The Terms of Release (7 page)

Why on earth had he come back here to work?

His phone rang as he got himself headed down the highway. His momma’s name popped up on the hands free. Win pushed the button. “Hey, Momma.”

“Hey, baby. How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know, been a heck of a morning already. Everything okay?”

“Yes, I had a need to hear your voice. You’ve been on my mind.” Uh-huh. He’d bet Uncle Teddy had been pushing.

“Anything I need to know, Momma?”

“Yes. Don’t you let those ass hats get to you.”

He grinned. Yeah, that was the more reasonable side of the family. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Want to do lunch tomorrow? We could go into Rockwall and go to El Chico.”

“I would love that. We can share that amazing apple pie on the hot skillet.” She actually sounded excited, and Win loved that. He loved making her happy with simple things.

“Cool. And I can tell you what all I’m doing wrong.”

“You know I live for that. Make a list.”

Evil woman. “I love you, lady. I’ll pick you up at eleven thirty tomorrow.”

“I’ll be ready. You be careful out there, and remember your momma loves you.”

“I will.” Bless her heart, she’d put a smile on his face. He’d so needed that.

He headed into town, checking things out. It was a hard thing—trying to decide whether to be happy all was well or to wish shit would happen so time would pass. He figured he should be grateful for a quiet day. Maybe he could stop and get a coffee. He’d missed his bullpen sludge, thanks to Jim.

He pulled into the diner’s parking lot and headed in, waving to Kelly and Heidi at the counter. Heidi grinned and nodded.

“Just coffee or breakfast, Win?”

“I think coffee and a cinnamon scone, honey.” They teased him unmercifully about his carb intake, but he only drank beer once in a while, so he needed his empty sugar from somewhere.

“You got it.”

He slid into a stool at the counter, nodding to Mike McBride and Terry Mann. The old cowboys nodded back, Mike giving him a crooked grin. “You hear ’bout Nate and them, Win? His woman done had triplets this morning.”

“No shit? I thought twins, but triplets is scary.”

“Two girls and a boy. Babies are going to be in Presbyterian for a bit, but they’re doing good. Nate’s fixin’ to drop his teeth, though. They wasn’t thinking there was a son hiding in the mess.”

“No kidding? Well, I’ll say a prayer for them.” This was how Win got most of his information about the town—chatting.

“Pastor Brown is putting a collection together for them at First Baptist.” Kelly put his coffee and sweet down in front of him. “I know they need clothes and another crib for sure.”

“I’ll stop by, then.” He sniffed the scone. Mmm. Cinnamon. He wondered suddenly if Sage liked scones.

Hell, had Sage ever even had one?

“Can I get another scone to go, hon?” he asked. He wouldn’t be able to deliver it until late in the evening, but he’d bet Sage wouldn’t mind.

“Surely can.” She refilled him. “Man, I’m ready for this summer to be over.”

“Too hot for you?” She’d tell him if it was something else.

“God, yes. And then there’s the TV—everyone’s going on and on about fall. It’s not going to be fall here ’til Thanksgiving.”

“I hear that. Maybe not even that, if it stays like it has.” He grinned, always happy to jaw about nothing.

“Don’t say that, now.” She sighed. “I’m thinking about packing up, moving somewhere with snow.”

Right. Like Kelly was going up north. That girl was Texas, born and bred. She had the helmet hair and sparkly tank tops to prove it. He grinned, shaking his head. “Uh-huh.”

“Don’t you laugh at me, now… you butthead.”

The bell above the door jangled, and Ellen Redding came in, tote bag dangling off one arm, and nodded at the girls and him. “I’m meeting June, honey.”

“Of course you are, it’s Tuesday. You want iced tea?”

“I do, thank you.”

Win smiled. “Morning, ma’am.”

“Morning, Win.” She grinned and gave him a wave. “Mike. Terry.”

The old cowboys nodded as one, both of them sipping their coffees. Win wasn’t sure if it would give her problems if he asked how Sage was….

“How’s Sam doing, honey?” Kelly brought Ellen her tea.

“Better now that Sage is home helping. It’s a lot of work for an old man.”

“I’m sure Sam is glad of it.” Kelly patted Ellen’s shoulder.

“He is. I am too, you know? I missed his face.”

“Well, of course you did. He’s your son.”

Win hid a grin, his relief probably completely out of proportion. He’d known there had to be other people who didn’t think Sage was a demon. Hell, the entire town knew what happened, or at least a version of what happened.

There were times when it was better to let folks believe what they believed. Then there were times to fight it.

Mike sighed softly. “Poor gal. That boy of hers broke her heart. I was glad to hear that he came to make things easier on her.”

“He seems like a decent sort, actually,” Win murmured, putting a bug in the guys’ ears.

“He cowboys up. Rode fence and fed for me last week when I was down in the back.” Terry shrugged. “Shit happens. He did his time.”

Well, good. If the old cowboys approved of Sage, he’d have some allies when he needed them.

Of course, old cowboys tended to fall on the other side of the law, if the shit hit the fan. There was a little… moral flexibility there. They would call it the cowboy code or some such.

“You want a warm up, guys?”

Two coffee cups were held out, and Win grinned, pushing his over too. Might as well have one more while his radio was quiet.

For the first time all day, he felt like he was home.

G
OOD
L
ORD
and butter, Sage was sweating like a whore in church. Daddy’d set him to digging out some pipe running out from the house to the meter so Rick Martin could come lay copper in the morning. That damned black gumbo soil, though, had dried up to pure stone, fighting his shovel but good. He’d lost his button-down around noon, and his T-shirt by three. Now it was running toward five thirty and he was one ball of wore-out cowboy.

He stopped, leaned against a fence post, and panted like he was one of the dogs.

The crunch of tires on gravel made him cringe. He wasn’t expecting his folks to be back around until seven.
Please don’t let it be the sheriff or some other fool.
He was doing everything right, damn it all to hell. Every fucking thing.

The truck that pulled up was familiar, but in a good way. Adam Winchester. His momma called Adam “Win,” but that seemed so weird.

He grabbed his T-shirt, intending to put it on, but oh Lord. No way.

There was no way.

“Hey.” Win climbed out of the truck, eyes hidden by sunglasses. “I, uh, brought tacos. And a scone. Tacos for us. Scone for you.”

“A what?”

“It’s almost like a cross between a muffin and a biscuit. Cinnamon.”

“Oh yum. Thank you. I….” He motioned to himself, his gross, sweaty nakedness. “It’s vicious hot out here.”

“Uh-huh.” Adam just stood there.

“You want to come in?” He wasn’t sure what the fuck to do.

“Sure. If you’re done, I mean. I know it’s a little early, but I had this damned scone.”

Sage stepped over. “I got about another nine inches to pull out and I’ll be done.”

“Did you need some help?” Win grinned over the sunglasses. “I can put the food in your place. This I understand better than animals.”

“Ain’t no sense in both of us getting nasty. You can keep me company, if you want.” He grabbed the shovel and got back to it, digging in.

“You make me feel lazy.” Adam settled, though, planting his butt on a little camp chair Daddy had put out earlier.

“You been working, I’m sure.” He started sweating again, in seconds, as he put his back and mind to his job.

“Yeah. It was a quiet day, though.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah. It is.” Adam chuckled. “Worst thing today was the fire department got called out because Mr. Lopez fell again and was all naked and stuff in the backyard.”

“Oh, Lord. That man’s been old since I was a kid. Now he’s a thousand.” Maybe more. Hopefully that wouldn’t be Daddy one day.

“Yeah. Well, he wouldn’t fall, he didn’t drink so much. I think he’s pickled.”

“He comes from drinkers. He don’t have a choice in it, I reckon.” God, this dirt was a stone-cold bitch.

“Here, man. I feel like an idiot sitting here.” Adam hopped up and came to help, standing close.

“This fucking dirt is killing me. Plumber’s coming tomorrow, though.” Lord, Adam smelled good. Damn good. Like a memory of something right.

“Yeah, well, let me take a turn, huh?” Before he could argue, Adam was in there working, grunting, and sweating.

It took Adam a few minutes to get the dirt moving, and then Sage finished off, his hands feeling like hamburger.

“There we go.”

They grinned at each other like fools, Adam’s face covered with
grit.

“You’re all dirty now. What would your momma say?” Sage was damn near drunk on it, on that goofy smile.

“That I’d best wash up before I meet her for lunch tomorrow. Other than that, she wouldn’t care.” Adam’s shoulder rubbed against his. “Supper?”

His belly jerked, tightened, and he hoped Adam didn’t see. “Hell, yeah. And the biggest glass of tea on earth.”

“Sounds good.” For a moment Adam leaned against him, and Sage thought he might melt, and not from the extra body heat.

His mouth was lacquer dry and
shit, shit,
what was he fucking thinking? He was outside and getting hard with a cop.

Adam cleared his throat, and damned if a glance down didn’t show the cop getting hard for him.

Okay, whoa.
“Come on. I need to get off. The dirt, I mean. Clean it.”

Damn it.

“And eat. Tacos.” Adam nodded, heading to the house, hobbling a little.

“Tacos are the perfect food, you know?”
Stop looking at Adam’s ass. Stop looking at Adam’s ass. Stop looking at that tight, perfect round ass.
The man had to wear Wranglers, didn’t he? Why couldn’t he come in his uniform? That would have killed Sage’s interest.

The jeans, though? Fuck him raw.

Sage half grinned, half grimaced. Most fellers didn’t know what a bad reference that phrase was.

Still, it was enough to calm him down as he climbed the steps to his trailer. “Have a drink and a sit. I got to wipe down.”

“Thanks. I’ll pour you some tea.” Adam took the sunglasses off and set them aside, and the man was… staring. Looking hungry.

“You’re a good man.” A fine, hard, good man.

“I try.” Those eye lines crinkled, and Sage’s knees went weak.

Okay. Okay. Bathroom.
He got in there and started the water going, loud enough that no one would hear if he jacked off, fast and hard and brutal, pulling himself and shooting into the toilet, his balls aching. His knees sagged, and he breathed deeply, trying hard to keep himself upright.

Fuck, fuck, he was out of his mind, doing this. He didn’t even know what he was doing, exactly. The cop and the ex-con? That sounded like a bad porn movie.

Hell, it probably
was
a bad porn movie.

When he came back out, Adam had laid out food and poured drinks and was standing in the front room, hands in his pockets.

“Hey. Sorry, I had to….”
Get my rocks off
. “…clean up.”

“No worries. Uh, you thinking about a shirt?”

“Oh God. Yes. Yes, sorry. Sorry.” He hurried back to his bedroom and found a T-shirt from the closet. Adam made him stupid.

Adam waited for him, right where he’d left the man. “Hey, I was enjoying the view, but I thought you might be uncomfortable with me staring.”

“I just…. Uh…. Tea?” What? Staring? At who? Him? Lord almighty.

“Here.” Adam thrust a glass of tea at him.

“Thanks.” He gulped it down, hoping to douse the fire in his chest. It didn’t, but at least he didn’t choke.

“No problem. I—sorry, man. I don’t want to freak you out or anything. I’ll try to keep my eyes to myself.

“Ain’t got nothing you don’t, and you know I ain’t into boobs.” What was he supposed to do?

“I know.” Adam sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. That smile went all crookedy and wry. “I want you.”

“Me?” Well, now. That was an interesting thought. “Honey, I’m messed up. There ain’t no good queer men here?”

“I’m sure there are.” Spreading his hands, Adam shrugged. “I mean, there have to be. I know it would be smarter to want someone else, for sure.”

Sage heard that, and as bad as it stung to admit, he had to agree with it. “No shit on that. Your boss would cut your nuts off. You want chips and salsa with the tacos?”

“That sounds good.” Smiling a little, Adam moved a little closer. Maybe too damn close. “No one ever said I was smart, Sage.”

“No?” He looked up—and up and up—this close, Adam was tall.

“Nope.” Adam touched him, hand on his arm, sliding up over his shoulder to his cheek, thumb rubbing along Sage’s jaw.

Well, he’d be goddamned.

“You’re touching me.” He ducked his chin, sort of wallowing in the sensation.

“Is that bad? I think it feels good.”

That big body rubbed against his in the smallest ways. A brush of shoulder, their thighs sliding together with a scratch of denim.

“It does.” He felt like every muscle was tightening, responding to Adam. “God, it so does.”

“Oh, excellent.” He’d never seen a smile like that, up close and personal, lighting up Adam’s face just before the man kissed him.

He gasped, lips parting in pure-D shock.
Kissing him.
No one had kissed him in so long. God, what if his breath was nasty? What if his teeth didn’t feel good to Adam’s tongue?

Adam didn’t seem to be so worried. The man didn’t hurry, tasting him deep. One square hand came up, cradled the back of his head and supported his neck, and damn, but that felt fine as frog hair. He leaned into the touch, letting Adam guide him, letting the feel of that hot mouth on his flow through his whole body.