Page 3 of Dust and Desire (Sagebrush Cowboys #5)

Alex

S agebrush, Texas. My new home. For now.

To be honest, it didn’t look much different from any other small town as my old blue truck tumbled down the paved roads in desperate need of resurfacing.

The truck’s suspension groaned with each pothole, and I winced as my toolbox rattled around in the bed. Should’ve secured that better, but I’d been too eager to get on the road this morning. Too eager to leave behind the mess I’d made of things back in Oklahoma.

Rolling hills stretched out on either side of the main drag, covered in that particular shade of green that only came with early summer rains.

The grass moved like water in the breeze, and I found myself slowing down despite my hurry to get to the Baker Ranch before sundown.

There was something about this place that made a man want to breathe deeper, sit a little straighter in his seat. And it was far away from my troubles.

Downtown Sagebrush consisted of maybe six blocks of weathered storefronts and a single traffic light that blinked yellow in all directions.

A few pickup trucks were angle-parked in front of what looked like a diner, and I caught sight of an old-fashioned barber pole spinning lazily in the afternoon heat.

It was the kind of place where everybody knew everybody, and strangers stuck out like sore thumbs.

Perfect. Just what I needed after the disaster I’d left behind.

I pulled over to check the address Logan Baker had given me over the phone, squinting at my phone screen in the glare.

Three bars of service, which was better than I’d expected for the middle of nowhere.

The ranch was supposed to be about ten miles outside of town, and according to my GPS, I was almost there.

The road out of Sagebrush was even rougher than the main drag, flanked by fence posts and cattle gates that had seen better decades. But as I crested a small hill, the landscape opened up into something that made me forget all about the truck’s protesting shocks.

The Baker Ranch spread out before me like something from a postcard.

Rolling pastureland dotted with cattle, a cluster of buildings that included what had to be the main house, a sprawling two-story structure with a wraparound porch, and various barns and outbuildings.

In the distance, I could see riders working cattle in a large corral, their figures small against the vastness of the Texas sky.

And then there was the rodeo arena, tucked in the back behind the tall oaks.

It was beautiful. It was also completely foreign to everything I’d ever known.

I followed the gravel drive toward the main house, my truck announcing my arrival with a cloud of dust that probably violated several environmental regulations. By the time I pulled up near the porch, two men had emerged from the house and were walking toward me.

The pair of them looked about the same age. But the tall one with dark hair had to be Logan. He moved with the easy confidence of a man comfortable in his own skin. The other one, however, I recognized instantly.

It was Colt Dawson, the famous rodeo star, who had been outed as gay in spectacular fashion the previous fall.

He was strong, thick, red-headed, and had a smile that would knock your boots clean the fuck off if you weren’t careful.

I knew he was taken, but that didn’t stop me from smiling like a fool as he approached.

I climbed out of my truck, boots crunching on the gravel as I stretched my back after the long drive. The afternoon heat hit me like a wall, making me instantly regret my choice of a long-sleeved shirt.

“You must be Alex Reyes,” Logan called out, extending his hand as he approached. His grip was firm, calloused from years of ranch work. “Good to see you made it before dark.”

“Barely,” I admitted, glancing at the sun hanging low in the western sky. “Had a late start this morning.”

“Well, you’re here now,” Logan said with an easy smile. “This is Colt. He helps out with the rodeo training program my sister runs.”

Colt stepped forward, and up close he was even more striking than in those magazine spreads I’d seen. His green eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and a light dusting of freckles crossed the bridge of his nose.

“Welcome to Sagebrush,” he said, shaking my hand. His palm was warm and rough against mine, and I found myself holding on a beat too long before letting go. “Logan says you’re gonna be helping out with repairs around the place?”

I nodded, suddenly conscious of the road dust on my clothes and the three-day stubble on my jaw. “That’s the plan. Carpentry, electrical, plumbing, horses, cattle… whatever needs fixin’ or herdin’.”

“And from what Caroline tells me, that’s just about everything,” Logan said with a laugh. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

I grabbed my duffel from the passenger seat and followed them through the grounds. The path took us past the edge of the arena, where a woman with a long dark braid was dismounting from a chestnut quarter horse.

“That’s Caroline,” Logan explained, following my gaze. “My sister. You’ll meet her at dinner tonight.”

The cabin I was staying in turned out not to be a cabin at all.

Instead, it was a small apartment, and brand new from the looks of it.

It was simple but clean, a main room with a kitchenette, a separate bedroom, and a bathroom that looked wonderfully modern.

The windows faced west, capturing the golden light of the setting sun.

“It’s not much,” Logan said, “but it’s private. Most of our hands commute in from town, so you’ll have the place to yourself.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, meaning it. After weeks of crashing on friends’ couches or sleeping in my truck, this felt like a luxury resort. “More than I expected.”

Colt leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. The position stretched his t-shirt tight across his shoulders, and I forced myself to look away.

“Bathroom’s got good water pressure,” he said with a grin. “First thing I check in any new place. I used to live here myself.”

“Man’s got his priorities,” Logan chuckled, clapping Colt on the shoulder. “Dinner’s at seven at the main house. Caroline’s cooking, so consider yourself warned.”

“That bad?” I asked, perking an eyebrow.

“My sister is good at a lot of things,” Logan said with a sigh. “But being domestic is not one of them.”

“Lucky for that new boyfriend of hers,” Colt joked, nudging Logan with his elbow. “Hopefully he likes hot cakes tough enough to pound in a nail. The last one made it a couple months, but he threw in the towel after that pan of concrete brownies she made for Christmas.”

Logan shook his head, but I could see the fondness in his expression. “She’s been working on it. Sort of.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said, though privately I made a mental note to chew slowly. I didn’t want to lose a tooth or anything. But I’d survived worse than bad cooking, and I wasn’t about to complain about a home-cooked meal after three weeks of gas station food.

“Speaking of Caroline,” Logan said, heading back toward the door. “I should go help her finish up with the evening feeds and chat with her about the books. She’s been avoiding me for two days now.” He grinned. “She hates numbers. You’ll show him around, right Colt? Get him settled in?”

“No problem, boss,” Colt smiled, tipping his hat. “You got it.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Can’t,” Colt replied. “Gotta show my respect to the lord of the ranch.”

Logan, rolling his eyes, headed out the door, flipping Colt the bird as he went. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself.

“That man puts up with a lot from me,” Colt said, shaking his head with a grin as Logan disappeared from view. “Lucky he’s got a sense of humor.”

I dropped my duffel on the small couch and tried not to stare too long at the way Colt’s jeans hugged his thighs. “You two known each other long?”

“Just this past year,” Colt pushed off from the doorframe and wandered over to the kitchenette. “I knew Caroline back in college but didn’t meet Logan until they built this arena. They’re good people. This apartment was actually mine when I first got here.”

I followed his gaze around the apartment. Someone had taken care to make it feel homey; a small vase of wildflowers sat on the counter, and the furniture, while simple, looked comfortable. Far better than anywhere I’d stayed in the last few years.

“So,” Colt said, turning those green eyes on me. “What’s your story, Alex? Logan said you’ve been all over.”

The question made my stomach tighten. How much to tell? How much to hide?

“Not much to tell,” I shrugged, aiming for casual. “Been working ranches since I was sixteen. Never found a reason to settle down anywhere.”

“Just like a tumbleweed,” Colt observed, studying me with a look that felt like he was seeing more than I wanted to show. “Any particular reason you landed in Sagebrush?”

I busied myself with unzipping my duffel. “Heard it was a good place. Small town, good people.” I paused. “Far enough from Oklahoma.”

“Ah,” Colt nodded, not pushing for details. “Running from somethin’? Or someone ?”

My head snapped up, and I met his gaze. There was no judgment there, just understanding.

“Aren’t we all?” I countered.

He laughed, a warm sound that filled the small space. “Fair enough. We’ve all got our ghosts.” He gestured toward the window. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the place before dinner. You’ll want to know where everythin’ is when you get started tomorrow.”

Outside, the late afternoon light painted everything gold. Colt led me through the grounds, pointing out the barns, equipment sheds, and pastures. His knowledge of the ranch was impressive, and I found myself relaxing as we walked, the tension from the road slowly easing from my shoulders.

“And that’s the arena where Caroline works her magic,” Colt said, gesturing to the large rodeo ring. “It was her idea to build the training center to begin with. Without her, none of this would be possible.”

“You help with that, right? Logan mentioned you’re part of the program.”

Colt’s face lit up. “Yeah, I teach bull riding and bronc busting. Well, I used to ride professionally until—” He cut himself off, his hand unconsciously moving to his side. “Let’s just say the bulls won a few too many rounds.”

I’d heard about those accidents on the rodeo circuit.

Everyone had. The way he’d been thrown and trampled, ending up in the hospital more than once.

The doctors had supposedly told him one more bad wreck could kill him, but looking at him now, strong and vital in the golden evening light, it was hard to imagine anything bringing down Colt Dawson.

“Must be tough,” I said carefully, “stepping back from something you love. ”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, but I caught the tightness around his eyes. “Teaching’s not so bad. Get to watch the next generation come up, help ‘em avoid some of the mistakes I made.” He glanced at me sideways. “What about you? You ever ride?”

“Horses, sure. Bulls?” I shook my head. “Not stupid enough to climb on something that weighs two thousand pounds and wants to kill me.”

Colt laughed, that rich sound again. “Smart man. Though there’s nothing quite like that eight-second rush. Pure adrenaline.”

We’d stopped walking, standing near the arena fence as the sun continued its descent. The evening air was thick with the scent of hay and leather, horses and dust. It smelled like home in a way that made my chest ache.

“So, what’s the deal with the boyfriend?” I found myself asking before I could stop the words.

Colt’s eyebrows shot up. “Boyfriend?”

Heat flooded my face. Shit. Had I misread the situation? “I just... I thought... aren’t you with someone? Eli something?”

“Eli Daniels,” Colt said slowly, a strange expression crossing his face. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I don’t know, just... word gets around the circuit, you know? About who’s with who.” I was babbling now, desperate to backtrack. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s...” Colt ran a hand through his red hair, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Eli and I, we’re...” He let out a long sigh. “We’re together. I need to get used to sayin’ it.” He gave me a good once-over. “You gay too?”

I shot him the friendliest smile I had to offer. “Fuck yeah.” I looked out over the pasture, watching the sky fill with golds and reds as the sun went down. “Been gay as long as I can remember. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about with me.”

The tension in his shoulders eased in an instant. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I spent so long keepin’ it a secret that I still get those knee-jerk reactions, you know? ”

“I get it,” I nodded. “Sorry to hear you’re taken though.” Colt lifted an eyebrow in my direction, but I ignored it. I knew what I said. “Anyone else in this town like us? Or is it just you and Eli?”

“Actually,” he smiled, giving me a nudge. “There’s a lot of us. Me and Eli, Logan and Dakota, Beau and Lucas, and most recently, Rowan and Brooks.”

“So only couples,” I sighed. “But a lot more than I expected.”

“Yeah, this place has become a bit of a gay magnet.” He paused.

“And actually, the guy that saved this ranch, the investor, he’s single.

His name is Dustin.” Colt glanced toward the north end of the ranch.

“He’s as handsome as they come, but I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so… I don’t know… lonesome .”

Lonesome. I knew what that felt like.

“You know what? You should come out to the diner tomorrow night. We’re all doing karaoke. It’s kind of a tradition of ours.”

“Buncha gays singing show tunes?” I laughed. “How original.”

“We sing country songs too,” Colt shot back with a chuckle.

“I bet I can sing better than you,” I grinned, my competitiveness kicking in. “If I can’t date the most handsome man in town, I might as well kick his ass, right?”

Colt squared his shoulders, giving me a good once-over before he crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “I’m the best lookin’ and the best singer.”

I matched his pose, not backing down despite the fact that I was much smaller than him. “I guess we’ll just have to see about that.”

“You lookin’ for a rival, Reyes?”

“Looks like I already got one, Dawson .”

He gave me a discerning look that melted into a smile. “Fine,” he said, holding out his hand. “You’re on.”

I grasped his hand, giving it a strong shake. “Damn right.”