Page 31 of Brett and Rowdy (Gomillion High Reunion #5)

Once they got outside the fenced area and into the ranch proper, he reached out, and Dad let him tuck his fingers into the crook of his arm.

“Come on, let’s hit it.” Dad led him down to the rattle and hum of the little four-wheeler.

“You want to ride, Mr. Mann? You want to go see your dad?” He slid into one of the seats and patted the back, laughing as the hound answered with a happy howl.

“That dog is something else. Come on, babies!” Dad’s little demons hopped in too, and then they were off like their asses were on fire.

Dad loved to drive, to put the gas on and see if the shepherds could keep up. The hot wind felt like heaven on his cheeks and neck, and the scent of the sand and sage was as familiar and welcome as the flowers in May.

They roared on down to the old forge, and the smoke was strong and new—there was wood, sure, but Rowdy could almost taste the iron on the back of his tongue, and that flavor, that sensation?

That was Brett. Down to the core.

“He’s really got this old thing working, doesn’t he?” Dad’s voice rang with something between awe and surprise.

“He does.” Brett had been determined, passionate even. “I know he said he had to repair the trough, but everything else was pretty solid. He just had to clean out the chimney areas and order some supplies.”

Rowdy tilted his head, the clang of metal on metal catching his attention. The rhythm was strong and steady, almost enough to dance to, and all of the sudden, he ached to actually see Brett striking the hot, glowing metal with the hammer.

He needed to watch those muscles clench and release, to watch that strong body, which had been formed by hours and hours of lifting that heavy hammer over and over, sweat pouring down his lover’s body, darkening his shirt.

If he was wearing a shirt…

Oh, fuck him raw, that would be hot as hell.

He’d touched all of those muscles, and those arms and shoulders. He knew how Brett was built and how things would flex and move…

“Son, I need you to wipe that look right off your face.” Dad hopped out and came around to get him, the dogs circling around them like wolves. Goofy, loud stinky wolves. “I don’t want to know what you two do when I’m not around.”

“You don’t want me to tell you?—”

“La la la! I can’t hear you!”

He cracked up. “I feel you. You know how I am with Maddie, and that girl overshares like whoa.”

“Tell me about it. It’s damn unnatural. I blame her momma. That woman is an open book.”

“Yes, sir.” Ash could be open here. No one was going to judge or question or anything. No one knew her folks or her past—they just took her at face value.

“Come on.” Dad led him along a short path to the forge, where the sound of metal on metal was huge and filled his ears. Add to that Mr. Mann’s baying and the roar of the fire, and it was a bit like being whacked in the face with a ball.

The heat was oppressive, but the smells immediately distracted and fascinated him. He started sorting scents, identifying them—charcoal and wood burning, sweat and a hint of Ivory soap, a tang of metal and the weird earthy scent of what was possibly cast iron that tantalized him.

He breathed deep, and his dad slipped away, leaving him feeling a little disoriented.

“Hey!” He was calling to his dad, but the clanging stopped.

“Hey.” Brett moved over to him, boots clonking on the dirt floor. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I got my dad to bring me down to see what you were up to, but he just dropped me here. Butthead. He knew I didn’t have Barney with me.”

“He’s right here, along with the shortest little seeing eye basset ever. Hey, buddy!”

Mr. Mann woofed and wagged and wiggled, tail banging Rowdy’s leg.

“So your dad was being an old butthead, huh?” Brett tugged him close. “Sorry if I stink.”

“Nope.” It was intense, but not bad. “I mean, you have that charred smell…”

“Mmm. Tasty.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. You know how I feel about my steaks.”

“I do.” Brett dropped a kiss on his mouth, and he filled his lungs with his lover’s breath. “So, what are you up to, honey?”

“Just curious to see what you were doing down here.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Well, maybe not see…”

“You can say see. I get what you mean.”

“Okay then.” He heard Mr. Mann sniffing around, and he reckoned the shepherds and Dad’s dogs had gone on. “He won’t hurt himself, will he?”

“Mr. Mann? Nah. In fact, he’ll get bored and go lay outside to wait for us in the golf cart.”

“Shit, I thought Maddie had it.”

Brett’s low chuckle made him lean hard on the man. “You have more than one.”

“Oh.” He blinked hard. “My dad is an asshole.”

“Yeah?” Brett kind of swayed with him as if they were dancing. “I think he did me a real favor.”

Oh, hello. He wrapped his arms around Brett’s neck, pressing close. “I like the sound of that. I was thinking you just wanted me for my forge.”

“Huh.” Brett dropped a kiss on his lips. “I’ve been making you something.”

“Can you show me?”

“Not yet.” Brett kissed along his jaw to his neck.

“Awww.” He wanted to touch things.

“Honey, parts of it are molten right now.”

“Oh.” He got that, because ow. “What can you show me?”

“Well…” Brett backed him up against what he thought was some sort of workbench. It hit him right below his hips on his butt, and he leaned back, letting it hold him up some.

Brett took another kiss, harder and deeper this time.

Rowdy had to admit he felt like a kid again, sort of naughty, macking on his lover right out here in the middle of the forge where any cowboy could walk in and ask Brett to do some work for him.

Then again, now he was the boss, and any cowboy worth his salt who walked in and saw what they were up to would just turn around and walk right back out, never saying a word.

So he took that kiss and ran with it, mashing his lips to Brett’s, pushing his tongue inside to taste.

There was the sweet, cool water that he’d bet Brett had drunk right before he came over to say hi, and then there was this underlying taste of fire and a little bit of soot.

But it wasn’t off-putting at all. In fact, it was hot as fuck.

He could tell from touching all of that wonderful muscle that Brett was wearing what amounted to a tank top, and he was just sweaty enough not to be gross, but definitely worked up.

Rowdy loved it, and he pulled back to lick a line under Brett’s jaw, so he could taste the salt there.

It was mixed with soot and somehow that flavor was so hot that his cock was aching in his jeans in no time. He wanted more.

“You wanna feel what I got to show you, babe?” Brett asked.

“Oh, darlin’, I want to feel anything you’ll give me.

” He tweaked one of Brett’s nipples through his top, and Brett pulled away just long enough to tug the shirt off, bringing his hands back where they had been afterward.

He scored that skin with his nails, knowing they were short enough not to really hurt anything, and then he touched everything, running his hands down Brett’s six-pack and over his hip bones.

Jesus, this man was built like a Greek god; he could just touch for hours, and yet he knew that part of the wonder of this, the whole thing, was that they had to get it done quick.

Brett took his hand and put it down on the drawstring of those pants.

He’d learned that Brett didn’t wear anything with metal buttons or rivets when he was working on the forge.

He reckoned that was why people had worn overalls or coveralls to do it back in the day.

Because stuff would get hot and burn somebody’s skin.

He tugged at it and then shoved those pants down to Brett’s thighs letting the thick hard cock spring out into his palm.

He loved the feel of it, the heft of it. Brett was almost as damn big around as he was long, and he seemed to get harder than anyone else Rowdy had ever known. It worked for him on a serious level, and he spared a moment to hope he wasn’t giving Mr. Mann a show. But then again, a dog was a dog.

He jacked Brett nice and slow, up and down, and he heard Brett let out a heavy exhalation, the air bursting from him.

“That feel good, darlin’?” He rubbed, encircling that hard flesh with his fingers so that he could put even more pressure on it.

“You know that fucking feels amazing.” Brett grabbed his wrist and showed him the rhythm he liked, a little faster than what Rowdy had been doing, but he didn’t want to end it too quick so he pulled away for a moment, and Brett groaned at him. “What the hell?”

“Now, I know we’re cooking with gas, darlin’, but I don’t want this to be over in just seconds.”

Brett let out a breathless laugh. “Then what do you want?”

“I want you to touch me, too.” He took Brett’s hand then and put it on his fly, letting Brett undo the button and zipper and shove down his jeans. He arched his hips as his cock sprang out and touched Brett’s, and he could feel how hot they both were. This was gonna go like a house on fire.

Or maybe like a roaring forge.

Brett got both their hands wrapped around both their cocks, which was quite a feat, and if Brett was still that coordinated, then Rowdy didn’t know what he was doing wrong. He needed to make a better effort.

They worked themselves, both of them arching their hips into it, both of them grunting and panting. Brett was kissing him, and the sweat was dripping in his eyes. It was hot as fire in there, and he just needed this so bad.

Rowdy rose up on his tiptoes, bracing himself with one hand on Brett’s shoulder, the other one wet with their precome as he worked it up and down. Brett slammed against him over and over, the friction just about perfect.

Nothing that good could last for very long, and he knew they were roaring toward a finish when his balls pulled up and his ass clenched super tight.

Which must have been some kind of an invitation, maybe psychically, because Brett slid his other hand down between him and the workbench, one finger tapping against his crease, then burrowing in to touch his hole.

That was all she wrote, and Rowdy let out a whoop, which Brett swallowed with another kiss. That was when he felt an answering wet heat as Brett came all over him and his hand and his jeans and everything else.

They leaned on each other, foreheads pressed together, panting. Both of them stayed silent for long moments, and he couldn’t say he didn’t understand why. They had been damn furious the way they had gone at it.

“Damn, honey.” Brett licked his lower lip, and he imagined it was all sweat there. Salty and good. That was something else.

“Did you ever get the sink working in here?” he asked, because, yeah, he needed to wash up.

“I did. I won’t make us go up to the house without washing up first. Is it going to sound weird that I need to finish up what I was working on before we go?”

He shook his head, a little thrill filling his chest. “Oh, darlin’, if you want me to stay and listen to you work, I think that would be the best thing ever.”

It wasn’t like he didn’t have his phone, if he needed it.

That earned him another hard kiss. “You make me feel ten thousand feet tall, man. I swear to God.”

“Good.” Then Rowdy was doing something right.

It was about damn time.