Page 11 of His Big Hometown Cowboy (Bigger Is Best #1)

CHAPTER FIVE

Wyatt

The crunch of gravel under my tires announced our arrival at Travis’s single-wide trailer. Beside me, Timmy shifted, the borrowed gray sweatpants I’d given him bunching around his ankles. He looked small, swallowed up in my clothes, but the sight sent a possessive warmth through me.

Mine.

Before I’d even cut the engine, the trailer door swung open. Travis stood there, silhouetted against the morning light.

He took in the truck, then Timmy beside me, his gaze lingering for a fraction of a second on the familiar faded gray of the sweats. His arms crossed over his chest, suspicion clouding his features like a gathering storm.

“Didn’t expect to see you two rolling in together.” Travis’s voice was carefully neutral, but his eyes were sharp, assessing. He looked back at Timmy. “Rough night, Tim?”

Timmy let out a breath, halfway between a laugh and a groan. “Jesus, Travis. Good morning to you too.”

I killed the engine. This wasn’t the gentle easing-in I’d vaguely pictured. Travis’s stare shifted to me, narrowed slightly. “Wyatt.”

“Morning, Travis.” I kept my voice even. “Mind if we come in?”

He hesitated for just a beat, then stepped back, gesturing with a jerk of his head. “By all means. Already have coffee on.”

Inside, Travis moved to the kitchen counter, pouring three mugs. He set them on the dinette table, the Formica worn smooth in places. I slid onto the bench opposite him. Timmy squeezed in beside me, our knees bumping under the table.

Travis stirred sugar into his mug, the spoon clinking against the ceramic. He didn’t look at either of us directly. “So,” he began, his voice low. “What’s going on here?”

“We wanted to talk to you about that,” Timmy started, reaching for his own mug.

Travis finally lifted his gaze, pinning me with it. “Wyatt?”

I met his look squarely. No point beating around the bush now. “Timmy and I went to Rainbow Night yesterday. At The Lone Star.”

“You took my brother to Rainbow Night?”

“He did.” Timmy’s voice held a slight edge. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know that was Wyatt’s truck when he picked me up last night. And before you go all big-brother protective, I’m twenty-four. I can go clubbing with whoever I want.”

“I know that.” Travis ran a hand through his already messy hair, sighing.

He leaned forward slightly, his focus entirely on me now.

“Look, Wyatt. This isn’t just some… hookup thing, right?

Because Tim’s been through enough out there without…

” He trailed off, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

The failed relationships Timmy mentioned yesterday. The burnout.

“It’s not.” My answer was firm, immediate. I felt Timmy glance at me, but I kept my eyes locked on Travis. “This is real.”

Travis held my gaze for a long moment, searching. Assessing.

Some of the tension eased from his shoulders. He nodded, once. “Okay.” He leaned back, the protective scrutiny fading, replaced by a dawning, almost exasperated realization. “Okay. So it finally happened.”

Timmy blinked. “Finally happened?”

Travis rolled his eyes, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

“Come on, you two. You think I didn’t notice?

How you looked at Tim whenever you thought no one was watching, Wyatt?

Like he hung the damn moon?” He shifted his gaze to Timmy.

“Or how you used to follow him around like a lovesick puppy every summer, practically tripping over your own feet if he paid you any attention?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

Timmy looked equally mortified. “Yes. Wyatt and I have discussed how unsubtle I was back then.”

“Both of you were.” Travis took a long sip of coffee, the smugness settling in now. “Painfully obvious.” He shook his head. “So what changed? One of you finally grow a pair and make a move?”

I glanced at Timmy. He gave a slight nod. “I asked him to Rainbow Night,” I repeated. “One thing led to another.”

“And now we’re together,” Timmy added, his voice gaining confidence. He reached under the table, his hand finding my thigh, squeezing gently. The simple touch anchored me. “Like, boyfriends.”

The word hung there, solidifying everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. It felt surprisingly right.

Travis studied us both, the amusement in his eyes deepening, but the underlying warmth was undeniable. “Good. About damn time.”

“You’re… not mad?” Timmy sounded skeptical.

“Why would I be mad?” Travis scoffed. “He’s my best friend. You’re my little brother. Kinda always figured you two were endgame, anyways.”

“You what?” Timmy and I said in unison.

Travis shrugged. “Saw it coming a mile off. Better him than some random asshole who might hurt you.” He fixed me with a pointed look, the steel returning to his eyes for a second. “Just… be good to him, Wyatt. Seriously. Or I’ll personally introduce your face to the business end of a fence post.”

“Understood.” I nodded solemnly. “No fence post necessary.”

“So that’s it?” Timmy still looked stunned. “No lecture? No grilling me about my intentions with your best friend?”

Travis laughed. “What is this, 1950? You’re grown men. Figure it out.” He pushed his chair back. “Frankly, I’m just relieved I don’t have to listen to Wyatt subtly grilling me about you every time we hang out anymore.”

My face burned hotter. “I don’t?—”

“Oh, you absolutely do,” Travis cut me off cheerfully. “Every single time. ‘How’s Tim doing in California? Has Tim mentioned coming home for a visit? Heard from Tim lately? Think Tim’s happy out there?’” He ticked the questions off on his fingers.

Timmy turned to me, eyebrows arched high, a slow, delighted smile spreading across his face. “Really?”

“I might have inquired about your well-being,” I admitted stiffly.

“A few inquiries,” Travis repeated with a theatrical snort. “Try a full debriefing every damn time we’ve had beers for the last four years.”

Timmy’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling. He squeezed my thigh again. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well.” I cleared my throat, desperate to change the subject. “Now you know.”

Travis carried his mug to the sink, shaking his head with amusement. “Just try to keep the making out to a minimum when I’m around, okay? There are some things a brother doesn’t need to witness.”

“No promises,” Timmy shot back, bumping his shoulder against mine.

“And maybe text if you’re not coming home next time?” Travis added, grabbing his keys from the counter. “Was about five minutes from calling the sheriff this morning.”

“Sorry about that.” Timmy had the grace to look sheepish. “Things got… distracting.”

Travis held up both hands. “And that’s my cue.” He pulled open the door. “Gotta get to the Feed and Seed. I’m covering a shift for Sheila. Lock up if you leave.” He paused on the step, looking back at us, his expression softening again. “Seriously, though. Happy for you guys.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving us in a sudden, loaded silence. The morning sunlight streamed through the window, dust motes dancing in the beams. Timmy let out a long breath.

“That went… surprisingly okay.” He traced the rim of his mug.

“Told you he’d be fine.” Relief washed through me, stronger than I’d expected.

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect the smug ‘I knew it all along’ routine.” He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.

“Travis has always been more observant than we give him credit for.”

“Apparently.” Timmy reached across the table again, his fingers brushing mine. The casual contact sent a familiar jolt through me. “So… I know the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing must have blindsided you.”

My heart gave a distinct kick against my ribs. “It’s okay with me. It okay with you?”

“More than okay.” His eyes met mine. “I like the sound of it. Wyatt Walker is my boyfriend.”

“Timmy Prescott is my boyfriend,” I echoed. The words felt solid. Like settling into a well-worn saddle. Right.

He leaned back, stretching slightly in my oversized clothes. “So. We have a whole day ahead of us. What does my boyfriend want to do?”

An idea, one that had been hovering at the edge of my thoughts, took shape. “Remember our conversation at the creek yesterday? Before… well, before my horse decided I needed a bath?”

His eyes danced with amusement. “Vaguely. The part where you were trying to act all tough and cowboy-like?”

“Before that,” I clarified, ignoring the jab. “You said you missed the open space. People who knew you before California.”

He nodded slowly, his expression turning more thoughtful. “Yeah. I did.”

“Want to see more of it? The ranch, I mean. There’s a spot… up on the north ridge. My dad used to take me there.”

His face softened, a genuine warmth spreading through his eyes. “I’d love that, Wyatt.”

An hour later, after Timmy had changed his clothes and I’d tossed sandwiches and a couple of beers into a backpack, we were bumping along a dusty ranch road, heading toward the higher pastures.

Timmy had the window rolled down, his arm resting on the sill, the wind ruffling his hair.

He looked relaxed, more settled than I’d seen him since he arrived.

Like he fit here, in the passenger seat of my truck, dust coating the dashboard, the scent of hay and dry earth filling the cab.

I reached across the bench seat, my hand briefly covering his where it rested on his thigh. His skin was warm beneath my touch. I gave a quick squeeze before returning my hand to the wheel. “Glad you came back, Timmy.”

“Me too.”

We left the truck at the base of a rocky incline, the air already hot even though it was barely mid-morning. The hike wasn’t long, but the trail was steep, winding through scrubby juniper and sun-baked rocks. I grabbed the backpack.

“Ready?”

He nodded, squinting up at the ridge against the bright blue sky.