Cowboys 03 - My Cowboy Homecoming (11 page)

“Goddamn, Lucho.” I smacked the fence with my fist—which hurt, thank you very much. “There’s nothing I can do about that. Ask me to do something else. Ask me to face down your family’s anger or be nice to your kid brother or get into a pen with a horse that wants to kill me, and I’m there, man. I can’t change who my dad is.”

He blinked at me in surprise.

“Ask me for anything
else
.”

For a second we were all worked up and it was awkward; he couldn’t step forward so he reached out and fisted a handful of my T-shirt and pulled me toward him, but I was off balance—taken more by surprise than passion at that point—and I tripped, nearly stepping on his
good
foot, so when our mouths finally met he was laughing and mine was open with shock, but what started out as a mess ended up to be wholly and completely perfect.

Perfect. Perfect.
Perfect.

Because once we got the business of noses and teeth out of the way—once he decided to cup my jaw between his hands and tilt my head so he could sweep all the hidden places in my mouth with his tongue—I was pressed up against him, pushing up against the fence, and I couldn’t even remember what we’d been arguing about because kissing Lucho was the only thing that mattered in the world.

He kissed like sin. Moved his hands across my chest and beneath my arms and finally, around my back to pull me flush against him. Blood throbbed in my temples, my chest, and my dick. Roared throughout my body.

He tasted like apples.

“Mm.” He moaned into my mouth. “Goddamn.”

He nipped my lip, my jaw. “You did good, army. You’ve got a knack.”

I pressed my face into his neck. “Right.”

“No, really. That was great. He’s starting to trust you. You’re making progress. We’ll bring a lead tomorrow and see if you can get him to trust you enough to put it on him.”

“All right.” I pushed him gently back into his wheelchair. “Whatever you say, boss.”

As I pushed Lucho back to the bunkhouse I was glad he couldn’t see me basking in the warmth of his approval.

I got his wheels cleaned and dragged him up the steps in an agony of indecision. Should I try to kiss him again? Would he welcome it or call me out for taking advantage? Had that kiss been a momentary lapse on his part? Excitement over the progress we’d made with Pio that went too far?

I decided to wait for him to make another move.

He glanced around. “Doesn’t look like anyone is here.”

“They’re probably all still out on the trail.” I took my hat off and fanned myself with it. Horses were hard work.

His gaze lifted to mine, and for the first time, I saw a measure of uncertainty in his eyes. “Do you want to come in for lunch?”

“I—” My heart contracted. “I’m not real hungry.”

“You want to come in for . . . anything else?”

“W-what?” My cheeks caught fire. “I—sure.”

“Thought so,” he said, smugly.

All the longing I’d been keeping a lid on blew and caught me right in the gut. Just . . .
Kaboom.

I put my hat back on, lowering the brim to hide my heated face. “Sure. I—”

“C’mon, army.” He laughed softly. “That hat ain’t hiding nothing from me ’cause I’m not looking at your face.”

Lucho rolled into the bunkhouse and I followed, my heart beating in my throat. He stopped in the living room and motioned for me to sit. “Come on. I won’t bite you.”

A sudden mental image of a stallion biting a mare he’s covering weakened my knees. I sank into the recliner opposite him a little harder than I planned.

“You see a lot of action in the army?”

“Uh . . . some.” I glanced down at my feet. I’d taken my boots off at the door, but now I realized my socks were none too white.
Great. Ma would be mortified.
“Like I said, I was in Afghanistan—”

“I’m not talking about that kind of action.”

I flushed. “Oh. Yeah. Some. Plenty, I guess.” There had been soldiers, either like-minded or just looking for release, and a few encounters with locals in Italy and even the Middle East. “How come?”

“Is there anyone special?”

You.

First thought, whether I liked it or not.

Lucho knocked me on my ass like that. He made me feel like a giddy kid.

I couldn’t even say why, except when he looked at me with those warm brown eyes, I could finally visualize my happy place.

Maybe I’m just a sap.

We sat there, opposite each other. I was nervous, bouncing my knee up and down hard. He was pretty much laughing at me.

“Do I gotta do everything, army?”

I stood, ready to run, anxiety flooding my body. “I don’t know what you want.”

He reached out, grabbed my belt to pull me toward him, and pushed his face into my crotch.

Oh. That . . .

“Whoa.” I should have backed up, but instead, I took his shoulders in a desperate clawlike grip. His hot breath through the denim made me shiver all over. “Ah, damn.”

As he undid my belt buckle he tipped his head back and grinned up at me. “You’re kind of slow on the uptake, huh?”

“Maybe.” I gasped when he lowered my zipper enough to reach those clever fingers in and find my cock. I could laugh at myself. “Yeah.
Shit.
I’ll probably be quick on the draw too.”

“Lemme just—” he yanked my jeans down to my thighs “—get this bad boy out so I can look at him.”

I doubted my face could get any hotter. I wilted under his scrutiny and even so, he whispered his approval.

“Yeah. Nice. I like.”

Tentatively, I kneaded his shoulders, causing him to chuckle lightly against my skin.

“I know what you want.”

Caution kept my mouth shut. Since I’d met him, Lucho had me on edge. I wasn’t about to say anything while he waited, his mouth a breath away from my cock. Except maybe . . .

“Please.”
I gasped, and then his hot, wet mouth closed over me. The sheer luxury of it plunged me into sensation as if it was the first time, as if it had been years instead of weeks since I’d had this, had anyone, because there was no one like Lucho.

There’d never been anyone like him. Exasperating, infuriating. Intense and exciting.

He started soft, his fingers digging into the muscles of my ass, testing. Teasing. The whisper of his breath on my skin raised the hair all over my body and the suction . . .
Christ
.

I cupped his face between my hands and silently begged him for more of everything. More heat, more pressure. I wanted to be transported, torn apart, I wanted to be devoured, and he was taking me so goddamn slow my head swam.

I nudged him, gripping him tighter, but he wouldn’t be rushed. That hot liquid slide over my skin simply wasn’t enough—it would never be enough—but then he moved his hands, cupping my balls in front, gliding along my ass crack in back.

His thick, callused fingers came into play and my whole world went on tilt.

Silken strands of Lucho’s short hair in my grip, I surged forward, and he took it, took all of me, swallowing around my cock like he was as desperate as I was. Short, sharp bursts of pleasure were all the warning I had.

“Ah, gonna—” I gave a shocked cry and jetted cum down his throat like a teenager while he wrapped his arms around my hips, holding me through my aftershocks as if he was pleased I’d gone off quick like that.

I mumbled an embarrassed, “Sorry.”

“What for?” He smoothed his hands over my ass and flanks, rubbing me and soothing my skin, his face still pressed into my abdomen.

As I stroked his hair, his breath cooled my damp skin.

“I’m—I should have warned you or something, I—”

“Shut up,” he frowned as he smoothed his hand over the scar on my back. “What’s that? Turn around.”

I did as he asked.

The large patch of shiny red scar tissue was the result of an explosion that sent fragments of burning metal—mostly galvanized aluminum nails and other shrapnel—into my back. He smoothed the palm of his hand over the rough skin. “Shit.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “That looks like it hurt.”

“It’s nothing.” We’d hit a trip wire and triggered an IED. It fucked me up for a while. I was fine. My best friend, Maddox, had been killed in the heavy gun battle that followed. For better or worse, I was the owner of a big, nasty scar and a medal. I couldn’t talk about that yet. “It’s just a scar.”

“If you say so.” He pressed his lips against the damaged skin. My throat closed. I must have made some kind of noise, because he whispered, “Are you okay?”

Except for my goddamn watery eyes, I was fine. “Yeah. It’s all healed up.”

“Outside,” he said impatiently. “But inside? Are you really okay?”

I didn’t know the answer to that. I just stood there, letting him hold me, saying nothing.

“I’m tired, Tripp.” He finally let me go.

I turned around. “First time you’ve said my name.”

“I know. Figured we’re on first-name terms right now. Was I wrong?”

“No.” My name sounded okay from his lips. I could almost forget how I got it. I glanced at the door. “You think anyone—”

“No one’s around.” He hesitated. “I want you to take me to bed.”

That made me smile. “I can do that. You want my ass, cowboy?”

“Uh. Yeah . . .” His expression was full of regret. “I want that. Just . . . not now.”

“No?” He hadn’t gotten off. Didn’t he want to? “How come?”

“I need a pain pill. I’m hurting.”

“Aw, shit.” I studied his face. He looked pinched as hell. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I got distracted by a pretty sweet dick, as I recall.” His slow smile lit my fuse all over again. “But I need to take one of the strong ones. You don’t want me fucking you while I’m on drugs. You could end up in the ER. I seen that on the news.”

That surprised a snort out of me. “What news do you watch?”

He scratched at the stubble around his soul patch. Yawned. “Internet news.”

“Right,” I said. “That’s called porn.”

“Whatever.” He rolled himself to the kitchen and I trailed along behind. He took a pill container off the counter, squinted at it, fought with it, and then shook out two pills.

I took a glass down from the cupboard. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Thanks. Maybe after I take my pill you can take me to bed and just leave me there. I’m wasted.”

“Sure.”

“Stupid
fucking
foot,” he said bitterly. “First time I let a horse get the better of me since I’m a little kid.”

“Pio’s pretty smart. He waits until your attention’s divided for even a split second and then he strikes.”

“Then I guess that makes you pretty brave, getting in there with him.”

“Nope. That was stupidity.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“You told me to.” I filled his glass with tap water.

“Just like that?” His smile was slow and wicked. “I’m going to file that away for future reference.”

“You do that.” I waited, uncertain if he was ready for me to help him to bed. He reached for my hand and we stayed there like that, fingers intertwined. First time I’d ever held hands with a dude like that. I kind of liked it.

“I’m beat.” He sighed deeply.

“Let’s get you to bed,” I said. “I’ll see that you’re comfortable and then I’ll get back to work.”

“It’s probably time to move Crispin’s compost piles.” His smile was pretty nasty. “Guess you could do that.”

“You think I’d have a problem with that? I’ve done a lot worse things than move around a little horseshit.” I followed along as he wheeled himself to the bedroom he shared with Fausto. “Builds muscle and character to shovel shit.”

“That why you look like you do?”

He got to his feet—foot—and without asking, I lifted his arm around my neck to help him into bed. “Like what?”

“You look like a damned GI Joe,
papi chulo
.”

That made me stop where I was. “Are you saying you think I’m hot?”

His expression told me I was an idiot for asking. “Don’t be hiding your light under a bushel. The minute I saw you I thought—” He took a bad hop and fell onto his bed. “Ow.”

“What?” I got a little short of breath watching him as he rolled onto his back and started unbuttoning his shirt. The way he eyed me was pretty shameless. “What did you think when you saw me?”

“I thought, ‘Uh-oh. Here comes a big, beefy hunk of trouble.’”

I helped him out of his orthotic boot and then his jeans, taking the fabric carefully over his injury, treating his foot like spun glass.

He stretched out, his thick cock visibly dormant in his boxers. That told me everything I needed to know: he was tired and in pain. Anything fun really did have to wait.

At least, I hoped that was why he wasn’t aroused when I only had to hear his name for my dick to wake up and start filling my jeans.

I lifted his covers and carefully draped them over him so as not to put too much pressure on his foot.

“I thought you were hot, but then I find out you’re Calvin Tripplehorn’s kid.”

“Sorry about that. I didn’t have much say in the matter.”

He blinked up at me. The meds must have been starting their magic even then, because he looked a little unfocused. “You going to go visit him in jail now that you’re back?”

“God, no.”

His eyes softened. “Wish things were different.”

“How so?”

“Want you . . .”

I eyed his body, which still seemed pretty boneless. Boner-less.
Whatever.
“You’re not up to it, I don’t think.”

“I will be. Soon.”

“I’ll be ready.”

He hooked his hand around my neck and brought me in for a sloppy kiss. I was right. His lips were soft as Cinnamon Bears and right then they tasted like sex.

Like my spunk and the heat from my body.

I opened my eyes and found him watching me.

I dropped a kiss on his forehead. God, I really was a sap. “Think we could get a Saturday night off together? I’ll take you into town for a steak dinner. All the trimmings. Maybe get a hotel for the night?”

“Sounds nice.”

“Good, ’cause I need a few hours with you in a nice big bed. When you’re better, of course.”

He smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Rest up for now.” I patted his hand. “You need me? You just give a shout or whatever. You have my number.”

“You got that right, army.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I gave his hair a ruffle.

“Really?” He scrubbed at his face. “I’m not a kid, esse. Don’t be fluffing my hair.”

Which made him look and sound a lot like a kid. “You went to school with my brother, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Same grade?”

“Yeah. What of it?”

I smoothed the covers down, if only to lay my hands on him again. “I don’t need to find you your wubby or anything do I?”

“Fuck you.”

“Gladly. But later.”
Did I detect a rush of blood beneath those chiseled brown cheeks?

“Think you’re funny, do you?”

“I know I am.”

“C’mere.” He crooked his finger.

I leaned over, thinking he was going to say something or kiss me again and instead he gave my nipple a vicious pinch. I said, “Ow” even though I kind of liked it.

“G’night.” He rolled over.

“Good night to you, Mr. Can’t-take-a-little-teasing
.
” I huffed a laugh as I headed out to shovel horseshit with a pretty light heart.

Later that day, the beat of hooves alerted me when the cowboys came back. They were hot and filthy, and their horses needed seeing to. Fausto’s uncle had just dropped him off, so he and I took Wrangle and Theodore off Crispin and Malloy and met the new guys, Stu Lyons and Petey Salazar.

It was clear to me right from the start that Jim, Eddie, Stu and Petey had been friends for a long time. There was a lot of good-natured teasing about the fact that Jim and Eddie were romantically involved, because apparently everyone saw that coming but the two of them.

As we took care of the horses, they let me know what I could expect from my new job. They also talked about Sanchez, who quit.

“Yessir.” Stu walked his horse to the barn alongside me and Wrangle. “Apparently he’s afraid to work among the homosexuals. ’S afraid it’s catching or something. I told him I been working here for a long time, and I still like women as much as I ever did. Maybe more now ’cause I’m old and I don’t take ’em for granted no more.”

Petey nudged him. “Stu likes women lots, in case you’re wondering. Stu here is one of them chick magnets. The ladies are blind to his obvious flaws.”

I wasn’t sure I saw Stu’s charm at first. I mean, he was okay—just another rangy cowboy. He had sunburned skin, a pair of nice hands, and a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. It wasn’t until he flashed me a shy smile that I could see the attraction. He had one of those sweet, dimpled faces that looks utterly innocent but his eyes held old wisdom and mischief and a whole lot of sexy in them.

Cowboys, man. You had to love them. For his part, Petey was shorter and as stocky as his pinto, a horse he called Stubby, short for Stubborn. He was quick to tell me he’d been happily married for thirty years, and equally eager to show off pictures of his grandkids.

“We knew Crandall,” Petey said.

Next to him, Stu nodded. “You’d never meet a finer man. I’m sorry he’s gone.”

“It’s good to be back here, anyway.” Petey pulled the saddle off Stubby to brush him down. “Even if the J-Bar is a hotbed of homosexuality these days.”