“Not everyone finds love young. I’m still looking.” Irene rolled her eyes. “No excuse to round up your exes and take them out.”
The man who’d passed out was rolled out on a gurney.
“Someone said he was diabetic,” Ross added.
The paramedic nodded. “His sugar is too high. Insulin is onboard. We’ll get him to the hospital and balance it all out. IV fluids are already helping the dehydration.”
“We were being fed, but it was junk once a day. He tased one person a day just to keep up the terror,” said Jim.
“I never even dated him. He was just a customer at the store who flirted with me sometimes.” Deke rested his head on Jim’s shoulder.
“We are going to get all of your statements in detail, but first we want to get you seen medically. Baths, real food and clean clothes. We’re bringing bottled water while we wait for the bomb squad to unhook the rest of the explosives. The trigger is secured so it won’t be set off. We got the passed-out gentleman first. If anyone else has medical issues, please let us know so we can free you and get you an ambulance next,” Irene announced.
Ben and Ross started removing duct tape from mouths and handing out water bottles.
“No, you need to give your story,” Larry said to Ross.
“I need a few minutes with Ben first.” Ross looked around and realized there was a swarm of law enforcement. “You’ve got enough hands here.”
Ross grabbed Ben by the hand and led him back to his own room. It still gave Ross chills.
“You okay?” Ben hugged him tighter and kissed him hard now that they were alone.
Ross returned the kiss. “I’m okay. That guy was smart. He made me think.”
“You’re not going to kill me as an ex, are you?” Ben teased.
“I love you. I know we’ve been circling our feelings and juggling the case. We both made choices for our own reasons and there’s nothing wrong with that. But we’re lucky—we found each other as teens. I never stopped loving you and I won’t let you go ever again. Marry me,” Ross said.
“What?” Ben shook his head as he stared into Ross’ cool blue eyes. “You just went through crazy stress. You were a hostage. We’re not doing this now. I’m safe. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure out our relationship.”
“Not good enough. We’ll figure out where we’ll live so that we can both keep our jobs and look after your dad. But I’m not overreacting or crazy. I love you.” Ross knelt down.
Ben’s jaw dropped. “Ross, I love you too. I’ll figure it out with you, but this is an overreaction.”
Ross held his position. “I’m not moving.”
“You don’t even have a ring. This is a stress reaction. You’re panicking,” Ben explained.
Smiling, Ross shook his head. “I know it’s part stress-induced, but it’s real—the feelings and the desire are all real. Marty made me realize that we’re so damn lucky. He wanted what we had. That’s why we got roses. That crazy guy wanted to kill us because we have what he wants. I treated you like an option.”
“We both did. We both put other things ahead of us,” Ben corrected.
“And we both could’ve died. He could’ve killed me a dozen times in the last half an hour. I’m not taking anything for granted ever again. You least of all. Say yes. You want me to go ask for your dad’s blessing?” Ross teased.
“We’ll never get married then.” Ben broke down in laughter. “Fine, but I get to set the date.”
Ross stood and kissed Ben. “Thank you,” he whispered in his ear.
Ben nodded. “Don’t make me cry at a crime scene. We’re too macho for that.”
“Yes, dear.”
“And we’re both getting engagement rings,” Ben added.
Ross smiled like a fool.
Epilogue
Six months later
The engagement ring still felt weird on his finger, but Ben had given Ross every chance to get out of it. The stress of that night had left them both with the odd nightmare and a new appreciation of life—especially each other.
A lot had changed since the Rose Man had died. Ross and Ben had pinpointed nice neighborhoods in the middle of their jobs so the commute was reasonable for both. Selling Ross’ condo combined with Ben’s savings, they’d bought a nice home in a good area with room to grow.
As had become habit, Sunday lunch was now at Dad’s assisted living facility a few miles from their new house. Dad had his own apartment with panic buttons and options. He could eat in the dining hall or cook for himself. Same thing with his laundry—have it done or do it. The old man wasn’t rolling in money, but he had enough between his pension and social security.
Dad wasn’t a fan of cooking. They found him, as usual, in the dining hall joking with the guys and flirting with the widows.
Ross snickered every time. “He looks miserable.”
“My company wasn’t what he needed,” Ben admitted.
“No, he just needed access to funds and ladies. You both narrowed your world after your mom died. I won’t ever let that happen again.” Ross wrapped his arm around Ben’s neck.
“Ah, the suburban queers,” Dad said.
“Cut it out,” Ben warned.
“I can’t believe you’re both still wearing those rings.” Dad sat down.
He’d reserved a table for three. That was progress.
“Guess you don’t want your weekly stash?” Ross taunted.
“You want my blessing to marry him?” Dad countered.
Ben smiled at the familiar debate. “Dad, the wedding is happening. Deal with it. As long as he’s not bringing you cigarettes, I won’t fight that either.”
“I can’t imagine what he needs. We provide all the necessities, and take them shopping and plenty of excursions,” said one of the staff.
Dad smiled at her. “Some things are private.”
Ben glanced over at Ross, who just waved it off. “If you’re going to nag your son, nag him to set a date while you can still dance and bring a plus one.”
Dad perked up at that. “Ladies do like a wedding.”
“Is that your blessing?” Ben asked.
Sighing, Dad shrugged. “If you didn’t give up by now, I’m stuck with you. Ben could’ve done a lot worse. I’ll never understand it, but as long as you both wear tuxes and don’t expect me to give a toast or anything, I’ll be there and I won’t cause trouble.”
“Thanks,” Ben said.
“That was almost a compliment,” Ross added.
The waitress brought rolls to the table and poured the iced tea.
Snagging a roll, Dad proceeded to butter it. “I know it’s Ross sending around random inspections more than once a month. You’ve got them all worried as hell.”
Ben looked at his future hubby. “Really?”
“I had one case that involved elder abuse and nursing homes. They’re deathtraps, I’m telling you. This place is different, but that doesn’t mean I trust it to never have one bad employee or get a lazy or cheap manager. Don’t worry, old man, if you ever get bed-ridden, cameras are going in your room. No bed sores or neglect,” Ross said.
Dad bit into his roll. “Fine, Ben. You got a good one. But you two better get on it. Nearing thirty, no grandkids. Other people have pics of their grandkids all over. Me, nothing.”
Ben burst out laughing. “Who are you and what have you done to my father?”
“People talk. Cute grandkids impress the widows,” Dad said.
Ross grinned and slid a package next to Dad’s chair like Ben couldn’t see it.
* * * *
Heading home from the facility, Ross felt the triumph of wearing down a hater. Somehow, he’d won the approval of the old man.
“What was in that bag?” Ben asked.
“Are you sure you want to know?” Ross asked as he pulled the car into the garage.
They walked into the house and Ben caught Ross at the waist. “Yes, I want to know.”
“It’s
not cigarettes. I’d never,” Ross said.
“Then what? Why wouldn’t he ask me?” Ben pressed.
Ross inhaled deeply. “Some chocolates, lube packets and a big pack of condoms. Strawberry-flavored lube, if you were curious. Special request.”
Ben shook his head. “Lube? No, I wasn’t curious. I don’t want to know. Now we know why he never complains.”
“I guess there are a lot of lonely widows there. Lube isn’t just for anal—your dad made that very clear, too. He’s cooperating better with the docs, too, which is improving his prognosis. You might have someone to give you away,” Ross teased.
“I’m not the bride,” Ben shot back.
“You look better in white. With those big brown eyes and country tan.” Ross reached for Ben’s belt.
Ben pushed him away playfully. “I agreed to a white tux, but I’m not being given away.”
“Fine. But no procession. It’s just weird,” Ross relented. “Have you figured out a date yet? I’m free any day or time for this.”
“We have to pick a venue and see what they have open. Valentine’s day is a no,” Ben said.
“No, thanks. That’s when we hunker down at home and watch sappy romance movies so we don’t think about that case ever again.” Ross tensed.
Ben moved in and kissed him hard. “Right. Maybe we can do my dad’s birthday, so he thinks it’s about him?”
“Whatever you want.” Ross laughed.
“I hope you didn’t give him all the condoms.” Ben pulled up Ross’ shirt and licked a trail up his hairy chest.
Ross smiled. “Do we really need them? We both got tested and are clean. A little lube is all it takes.”
Ben kissed up Ross’ neck. “Promise me it’s not strawberry.”
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How to Catch a Cowboy:
The Long Ride
Cheryl Dragon
Excerpt
Sitting on the rails waiting for his ride, Lucas Burr watched the opening fun. He owned a quarter of the rodeo that had put Burrwood, Texas, on the map…at least the rodeo map. The stands needed to be full and the crowd happy—not for his ego, but for the rodeo.
His mom rode into the grand opening, leading the little kids’ rodeo group for parents to cheer. Burrwood Rodeo was known for being overly safe with the kids’ events. They took place earlier in the day and with more safety than required.
The announcer whipped up the crowd into gushing over the kids and how they ranked in their events. Lucas couldn’t help but grin. That had been him once, only he’d traveled around Texas with his dad competing against guys older than himself. The prize money had helped keep the family ranch going. He liked being around smart and daring men and the adrenaline was a rush every time.
“If that isn’t the finest set of rodeo kids in Texas, just ask Miss Betsy and she’ll tell you. Thanks, Betsy Burr and the rodeo kids of Burrwood!” the announcer shouted.
Betsy waved to the crowd. The other rodeo riders cheered too. Burrwood Rodeo was also known for its family atmosphere, even with plenty of young bachelor riders. Lucas hated policing the ones who got drunk early or were a bit too handsy. Some men didn’t have any respect anymore, but this was Texas and, thirty or sixty, Lucas wouldn’t stand for it. But after what Lucas had done to one drunk cowboy who disrespected his mother, the other cowboys minded their manners.
“Ready?” the old goat asked.
Lucas turned and nodded to his manager, Greg Simon, who looked very much like an old goat. Long white beard, always chewing tobacco, and wiry and nimble.
“Another day, another ride.” Lucas shrugged it off. “Attendance is up. Kids’ group is bigger than ever. We’re newer than most but we’re attracting more riders and bigger crowds.”
“I told you, safety. People like a scary fall now and then—a little drama just like a crash at NASCAR—but most of the falls are harmless, just like a spin-out at the races. When it comes to the kids, they like their children’s program extensive but extra safe and run by rodeo moms.” Greg nodded.
“You were right from the start there.” Lucas liked his mom running something and she loved the cheering crowd and attention. He hadn’t worried too much about it at the beginning, because of course they kept the kids super-safe. But last year one creepy employee out at an East Texas rodeo had been found dead after being accused of touching a rodeo kid.
The guy hadn’t made it to jail—he hadn’t made it out of the rodeo once the parents had heard about it. People thought horses and bulls could kick—pissed-off parents were the most dangerous thing. Taking matters into their own hands might shock some people but not true Texans.
“Keep an eye on Mom and who she lets volunteer.” Lucas looked at Greg. Mama listened better to Greg when it came to business chats.
“Sure enough, but it’s only the moms and she’s got plenty willing.” Greg chuckled.
“Safe? I want us to be the Texas standard,” Lucas insisted.
Greg sighed. “Adults make their own choices and earn a bigger purse for bigger risk, but we run safe. Having paramedics and an ambulance always on site makes it so much easier for sponsors to buy in. Lowers the insurance. We look like pros, not hicks.” Greg spat chew on the ground. He was crowing over his suggestions.
Lucas shook his head. “Only in Texas are you a professional.”
Greg gently punched Lucas’ shoulder. “I’ve known you since you were ten. Your daddy taught you to ride and rope. I taught him how to make the most money at it. Respect your elders.”
Grinning, Lucas nodded. “I do, and I know I pay you enough to trim your beard and get a haircut. Any new ideas for the rodeo?”
“I’m getting trendy. Growing my hair out for a manbun next,” Greg joked.
A few guys looked over and snickered.
“I believe you’re joking, but the fact that you know what that is worries me,” Lucas replied.
“Rodeo is hot. Cowboys are a trend. Leather, rope and tight jeans. Ladies love ya. Men want to be you. We need to get videos up more. Not just fan stuff, but tape our events professionally and get interviews. Sell pictures of you guys,” Greg said.
“Banged up and bruised? Smelling like horse sweat or manure? Sure,” another guy commented.
Lucas wasn’t discounting the idea, but it was more for outsiders than the fans who paid to get in. “Video ain’t got smell to it. We can talk about it later,” he said to Greg.
The announcer boomed over everyone else. “First ride of the night is Tim Hayes. Tim is a Burrwood native who works as a firefighter when he’s not riding. Let’s see how long he can stay on his bull.”
The buzzer blared and the gates opened. Tim and Lucas had grown up together in the rodeo circuit, always competing and always friends.
“You got it, Tim,” Lucas called.
“You’re up next. Be safe.” Greg moved away.
They loaded the bull, snorting and stomping, into the chute. Lucas mentally prepped himself. The zone was his old friend. Just him and the bull, no crowd or anyone else. Certainly no thoughts about his mama watching. He’d been hurt so many times over the years that he knew it was mind over matter.
Broken bones would heal, bruises went away and drinking a few beers was better than getting hooked on painkillers. He refused to think about his dad except to know he was up there, looking out for him. Lucas blocked out that one wrong kick to the chest. His dad had ridden too long and his reaction time hadn’t been what it was, according to Mama. The helpers in the ring hadn’t been fast enough to distract the bull that day either. That was what Lucas remembered then blocked out.
That day would haunt him until he died, and he knew it.
The crowd cheered and Lucas looked up. Tim fell off and hopped back to his feet, letting the staff distract the bull while Tim flashed the crowd a big smile as he made it to safety.
“Nice ride,” Lucas said.
Tim nodded and clapped Lucas on the back. “
Good luck.”
Everything was right, boots to hat, as Lucas climbed on. He closed his eyes. This wasn’t a fight. It was a challenge to join that animal for a short time, to feel the world through its power and raw nature. The bull snorted and kicked out its back legs hard, then its rear right leg on the rails.
“Easy, you’ll get to toss me soon,” Lucas teased.
The buzzer went off and Lucas relaxed his body but gripped the rope on the bull as the shoot opened. It was a fluid state that got his body jacked around like a nasty car crash. Greg’s analogy was right. The key to less injury was not to tense up.
The bull jerked right, over and over. Lucas adjusted his body and anticipated the move. Then it changed to a full kicking and bucking front to back, normally a horse move.
Lucas shifted and held on, but the bull shifted too and shook side to side while stomping. The complicated pattern made Lucas tense up for a second and that was all it took. He felt himself lose his seat so he let go of the rope, or he’d be dragged and trampled.
The helpers ran out while Lucas tried to tuck and roll, but the rump caught him. Better that than a hoof, but it threw him off his calculated fall and laid him flat out on his back with a hell of a lot of pain.
His hat flew away as his head hit the dirt.
* * * *
Jack Gable liked his routines, from the early morning runs to Monday-night grocery stock-up and Wednesday mix-it-up night with a couple of friends at Rainbow Rose, the only bar in Burrwood that dared to do things that weren’t heteronormative.
Being gay, out and single in a tiny Texas town wasn’t easy, and Jack’s mother repeatedly tried to talk him into moving back to Dallas. As he parked his old pickup outside the physical therapy office attached to the Burrwood long-term care home, Jack wondered what kept him here. He’d come when his uncle had been hurt and refused to comply with PT. He’d moved here, got a job and worked with his uncle until he was back at work. Life moved a tad slower here and Jack stayed as though something here was meant for him…but he was getting lonely.
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