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“Like it’s so simple. Were you communicating when you were trying to make Nita jealous?”

“Ha. No, I was being a desperate bitch, flirting with the waitress in this café we went to.” She drained the last of her water bottle. “Communicating isn’t easy, but that doesn’t mean it’s not your answer.”

“I can’t just say, ‘When are you going to like me enough to fuck me?’”

“Maybe you can be more subtle than a T-rex on a rampage. And maybe the question should be ‘trust me’ not just ‘like me,’ you think? Or both?”

“I think he trusts me. I hope.” Cross had told Rusty some family stuff he was pretty sure not many other people knew.

Kris bopped him with her empty bottle. “You’re pretty trustworthy for a sports-obsessed jock.” She got up. “Come on. Cows to check, fences to ride.”

Rusty stuffed the remains of his lunch wrappers into his saddlebags and stood. “You won’t tell anyone, right? About me or Cross?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Not even Nita?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“It’s just, he’s not out. And the team had the whole big thing with Scott this year, so he doesn’t want to make waves.”

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.

Rusty dropped to one knee beside Cross’s feet, the angle awkward, and reached up. Their mouths met, arms wrapping around each other, and the kiss outshone any awkwardness.

This is perfect. Cross’s mouth opened under Rusty’s as they clinched each other close in the hug. The bulk of Cross’s muscular arms around Rusty’s back felt safe and solid, and the kiss full of hot tongues and fast breaths said Rusty was wanted, desired, no matter what limits Cross put on that.

My guy. Rusty hugged back, ignoring the press of the chair against his arms, pinning Cross tightly to him. “Fuck, I missed you,” he breathed against Cross’s cheek.

“Yeah. Same.” Cross kissed him again, all nipping teeth and eager tongue, then ran his kisses down Rusty’s jaw and neck and buried his face against Rusty’s shoulder. Cross’s powerful arms still clamped them together, so Rusty held on tight in return.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Better now. Did I say the last twenty-four hours sucked?”

“You mentioned.” Rusty wanted to know if there was more to the suckage than the end of the season in a heartbreaking loss Cross had been forced to watch across the miles. His job wasn’t to pry, though, just to be there. He kissed Cross’s temple. “So you figured you’d hop on a jet and come see me?”

“Impulse.”

“I’m glad you did.” Rusty leaned back enough to be able to see Cross’s face. Reluctantly, they let go of each other but he stayed kneeling at Cross’s feet. “Last night, I wanted a fucking transporter or a Tardis or something, to go be with you.”

“I settled for a Learjet.” Cross ran a hand over his short hair. Rusty saw his fingers weren’t completely steady. “Ridiculous extravagance, I know.”

It really was. Rusty felt odd, imagining a mostly empty jet winging through the skies just to bring his boyfriend to him.

Normal people didn’t do that stuff. But Cross looked both worried and exhausted, and Rusty realized, he didn’t come here just for my sake.

With Cross looking like he hadn’t slept in a week, Rusty couldn’t give him a hard time.

“I guess, if you can hop a plane to come to Kansas when Scotty needed you last summer, you can hop the plane and come when you need me.” He caught Cross’s hands and squeezed them.

“Right.” Cross clutched his fingers back.

Rusty leaned in for a fast kiss. “How long can you stay?”

“Uh, I have to go back tomorrow night. I have an ortho appointment Monday morning.”

“Well, that sucks. But I’ll take whatever days we can get. Or nights, because I’m supposed to work tomorrow. I’d bet the docs wouldn’t like it if I put you on a horse and brought you along.”

“I think my surgeon would have a heart attack.”

“Maybe we could hitch the donkey to your chair like a cart.”

“Or maybe not.”

“You’re no fun.” Rusty was teasing, but Cross’s face fell and he looked away. Rusty reached out and laid his palm on Cross’s cheek. “You know that was a joke, right? Come on, you have to know that.”

“I’m not good for much right now.”

“You’re good for making me feel like I won the lottery.”

“Seriously?”

“Hand to God.” Rusty screwed up his nose at his mother’s phrase falling from his lips. “Hand to Satan, whatever. I saw you waiting for me and I could’ve flown down that hill.”

Cross turned a kiss onto Rusty’s wrist.

“Sorry,” Rusty said. “I probably smell like horses and cows.”

“A bit. I don’t mind.”

“Still, I should shower. Will you wait for me?”

“You could shower at the hotel. I reserved a suite.”

Rusty frowned. “You could’ve stayed here. The guys have spare rooms.”

“Accessibility.” Cross gestured at the chair. “I’m not good with stairs right now. Plus Arthur deserves entertainment if he wants it.”

“Arthur?”

“My driver. The limo’s a rental but I dragged him away from whatever he had planned for the day.”

Rusty hadn’t thought about that but yeah, it would kind of suck to be at someone’s beck and call, flying across the country with zero advance notice. “Does that bother him? I guess your pilot, too.”

“It’s their job. Arthur has days off when someone else is on call. It’s not 24/7. But I don’t think Arthur’s the ranch type and if we stay in town, he can get a meal out or go to a movie or a bar. Unless Marie told him to be on bodyguard duty.”

“You don’t usually have a bodyguard.” That would make Rusty feel even weirder about the differences between him and Cross.

“Marie gets protective sometimes. I couldn’t run away from a kidnapper at the moment.”