Page 11 of Dust and Desire (Sagebrush Cowboys #5)

Alex

I parked my old truck by the arena just outside my apartment.

There was a handled paper bag filled with takeout in my passenger seat that Dolly had insisted I take without payment.

I was supposed to be taking it to Dustin, but I’d been taking my sweet time about it.

I nursed my dinner for as long as I could stand before leaving and now that I was back at the ranch, I found myself a bit nervous about going through with Dolly’s plan.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the truck, paper bag in hand.

The heat of the day had started to wane as the sun headed toward the western horizon.

The sky was drenched in reds and golds, catching the underside of the clouds.

I stared up at it for a moment, taking it all in.

Then, steeling my nerves, I headed down the long winding path to Dustin’s cabin.

The gravel crunched under my boots as I walked, each step sending little plumes of dust into the air.

My heart hammered in my chest like I was some lovesick teenager instead of a grown man.

What was it about Dustin that got me so twisted up inside?

I’d never been this nervous approaching anyone before.

His cabin sat nestled among a stand of pines, the wood blending with the landscape like it had grown there naturally.

Smoke curled lazily from the chimney despite the warmth of the evening.

As I got closer, I could see a soft glow through the windows, warm and inviting against the deepening twilight.

I hadn’t gotten a good look at it the last time I visited, but it was probably the nicest tiny home I’d ever seen.

I paused at the bottom of the porch steps, shifting the bag from one hand to the other. What if he slammed the door in my face? What if he wasn’t even home? What if?—

“Stop being such a damn coward,” I muttered to myself, climbing the steps before I could change my mind.

I knocked firmly, three sharp raps that seemed to echo in the quiet evening air. For a long moment, there was nothing. Then I heard movement inside, soft footsteps approaching the door.

When it swung open, Dustin stood there looking rumpled and soft in a way I hadn’t seen before.

His dark hair was tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he wore a faded blue t-shirt that clung to his shoulders in all the right ways.

His eyes widened when he saw me, those blue depths reflecting surprise and something else I couldn’t quite name.

“Alex,” he said, my name barely more than a breath on his lips.

“Hey,” I replied, holding up the bag like an offering. “Dolly sent dinner. Thought you might be hungry.”

He blinked, looking from me to the bag and back again. “I... thank you.”

An awkward silence stretched between us. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

“Can I come in?” I finally asked. “Or we could eat outside if you’d prefer. It’s a nice evening.”

Something flickered across his face. Hesitation, maybe even fear, but then he stepped back, opening the door wider. “You can come in.”

The inside of his cabin was exactly what I remembered, but this time his yoga mat wasn’t spread out on the floor.

It was tidy but lived-in, with books stacked on every available surface.

A laptop sat open on a small table by the window, the screen showing a document with only a few lines of text.

The furniture was simple but comfortable-looking, and there was a braided rug on the floor that had seen better days, probably from a local thrift store.

“I like this place,” I said, setting the bag down on the small kitchen table. “It’s cozy.”

“It’s small,” he replied with a shrug, “but it’s all I need. And it’s twice the size of some of the New York apartments I’ve lived in.”

“I can’t imagine living in New York,” I said, starting to unpack the food for him. “All those people crammed together, everyone rushing somewhere. I like things quiet.”

Dustin smiled faintly, grabbing plates from a cabinet. “It has its charms. The energy, the people, the restaurants... but yeah, after a while it starts to feel like the buildings are closing in on you.”

“I’ve visited a couple big cities during my travels,” I said. “Mostly just passing through. I’m not sure I could live around all the concrete and metal. Give me trees and open sky any day.”

“I agree,” he replied. “Though I didn’t know that’s what I needed until I saw this place.” He stared at the containers on the table, counting them mentally. “Did Dolly send enough? It’s not like her to skimp on food.”

“Oh, I already ate,” I smiled, taking the seat on the opposite side of the table. “But she sent enough pecan pie for the both of us.”

Dustin’s eyes lit up at the mention of pecan pie, and for the first time since I’d arrived, his shoulders seemed to relax a fraction. “Dolly’s pecan pie is dangerous. I’ve been known to eat an entire slice in one sitting.”

“Just one slice?” I teased, watching as he served himself generous portions of the brisket and sides. “You’re showing more restraint than I would.”

A genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Well, maybe two slices. But only on special occasions. ”

“What constitutes a special occasion?” I asked, settling back in my chair.

He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “I... honestly, I’m not sure anymore. It’s been a while since I’ve had anything to celebrate.”

The admission hung between us, heavy with unspoken sadness. I wanted to ask more, to dig deeper into what had put that melancholy in his voice, but I could see him already starting to retreat inward.

“Well,” I said carefully, “maybe we should make tonight a special occasion. Good food, good company...” I gestured toward the window where the sunset painted everything in warm gold. “And a beautiful evening.”

Dustin followed my gaze, and something in his expression softened. “It is beautiful. I never get tired of the sunsets out here. They’re nothing like the ones in the city.”

“Too many buildings blocking the view?”

“That, and too much light pollution after dark. You can barely see the stars.” He took a bite of brisket, closing his eyes briefly as he savored it. “God, Beau really knows what he’s doing. This is incredible.”

I watched him eat, noting the way his whole body seemed to unwind with each bite.

When was the last time someone had brought him a meal?

When was the last time he’d shared dinner with another person?

Clearly, he could feed himself, but I knew how I could be when I was too alone.

Sometimes I just forgot about food entirely.

“So,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, “what were you working on when I knocked? I saw your laptop open.”

His fork paused midway to his mouth. “Oh, that. It’s... nothing really. Just some thoughts I was trying to get down.”

“Writing thoughts or lawyer thoughts?”

“Writing, I suppose. Though I’m not sure it qualifies as writing when you spend two hours staring at a blank page.”

I leaned forward slightly. “What kind of writing? ”

He set down his fork, running a hand through his already-tousled hair. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. I keep thinking I have something to say, but when I sit down to say it...” He shrugged helplessly.

“Maybe you’re trying too hard,” I suggested. “Sometimes the best things come when you’re not forcing them.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never tried to write,” he said with a wry smile.

“Actually, I keep a journal,” I admitted, feeling heat creep up my neck. “Nothing fancy, just... thoughts about places I’ve been, people I’ve met. Things I don’t want to forget.”

Dustin looked up at me with surprise, those blue eyes widening slightly. “You keep a journal?”

“Don’t look so shocked,” I chuckled. “Even cowboys have thoughts.”

A hint of a blush colored his cheeks. “I didn’t mean?—”

“I know,” I said gently. “Just teasing you.”

He ducked his head, focusing on his food again. “So, what do you write about? In your journal, I mean.”

I considered the question, watching as the last rays of sunlight filtered through his window, casting long shadows across the wooden floor.

“Everythin’, really. I move around a lot, so I journal about the ranches I’ve worked on.

The people I’ve met along the way. The horses I’ve trained.

” I paused, then added more softly, “The men I’ve loved and left behind. ”

His eyes flicked up to mine, holding my gaze for a beat longer than necessary before dropping again. “Sounds like you’ve had quite a life.”

“Not really,” I shrugged. “Just a restless one.”

“Is that why you move around so much? Restlessness?”

I leaned back in my chair, studying him. “Something like that. What about you? What brought you to Sagebrush? It’s a long way from New York.”

“I came here to save the ranch. ”

I raised an eyebrow in his direction. “The real reason you came here,” I corrected. “Nobody just leaves the city and their entire life on a whim.”

Dustin set down his fork, his plate half-empty. “It’s... complicated.”

“I’ve got time,” I said, nodding toward the darkening sky outside. “And nowhere to be.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and I worried I’d pushed too far. But then he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“I needed somewhere quiet,” he said finally. “Somewhere I could... figure things out.”

“And have you? Figured things out?”

He gave a hollow laugh. “Not even close.”

The sadness in his voice tugged at something deep in my chest. I wanted to reach across the table and take his hand, but I knew better. Not yet.

“Maybe,” I suggested, “you need to get out of this cabin more. See the world beyond these walls.”

“I see plenty,” he protested weakly. “I go to the main house sometimes. And into town for supplies.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” I stood up, an idea forming. “Come on. Get your boots.”

He blinked up at me. “What? Where are we going?”