Page 46

Over the week after Cross left, Rusty decided going back to just texts and video chats was super frustrating.

They hadn’t done anything much after the morning sex-and-massage, just ate breakfast and lunch while watching movies and making out on the couch.

Rusty had wondered at first if Cross’s enthusiasm for kissing had been exaggerated for his benefit, but if so, he deserved an Academy Award.

Cross even got half-hard in those thin boxers a couple of times, before they finally put pants on.

Rusty didn’t mention seeing his dick get interested, and Cross didn’t seem inclined to do anything about it, but Rusty had noticed and was reassured.

So, massage lessons. Rusty scrolled through his phone as he sprawled on Scott’s couch, trying to find local options.

Cross really seemed to like to be touched in general.

He’d gotten more… for want of a better word, cuddly, after they’d talked.

When Rusty had hesitated on the couch about how close to get, Cross had hauled Rusty’s arm around his shoulders and leaned into him.

He hated that Cross had to leave late that same afternoon to fly back to Seattle and his recheck appointment.

Sucked even worse that Cross texted after the CT that his doc thought he should have another surgery.

Rusty had tried to cheer him up but really, what could he say?

Rusty knew surgical recovery meant more months of pain and hard work.

Starting back at zero after five weeks of rehab effort would be a kick in the gut.

He tried to send memes and pictures of the ranch and little comments that meant Cross was on his mind, but that distance still came between them.

They hadn’t done anything remotely sexual since the visit, no video, not even innuendo.

Well, Rusty was beating off at least once a day, thinking about Cross telling him exactly how to touch himself, but that wasn’t the same thing.

At least Cross had said he was fine with folks at the ranch knowing about them, so that was something.

Rusty knew even that baby step out of the closet was a gift.

Would’ve been a better one if Cross was around to be out with, but he hadn’t had to feel guilty or scramble for cover when Nita winked at him on his return after his day with Cross.

Now he needed to find a way to contribute to his side of the wink.

“Hey, whatcha looking at?” Scott dropped down on the second couch.

His nose was sunburned and he still wore the ratty playoff beard he’d half-grown, but he looked happy.

The first few days back had been rough, folks tiptoeing around him when he got home after a day cleaning out his Portland locker.

Now, after a week, the doom and gloom seemed to have lifted. Hard to stay doomy on horseback.

Or maybe on Caseyback. Rusty snickered, then batted away Scott’s playful grab over the couch arm for his phone. “Nothing. Get off.” But he turned the phone for Scott to see. Maybe he’d have advice.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Massage classes?”

“I thought it could be good. Cross is gonna be on crutches and in rehab for the ankle a long time. His shoulders were in knobby knots.” Rusty’s face heated at the mention of that weekend to Scott, but he wasn’t ashamed of anything, and Cross said he could talk to Scott.

“Yeah, true. That’s not a bad idea.”

“Except there’s not an actual class within an hour of here.”

“Probably online ones.”

“Sure. Except they say practice with a partner.”

Scott dropped back onto his couch, stretching his bare feet out in front of him. “I won’t say no if you want to practice on me.”

Casey said, “Practice what?” as he came in the room. He picked up Scott’s legs, sat beside him, and put Scott’s feet in his lap, rubbing his ankles.

“Massage, Case. Just like that. Mmmm, ahh.”

“He can find someone else. Those porn sounds are mine.” Casey pinched Scott’s calf, making him yelp.

“I can get a massage without making porn sounds,” Scott said.

“Not from Rusty.”

“Jealous? He is a lot younger and cuter than you.”

Casey scoffed. “Gonna pay for that tonight, Scotty.”

“Gonna make me?” They grinned at each other.

Rusty said, “You guys have an age gap, right? I mean, Scott was pretty young when you got together—”

“Unlike my ancient age of twenty-four now?” Scott quipped.

“Hush, boy.” Casey put a hand over Scott’s mouth. “The kid’s asking a serious question.” Then he added, “Yuck,” and wiped his licked palm on Scott’s shirt.

“I just wondered, like, how that worked.” Rusty eyed Casey. “Did you ever try to make him go hang out with younger guys his own age? Did it bother you?”

“Oh, he tried,” Scott said. “I was nineteen when we met. He was twenty-nine and had ten years in the Marines, all gruff and tough and growly. I practically had to stand on my head to make him notice me.”

“Noticing wasn’t the problem,” Casey muttered. He added to Rusty, “Yeah, the age gap bothered me. And the experience gap. Not just being ten years older but they’d been a rough ten years for me. I’d done tours overseas, and those put some wear and tear on a man.”

“He was hot as hell,” Scott said. “One look, and I knew I wanted him.”

“Whereas Scott was gorgeous but not my type. Fuck, he was drinking a soda in the bar I’d gone into to drown my sorrows in whiskey. Nothing about us made sense. I didn’t want to drag Scott down with my shit, and I didn’t think he could understand me, either. He wore me down.”

“Yep. Wouldn’t give up. Wouldn’t let him treat me like a kid. Made sure I was there for him, and I listened. Proved I could match him in bed too.” Scott grinned.

“I tried to push him away a dozen times.”

“Hundreds,” Scott stage-whispered behind his hand.

“He wouldn’t go. Like some kind of mosquito.

Eventually I got used to him being around.

” The way Casey’s hand curled around Scott’s ankle, his thumb rubbing the arch of Scott’s foot, gave his words the lie.

“Is Cross trying to push you away, Rusty? I’d say, speaking from experience, that he probably wants you to keep coming back.

Scott was cockier than you are, though.”

“Maybe I was actually better,” Scott quipped, then added, “Sorry. Just proving cockier hasn’t changed.”

“Probably true, at hockey anyway.” Rusty thought he had a shot at the NHL but he wasn’t going to be a generational talent like Scott. “Good thing Cross doesn’t just want me for my backchecking skills.”

“I had a hell of a lot more coaching than you,” Scott said. “High school’s nothing like juniors. You’ll be awesome in a few years.”

“Regardless,” Casey continued. “There’s a real gap between nineteen and twenty-nine, or thirty like Cross is. There’s gonna be times the disconnect catches you unaware. Or it’ll catch Cross and make him feel old or like he’s taking advantage.”

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 more than 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.”