Stetsons and Stakeouts

by BA Tortuga

  “Y’all haven’t met him?” he asked Hank and Mr. Franklin.

  “We have, sure. He ain’t here much. He ain’t a cowboy, really. This was his momma’s land.”

  “Ah.” He had fond memories of a weekend spent with an Italian once down at Padre. The man had been all mysterious and hot. “Well, I’ll step careful.”

  “Good enough.” Hank rose, and suddenly everyone was loading the dishwasher and talking about TV.

  “Night, fellas.”

  “Night, Bonner.” They all waved and/or nodded at him, and he headed out to… hell, he didn’t know. Make Bri feel special, he guessed. Was there a dessert? Maybe he could have dessert and play cribbage with her. They’d played hours and hours of cribbage on many a New Year’s Eve as kids. Bri was vicious. Just vicious.

  He headed back to the foreman’s house, a little wistful about having to leave the bunkhouse. There was camaraderie there, and he felt like he was going it alone. Bri had her own problems, so he didn’t want to tell her how damn freaked-out he was.

  And he was. Maybe if he’d had a few weeks before the owner showed up….

  But no. No, he was supposed to meet with him in a couple of days with his “report.” What report? You got cows. Horses. Couple of dogs.

  As long as nothing burned down or got sick, what was there to report?

  God, don’t let anything catch on fire. Nothing.

  He stepped into the house—his house. “Hey, honey, I’m home.”

  “Dork.”

  “The cowboys say I need to make you feel special.”

  Bri waved a spoon at him. “Maria brought banana pudding. I feel special. Are they nice? The cowboys?”

  “They seem to be. Three youngish ones, two older.”

  “Yeah? Are any of them cute?”

  He stared at her a moment, long enough she blushed. Then he went to get pudding. “You’re pregnant with a biker’s twins, and they all think you’re my wife. I would lie low.” He’d have to fire someone who felt comfortable seducing the foreman’s pseudo-wife.

  “Shut up.” She ate more pudding. “You’re so mean.”

  “Bri….”

  “What? I’m not going looking. I’m the size of a cruise ship in Galveston.”

  “Maybe one of the river ones…,” he teased.

  “A barge. That’s it. The size of a barge. Come sit a minute?” Oh man, she had to be feeling totally out of sorts. He took his bowl so he could sit in the recliner across from her.

  “You okay?”

  “Bored. Scared a little. They moved. I mean, I think. I think they moved.”

  “Is that a first?” He blinked at her belly.

  “Uh-huh. They’re real.”

  “Yeah? Is it scary?”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and she put a hand on her belly. “Yes? And no. I’m gonna be a momma.”

  “You are. And you’re going to be fucking stunning.” And if the babies came out with goatees or slitted eyes, well, they’d call a priest. Or Momma.

  “Am I? What if I end up like our mother?”

  “Then I’ll have you deprogrammed.”

  She laughed, the quacking duck sound of surprise. “Good. I can do better than that.”

  “You will. You’ll love them and take care of them. I know it.” She was a bit of a dork, but she was a decent person and had a good heart.

  “Thanks, Bubba. I’m trying not to be scared.”

  “You want to play cribbage? That’s easy, fun.” Not scary.

  “Please! I brought the travel board with us.” She just beamed.

  “At the table or here?” He was easy.

  “I’d rather stay here. Those table chairs are hard.”

  “I’ll get some cushions once I get paid.”

  “Yeah? That would rock. Seriously.”

  “Butt pillows ahoy.”

  He laughed, trying hard not to freak out in a vast, serious way.

  Bonner took a deep, deep breath before going to get the board. It could only get better from here.

  Chapter Nine

  GIANNI HATED morning meetings. Especially when he was on the ranch, because that had always been vacation to him, time to sleep in and hot tub.

  Instead, he had to meet with this new foreman Jerilyn had hired. Then he had brunch with Xavvy. Dinner at Chris’s tonight. He’d never been so socially busy in Texas.

  He really just wanted to be a laze.

  He dressed in his Armani, leaving the tie and the cufflinks off but keeping the jacket. God, if he had to dress like this every day, he needed to keep the AC at fifty-five. He was sweating like a whore in church already, and he hadn’t left the house. Moving to his office, he waited for Maria to show the kid in. She’d scowled at him and said, “Housekeeper, not butler.”

  That was a grand idea. Getting a butler. Someone sexy and English and insufferable. He could just see the guy looking down his long nose at Luis….

  The knock on the door came right on time, and he barked, “Entra.”

  “Mornin’, sir.” The door opened, offering him a backlit visual of a straw hat, broad shoulders, tiny waist and ass, bowed legs. His favorite kind of—

  The cowboy stepped into the light, and Gianni’s eyes widened. He knew that face, those blue eyes. Jesus. He’d spent a sweaty, spanky weekend with this guy in Padre six years ago.

  He still had some really good dreams about it.

  Fuck. Fuck. He schooled his face. He was older now, coiffed. Not some shaggy stud in Speedos. This was his job—to be someone else every assignment.

  “Come in,” he repeated in English. “Have a seat.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Bonner Fannin nodded once, then perched on the chair before the desk.

  “My aunt did not tell me you were so young.” He deepened his accent to sound more Italian.

  “Yeah, she took a chance with me. She was real kind.”

  “She is.” He studied Bonner, whose head was down, eyes on the floor. Did the man even remember all that acrobatic wonderment?

  Surely he did. They had turned each other inside out; he had touched Bonner deep. Hell, he hadn’t known cowboys could be that flexible.

  He bit back a grin. “So, you think you’re up to this challenge?”

  “Yessir. I can manage. I can follow directions, and you got a good team.” He remembered that scar that cut from the corner of Bonner’s lip to his jaw. The guy was a bull rider. He had abs for days….

  “Bene. I want someone who can go between my aunt and the hands, sì? She is not getting younger, and I want her to have more time.”

  “Yes, sir. I will take care of it. Is there anything specific you want me to focus on?”

  He wanted to say “my dick” just to see what Bonner would do. Instead he only smiled, knowing he looked like an Italian shark. “Just the day-to-day realities of the ranch. She shouldn’t have to order feed or schedule the farrier.”

  “One of the new hands is a farrier. Even if we still call someone in, that will be a big help.”

  Oh, who had that skill? Someone was being sneaky. “Mr. Clarins has been the farrier for years, so I would not want to deny him the work, but having someone on the staff is a good idea.”

  “Of course. The previous foreman left lists.”

  That sounded ominous. Gianni didn’t even know who the previous foreman was. “Have you met with my aunt to make sure those are all correct?”

  “Not yet. She scheduled me for tomorrow.” Bonner did smile a little now. “She had bingo today.”

  “Bingo.” He let himself sound disdainful, but it was really jealousy. That had to be more fun than work. And it looked like Bonner liked Jerilyn, while he wouldn’t even admit he knew Gianni. Not that Gianni was going to admit he remembered Bonner. Not one bit.

  He leaned back in his chair, stretching, and Bonner’s eyes slid right down his body.

  Oh, Bonner remembered him. The flush on those lean cheeks when Bonner glanced up told him that and—Gianni frowned.

  “
I hear your wife is going to have twins.”

  “That’s the rumor.”

  He blinked, then tilted his head. This man was not into girls, and he knew it. “Well, I wish you luck, hmm? Have you anything to report?”

  “The new horses are getting settled. Every one of them looks good. We have twelve more head of cattle now than we did at last count. Barns are solid.”

  “Is Buck still about?”

  “Yessir. He is. Eleven years old, healthy, and Mr. Franklin says he’s a favorite. I brushed him myself this morning and took him out.”

  “Good. That’s good.” He was all nostalgic all of a sudden. “Make sure he’s available Saturday, per favore.”

  “Of course. Do you have tack you prefer?”

  “I do. Either of the older hands should be able to show you.” He assumed his tack was being cared for and not rotting.

  “Sure. No problem. Someone will have it checked and ready for you.”

  “Thank you.” What else could they talk about? Gianni was just… staring. “I think that will be all for today.”

  “Yessir. Have a good day. Holler if you need anything.” Bonner was up and zooming out of there like his ass was on fire. Then Gianni was doing the same, except he was racing up the stairs to the garage apartment and barging right in. Colt knew better than to lock it.

  Colt was sitting back, feet up, grinning at him like a gold-plated asshole.

  “I want everything you have on him.”

  “Everything?” Colt was laughing at him.

  “I will beat you, you shit.” Gianni’s hands flexed.

  “Don’t create a hostile work environment, now.”

  “Honey, you haven’t seen hostile.” He unbent enough to grin, though, then threw himself into the extra chair by Colt’s desk. “Everything.”

  “So, Mr. Fannin is a rodeo cowboy—roughstock—not doing half bad. Not ever going to be a celebrity, but he’s not broke-dick. Rumor is he’s never once dated, but suddenly he’s here with a”—Colt made air quotes—“wife.”

  “Who is she?” She had to be a relative. Or a girl a relative had knocked up.

  “Sister. Nineteen with a GED and a job history as a waitress. Pretty little girl. Expecting twins. Mother’s a busker in New Orleans. Father died of cancer twenty years ago. Neither Brianna or Bonner have student loans, significant debts, criminal history, nothing.”

  “Any idea who the daddy really is?” He didn’t need a pissed-off cowboy knocking down doors at the ranch right now.

  “I got nothing. She was in the Arlington area, but she doesn’t have so much as a fake ID.”

  “Gotcha.” He sighed, sitting back in the chair until it creaked. “You might as well know. I had a fling with this guy years ago. I was at Padre after I finished a case.”

  “No shit? Was he any good? He’s got a sweet ass.”

  “It was kinda stunning.” A little flash of jealousy surprised him. “And you stay away from that ass.”

  “You don’t get to call dibs, man. I could peg the boss. How hot is that?”

  “I’m the boss.” He stared that little fucker down. “No pegging.” Gianni wasn’t afraid to push his power around a little.

  “No fair, culling the herd. I like pegging. So, what are the deets? He had to be a baby, you perv.”

  “I know.” Gianni shrugged. “I was a lot younger too, damn it.” He chuckled, though, because Bonner had been legal, but way younger than Gianni had known.

  “So he’s playing it like he doesn’t remember you?”

  “Yeah. To his credit, I did the same thing.”

  “Fair enough. What do you want me to do?”

  “Figure out why he’s lying. You don’t pretend to be your sister’s husband for fun.”

  “True. Okay, baby daddy hunt and deep friend search.”

  “Good deal.” Gianni stood. “I have to meet one of the locals for brunch.”

  “The Spec Ops guy. Want his intel?”

  Bitch. He sank back into the chair. “Yeah, lay it on me.”

  “Black Ops—very hush-hush, seen a lot of live action. Not the most innocent man on earth. His karma equals mine. Honorable discharge. Took ten bullets. Survived it. Has been in the drunk tank here a dozen times. A few arrests for d and d, tearing up bars.”

  “I take it Chris has handled it all without court dates and fines?” That would be just like Chris, not letting the guy hang out to dry.

  “Appears so. Yeah. So your buddy, Xavier, is like some scary biker dude now. Impressive.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s queer too. You’re welcome to try to peg that.”

  “I bet he can tear a guy’s dick off with his asshole muscles.”

  Gianni barked out a laugh. “I bet he can. I’ll ask.”

  “Wear a wire so I can hear his answer.”

  “No.” He got up again. “I’ll give you a blow by blow when I get back.”

  “It can be a little wire.”

  “Colt.” He gave Colt a stern look and got an innocent smile in return. “Be good. I need Xavvy to trust me.”

  “You’re no fun. Holler if you change your mind.” Colt waggled his eyebrows.

  “I will. But I won’t.”

  GIANNI WENT upstairs to dress down a tiny bit, choosing dark jeans and a silk shirt instead of the Armani. Then he headed to town to meet Xavvy at Herschel’s diner. He walked in and damn near swallowed his tongue when he saw Xavvy. Jesus. Beaded beard, pierced lip, ink—wow.

  Kinda sexy as hell.

  Xavvy stood, waving him over to a booth. “Hey, Caesar! Long time no see.”

  “Look at you. All biker chic.” He shook hands before settling into the booth.

  “I know. I’m a stud. And you’re all coiffed and shit. Not bad.”

  “You should have seen my morning meeting.” He grabbed the menu Xavvy handed him. “What are you having?”

  “Coffee and a burrito. You?”

  “Well, they do have a royal breakfast, but I think I’ll go with the Benedict.” It came redneck style, with biscuits and gravy.

  “Sounds good. So, you liking it? I mean, being home.”

  “Shit, man, I haven’t had time to know.” He studied Xavvy. “Are you already working? You can tell me.”

  “I’m trying to get in with the local gang. I ain’t got time to play wannabe, though, so I’m getting an invite from an old friend in Kansas City. A rec from the Angels ought to do it.”

  “Okaaay. Did that start before or after I called you. Coffee, please,” he told the server.

  “After, of course.”

  “Uh-huh.” Bullshit. He smiled his thanks when the server brought coffee and water as well as cream. “The East-Texas Benedict, please.”

  “My regular, Alice,” Xavvy said.

  “Look at you. A regular at Herschel’s.”

  “That’s me. Good old biker boy extraordinaire.”

  “Weird.” He winked but shrugged it off. “How are you, man? Really.”

  “Bored out of my fucking mind. I ain’t meant for retirement.”

  “No, I bet not. Okay, so be my in with the gang. That works. I’ve been okayed to pay you.”

  “Fair enough.” Xavvy grinned at him. “Poor little rich boy. Look at you.”

  “What?” He looked down at himself. “Lord of the manor. I’ll be at Chris’s for supper too.”

  “Assfucker.” Xavvy’s dark eyes flashed. Oh ho!

  “What’s with you two, anyway?” Gianni asked. “I mean, he’s dragging you into the station weekly.”

  “He’s showing his muscles, that’s all.”

  “Are they good muscles?” he teased. He needed to know the lay of the land with these two so he didn’t have a meltdown on his hands midcase.

  Xavvy glared at him. “What did he say to you?”

  “Well, I know you said it was all a lie, but I think he’s worried about you.” There. That was diplomatic, right?

  “Yeah. Whatever. I was drunk.”

  “Xavvy, it’s one th
ing to play a role; it’s another to be out of control.”

  “Look, I came on to him. It won’t happen again, okay?”

  Ah. Oh damn. With Chris being the acting sheriff until elections, that could be disastrous. “That sucks, man. I’m sorry.”

  “I was drunk and stupid. No big. He fed me his fist. I understood.”

  “I get it.” He didn’t. Gianni had never come on to someone who hadn’t said yes. Xavvy was… well, even biker chic he was hot. “You know it’s just the situation. He has to be very careful.”

  “Yeah. Drop it. It won’t happen again.”

  “Got it.” Gianni shook it off. “It’s weird, being here.”

  “That we can agree on. It’s fucking odd.”

  “Yeah.” They stared at each other for a moment before cracking up just like they used to in high school.

  “God, you’re a giant dipshit. Seriously. Still. I’ve missed you.” Xavvy was always good at being honest.

  “Ditto. How’s your folks?”

  “Mama’s all ‘Mijo! Your leg! Mijo, you can’t do that.’ You know?”

  Yeah, Xavvy’s mama was crazy protective. It was why Xavier had left in the first place, going into the military to get his adrenaline rush. “How bad is it?”

  “Mama?”

  “The leg, asshole.”

  “I’m never going to be in a kick line.” Xavvy winked, but there were lines around that fine mouth, around those eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me too, but what are you going to do? I was going to retire and move to the Bahamas.”

  “And do what? Drug trafficking?” He grinned huge this time.

  “I’d be good at that, don’t you think?”

  “You would. Are you self-medicating?” Gianni watched Xavvy closely. “I need you on the ball. No suicide by biker gang.”

  “Fuck off, Gianni. I’m sharper than any of the fake cowboys you have. Also, tell your tech that he needs to watch his background checks. We’re not all hicks.”

  “He wants to meet you.” Might make Chris jealous at that. That was a terrible, wonderful idea.

  “Bring it on. I can come over to do something around the place. Tile work.”

  “Oh, I like it. Actually, there’s some grout needs redoing.” He wanted to see what Colt thought of Xavvy. Not just in a sexual way.