Page 13 of A Cowboy Holiday
The odd part was that I hadn’t looked twice at another man in over twenty years. Christ, that had been another lifetime.
Once upon a time, my bisexuality had been a well-guarded secret, necessary for survival in a small conservative town. The diligent son, the high school athlete who dreamed of being a pro football player like every other kid in Texas, the gifted student with a scholarship to a fancy college in Boston—that guy couldn’t have been queer. No chance.
But I could barely remember that kid. Not many folks did. I was someone else now. Someone who had the freedom to be as loud, out, and proud as my heart desired. Not here, though. This was work.
I needed to snap the fuck out of it and quit gawking at him. But let me tell you, it wasn’t easy.
Tanner was always around, and while I wanted to be annoyed, I wasn’t. I looked forward to seeing him and hearing his low, melodic voice.
And I didn’t mind Tanner’s anecdotal stories about the animals, his friends, or the distributor who’d messed up a shipment of vitamins and sent Viagra instead.
He’d laughed, deep and rumbly.
My lips had twitched without my permission, and I’d had to respond. “In all fairness, sildenafil is an active ingredient in Viagra.”
“Yeah, but this wasthelittle blue pill. And lots of them,” Tanner had huffed.
“Hmph. What’d you do with them?”
“We kept them. If you ever have any trouble getting a hard-on, you know who to call.” He immediately scrunched his face in a move I’d only seen Phoebe pull off. “Shit. That sounded…bad.”
“Real bad,” I’d agreed, but I’d chuckled…or made a noise that had resembled a chuckle, anyway.
Tanner, on the other hand, had guffawed outright, an unfettered and joyful sound.
Fuck…this wasn’t good.
And it was something every damn day.
Breezy conversations about nothing of consequence, silly banter offset by a keen regard for the animals and his employees.
Try as I might, I couldn’t help admiring the cocky jut of his hips, his muscular thighs, and the curve of his ass.
And there he was again…fifteen feet away—posed like a model forCowboy Livingwith his hands on his hips as he leaned on the fence. His scuffed boots, worn jeans, and dusty Stetson hinted at a long day in the fields. Like it or not, I fucking noticed him in a way that had nothing to do with cattle, horses, goats, pigs, or chickens.
Tanner was smiling as usual, joking around with Lou as if he had all the time in the world, and—now he was laughing, his chin tipped skyward, revealing a strong neck and appealing scruff. The hum of awareness stirred in me again and?—
Hudson snapped his fingers in front of my face with a laugh. “You all right? You zoned out.”
I grunted. “I just got distracted for a second. Is he always so…cheery?”
He glanced over at Lou and Tanner and snickered. “Yep. They both are, actually, but all Lou wants to talk about is golf. Did he tell you about the time he shot a bogey at Pebble Beach?”
“More than once.”
Hudson smacked my shoulder companionably. “He might be telling that story again, and Tanner happens to be the perfect audience.”
“Perfect audience for what?” Tanner asked, appearing out of nowhere.
Hudson and I jumped on cue.
“Holy crap. Quit sneaking around,” Hudson chided.
Tanner rolled his eyes and shared Lou’s recommendation regarding Buttermilk’s bout with a gastrointestinal illness. “She usually helps move cattle, but she should sit this one out. Do you agree, Axel?”
Damn, he was standing close. Too close. His aftershave tickled my nose and I could feel that smile, even with my gaze trained on Moses’s front right hoof.
I grunted. “Yeah. Good call.”