Rusty said, “But you guys made it work. With Will too.”
“We’re all stubborn as hell. Even our Will. So yeah, we did. You can too. Just don’t blow off Cross’s worries like they’re nothing. Treat ’em as real.”
“Yeah,” Scott agreed. “Real enough to shoot down, smash flat, and bury deep— mmph,” he finished as Casey leaned over and kissed him.
Casey said, “Tell you what, Rusty. Go ask Will if you can practice your massage on him. That man’s shoulder could use it. I have a conversation I want to have with Scotty.”
Conversation. Uh-huh.But they were letting him live in their house since the bunkhouse was full, and there was only so much sound-muffling even solid oak doors could do. Since Scott had come home from the playoffs, Rusty had been treated to morethan one audio porn show. Scott was loud. “I’ll go, um, talk to Will,” he volunteered, hauling himself up off the couch.
Scott flapped a hand in his direction as goodbye, since he was being ruthlessly kissed again.
Rusty took himself off out the door, making sure it latched tight, and moseyed on down to the barn. He found Will cleaning a saddle in the tack room. Rusty got a glance, a nod, and a thumb pointed toward a waiting bridle. The silence suited him. He pulled up a stool, dipped a sponge in the bucket, and began wiping the green grot out from around the bit.
The rhythm of the work was comforting. Just two guys putting in some elbow grease, with the pleasant scent of horses and leather and saddle soap. He finished the bridle, hung it on its hook, and moved on to the next one. After a while, he asked, “Don’t you have underlings to do this for you, Will?”
“Lookin’ at one now.” Will gave him a sideways smile.
Rusty laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Sometimes I like to do old familiar chores.” Will’s weathered rancher’s hands moved in a steady rhythm over the saddle.
“Me too.”
They worked on in silence until Will said, “You come here for somethin’ or just the fun of cleaning leather?”
“Casey kind of kicked me out. In a good way. I think he was about to drag Scott up to bed.”
“I hope they don’t break another lamp gettin’ there.” Will’s smile looked fond.
“Does it bother you that they didn’t call you to come join in?”
“Nah. Casey and I had a lot of one-on-one time while Scott was off playing hockey. It’s good for them to reconnect. I get my share.”
“Do you ever get jealous?”
“Not so much anymore.” Will shot him a look. “Used to, some. Maybe wistful, as much as jealous. Like, I couldn’t see what the two of them wanted in an older stringbean cowboy who wasn’t the packed dynamite those two are in bed. By now, I believe I belong in the mix. Sometimes dynamite needs a bit of softening around the edges.” He snorted. “Ack, that’s a terrible description. There’s a reason I don’t talk about this stuff.”
“I appreciate it.”
“You and Cross having difficulties?”
“Just figuring ourselves out. I hope.” Rusty dodged the real issues by saying, “I think he’s jealous of Ayden. Which is stupid. Ayden’s not close to my type.”
“Ayden’s pretty, gotta admit that. And you’re the same age.”
“I’m not into guys my age.”
Will hefted the saddle up onto a peg and took down another. “So tell Cross that. Keep sayin’ it. Scott had to work to convince me, at first.”
“Shouldn’t the older guy do some of the convincing too?” Rusty wasn’t sure about being the one doing all the chasing. What if Cross had changed his mind about getting caught? What if dealing with an ignorant young guy with strong sexual drives was too much work? He had the feeling Cross wasn’t good about saying no to people. He hadn’t mentioned Willow much, but Rusty had the impression Cross had tried a lot harder to pleaseher than the reverse. He didn’t want to pressure Cross into a relationship.
“Sure he should. Nothing’s all one way. But sometimes with us older dudes, you gotta watch what we’re doing as much as what we’re sayin’.”
Like flying all the way out here to see me.Although that was before the sex and the talk. Rusty put his head in his hands. “Fuck. I just don’t know.”
“Only bit of advice I’ve got is talk to him. That’s kindado what I say, not what I do, because talkin’s never been my good thing. Don’t make it wrong, though.”
“I know,” Rusty muttered into his saddle-soapy palms. “You’re right.”
