He watched as Tyler made small talk with the hired hands and examined the horses. Marcus pulled a folded cloth napkin from his pocket and mopped his brow. He looked up at the sky, not a cloud to be seen in the great blue expanse. Fucking great.
Tyler returned to the fence, a smile still on his face from the bantering he’d been having with the other men. “I have a few hours until my barrel race. You wanna do this now instead of waiting for dinner? That way you can be on your way before dark.”
Marcus got the feeling he had his work cut out for him. He needed to sign this cowboy or there would be hell to pay when he returned to the city. New, fresh talent was what they’d been discussing all month in their board meetings. Tyler James was the perfect candidate. It baffled him why he’d turn down easy money.
“Whatever you want.”
“I wouldn’t say that if I were you.” Tyler winked. Just the way he looked at him made his groin stir. Was he purposely flirting with him? No, he was just overly tired and obscenely attracted to the other man. His mind was playing tricks on him.
They walked along the side of the road, dust billowing up with each step. He worried about his black suit getting grimy. Everyone stared in their direction, but Marcus stood out like a square peg in a round hole in his attire. Tyler was laid-back, calling out greetings, smiling, and rubbing the heads of little kids as they passed. “Do you live in this town?”
“Me? No.”
“You seem to know everyone here.” Marcus tugged at his collar and could have sworn steam escaped.
“It’s a rodeo town. We all meet up before and after events.”
“Interesting. So the same riders travel from town to town?” Marcus enjoyed learning about new people and cultures, and this lifestyle was completely new to him. He’d never quite found a place where he fit in, even his life back home. He imagined it was because half his life was a lie as he lived to please everyone but himself.
“Something like that.” Tyler turned to face him, his eyes hypnotic. “Some people call me a drifter because I don’t have a place of my own. Can’t really settle down when you’re constantly traveling from one point to the next.”
Marcus wouldn’t be able to handle such instability. He even had his clothes planned out for the week in advance. His condo was neat as a pin, and every detail of his life could be found in his day planner. “So, where will you stay tonight?”
Tyler grinned, appearing amused by Marcus’s concern. “Don’t even know yet, darlin’. Suppose if I can’t find a room to rent, I’ll crash in my truck.”
Marcus didn’t know what to say. Cowboys called everyone darlin’, didn’t they? Including other men?
He was flabbergasted that a person could live this way and there was a town of like-minded men willingly experiencing the same thing. He knew the cowboy did well for himself with his rodeo earnings or Cavendish wouldn’t have been interested in him. How could anyone choose this?
Still, he wouldn’t dare say something stupid and insult the man he needed to impress. He had to remind himself he was here for business only.
“No family?”
“No family.”
Marcus kept his mouth shut before he put his foot in it. He couldn’t even imagine what it felt like to be alone in the world. He had so many brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins that he was never truly on his own. There was always someone stopping by or calling, whether it was welcomed or not. Sometimes he wished he could cut the ties to his relatives and know what it felt like to truly be himself—no expectations, no putting on a mask, and no suffocation.
They reached their destination after a brief walk. The diner was a fifties-styles train car set up just down the main street. A classic greasy spoon, if ever he saw one. Marcus kept a strict diet that didn’t include garbage like an abundance of carbs, fat, sugar, and other empty calories. He went to the gym four times a week on his way home from work, and added matcha to nearly everything he ate. Health was important to him, but he wasn’t such a stickler that he’d embarrass Tyler by refusing to eat. Surely they’d have something light on the menu.
“Tyler James!” Several patrons in the diner called out when they entered. Little bells chimed on the glass when the door shut behind them, making Marcus briefly whirl around.
“Where’s Jet at? Ain’t seen him around lately.”
Tyler frowned, his jovial nature fading quickly. “I’m not his keeper. You’re asking the wrong man, Carl.” He laid a hand on Marcus’s shoulder and guided him to a booth at the end of the aisle. “I think we should take a booth, especially if you want to give me your whole spiel about sponsorship without getting interrupted.”
They sat across from each other, sunlight dancing on the cracked linoleum surface of the table. He couldn’t possibly sit for an hour in his tailored jacket. Even though unprofessional, he leaned forward and shrugged out of the material and carefully laid it beside him, folded over once so it wouldn’t wrinkle.
When he shifted to give Tyler his attention, the other man was already staring at him as if Marcus was an oddity he’d never come across. “I thought maybe it was your jacket, but you have some nice, broad shoulders on you.”
“Me? Thank you, I guess.” He forced himself to smooth out the wrinkle in his brow. The cowboy continually confused him, but again, he knew nothing of this subculture of country folk.
“Do you work out?” Tyler reached across the table, beckoning for his hand. He reached out, uncertain what the man wanted from him. Would he fail this test, if it even was a test? Were his hands too soft, too smooth from working behind a computer most of the day? He imagined Tyler’s were firm and calloused from gripping handfuls of leather reins during his events. The thought of the cowboy touching him with those rough hands got his heart beating double time.
“I try to take care of my body.”
Tyler used both his hands to massage one of Marcus’s, twisting it this way and that, examining his fingers and palm. Then his hands went higher, testing the muscles in his forearm. Could he feel the tension in his body? Marcus felt more coiled than a spring, uncertain to what he should be feeling about another man. “I can imagine what you look like under that fancy shirt. You probably have toned pecs and ripped abs, don’t you?”
“Flavor of the week, Tyler?” A middle-aged blonde woman broke the spell, saving him from answering. She had a conspiratorial smirk as she plucked a pen from behind her ear and poised it above a small pad.
“Dara, don’t start with me, woman. Give me my usual.” Tyler pulled away, his light-hearted voice becoming perturbed. He turned to Marcus, the anger quickly dissipating. “What do you want, sweet thing?”
He swallowed hard, feeling aghast and flattered all at once. “Um…Do you have salad?”
“Salad? Are you a cow? Give him what I’m having, Dara, and give us some damn privacy.”
“Whatever you say, Berton Wells.” She laughed as she sashayed back to the kitchen.
Tyler was shaking his head when he returned his attention to Marcus. “Don’t mind her. She’s out to destroy me.” He chuckled and began fiddling with the sugar packets on the table.
“Who’s Berton Wells?”
“It’s just a stupid nickname they gave me a couple years ago, and it stuck.” He scrubbed his stubbled jaw. “It was the name of one of the most famous stud horses in these parts. You get the idea…”
“Oh, I see, you’re a hit with the ladies, are you?” Why did it make him feel jealous and defensive? He should be used to being a minority, desiring men who obviously were only into women. But the little hints and names of endearment made Marcus feel special. Tyler looked at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “I guess Cavendish didn’t do their research before sending you all the way down here. I’m sure they wouldn’t want my sexual preference in the headlines.”
“What do you mean?”
“Darlin’, I like men, only men. I thought everyone knew it. Lord knows I’ve never tried to hide the fact.” The waitress c
ame back with two large Cokes and set them on the table. Tyler pulled back and leaned against the vinyl bench seat.
“I—”
Tyler took a drink. Marcus was too in shock to look the other man in the eye. He only studied the ring of moisture left on the table from the glass as his mind processed information at an alarming rate. All the signs were there—the cute names, the touching. But he’d always associated gay men with the typical stereotype of annoying femininity, chicks with dicks as he commonly thought of them. It was just one of many reasons he refused to acknowledge the fact he wasn’t heterosexual.
The cowboy sitting across from him, watching him with those deep green eyes, was everything a man should be—strong, confident and masculine. He was right about Cavendish. They’d never accept a gay man as their poster boy. It was the same reason Marcus kept his feelings of confusion to himself. He even dated women occasionally to appease his family and appear normal in the eyes of his peers, but those were brief encounters and never lasted. God knows he tried to like women, but he was just hardwired different than most.
For years he tried to convince himself he was going through a phase, that he’d start desiring the opposite sex any time, but it never happened. The guilt ate him a bit each day until he made the decision to ignore his impulses and focus on work. Stifling his sexuality had him pent-up and irritable most days, but he expelled that energy at the gym and through frequent mediation.
“Cat got your tongue?”
He refocused on the here and now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Sorry for what? Do I look like I need pity?”
A silence no graveyard had known lingered around their small booth. Marcus wanted to take back his words, not sure if he should apologize or hightail it and run. They were saved by the rattle of two heavy porcelain plates being unceremoniously dropped on their table. Marcus turned to the lady. “Thank you.”
“No problem, handsome. You’re not from around here, are you?” She leaned on her hip, awaiting his response.
“Leave him be, Dara. He’s with me.”
Marcus’s eyes darted to Tyler. The cowboy gave him a discreet wink.
“He’ll only break your heart, sweetheart.” The waitress waltzed off, stopping at the other booths to check on customers.
“She thinks you’re gay.” Tyler laughed. “But don’t be offended. I only date the best.” He began to eat the French fries she’d left as if they hadn’t just had the oddest, most uncomfortable exchange of words. Should he eat the greasy garbage served to him or risk blurting out something inappropriate?
Marcus popped an onion ring in his mouth.
Chapter Two
Tyler felt a bit sorry for the sucker sent to sign him up for a sponsorship. He never planned to join Cavendish, and now the man they’d sent knew they wouldn’t want him. The city slicker was tongue-tied, but Tyler wouldn’t sweat it. He’d take his free meal and be done with it. Why did all the hottest guys have to be straight? The look of shock on the city boy’s face proved he’d never walked off the beaten path in his life. If he had of showed any sign of interest, Tyler would have loved to rock his world.
The silence during the following half hour was tense. It only made Tyler eager to get around friends who loved him, feel the thrill of riding in competition, and fuck the first man who offered him a room for the night. Fast living. It was what he needed, especially right now, faced with too much reality.
“Well…thanks for lunch.” Tyler stood up, stretching his shoulders. “Guess you’re anxious to get back to civilization, so I’ll be going.”
As soon as he burst out of the diner, he could breathe again. He looked up at the blue skies, inhaled deeply, and let the rest roll off his back. Marcus was gorgeous but no more than a figment of his imagination, here today, gone tomorrow. No sense replaying everything over in his head. The man was probably repulsed by him. He needed to get his shit together before the event.
He walked back down the main street. It was true about time being the cure for all things. Every step he took made him less and less anxious. He had nothing to prove, so why should he feel guilty for who and what he was? Tyler supposed the recent events with Jet Cartwright had him off his best. If he wasn’t good enough for Jet to settle down with, why would anybody else ever want him for more than cheap thrills? It wasn't like Jet was his boyfriend, or they had anything serious going on. They had sex, hung out for a few beers after events, but that was the gist of it. It still cut him down a peg when he found out Jet had established a serious, loving relationship with a hot, young cowboy. What was wrong with Tyler? Jet had never even proposed anything serious between them, not that he would have agreed anyway. Fuck! His head was a mess. Tyler didn’t do vulnerable, and right now he was totally out of character.
“Hey!”
He turned around, almost having reached the rodeo grounds. Marcus was running up the street, briefcase in one hand, Tyler’s Stetson in the other. He looked like a fish out of water.
“You forgot your hat!”
“Thanks for that,” he said flatly. He ran a hand through his hair before fitting his hat into place. After a quick nod, he continued on his way. The sound of Marcus’s shoes on the gravel roadside kept pace with his own steps. “You following me?”
“You said I could watch you compete. There’s no sense in rushing off right away. Like I told you, I’ve never seen a rodeo.”
“Suit yourself,” he said without stopping.
“If you were interested, I don’t have to tell Cavendish about…you know. I mean, if that’s the reason you’re not willing to accept the sponsorship, I’m sure we could work something out.”
The man didn’t give up. Tyler wouldn’t be caught dead being represented a company only interested in an image that wasn’t the real him. He wasn’t one to conform to fit the expectations of others. It got the snot kicked out of him as a teen, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Now he was a man, with the muscle to back himself up, and he dared anyone to challenge his choices.
“I’m not a sell-out. Money isn’t the most important thing in life. That’s something you should try to remember if nothing else.” They reached the fence keeping out the spectators. “But then again you’re a businessman from the big smoke. You’re probably taught early on that money is greater than God.”
Marcus’s features set hard. “Actually no. You shouldn’t be so quick to judge others. You know nothing about me as a person, only that I represent Cavendish. It doesn’t mean I agree with their ideals. I have a life beyond nine to five.”
Tyler hadn’t expected him to talk back since he’d been quiet and accommodating until now. His passion amused Tyler. He backed the other man against the fence, eager to test his suspicions. Although Marcus was slightly taller than his six-foot-two frame, Tyler was thicker, more built. The city boy was all lean muscle, probably from working the gym, not hard work under the sun.
“So you don’t have a problem with gay men?” He braced an arm on either side of him, caging him in. Tyler wanted to watch him squirm, for him to take back what he said and admit he was no better than the bigots at Cavendish. Or something else…
Marcus swallowed hard, trying to lean away from him. “Of course not.”
“Really? It doesn’t disgust you that I fuck other men?”
The city boy kept silent, but held his gaze, which surprised him. Then Marcus shrugged, not giving him an answer one way or the other. The man was nice to look at, too nice. His soft waves of jet black hair, dark, narrow eyes, and thick, kissable lips were distracting. Tyler would love to spend the night exploring his body, teaching him every kind of erotic pleasure, but he wasn’t on the market. He never pushed his lifestyle on others—he didn’t have to. There weren’t too many nights he was forced to spend alone, although most of the cowboys he screwed around with lived two lives and demanded Tyler keep their sexuality a secret.
“I don’t judge others.”
“You’re a rarity then. Even I judge
by appearances without realizing it.” He had to fight back the urge to fix a lock of Marcus’s hair, to run the backs of his fingers along his strong jaw. “Like when I first saw you. I only saw the suit.”
“Fair enough. I suppose I expected an uneducated, middle-aged hick when I came out here.”
Tyler cocked an eyebrow. “And what do you think now that you’ve met me?” He gripped the wooden fence harder, trying to will away the swelling below his belt.
“My perception of cowboys has changed.”
“In what way?” Lord he wanted Marcus to spill it out, to admit there was something between them more than just two potential business associates. He could sense something deeper, something sensual, but wasn’t going to be the first one to say something.
“You take care of your body. You’re young. You’d look great on a billboard for Cavendish.” Marcus licked his lips. Was his breathing picking up?
“So you only see the potential profits when you look at me?”
“No. Maybe.” He shifted uneasily, pulling his briefcase higher as a partition between them.
Tyler felt disappointment assail him. “It’s one thing if you wanted to use me for my body—that I can handle. But when you want to use me to increase your bottom line, I don’t want any part of it.”
* * * *
Marcus had to keep his briefcase in front of his crotch to disguise his hard-on. He knew he wasn’t normal since before puberty, but continually fought what he knew was the truth. Maybe one day he’d wake up normal and desire women, not men. No such luck.
Wilder, Winona - Loving Tyler [Coming Out 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) Page 2
