Page 7

7

O kay, maybe taking off his shirt hadn’t been the best idea.

Fox hadn’t taken his shirt off in front of another man in years, not even at the gym, and he probably shouldn’t have done it just now either.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking. Trent was fun for sure, and Fox hadn’t laughed so much in ages. He felt lighter around the guy. Easy. He felt… more like himself.

The warmth in Trent’s smile made him feel kind of sexy, and he’d felt like flirting a little.

For fun, that was all.

He snorted at himself. He hadn’t totally forgotten how to have some fun after all.

He found dry jeans and a clean T-shirt. He ran his fingers through his hair, not that it did any good because it did whatever it wanted to anyway. Then he grabbed his wet jeans and headed back out to the porch.

Trent was splayed out, eyes on the water, country music playing from his phone. That belly was amazing—flat and hard, ripped.

He watched for a second, taking in the whole picture but especially those abs before moving to the railing to hang his pants beside his T-shirt. He didn’t know much country music, but he liked the vibe. “You look comfy. Mostly.” He couldn’t imagine that arm was ever comfortable.

“I am comfy. Mostly.” Trent winked at him, drawl slow and sweet. “You feel better?”

He dragged a chair over and settled in. “I’m dry. My kid is being looked after somewhere else, and I’m sitting here with you, so yeah. I’m good.”

“There’s beer in the beer cooler. Cokes too.” Trent laughed as a couple of calves went galumphing across the pasture, kicking their heels and bellowing.

“I thought it was full of Ensure?” He wasn’t going to ask, since Trent couldn’t drink, but he grabbed himself a beer since it had been offered.

“I had Rope stop at the beer store for you. He knew your favorites.”

“That was thoughtful. Thank you.”

He settled in his seat again, stretching his feet out in front of him. They watched the animals for a bit, and a comfortable silence settled between them while he sipped his beer.

“So… how did you get into rodeo?”

“My daddy, I guess? I mean, I grew up around rodeo. I was never intended to be anything else.”

He couldn’t imagine that. People just didn’t grow up wanting to be in rodeo.

“Nothing else? Ever?” He’d had so many ideas. He hadn’t ever really decided. After college, he’d just kept trying one new job after another until he’d ended up in New York.

“Nope. I wanted to be in the big show—hearing the cheering and being under the lights.” Trent gave him a glinting grin. “The hot Wrangler butts didn’t hurt.”

“Huh.” He chuckled. He’d been a football fan for the same reason once. “You know, I hadn’t given much thought to them until just now. But maybe I should pay more attention.”

“Wrangler butts? They’re something special…” That was a wicked wink.

For a second, he tried to picture Rope’s butt, but then he decided that was way too sleazy. “I’ll have to get a better look when you stand up again.”

Yep. He said that.

Damn.

“Fair enough.” He didn’t get so much as a blink. Not a blush. Just a naughty little nod. “These aren’t my best jeans, but they fit.”

“I’m just curious how you got them on.” He sipped his beer and relaxed, enjoying how Trent just played along with him.

“It took about an hour, but they’re on.” Trent waggled his eyebrows. “I can’t wait to have both hands back.”

That made him swallow. He had to believe Trent was good with those hands. “I bet. You’ll be able to open a beer.”

“I’ll be able to take a real shower. I’ll be able to go swimming. I’ll be able to put on a shirt by myself.”

“Things to look forward to.” That brace thing had to suck. He’d probably never have to find out; he didn’t have enough daredevil in him to get that injured. He leaned toward the edge of the porch. “I think the rain is letting up.”

“Yep. There’s another round coming in about half an hour.” Trent tried to roll that shoulder, and Fox could hear the straps groaning. “Gonna be a wet night.”

“I guess that’s rough on your bad arm, huh?” He had a tricky knee, but it didn’t seem to be bothering him nearly as much here as it had in the city for some reason.

“Not as bad as it will be in ten years, huh? That’s when it’ll be brutal, and I’ll cry.” Trent winked over at him. “Now it itches like a bitch.”

Cry. Ha. He rolled his eyes. “You do not strike me as a crier.” Itching was the worst. “Like, an inside itch or an outside itch? I could maybe put something on it for you.” What? God, he’d just meant that to be helpful and it came out… hot. “I mean—if it would help.”

“You mean it? Because I got this cream stuff. But I got to tell you, it’s ugly, so if you’re squeamish…”

“Oh, you got me. I’m a delicate flower.” He shrugged and batted his eyelashes at Trent.

“Don’t make me blow kisses at you now.” Trent chuckled. “I’d love a little relief, man. And I’m not talking about my dick.”

“Well, thank God for that. Someone might think you’re gay.”

“God for-fucking-bid. I much prefer fudge packer.” Trent laid that out without a hint of expression.

He snorted and set his beer down on the railing. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. Can I get that cream for you, Mr. Fudgepacker?”

“That’s Senor Dick-Sucking Fudgepacker to you.” Then Trent cracked up, just howling with joy. “It’s in my bathroom on the counter. It’s a prescription tube, not the lube.”

He laughed along, really enjoying the banter. “Jesus, I’m glad you told me. It’s been so long I think I’ve forgotten what lube looks like.” He wandered off saying, “prescription, not lube,” over and over, loud enough for Trent to hear, grinning like a fool as the laughter followed him through the house.

The big living room-kitchen-dining room split off in two directions—one went to the three smaller bedrooms, and the other went toward Trent’s room. He followed the hall, not worrying at all about feeling awkward wandering into Trent’s bedroom until he got there.

You didn’t just wander into your host’s private space, let alone into his bathroom. That was nosy and weird.

Especially if your host was a hot, if slightly beat-up, cowboy.

But here he was, pretending not to notice anything as he moved past the man’s bed toward the bathroom.

What he did notice was that the bed was made, and there was a recliner in the room that wasn’t meant to be there. Also, it smelled just like Trent, and someone needed help with his laundry.

God, he couldn’t imagine having to sleep in a recliner every night. Although, even as he thought that he remembered sleeping on the couch for a year after Xan had died. Not the same thing, but a guy did what he needed to do, right?

He’d get Trent all relaxed and then he’d start some laundry. He could make himself useful; he didn’t mind. He kind of liked it actually—being able to help the guy out.

The bathroom was a good size, and he found the cream easily. There was no lube anywhere near it, which made him laugh enough that it echoed against the tiled walls of the shower.

Funny guy.

There were towels in the bathroom, and a note on the mirror. “Call and ask me for help, asshole. R.”

That was telling, and also so like Rope. He was a good guy, so perfect for Jude, although no one would ever think so just to look at them. Rope was generous to a fault, and apparently as good a friend as he was a husband.

Fox grabbed the prescription and headed back through the bedroom. He stopped by the hamper and pulled the bag out, figuring the laundry was probably somewhere near the kitchen.

He was going to have to do his own laundry soon enough anyway.

There was a nice laundry room off the kitchen, with a hanging rack, a folding table, and a bunch of boots and hats and jackets.

Score . He separated out the laundry, being very adult about sorting out undies and socks, and put in a white load, figuring those were the things a man would run out of first.

“I found it,” he said as he stepped back out onto the porch. “And I set up a load of laundry for you.”

“Oh, you rock, man. You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.” Trent blushed, and it was so pretty.

He was glad he’d done it; that blush was worth his time. “I have a daughter. I do a lot of laundry. It’s all good.”

“Still, I appreciate it, man. Now, I need to unstrap enough to get my shirt off.” Trent didn’t look super enthused.

“Okay, tell me what to do.” This had to be easier with two people. “Start up here by the shoulder, or down by your waist?”

“We’re just going to unstrap the shoulder—go slow. Then we jury-rigged me up Velcro shirtsleeves, so you can pull me open.”

“Velcro shirts. Clever.” He found the strap on the shoulder and started to loosen it very slowly, watching Trent’s face to make sure everything was okay. “How’s that? Slow enough? You good?”

“Yeah. Any pain will be worth it to get some relief from the itch.” Trent was beginning to sweat on his upper lip.

“Okay, let’s see if I can get that shirt loose without doing too much more.” He reached for the sleeve and tugged at the Velcro, trying not to jostle Trent’s shoulder more than he had to.

The bandage came away with the shirt, and Jesus, it was raw and red and painful looking. Trent had to be in agony.

“I hope they have you on the good meds.” He’d never seen anything like it. He didn’t know how Trent wasn’t in the hospital.

“I try to only take one at night. I got to be functional. It’s still looking okay, right?”

There was nothing—nothing—about this that was okay.

“Um. Well, it doesn’t look infected.” Hopefully, that would satisfy Trent because otherwise it kind of looked awful, and he didn’t want to say so. And he’d just volunteered to put some of this cream on it.

“Good. Good. Thanks for this.”

Oh God, he needed to wash his hands. “Before I touch it, I should probably—I was eating that burger, and my hands are—I’ll be right back.” That would buy him two minutes to get it together.

He headed off, and he forced himself to breathe. Trent was coping. All he had to do was put goo on the damn thing. It was probably so red because of the seams and Velcro.

He washed his hands and thought about how he was going to help Trent be more comfortable. He just hoped he didn’t hurt anything while he was at it.

Man up . He was a big boy.

“Okay. All cleaned up.”

“I’m sorry, man. I know it’s gross. I just—It itches so fucking bad.” Trent had worked the lid off the cream, but he just couldn’t quite reach.

“Nope. Don’t apologize, you’re good. I’m happy to help.” He took the cream and dipped his fingers in it. “Just slather it on? Should I work it in?”

“Just slather it on. Don’t mind me if I make a noise. I’m okay.”

He huffed a short laugh. “So ignore the wild voice begging me to stop?” He got to work as gently but as quickly as he could manage, figuring it was best not to take his time.

It shocked the hell out of him to see Trent’s eyes fill with tears, cheeks flushed. He didn’t acknowledge it though, just did his best to get the cream on nice and even everywhere, telling himself it was good for the cowboy in long run.

“Okay. I’m done. All done, cowboy.” He put the cap on the cream and set it aside, then wiped his hand off on his wet jeans hanging on the railing since he was going to wash them anyway. He rested a hand on Trent’s good shoulder, giving it a little squeeze of comfort.

“Oh. Oh, so much better. Thank you.” Trent wiped sweat off his forehead.

Poor guy. Better and worse. “Can I get you some water or something? Pills?”

“No. No, I’m good. Sprite? Can I have a Sprite?”

“Oh yeah. Now you’re living large.” He slid over to the porch fridge and grabbed one, opening it as he headed back. He figured he could lighten things up a bit. “One Sprite. Go easy. That shit’ll go to your head.”

“Those bubbles are a scary damn thing.”

He appreciated Trent’s attempt at a grin. “Let me know when you’re ready to get all strapped in again.”

“Yeah. I’ll give it a minute to breathe. I don’t need much, but I want it to get some air.”

“Makes sense.” He sat again, so he didn’t seem like he was hovering, even though that shoulder looked like a reason to hover. “So you did that how long ago?”

“Three days before little bit was born. So April. Damn near three and half months.” Trent sighed. “It got infected real bad, then they replaced the joint. That’s the scar in the front. The top’s from where they scraped out the rot.”

“Yikes.” He winced and picked up his beer again. “Rope made it sound like you weren’t the best patient, but I’m not sure I would be either. Man.”

His phone started to play in his pocket, and he pulled it out. “Amelia’s texting. It’s some Taylor Swift song she put on there.” He looked at the text.

Amelia

daddy can i stay the nite with my new friends? silas says i can borrow pjs

He grinned at that. Look at his little girl, making friends and having a sleepover.

Fox

At Uncle Jude’s house?

Amelia

yes with other people that we went to the movie with

Fox

Sure. Tell Uncle Jude I’ll call later.

Amelia

THANK YOU. YOU ARE THE BEST DADDY EVER

That was followed by a million rainbow hearts.

Pages of them.

“She’s staying the night. Silas is lending her PJs.”

“Oh, wow. Is this her first sleepover?” Trent actually seemed interested.

“No, but I love that she feels comfortable and is making some friends here.” He shrugged. “I just want her to be happy, you know?”

“Sure. Of course. This is a great place to be a kid. When Silas got here the first day, I was here, and he told his daddy he wasn’t ever going back.”

“It seems like he was born here. Amelia is learning a lot from him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she told me the same thing soon.” He wasn’t sure what his answer would be either. Maybe he’d even say yes. Maybe.

“You think? That would be something. I know that there’s not as much to do here, but it’s way different from where you were.”

“I don’t know; for a kid, there’s a lot to do. Maybe more than where she was. She’s busy all day. She sleeps like a log and goes back out as soon as she’s up. She doesn’t miss lattes like I do.” He winked at Trent.

“Oh, I got one of them fancy coffee machines. I haven’t even taken it out of the box. You should unpack it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

“Uh-huh. I ordered it before the wreck. It’s on the floor in the pantry. I can’t lift it.”

Like that happened.

But, if Trent ordered it, he must also like a good espresso. “I will totally set it up. And then I will make up exceptional coffee while it storms later.” He felt himself smile. He was kind of excited about the idea.

“Yeah? Excellent. I got good whole-bean coffee in the freezer. A fan sent it from Seattle.” Trent was relaxing now, and that angry redness was beginning to fade.

“You have fans? How cool is that? I’m staying with a celebrity.”

Trent winced. “Nah, that was before you came here. I’m a bull rider. Rope’s a champion.”

“Oh, I know all about him. He has quite a story. Jude likes to tell it a lot.” He leaned toward Trent. “A lot .”

Trent’s teeth sank into his bottom lip as he tried to fight his laughter. “Oh, lord have mercy, isn’t that the truth?”

“When they first moved down here it was every—single—phone call.” It was true, but he was also teasing. Jude was proud of Rope; it was part of what made them such a great couple. They were proud of each other. That didn’t stop him from giggling though.

“Oh, champ…” Trent did an amazing Jude impersonation.

“Now, darlin’…” His version of Rope was pathetically bad by contrast, and Fox rolled his eyes as he started to laugh. “Wow.”

Trent howled with laughter, the sound near hysterical. “That was terrible! Do it again!”

“Ha! Not on your life, asshole.” He tapped the butt end of his beer bottle on the railing, sucking in a breath.

Trent’s laughter rolled from him, bubbling out, and the brace started moving under Trent’s arm.

“Whoop!” He reached for the brace, catching it before it slipped, and tried to calm his giggles. “That would be bad. Let’s get this back where it belongs.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m so close to getting better.” Trent helped him get things back to rights. “I’m not messing up now.”

“No way. Not when you have Nurse Foxingale here to help you on a regular basis. Soon with added espresso!” He actually got enough sleep here that espresso was like a treat more than a necessity.

“Oh. Oh, hello, nurse!” Trent’s gaze dragged over his body like a touch. “Foxingale…”

He swallowed and couldn’t have stopped the blush if he’d tried, so he pretended like it wasn’t happening. “That’s me.” His throat had gone dry, so he reached for his beer again.

“Sorry. Sorry, man. I’m not trying to be skeezy. You’re just awful pretty.”

“No, no. You’re not—I’m just—it’s fine,” he stuttered. He’d been totally unprepared for that kind of frank appraisal, but he definitely didn’t hate it. “You’re uh, also… very handsome. I just haven’t—made a new friend in a long while.”

He didn’t mean friend. He meant he was practically a born-again virgin. As if that wasn’t even more embarrassing.

“Yeah. I been watching the market, but it’s been a while since I went all in.”

“Good to know.” Was it? Now what? They were a couple of single guys who hadn’t had sex in eons, sharing a house. And they’d each just admitted they thought the other was hot.

That wasn’t awkward at all.

He checked the strap on Trent’s shoulder one more time. “I think I’ll go check out that espresso machine. Do you care where I put it on the counter?”

“Nope. Make yourself at home. If you need help… uh… you’re fucked?”

He laughed. Again. Trent was really good at making him laugh, putting him at ease. “Also good to know. I will definitely not ask for help.”

“You’re a brilliant son of a bitch. Have fun. I’ll be in after a few.”

He gave Trent a nod and escaped to the kitchen, partly to be helpful, but mostly to get away from those eyes, and the way they looked at him. He hadn’t moved in to get close enough to hit on the cowboy, but that seemed to be where they were.

The what-ifs mill was fast and furious, so he hurried to the pantry and opened the box.

The damn thing had five million pieces.

He really was fucked.