Page 1 of Dust and Desire (Sagebrush Cowboys #5)

Dustin

S aving the Baker Ranch has been the single most selfish thing I’d ever done.

But to the rest of Sagebrush, it was an act of selflessness, one of those rare moments where a city boy from New York grew a heart and did the right thing.

To all of them, I was a hero, their knight in shining armor. If they only knew the truth.

Really, I’d invested in the Baker Ranch to save myself, not them.

Fresh out of a divorce and reeling from my newly discovered sexuality, I was only a handful of days from pitching myself out of my twenty-first story office window.

Alright, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but that’s how dire things felt in the days leading up to meeting Logan and Dakota for the first time.

But from the moment I stepped out of the SUV onto the wide-open plains of Sagebrush, Texas, I knew I was home.

Or at least that I didn’t want to leave.

Ever. There was something about that small town that drew me in, something that just felt…

right . I couldn’t explain it, but I knew I couldn’t leave. So, I didn’t.

Instead, I quit my corporate job, emptied at least half of my investment accounts, paid off the Baker Ranch, moved to the middle of nowhere Texas, and built myself a tiny home on the back edge of the Baker property.

It made the Bakers very happy, and they were more than willing to let me live there permanently.

In fact, Logan and Dakota checked on me quite often.

And there were at least two nights a week when I heard one of them ride up with a pair of horses and drag me back to the main house for dinner.

They were like family to me. The only family I had left…

My phone rang harshly, pulling me from my thoughts. I grabbed it, noticing the name on the screen. It was Alicia. I felt the same pang of bittersweet melancholy I got every time she called. You’d think after a couple of years I would’ve gotten over it.

“Hey, Ali,” I said, trying to inject some warmth into my voice as I answered.

“Don’t you ‘ Hey Ali ’ me, Dustin Corvus,” came her familiar sass through the speaker. “I’ve been calling you for three days straight and getting voicemail. What’s going on out there in the middle of nowhere?”

I winced, realizing I’d been avoiding her calls. Not intentionally, but the sweltering heat had me holed up in my tiny house with the AC cranked, and I’d been letting everything go to voicemail. “Sorry, it’s been brutal out here. And the reception is… bad.”

“Uh-huh.” Her tone told me she wasn’t buying it. “You’re not getting all hermit-y on me again, are you? Because I will drive my ass down there and drag you out of that shoebox you call a house.”

Despite everything, I smiled. Alicia knew me too well. “I’m fine, really. Just trying to survive this Texas summer.”

“Well, survive it somewhere with air conditioning and other human beings. When’s the last time you actually talked to someone face-to-face?”

I opened my mouth to answer, then realized I couldn’t remember. Logan and Dakota had been busy with the cattle, and I’d been avoiding the main house. The isolation was starting to get to me, but I wasn’t ready to admit that to her.

“That’s what I thought,” she said into my silence. “Get out of that house, Dustin. Go find some people.”

“Thanks, Ali,” I sighed, then quickly changed the subject. “How are things back in New York?”

“New York is New York,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “Same chaos, different day. My promotion went through, so now I’m officially running the entire department.”

“That’s amazing,” I said, genuinely happy for her. “You deserved it.”

“I know,” she replied, and I could practically see her flipping her braids over her shoulder. “Other than that, everything is the same. Busy. Hectic. Loud.” Her voice softened a bit. “Nothing like your quiet little paradise.”

I could picture her perfectly, sitting in her sleek Manhattan high-rise apartment, probably wearing something fabulous while sipping an overpriced coffee. The image made me smile despite myself.

“Paradise might be overselling it right now. It’s about a hundred degrees in the shade.”

“Poor baby,” she cooed mockingly. “Remind me again why you chose to live in a tin can in the Texas heat?”

I glanced around my tiny house. At four hundred square feet, it was cozy at best, claustrophobic at worst. But it was mine. “Freedom,” I answered simply.

“Mmm.” Her hum was noncommittal. I could tell she wanted to say more, to push me like she always did, but something held her back. “Well, I suppose if that’s what you need, that’s what you need.”

“Yeah…” I sighed, flopping back onto my bed. “It just… gets me away from my old life, you know?”

“You mean away from me?”

I froze, hearing that familiar cold tone in her voice. “That’s not what I meant, Ali. You know that.”

“I understand,” she said, her chill replaced with the warmth of a smile. “Divorcing me wasn’t enough. You had to just run off into the wild west to start a new gay life for yourself.”

There it was. The edge that always crept into our conversations, sharp and cutting despite her attempts to keep things light. I sat up, running my hand through my hair.

“Ali, that’s not?—”

“I’m kidding, Dustin. Mostly.” Her laugh was hollow. “Look, I should go. I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Alicia, wait?—”

“Get out of that house today, okay? Promise me.”

The line went dead before I could respond. I stared at the phone for a long moment, that familiar knot of guilt and regret settling in my chest. Two years, and I still didn’t know how to talk to her. Still didn’t know how to bridge the gap between what we used to be and whatever we were now.

I tossed the phone onto the small counter and looked around my tiny sanctuary. The walls seemed to press in closer in the afternoon heat, despite the AC working overtime. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was turning into a hermit.

I grabbed a water bottle and my hat, stepping out into the oppressive Texas heat. The sun hit me like a physical blow, and I immediately regretted leaving the climate-controlled cocoon of my house. But I’d made a promise, even if she hadn’t heard it.

I started walking toward the main house, keeping to whatever shade I could find along the fence line.

The rolling prairie stretched endlessly in every direction, waves of heat shimmering off the green grass.

As I walked, I could hear the distant sounds of activity from the rodeo training arena.

There was the rhythmic thud of hooves, and Caroline’s voice cutting through the air with sharp instructions to her students.

And then I heard it. That deep, familiar laugh that made my stomach flip every damn time.

Colt fucking Dawson.

I changed direction, angling toward the arena despite every rational part of my brain screaming at me to turn around. I told myself I was just being neighborly, checking on the ranch activities. But I knew the truth. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and just as likely to get burned.

Colt Dawson was my teenage wet dream come to life. Red-headed, freckled, muscular, wild, and a rodeo star. Not to mention, he was an insatiable flirt. Every single time I saw him, my mind went blank, and my jeans got tight. That man turned me on like no other. I wanted him so bad I could taste it.

But he was taken already. Eli Daniels had gotten to him before me.

Not that I stood a chance to begin with.

Eli and Colt were best friends in high school, from what I understood.

That should’ve worked in my favor, but in true enemies to lovers fashion, they punched one another and fell in love.

And I was so fucking jealous of them that I could taste it.

That’s the way everyone was in Sagebrush.

Everyone like me anyway. From what I’d heard, three years ago nobody would’ve known there was a gay man within one hundred miles of Sagebrush.

Now there were at least nine. Talk about a rainbow explosion.

I was number nine of course, and the odd man out, because the other eight were already coupled up.

And while I liked to think that someone might come along, I knew the odds of that were probably less than zero.

The gay gold rush had already happened, and I missed it.

I approached the arena, my steps slowing as I drew closer. The wooden fence was sun-bleached and weathered, perfect for leaning against while pretending I wasn’t there specifically to ogle a certain redheaded cowboy.

Through the slats, I could see Caroline Baker pacing along the edge of the arena, her dark braid swinging as she gestured emphatically at a young rider struggling to maintain proper form. Her voice carried clearly across the space.

“For Christ’s sake, Jessie, you’re gonna snap your wrist if you keep holdin’ the reins like that! Loosen up!”

And then I saw him. Colt was in the center of the arena, shirtless…

Of course he was shirtless, when wasn’t he?

With sweat glistening on hi s freckled shoulders and his muscles flexing, I had to shift my stance to make room for my thickening cock.

He was demonstrating something to another student, his movements fluid and confident as he gestured with strong, capable hands.

The kind of hands that could probably break a man in half or hold him together when he was falling apart.

Ones that would probably feel incredible wrapped around my…

I swallowed hard and tried to look casual as I approached the fence, nodding to a couple of ranch hands who passed by with a friendly “Afternoon.” They tipped their hats in my direction, still regarding me with a mix of curiosity and respect that made me uncomfortable.

The city lawyer who saved their jobs. The gay divorcé who lived in a tiny house and kept to himself. A curiosity, to say the least.