Kris hefted her saddle onto Congo’s back. “You ever think professional hockey sucks?”
“No.”
“Stupid jock.”
“Band bitch.”
They grinned at each other as they tightened girths and bridled their rested horses, before heading out to check on the first-calf heifers.
As they noted the ear tags of a few heifers whose calves looked underweight, Rusty had time as he worked to think about him and Cross. Also Cross and sex, and unhelpful urban dictionary definitions. Kris was right. He needed to man up and talk to Cross about sex. Which was not Rusty’s forte. In the past, he’d gone with the flow when he hooked up. If a guy wanted to suck or be sucked, or fuck or be fucked, Rusty was onboard. It was all good, unless the guy was a douche like Tyler.
He’d never cared enough to ask for something different.What do I want with Cross?The simple but not useful answer was “more,” but he wasn’t deluded enough to think he could say that to Cross and sit back and have perfect sex happen like magic.
Rusty decided it wasn’t even about the sex, really. He’d come as hard as he ever had, just by Cross bossing him around and the touch of his own hand. It was touch he wanted. Like, some kind of affirmation that he was more a partner than a toy.
Except if he told Cross he felt like a toy, Cross might cut off the phone sex and that would be a crying shame. With Rusty the one doing the crying. “Toy” wasn’t quite the right word anyhow.
His thoughts were still in a muddled knot as they rode into the barnyard with the sun low over the hills and saw an unfamiliar car. On the circle drive by the big house, a long black limo stood parked, with a uniformed driver leaning against the door.
“What?” Rusty muttered to Kris. “Did Scott get delusions of grandeur?”
“Not Scott.” Kris pointed.
And there,fuck! That was Cross in a wheelchair, sitting in a patch of sun close to the bunkhouse. “He’s here?” Rusty blinked hard.
Kris held out her hand. “Give me Misty. I’ll get her put away. Go talk to him.”
A real cowboy should take care of the horse first?But Cross was right there, and Kris was offering. Rusty vaulted off and passed his reins over. “Thanks. I owe you bigtime.”
“Go get your man.”
Rusty jogged down the little hill toward Cross, as Kris turned for the barn leading Misty behind Congo. Best friend and horses vanished from Rusty’s brain as he approached the man in the wheelchair waiting for him. “Hey. What’re you doing here?”
Cross dropped his gaze. “Came to see you, if that’s okay.”
Rusty hadn’t meant to sound accusing. “Hell, yeah, that’s okay. That’s great! I just never figured you would.”
“I thought…” Cross looked up. “Well, I had a shitty twenty-four hours, and the best thing in them was you. So I thought, what’s the good of having a ton of money if I can’t spend some of it on myself now and then? The family jet was available, so I made some calls and checked myself out, and here I am.”
“Checked yourself out of rehab? Is that smart?”
“Not forever. I have two more weeks there. Just a vacation. I decided I was entitled.”
“For sure.” Rusty wanted to grab Cross and kiss him, but there were too many people around. Not just the chauffeur eyeing them across the roof of the limo, but Lewis and Joe, riding in from their own afternoon chores. Nita, coming out of the big house talking to someone on the phone. Kris, who’d paused by the barn, looking back with curiosity she didn’t bother to hide.
“We should go… somewhere.” He scanned the buildings, some with steps, some with people. “This way.” The equipment shed was deserted and had a ramped concrete slab to get inside. He beckoned and led Cross across the gravel. Cross propelled the chair, which seemed to be a manual one and not his fancy electric. Rusty knew better than to help and the excellent biceps straining Cross’s blue Henley said he had the upper body strength not to need any assistance.
Rusty hauled the shed door open for them, then pulled it shut behind Cross. The late sunshine through the small windows laid a gold light over the dusty hay baler and other parked equipment.
Cross pivoted his chair, looking around. “Don’t think I’ve been in here before. Classy choice.”
“Glad you like it.” Rusty stepped closer, then asked, “Can I, um?”
“What?”
“Kiss you?”
“Please.” Cross reached for him.
