Page 26 of Stirring Up Trouble (Saddle Up #1)

Of course, my relationships went much the same.

And it wasn’t like I bothered with social norms anyway.

I lived life without labels or classifications as much as possible.

Having parents who forced me to fit in their perfect box as much as possible growing up, it felt good to expand my wings into my own form.

Turning away from Lex and his sudden phone call, I allowed myself to search out the crowd for a man who might whet my appetite. It had been a while, and I could feel my cock growing merely at the thought of taking someone to bed.

I took my time perusing the room. A few people looked as if they might be good prospects.

Some businessmen in suits were my billionaire boss wet dream as they leaned on another high-top table across the way.

From the two wedding bands I saw and the gaze one had on the waitress, I figured I’d strike out if I took that direction.

Other than them, there was only the single guy at the bar and the guy reading in a booth in the back corner.

While I had nothing against getting lost in a good book, I couldn’t picture myself interrupting him to shoot my shot.

It felt wrong, especially given the unspoken rules of book reading in public.

Do not engage. Do not disturb. Pretend the reader is invisible.

Any and all forms of that idea were permissible. I’d instituted them a few times myself when I needed alone time between exams and rotations.

That left me with the single guy.

Something about him had me wanting to know his story. It might have been the fact that he stood out from the crowd. With a cowboy hat, a flannel button up, and dark wash jeans, he was the epitome of a cowboy. Even his boots looked like they could tell a story.

Like most young boys, I’d gone through a phase where I liked cowboys. I didn’t ever dress up as one, as that would have sent my parents into a tailspin. Rather, I’d watched fascinated at the way these big, strong men would wrangle both animal and land to their bidding.

As a child they felt larger than life.

Staring at a full-fledged cowboy as a grown man, I felt much the same way. Except this time there was something deliciously sexy about the image he painted.

Could he rough me up with those big strong hands? Maybe bend me to his will until I did as he wanted?

Yeah. The image in my mind was one I wanted to see happen.

The cowboy picked up his glass and took a swig of whatever was in it.

He closed his eyes, his shoulders bunching as if to fight the burn of the drink, before placing the glass back on the counter.

He didn’t pay attention to anyone else at the bar, even though there were plenty of people trying to get his attention, men and women alike.

Something told me I should stay away. It told me he was troubled and looking for a night to be alone.

But I was never one to back down when I thought someone could use company.

One thing I learned in all my years of schooling was the loneliest people never asked for help.

They'd rather sit alone, hoping someone would step up to talk to them, rather than take a risk meeting a new person or making a new friend.

This cowboy needed someone on his side. I could be that person.

And if it led to the bedroom afterward, I wouldn’t turn down being his stress relief for the night.

I moved over to where he sat, then slid on to the empty barstool beside him.

“What can I get you?” The bartender was quick to walk up once I got seated. I placed the mostly empty glass of alcohol on the bar top, scooting it toward him to let him know I’d tapped out.

“A water, please.” I'd had enough alcohol for this evening and if I really had any intentions beneath the sheets with the cowboy beside me, I needed to sober up.

“My name is Sean,” I told him as I turned my head to get my first real look at him.

Stubble lined his strong jaw line. I had the urge to run my hand over it to see how it would feel. His nose was average in size. Not too big or too small. His ears were much the same.

My gaze traveled up to his eyes, where I found a pair of honey brown eyes staring back at me. Seemed I’d been caught staring a hair too long. I barely restrained a grin at the raised brow he gave me.

We were locked in a stare off, neither of us eager to let the other one go. I didn't understand his reasoning for looking at me the way he did, but I wasn’t about to walk away when he called out to me in such a visceral way.

I’m here.

I’m listening.

Tell me your story, cowboy.

“Atticus.” At the sound of his smoky voice, I felt another part of me become fascinated. I’d spent the better part of my college life learning new people, places, and things. By far, the thing I enjoyed most were all the accents and dialects I came across.

Talking to my cowboy presented me with something new. It would take a lot more than a dismissive attitude from him to get me to leave now.

I needed to coax more out of him than just his name.

If not for my own interest, then for his need to talk to someone besides the bottom of the glass in his hand.

He was close to finishing, and I didn’t want him to pick up another.

Not when I felt it to be a distraction he didn’t really want.

Call me crazy, but I could sense he wasn’t normally this type.

Even outside of the fact he came dressed all wrong for the bar.

“What brings you here tonight? You’re all alone at this bar when plenty of people have tried to get your attention. Men and women alike.”

He snorted at my remark, though he remained quiet. Whatever he thought of my world, I could tell I struck a nerve. His eyes searched the area for people who were looking our way. There were quite a few, and by the time he faced the front again he wore a sheepish expression.

I leaned over to whisper where only he could hear. “Told you so.”

Shaking his head, he chuckled at my teasing. “Came here to get away and I still manage to draw attention.”

Get away? What was this man running from? Or was it someone?

Whatever it was, it had storm clouds forming in his eyes. I couldn’t seem to resist trying to clear them away. If I could get him to smile once before our conversation ended, I’d consider the interaction a success.

Sex was now pushed to the back burner in favor of brightening the worry Atticus had.

Before I could stop myself, I was asking questions I had no business knowing answers to. “Where are you running from? You’re not hiding out from the law or anything, are you?”

Those mesmerizing eyes of his clashed with mine. He took a deep breath, then pushed the drink in front of him away.

“I’m running from my past, I guess. Today is kind of an important day. And, well, normally I would go back home and visit. I can't bring myself to do it today. I tried so hard for so long to let things rest. But I can't let things go. It hurts too much.”

His wounds ran deep. The pitch of his voice. the hunching of his shoulders. It all told me that the way he was feeling was stronger than even I could fathom. The words he spoke held as much meaning as the ones he wouldn’t utter.

And his pain far surpassed something simple.

Once again, I found myself asking questions I didn't need to. He didn't need me poking around in his life. Still, I couldn’t hold back even though I knew I should have.

“Maybe it's best if you run. Is there anything left behind that you'd be losing?”

His gaze turned to the bar. I knew he wasn't checking out all of the different bottles stacked up. Various amber liquids mixed with the clear, tasteless poisons that burned as they went down.

I waited to see if he would respond. If he didn't, I would take it as a loss and move back to the table to wait on Lex. If he did answer, then I would remain with him and see where the night went. I was interested enough to know what his story was.

I couldn't say that for most people. Usually, they bored me to tears. Not this man. No, I wanted to uncover all of his truths. I wanted to peel him back layer by layer to see what was underneath. I couldn’t explain why.

Ask me about any subject out there, I could write a ten-page paper on it in no time. I could research it to the nth degree until the answers were tattooed in my mind.

Atticus was a different story. Whatever stories he had, held more meaning than what I could find on my own. His pain was a beacon to me.

I wanted to follow it.

Find it.

Fix it.

“Today is the anniversary of my brother's death. Mom’s been gone for a while too. The only one left in my family is my father. So to answer your question, yes, I guess there is something I've left behind. Though I haven't seen him in years.”

“Why not?” I asked him.

“Because it hurts too much. It hurts him and it hurts me and it's not how I want to spend my time when I'm on the ranch. Usually when I make a trip back it's when I know he'll be gone. Like today. He always visits their graves on the anniversaries. It's his way of keeping their memory alive.”

Grief is full of different meanings for different people.

It could be turbulent and overwhelming, eating at you until there's nothing left but raw pain.

Or it could be freeing and cleansing for some, helping to renew life and start fresh.

For some it was like a limbo keeping you from living a full life, but not dragging you down into the darkness that would overcome you.

I felt like Atticus lived in limbo.

It was clear from his appearance that he still managed to get by. He's clean. He smells nice. He spoke clearly. Everything seemed to be alright.

There was just a touch of sadness though. Just a sprinkling beyond what most people keep as their norm.

“How long has it been since you lost them?”

After a moment of silence, he pulled his glass back over and took another sip. “We lost Junior when he was eleven. Mom in my teens.”

Looking at him, I would estimate he was somewhere in his early 30s, maybe late 20s.

His look was one of someone who had been put through hell in life.

He was gruff and weathered. A sharp contrast to the businessmen in the room.

The ones whose hands were buttery smooth, and their clothing never creased.

They’d made my mouth water earlier, but now I couldn’t tell you how many were in the room. I didn’t care.

My sole focus went to the man sitting on the barstool beside me sharing his heart with me. He was the most interesting person here. That's why I approached him when Lex left me on my own.

I turned my head to look at my friend and see if he was still on his call. His smile was wide, as he animatedly talked about whatever he and his girlfriend were discussing.

What a blow that was, to know he didn't trust me enough to tell me this even though I shared things with him I dare not share with anyone else.

His logic stood, but still stung. To know I wasn't that important.

“What's different this year?” I turned my focus back to Atticus. “Why not go home? You said that it was different. That things have changed. Why now?”

He shook his head and stared at his glass. I sipped the water the bartender had brought me at some point. My focus was so intent on the stranger that I’d missed him even setting it down.

“I’m tired,” he said. “I’ve spent years feeling guilt and pain over what happened to my family even though it wasn't my fault. And I know me being back home only reminds my father of what he’s lost, which is why I always managed to avoid him when I returned.

Only a few guys even knew I came by. Even now that seems like too much.

Feels like too big of a reach. I just want a fresh start.

Something new. I don't want to hurt anymore.”

Distraction.

What Atticus needed was something to tear his mind away from it all.

His words weren't self-deprecating. They were merely his belief of himself.

I wanted to shake him and tell him that there was so much more to it.

There were things worth living for. Working in the field of medicine, I watched people every day. From the start of a new life with a birth, to the lingering sadness brought on by death, I saw it all.

It was the dichotomy of life.

Oftentimes people who didn't get to experience these things firsthand could only view through their singular focus.

It’s why Atticus had a single-minded focus on his own life. And also why no amount of words I said would change his opinion. Not in one night, anyway.

And that was all we had.

Or all I hoped we had. The man beside me wasn’t giving me any indication of where the rest of tonight would go. I was hopeful it led to a bedroom where he’d let some of that pain out on me with a good fuck.

Atticus pushed his drink away and turned his body towards me just as I was about to give up on the conversation. “What's your story? You come over here asking me for information when you yourself had a date tonight.”

I laughed loudly at his accusing tone. “You're hilarious. Lex is definitely not a date. He is one of my best friends and peers. He's currently on the phone with his girlfriend.” I motioned over my shoulder in Lex’s general direction as I put emphasis on his relationship status.

The handsome cowboy looked over my shoulder. “Mmhm,” he mumbled.

“And how did you know I was with him? You’ve barely even looked up from the bar, mister.” I nearly poked him in the arm, but somehow held myself back from the physical contact.

He gave me a small smile as he shook his head. “That's not true. I was here long before you two. You just didn't notice me, so you had no idea I had already seen what you look like. It’s why I was shocked when you walked up to sit beside me. Felt like the universe was playing a trick on me.”

“A trick?”

He nodded as he leaned his forearm against the top of the bar. I wondered if the view under his layer of clothing was as delectable as what I could see. Outward appearances led me to believe he likely grew up on a farm.

If you’d have asked me before tonight if that was my thing, I’d have laughed in your face. My type wasn’t cowboys with corded forearms and sad eyes.

“Why did you think it was a trick?” I repeated when he didn't answer.

“Because there's no way someone as handsome as you would approach someone like me.”

My jaw dropped at the idea this man didn’t know how handsome he was. Or that I was somehow superior to him.

“I don't see how you could possibly think I’m hotter than you. You’ve got this whole thing going for you.” I waved my arms to indicate his body from head to toe. “Plus, the whole reason I came over here was because I wanted to sleep with you. Not because of a trick.”

Atticus went still, his eyes turning molten at my confession.

Huh.

Not the reaction I expected.

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