here, I can leave.”

  Brock glanced up and chuckled. “You’d leave?”

  Preston shifted his gaze to Avril. “I wouldn’t go far.” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a peg outside the stall. “I’d be like the expectant father hanging outside the waiting room.” Preston entered the stall. “Want me to take your coat?”

  “So what does that make me?” Brock stood and shrugged off his coat. Brock’s shirt, casually tucked into the waist of his worn jeans, molded to his muscular torso.

  Preston took the coat and hung it on a peg next to his. “I’d say you’re the momma, but you don’t like to admit you have a soft nurturing side.” Preston sat a couple feet away from Brock. “But that’s the only thing soft about you.”

  Brock laughed and shook his head. “You can’t help yourself.”

  “Me? I think you’re the one misinterpreting my words. What are you thinking about, Brock? I was referring to your attitude. You know you’re a hard ass.”

  Brock took off his hat and tossed it at Preston. “Don’t make me regret bailing your ass out of jail.”

  “Believe me, that’s the last thing I want.” Preston set Brock’s hat to the side then took off his own. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry…about everything.” He leaned his head back and stared into space. “I was fucked up.” He shifted his gaze to Brock. “Maybe I’m still fucked up.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Once everything went to shit, I didn’t know how to fix me, didn’t know how to fix us.”

  “Not everything can be fixed.” Brock stretched out his legs. “Sometimes the choices we make have consequences. Whether we want to or not, we have to live with those consequences.”

  “God, you’ve been hanging around Kenny for too long.” They both chuckled. Kenny had a way of analyzing every situation, looking for the silver lining on every storm cloud rolling in.

  Avril whinnied and tried to stand. Brock jumped to his feet and gently calmed the horse. “Easy girl, you’ll be a momma soon.” He whispered in soft tones, trying to soothe the animal. Avril’s eyes were large and she stomped her back feet a few times. After a few turns, she lay back down and panted. Sweat dampened her coat and her muscles quivered. Contractions tightened her belly.

  The barn door creaked as it opened. Kenny brought two mugs, a carafe of coffee and a basket of food. “I brought the carafe in case it’s a long night.”

  Brock glanced up from wiping Avril’s face. “Thanks.” He noticed the two mugs. “Aren’t you staying?”

  Kenny shook his head. “I figure with Preston here you don’t need me. I’ll get some sleep. I’ll be back early to see the foal and take care of the ranch. You’ll need to sleep after being up all night.”

  Brock nodded.

  Preston stood. “I know I have you to thank for my being out here,” he said to Kenny. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.” Not just the birth, but sharing the experience with Brock.

  “We’ll catch up over breakfast. I figured you’d get hungry and I doubt either one of you are going to leave the barn tonight.” He set the basket on the ground. “Call my cell if you need anything.”

  Kenny left. Brock poured coffee into the mugs and Preston peered into the basket. “Cold chicken, and apple or a brownie? Who’s been making brownies?”

  Brock handed Preston a mug of coffee. “We have brownies?” He looked into the basket.

  “Guess not much changes.” Brock handled the ranch but sucked at taking care of himself. Before Preston had left, he’d been the one to make sure Brock took time to eat, didn’t give every waking hour to the ranch, but found time to laugh and play. Their play usually ended with getting naked. “Have you eaten today?” Preston handed Brock a brownie and took one for himself.

  “Not since breakfast.”

  Neither had Preston. This morning he’d been sleeping in the bed of his truck. What money he had, he needed for gas and food. Hell, he’d slept under the stars as often as he’d slept under a roof. Way he saw it, wasn’t much different than a hunting trip. But it was different. He didn’t have a home anymore…a home with Brock.

  Preston sat in the straw with Brock, in the dim light, with the basket between them. After he ate the brownie, he plucked a piece of chicken from the bowl.

  “Are you disappointed things didn’t work out at the Thompson’s place?”

  Preston shrugged. “I don’t really want to be anywhere but here.”

  Brock was quiet a moment. Avril was still restless. Wind rattled the rafters and Preston toiled with the words he wanted to say.

  “Why’d you do it?” With his palms wrapped around the mug, Brock stared into his coffee.

  “I never fucked him.”

  Brock glanced at Preston. “You cheated, Preston. I think about us, about how I was so stupid to think we had something special.”

  “We did. We do. I just lost sight of what’s important.”

  “No, we didn’t. I never wanted to fuck another man…that includes sucking dick. You must have wanted to get caught. Why else would you bring another man into our house?”

  “It’s your house. Your ranch. I guess I never saw it as ours.”

  “That makes what happened worse. You knew I’d be home. Did you think I’d get a beer and watch?”

  A sharp, piercing ache lanced through Preston’s chest. Just like that night, the pain was still raw in Brock’s whiskey-colored eyes. Preston had wanted proof Brock cared. Now he had it, but the cost was the very th
ing Preston had wanted to prove. “Any explanation I give won’t make sense. At the time, I thought…” What did he think? That he could prove Brock didn’t care as much about him as he cared about Brock? He’d needed to know he was important in Brock’s life and not just a ranch hand.

  “What? You thought—”

  Avril’s squeal cut through the tension. Brock scrambled to his knees. Preston shifted to check her hind end. “Her water ruptured.” Preston stood and stepped back. Most horses didn’t require help during the birth. Avril rocked on her side. Almost immediately the foal began to emerge. For Preston, their conversation wasn’t forgotten, but it was time to focus on the mare. This was it.