Buckles & Blindfolds

(Kinky Cowboys, Book 4)

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

Copyright 2019 by Anitra Lynn McLeod

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License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

About This Series

About This Book

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

About the Author

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About This Series

Sexy cowboys with playful kinks are going to heat up things in Climax, Colorado. Each stand-alone story combines gorgeous men, passionate encounters, and a happily ever after that will touch your heart. These feel-good stories have absolutely no cheating, low angst, and plenty of romance.

About This Book

Even though ex-cop Rick Browder is desperate for a job, being the bodyguard to a trick rider with a trust fund might be more than he can handle, especially when they’ve hooked up before. Keeping his hands off his sexy young client proves impossible, but the bigger question is can Rick put his ego aside to embrace a life with Quentin Tenney or will his pride ruin their chance at happiness?

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This contemporary western M/M romance contains a powerful bear with a soft heart, a trick rider with a fascination for blindfolds, a May-December romance, hot hookups, and a deeply satisfying HEA. 31,000 words or 124 pages.

Chapter One

Rick Browder had never seen a trick rider do such ridiculous, dangerous stunts in his life. Bad enough the boy not only stood on the back of the horse while another man urged it to run in a circle but he flipped backward. And then, as if the strain on Rick’s heart just wasn’t enough, the boy put on a blindfold.

The entire crowd went so silent Rick heard his heart pounding in his ears. Around and around the man urged the horse while the boy stood on the back and then he leaped into the air, flipping himself backward.

Surging to their feet, the crowd roared with approval.

Rick shook his head and damn near gnashed his teeth. He hated trick riding. Foolish risk to life and limb when there were plenty of other ways for a man to put himself in danger at a rodeo, ways that actually had some value outside the rodeo.

Still, try as he might, Rick couldn’t take his gaze off the kid. Each time he managed to land safely back on his mount and not fall to the ground and break his damn neck, Rick’s tension rose. A part of him felt if he looked away, that would be when something went wrong. His gaze and his will kept that crazy kid safe.

Mercifully, the event came to a close after a series of backflips that stole a little bit more of the air out of his chest until the last one where the kid ripped his blindfold off. Rick drew a breath of air that filled his chest almost to bursting. And then, just when he thought it was over, the kid stumbled.

His heart slammed into his throat as the boy sat down hard on the horse and then flopped backward. Rick scaled the fence around the arena, hitting the top rung before he realized the kid had tricked him yet again and fallen into a death drag.

When the kid managed to right himself, he got a standing ovation from the crowd.

Rick climbed back down, feeling a million kinds of foolish.

While the kid and the man leading the horse, presumably the kid’s father, took their bows, Rick imagined what he’d say to the man given half a chance. He’d cuss him up one side and down the other because no man who really loved his son would make him perform like a circus monkey for money.

But he wouldn’t ever get the chance.

Rick hurried away from the arena. He never should have come to see the rodeo. Too many bad memories. Too much crap he’d thought he’d put behind him when all it had taken was ten seconds of watching to bring it all back.

Streams of crowds impeded his progress out of the fairgrounds. Everyone seemed to be coming in while he kept trying to get out. By the time he reached his pickup in the parking lot, he felt beyond irritated. He drew a series of deep breaths in an attempt to corral his annoyance but that only seemed to feed the beast. Gripping the steering wheel tight, he started the truck and dropped it into gear.

Looking behind him, he waited for two sets of parents with their little kids go by only to earn himself an impatient honk. Instead of snarling at the idiot who expected him to magically vacate the parking space, he counted to ten, ensured no one was behind him, and then inched the truck backward. Rather than wait like any normal person would, the idiot blared his horn again.

Rick gritted his teeth so hard he wouldn’t be surprised to shatter them. Everything that could annoy him seemed to be happening all at once. He tried to remain calm, to bring his blood pressure down, but none of his tricks did a damn thing.

Whonk, whonk!

The asshole had to be standing on that fucking horn!

Instead of backing out, Rick pulled into his spot and cut the engine. There. Let the fuckhead deal with that!

When the dumbass continued to honk and honk and honk, Rick climbed out of his truck, locked the door, and headed back toward the entrance of the fairgrounds despite getting called a dozen names by the dude with the shitty punk hair. Fuck that fucking fucker. Rick would have happily gotten out of the guy’s way but no, he just had to be an asshole. Not to be outdone, Rick decided he could be an even bigger asshole. Just in case the fuckwit decided to mess with his ride, Rick made a note of the guy’s license plate. A part of him almost wanted him to fuck with his truck. Since he couldn’t beat the shit out of him with his fists, he wouldn’t mind taking it out on him in a court of law.

He’d made it about two lanes over when the guy took off, burning rubber on the pavement only to screech to a halt.

Rick closed his eyes, hoping against hope he didn’t hear a sickening thud of the car hitting a body. Thankfully, he just heard more honking and then the sound of the guy driving off.

Relieved, Rick kept walking toward the entrance. He really didn’t want to go back inside but if he got in the truck and started driving he didn’t trust himself not to be aggressive. What he needed was a way to take the edge off.

His gaze went right to a tight butt in a pair of faded jeans. He grunted and readjusted himself without being too obvious about it. Cruising the fairgrounds wasn’t the brightest idea he’d ever had, but he’d sworn off the local watering hole.

Rick decided to grab dinner from one of the stands when someone slammed into his shoulder. He turned, ready to unleash the full fury of his anger only to find himself tongue-tied. The trick rider with a thing for blindfolds stood in front of him, only this close, Rick realized he wasn’t a kid. Not by a long shot. He looked old enough to get up to no good with a very dirty old man who desperately needed to blow off some steam.

“Sorry,” the trick rider said.

Unwilling to speak because he feared only a grunt would come out, Rick nodded. And then he tried to do the noble thing and turn away, but the young man wouldn’t let him go.

He placed his hand on Rick’s arm, lightly, companionably, and asked, “Don’t I know you?”

“No.” Rick tried again to turn away, but the trick rider wouldn’t let him. His hold tightened until it damn near turned possessive.

“I do know you,” he insisted.

“I doubt that.”

“You were the one who scaled the arena fence when I went into the death drag.”

Rick couldn’t call the kid a liar when he wasn’t. Instead, he nodded and then glared down at the hold the kid had on his arm. Instead of backing off, like any wise man would do, the kid slipped his arm through Rick’s and said, “Walk with me.”

“What the fuck?” Rick tried to untangle himself, but the kid was stronger than he looked.

“There’s this guy who won’t leave me alone. If he sees me walking with you, maybe he’ll get the fucking hint, okay?”

Rick resisted the urge to turn his head this way and that. He had no idea if someone was following them or not. Frankly, he didn’t really care. The kid smelled good. He’d probably had a shower this morning and then nothing but hard work since. Lightly sweaty, not unpleasant. A whiff of mint gum and fabric softener.

“What’s your name?” the kid asked.

“Rick.”

“Rick. No last name?” The kid flashed a cheeky grin.

“Browder.”

“I’m Quentin Tenny. Everyone calls me QT. You know. Cutie?” He flashed a smile that probably got him everything he wanted from the ladies and most gentleman. Unfortunately for Quentin, Rick was as far from a gentleman as a man could get while still walking upright.

Very deliberately, Rick said, “Nice to meet you, Quentin.”

“You’re a cranky old man, aren’t you?”

“And you’re a spoiled little boy.”

“Hardly.” Quentin’s hold tightened. “If I was spoiled, you’d give me exactly what I want.”

“I’m walking with you, aren’t I?”

“True. But that’s not what I want.”

Rick refused to take the bait and ask what the kid wanted. He had a pretty good idea and no desire to have his guess confirmed, especially when he was desperately trying to eject the idea from his brain.

“Why don’t I tell you what I want?” Quentin glanced over his shoulder. “Or better yet, why don’t I show you?”

Rick suddenly found himself yanked into a dark alley between two food stands. The smell of cotton candy made his mouth water and the scent of hot dogs made his stomach rumble. When the kid pressed up against him, Rick forgot everything but the fact he hadn’t had a partner in well over a month.

“One good thing about working here is I know all the secret spots.” Quentin pressed against Rick, working his hips up and down, rubbing himself against Rick’s cock like an animal in heat. “And one good thing about being extremely gay is I know all the secret spots on a big bear like you.”

Rick closed his eyes and allowed himself the brief fantasy of what it would be like to turn his anger into lust and expended it on this young, attractive, and—what did he say? Exceptionally gay young man? Whatever. No matter how badly he needed release and how badly this kid said he wanted it, Rick wasn’t about to get lured into some situation that could hurt his chances of getting that job.

Instead of pushing him away, a tactic that could backfire, Rick would use the power of the putdown. “What does a kid like you know about taking care of a man like me?”

“Plenty.”

“I doubt that.” Rick sidestepped Quentin, earning himself a pout. “What are you, sixteen?”

Instead of getting angry, the kid laughed. “I’m twenty-three.”

“Bullshit.”

“Here.” Quentin pulled out a driver’s license and used his phone to light it up.

Yep. Sure enough. Quentin Tenney, twenty-three, an organ donor, and he lived in Rockport, Maine. Well now. That did put a different spin on things. Here today, gone tomorrow, Quentin might just be the perfect guy to hook up with. Rick returned the license.

“Well?” Quentin asked, after tucking his wallet and phone into his jacket pocket.

Rick palmed the kid’s muscular buttocks and yanked him against his body. “You feel that?”

“Oh, fuck yeah, I feel that.” Instead of his big cock putting the fear of pain into Quentin, he redoubled his squirming and whisper-moaned, “You’re as thick as a can of soda pop.”

“And you think you can handle that?”

“I know I can.” Quentin wrapped his arms around Rick’s shoulders. “The only question is can you give it to me?”

Rick didn’t answer with words. He lifted the kid against him, sliding him up and down, getting both of them good and hard. When Quentin tried to kiss him, Rick turned his head aside and bit Quentin’s neck.

“Oh, fuck yeah. I love being bitten.” Quentin tightened his hold on Rick’s shoulders.

“You also talk too much.”

“Then shove something in my mouth.”

Rick rarely met a man who managed to combine a sense of entitlement with exactly what Rick wanted to give him. “You’ve got a big mouth, but there’s no way it will fit around my cock.”

“Then fuck me with it.”

Rick put Quentin on his feet but only long enough for both of them to yank their pants down to their upper thighs. He fumbled at his jacket pocket for a condom and a pillow pack of lube, pleased when Quentin wasn’t shy about helping him suit up.

In less than twenty seconds, he had Quentin back in his arms only this time, he lifted his legs up to one shoulder.

“I can take my fucking pants off.”

“It would take too much time.” Rick smeared lube against Quentin’s hole then pressed his cock against that tight opening. “Last chance to bail out, kid.”

“I’m not a fucking kid and I’m not about to—oh, mother of mercy.” Quentin’s eyes rolled back as Rick pushed his cock inside. Not all at once. Rick eased him down his length, loving the way his ass stretched to accommodate him. He felt resistance, but not enough to cause pain. Quentin hadn’t been lying. He could take him.

“I guess trick riding horses isn’t the only kind of trick riding you do.” Rick waited for Quentin to open his mouth to make a smart comment. When he did, he yanked him down, seating himself balls deep.

Quentin’s head went back and he moaned.

Rick suddenly remembered where they were. Had someone heard Quentin? He listened intently but all he heard were the sounds of hundreds of people around them, laughing and talking but not one of them knew what the two of them were doing back here.

“You gotta be quiet,” Rick whispered.

“I’ll be quiet if you fuck me.”

Rick held Quentin’s legs tight against his chest with one hand then used the other to rock him back and forth on his cock.

“Aw, fuck.” Quentin grasped Rick’s shoulders to steady himself so his swinging ass didn’t go wide but stayed in a narrow line over Rick’s prick.

Once they got into a mutual rhythm, they edged closer to orgasm.

“Harder,” Quentin demanded.

“You can’t take much more.”

“I can fucking take anything you give.”

Rick felt all his frustration and fury turn into hardcore lust. He became a machine, pounding into Quentin’s tight ass, loving the way he clung to him. Despite the rough fuck, Quentin kept egging him on by snarling dirty words of encouragement.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’m gonna make you come. Make you lose your load all over your fancy fucking shirt.” Rick redoubled his efforts by taking his hand from Quentin’s legs and wrapping it around Quentin’s cock. “That’s it. Come for me. Tighten up around my cock. I want that sweet little ass of yours to milk me fucking dry.”

“You dirty fuck—oh!” Quentin erupted, splattering mostly himself. When his channel clamped around Rick’s cock, he tumbled over the edge and came so hard he reached out to stabilize himself. He felt the wall start to give.

“Shit!” Rick yanked himself and Quentin away, hiding deeper into the darkness between the fairway booths.

“Fuck, I think it’s going to cave in.”

“Shit.” Rick pulled out of Quentin, tossed the condom, and hastily redressed himself while Quentin did the same. By the time the wall went down, the two of them had slipped out the other end of the alley.

Sunlight hit him like an accusation. Rick blinked, got his bearings, and turned to say something to Quentin but the trick rider had vanished into the crowd.

Chapter Two

Rick strolled around to the front of the booth area, just to make sure his hot, fast hookup hadn’t hurt anyone. Everyone seemed okay. The wall just fell until it hit the top of a popcorn maker. No harm, no foul.

Famished, he got something to eat and wandered around the fairgrounds, half hoping to run into Quentin again. He would have liked to thank him. Maybe get him to come back to his motel room where they’d have more room for round two, but then again, maybe once was for the best. Right now, he didn’t need any complications. If he wanted to get that job and keep it, he had to stay on the straight and narrow.

When he finished eating, he headed out to the parking lot, surprised to find the impatient driver hadn’t vandalized his truck. Maybe things were going to start going his way. He left without incident, arrived at the Climax Motel without incident, showered, and then slipped into bed. Luck stayed with him when sleep came almost effortlessly.

Up and at them long before his interview, he took his time getting dressed in the best suit he had then headed over to the diner for breakfast.

“Well hey, cutie pie. Guess you just couldn’t stay away.” Wanda Jo, a woman with as much brass in her personality as she had in her hair, greeted him then handed him a menu.

Rick flirted with her, enjoying the banter, then ate his breakfast while scanning the patrons. He couldn’t help himself. Once a cop, always a cop. When he finished, he left a good tip then headed over to the local sheriff’s office.

After last night, he just knew his life was going to turn around. Yes, indeed. After two years of downturn, things were on the upswing.

Sheriff Trinidad Winkling welcomed Rick with a solid handshake then offered him a cup of coffee. When Rick declined, the sheriff laughed and said, “You can smell that burned sludge from here, huh?”

“I guess some things are the same no matter where you work.”

They laughed together and Rick felt his spirits climb even higher.

“I guess you know I did have some concerns about your record.” Trinidad settled behind his desk then opened a folder, presumably stuffed with details about Rick’s fifteen years of police work. “But in light of the situation, I don’t see why that one incident should—”

“Where is he—you!” A young man with punk hair stormed right up to Rick, forcing him to get out of his chair and stand to his full height. Utterly unintimidated, the scrawny teenager stuck his finger into Rick’s chest. “What the fuck is your deal, man?”

“I take it you’ve met our mayor’s son?” Trinidad got to his feet too but didn’t seem to be in any hurry to do so. “Cyril Sumner, this is—”

“Are you thinking of hiring him?” Cyril cut Trinidad off as if he had every right in the world to do so. “I’m telling my father. I’m telling him right now that this man harassed me at the fairgrounds and almost destroyed my car.”

“I did nothing of the sort.” Rick didn’t think what he’d done rose to the level of harassment and Cyril’s crappy driving had almost destroyed his car, not anything Rick had done, other than bend his nose out of joint when he wouldn’t give up his parking spot. Not even the most creative lawyer on the planet could make a case against him out of that.

“Yes, you did!” Cyril poked Rick’s chest again for emphasis.

“You realize that right now you’re assaulting me.” Rick didn’t phrase it as a question, not exactly.

“So the fuck what?” Cyril poked him again for good measure then spun on his heel. “You’re not getting a job here. No how, no way.”

Rick let out a tense breath then turned to Sheriff Winkling. “I can explain.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can. I’m also sure it wasn’t harassment and pretty sure it wasn’t even your fault.”

Rick’s relief was short lived.

“But it doesn’t matter.” The sheriff dropped heavily into his chair. “It won’t do you no good.”

“Come again?”

“Cyril is a piece of—work.” Sheriff Winkling clearly changed his mind about what kind of a piece he was going to call Cyril but his next words dashed whatever hope Rick had. “But the mayor has the final say on all county hires.”

“And his son—his teenaged son—has a say in that?”

“Unfortunately.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“That little snot-nosed punk goes to his dad with some bullshit story and I’m out of a job just like that?”

“Regrettably.”

Incredulous, Rick waited for the sheriff to say just kidding but he didn’t.

“You were about to offer me the job, weren’t you?”

“I was. And I’d still like to but you won’t ever get it so I don’t see the point.”

“What if I apologized?” The very idea made Rick want to vomit, but right now, he didn’t feel he had much choice. Between his pride and the need to keep a roof over his head, he would have to swallow his damn pride.

The sheriff’s shoulders slumped. “Won’t help. Cyril likes to be mad. He’s real good at working himself into a lather. Unlike you, he doesn’t have a good reason for flying off the handle.”

Hat in hand, Rick left the building. Sure enough, the car that had been honking at him last night was sitting in the parking lot. Worse, the asshole had taken up two spots. Rage tried to build up in his chest, but Rick took deep breaths to hold it at bay. Anger management issues had gotten him fired from his last job. He sure as shit didn’t need to prove that he couldn’t keep a lid on his temper before getting another one.

Desperate, he grabbed a newspaper and headed back to the diner. A mid-morning lull allowed him time to check the want ads but an economic downturn made his search woefully short. He even went down the street to get the paper for the nearest big metropolis but found hardly anything that would suit him. Besides, he didn’t have enough money to drive there, get a room, and start the search all over.

He’d thought the job in Climax, Colorado was a sure thing.

He didn’t have much more than two hundred dollars left on his credit card and maybe a hundred in cash. Two more days at the motel would eat that up. Worse, the mayor owned the motel. Rick hated the idea of giving that asshole kid’s father a fucking dime.

“You look like you got trouble, honey.” Wanda Jo refilled his cup.

“You know of any jobs around?”

“Nothing much this time of year. Everyone who needs help has already hired on their summer staff.”

“What about another place to stay other than the motel?”

“There’s a little dive on the far end of town but I don’t think you’d want to stay there.”

“Why not?”

“It’s pretty bad.”

“How bad?”

“Well, you ever seen a horror movie?”

“Sure.”

“This is the kind of place that even serial killers would refuse to stay at.”

Rick wanted to save a couple of bucks but he didn’t want to be awake all night, fearing for his life.

“Anything I can do to help?” Wanda Jo asked.

“If you hear of a job—any job, doing anything from washing dishes to digging ditches—let me know.” Rick wrote his number on a napkin. When he offered it to her, he half expected her to flirt with him, but she must have seen how truly desperate he was because she didn’t.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Promise.” Wanda Jo tucked the napkin in her pocket. “Don’t worry, hon. Something will come up.”

Oh, how he wanted to believe that. Rick returned to the hotel and changed out of his suit. He carefully put all of it, including the shirt and undershirt, back on the hangers so he could wear it again without having it cleaned or pressed.

He stood there, naked in his bedroom, struggling to comprehend how he’d gotten here. At one point, his life had been on track. He’d had a great job, a good home, friends and even an occasional boyfriend. One bad decision ripped it all away. He’d spent everything on fighting legal battles. Once the other lawyer realized he didn’t have anything left, he stopped with the lawsuits.

Apparently, making his life miserable wasn’t as much fun when there wasn’t a pot of money at the end.

Broke, humiliated, and desperate, Rick had driven to Climax with his last shred of hope.

And now that was gone too.

He settled on the edge of the bed, trying to think of something, anything, he could do to turn things around. There had to be work somewhere. He didn’t care doing what. He just needed to keep going because if he didn’t...

Rick pushed that thought away. He wasn’t his old man. He’d figure a way out of this mess. He always found a way around, though, or even over any wall that dared to get in his way. He’d come out in high school and he’d taken so much abuse that if he could survive that shit show, by God, he could survive anything.

Determined, he dressed comfortably but casually, then went to the local watering hole. He’d been avoiding it because he didn’t want to get too familiar with anyone in the small town on the chance he’d have to arrest them once he became a cop. Since that wasn’t a problem anymore, he applied for a job as a bouncer.

“Gotta give you this, you’re one big motherfucker.”

Despite feeling insulted by the vulgarity, Rick sucked it down and even managed a closed-mouth smile.

“Got four guys now, though. Don’t really need another.”

Rick nodded. “Keep my number. Just in case.”

“Sure. You live here in Climax?”

“I do.” Rick didn’t quibble over his temporary living arrangements. He had to start somewhere.

“You available any time?”

“Absolutely.”

“Great. Great.” The guy pinned his number to a corkboard behind the bar. “You want something to drink?”

“Water.”

“You can drink, buddy. I won’t be calling you tonight.” The man jammed a white dishrag into a glass and polished it to a high gloss before setting it on the shelf with a dozen other gleaming glasses. “Besides, lots of guys in here tonight who might be looking for some workers.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“I thought everyone was all booked up for summer.” Rick didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth but he also didn’t want to be conned into buying a drink he could ill afford.

“Most are but there’s always a dropout or two. You know how it is. Some guy fancies himself a cowboy then finds out how much work it is.” He picked up another glass and started polishing the water spots off. “If you hang out, I’ll send any prospective employers your way.”

“Good deal.” Rick considered his choices. “What kind of beer do you have?” Disappointed by a painfully pedestrian list of beers, Rick opted for a shot and a beer. He downed the shot right away then took his beer over to a small table near the window.

Three hours later, he’d had two beers and three job offers. Unfortunately, none of the jobs started for another week. Still, he gave out his number and told them to call any time. Rick would make sure he kept his phone on and charged up.

On the verge of bagging it for the evening, an old familiar face settled across from him.

“Quentin.”

“Hello, Rick.” Quentin’s grin damn near had the power to light up his little corner of the dingy bar.

“I thought you would have left town.”

“I’ve decided I like it here.” Quentin looked down at the glass of beer in his hand. “Although the beer choices do leave a lot to be desired.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“You’re a beer fan?”

“Love me a good craft brew.”

“Me too.” Quentin leaned across the table. “You ever done any home brewing?”

The question stung but Rick made sure it didn’t show on his face. “I have.” Back when he’d had a home, brewing beer had been one of his prized hobbies. “You?”

“Once upon a time.” Quentin forced a smile.

Feeling a bit like a jerk, Rick realized that he wasn’t the only one at the table with a past.

When the door opened, Quentin tensed and then casually glanced over his shoulder. When he saw the ZZ Top wannabe and his girlfriend, he relaxed, took a sip of his beer, and made a face.

“You expecting someone?” Rick asked.

“Whether I expect him or not, he keeps showing up.” Quentin released a sigh and then pushed his almost full beer away. “But enough about me, let’s talk about you.”

“Not much to talk about.”

“Did you have a good time the other day?”

“Yeah.” Rick polished off his beer. It tasted like crap but he couldn’t let himself waste anything right now. “You?”

“Oh, yeah. Been walking funny ever since.”

“You took it like a pro.”

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t leave me with fond memories.” Quentin winked.

“Why’d you disappear afterward?”

“We were done.” Quentin shrugged. “No reason to hang around.”

“And yet here you are.”

“What, you think I’m stalking you?” Quentin laughed and then pulled his beer closer. He didn’t drink it he just stroked along the condensation on the sides of the glass.

“No. I think you’re looking for round two.”

“I think you might be right.” Quentin lifted his gaze from the mess he made on the table to Rick’s eyes. “Is that something you might be interested in?”

Rick’s cock strained against the front of his khakis.

“You got somewhere to be?” Quentin asked.

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.” Quentin glanced over toward the men’s room. “They got big stalls in this place.”

“How would a clean-cut boy like you know that?”

“Because I’m not a boy and I’m so far from clean-cut it’s not funny.” Quentin grinned and leaned closer. “I’ve also been here before.”

“You fucked another guy in the bathroom?”

“No, I took a piss in the bathroom. While urinating, I just happened to notice the luxurious room in the stalls.”

Rick almost suggested they go to his motel room. It was on the tip of his tongue but he held back. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Quentin in his room. It was more about the nastiness of hooking up in a men’s room in a somewhat sleazy bar. Something about Quentin pushed his buttons, his dirty grunting Neanderthal buttons. Still, Rick didn’t want to get caught out by the bartender. He’d been sending him potential employers all night. No job had come of it but he didn’t want to fuck up the mutual respect they had going on.

“Not here.” Rick decided there just weren’t enough patrons in the bar. They’d get noticed or someone would tell.

“Where?”

“Come on.” Rick rose and led Quentin out to his truck.

“Here?”

“Not right here on the street. I thought we’d drive a bit.”

“Let’s go to your place,” Quentin suggested.

“Let’s go to yours,” Rick returned easily.

“Right. Makes it less of a hookup and more—into the truck we go.”

They got in. Rick started the engine and put the truck in gear, rolling out onto surprisingly active streets. For a small town, Climax had a lot going on. Had to be because of the rodeo. He figured their population had quadrupled.

“There’s a parking lot over—”

“Parking lots are bad ideas. Same with alleyways. Cops cruise those places for a reason.”

“How do you—you’re a cop.” Quentin pulled back in either respect or fear, possibly both.

“Ex-cop. Yeah. You want out?” Rick pulled over.

“No. I’ve got nothing against cops.” Quentin grinned and slid across the bench seat. “If anything, I’ve got a real cop fetish.”

“Like I said, ex-cop.”

“That’s okay. You still got some handcuffs?”

“Are you out of your mind? Don’t ever let someone you don’t know tie you up or—”

“Chill, Officer Big Bear. I’m kidding. Bondage is not my thing.”

“But blindfolds are?”

“Yeah. And bareback.”

Rick hated himself for the way his cock twitched. He’d gone bareback but only with a longtime boyfriend. Turned out the fucker had cheated on him multiple times, necessitating multiple tests to make sure he was clean. Rick was, and he intended to stay that way. But the thought of taking this cutie bareback... yeah. Nice fantasy, but Rick wasn’t about to put either one of them at risk.

“No lecture?” Quentin asked.

Rick shook his head.

“You don’t do bareback?”

“On a horse, sure.”

“Kinky.” Quentin moved a little closer.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but you’re so uptight that fucking with you is way more fun than it should be.”

“I’m going to fuck the sass out of you.”

“You can try.” Quentin moved his hand from Rick’s knee to the bulge in his khakis. “I don’t think you’ll be successful, but I certainly think you should get good and sweaty trying.”

“Maybe I won’t fuck you. That might frustrate the sass out of you.”

“How would that be any fun for you?”

Rick thought about it.

“Well?”

“I got it. I’ll make you suck my cock. Two birds, one stone. You won’t be able to sass me because you’ll have a mouthful of cock and I’ll be able to get off while you have to suffer.”

“Ooh, you are good.” Quentin rubbed his cock through his khakis. “Of course, you don’t realize that I’d like that.”

“You want to give without getting?” Rick scoffed. “No way. Not an entitled kid like you.”

“What makes you think I won’t get off?” Quentin lifted his hips so that Rick could see that while rubbing him, Quentin also rubbed his own cock. “I’ll even put my blindfold on for this wicked little encounter.”

That sparked a whole slew of kinky fantasies in Rick’s mind.

“Well?”

“We’ll see.” Rick drove out of town then took the first abandoned dirt road he could find. He drove along that for a good mile then pulled over. He’d barely gotten the truck into park when Quentin was all over him. Groping and grinding, they kissed up a storm until Rick couldn’t wait another fucking second. He stepped out and took Quentin with him to the back of the truck.

“What are you doing?”

“Grab onto that tailgate.” Rick unfastened Quentin’s pants, pushed them down, then fingered his ass. “You sore?”

“No. But I’ll bet you can make me that way.”

“The idea here is not to hurt you.”

“Yeah?” Quentin lifted his ass. “Never heard of making it hurt so good?”

“Crazy trick rider.” Rick suited up then teased two lube-slick fingers in and out of Quentin’s snug hole. Damn, but the kid had a fuckable ass. The kind that made a man go weak in the knees and soft in the head. If he’d been thinking with the big brain, Rick would have stayed in the bar and tried to get a job, but his little head had led him astray.

“You gonna fuck it or finger it to death?”

Rick shut him up by yanking out his fingers then shoving in his cock.

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Quentin clung to the tailgate while squirming on Rick’s prick.

Rick grabbed onto Quentin’s hips, holding him steady for a series of rough thrusts. He’d never been one for sex outdoors, but the cold air, the stars overhead, and the utter isolation only added fuel to an already raging inferno. He’d never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Quentin and he didn’t even know him. Didn’t matter. This was round two of a casual hookup, nothing more.

“You like that?” Rick asked.

“You fucking know I do.”

Rick closed his eyes and let the urges inside take over. He channeled his rage into an acceptable outlet, into another body that wanted every damn bit of it, and he felt safe for the first time in two years. Everything that hung over him evaporated. At this moment, he was just a man fucking another man who wanted everything he could give.

So close to orgasm he felt electricity arcing over his skin, Rick pressed in on Quentin then wrapped his fist around Quentin’s cock. Three thrusts combined with three hard downward strokes brought them off within seconds of one another.

Panting, Rick pulled Quentin against him, covering him with his bigger body. “You warm enough?”

“Are you kidding? You’re like a heater.”

“Good to know.”

“And you fuck like a jackhammer.”

“Also good to know.”

“And you have a cock like a fucking horse.”

“Okay, that’s not true and a little weird.” Rick laughed. Since they didn’t have to rush apart this time, Rick eased his way out of Quentin, got rid of the condom, and then turned him so they faced one another. “You okay?”

“I’m...you’re really good at this.”

“Show me a man who can’t wham bam thank you, kind sir. I think that’s pretty much the definition of a man.”

“It’s not just that.” Quentin laughed and lifted his head so their lips were closer together. “When I’m with you, nothing else has a chance to get into my head.”

“You’re saying I make you empty-headed?”

“I’m saying you fill me up.” Quentin kissed him. “In more ways than one.”

“Good to know.” Rick kissed him back. “And just so you know, you do the same for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” For a few precious minutes, Rick hadn’t had a worry in the world. He’d been an animal driven to find satisfaction. He’d appreciated that brief span of time more than Quentin would probably ever know. “Come on. I’ll get you home. Or, well, back to the bar or wherever your car is.”

“It’s parked behind the drugstore.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I didn’t want him—no. No reason other than they had some open spaces. I guess the rodeo is bringing in a lot of people. To town. Yeah. Lots of people in town.”

“Yeah. I noticed the same thing.” Rick also noticed Quentin had cut himself off from revealing something, but Rick let it slide. Sticking his nose where it didn’t belong wouldn’t keep him on that straight and narrow path.

Within minutes, Rick pulled into the parking lot behind the drugstore.

Quentin put his hand on the door handle but Rick grabbed onto his knee.

“Wait.”

“You want to go again?”

“Something is...not right.” Rick flicked the safety lock so no one could get in or out of the truck unless he let them. There were two streetlights near the lot that should have lit up the area like a Christmas tree but both of them were out. The odds on that were so astronomical he couldn’t even begin to figure them out. “When you parked here, were those lights working?”

“Look, you gorgeous bear of a man, if you want to take me home, I’m more than—”

“Were those streetlights on or not?”

“Yeah. I think...” Quentin trailed off as he scanned the parking lot.

“Hand me the flashlight from the glovebox.” Rick dropped his truck into gear and used the flashlight to examine Quentin’s car. A flat tire. On the passenger side. Changing it out would put Quentin’s back to the street, making it easier for someone to sneak up on him. That couldn’t be any more random than the lights suddenly burning out.

“That fucker.” Quentin tried to open the door but the safety lock held fast.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.” Rick wasn’t about to let him out.

“Why won’t this door—”

“Get out of here right now!” A man appeared at the passenger door, a baseball bat in his hand.

“Judson.” Quentin cringed away from the door and into Rick’s side.

“Out!” Judson swung at the window but his blow glanced off because Rick dropped the truck into gear and drove away.

Chapter Three

“So much for staying on the straight and narrow,” Rick mumbled under his breath.

“We have to go back.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“He’s going to beat the shit out of my car!”

Calmly, Rick pointed out, “Between you and your car, which do you think can better stand up to a baseball bat?”

“But I just got that car,” Quentin whined.

“I get it.” In a way, Rick understood. He’d had a fancy car when he’d been younger. He’d babied that ride until the day he sold it to get something more practical. “Really, I do. But if you go back, he’s going to beat you to death. Or worse.”

“What could be—oh. Yeah. There are things he could do to me before he kills me.” Quentin huffed. “But he won’t do anything, not with you there.”

“I don’t want to get hit any more than you do.”

“But you’re a cop. Can’t you stop him?”

“I’m an ex-cop and even if I still was one, there’s not a lot I could do. Well, other than arrest him for vandalism.” Rick turned down the street where he’d gone for his interview. “But the first thing you’re going to do is file for a restraining order.”

“I already have.” Quentin slumped in the seat and hung his head.

“In Rockport?”

“How did you know where—oh, right. I handed you my license. Yeah. I filed one there then came all the way out here and he followed me anyway.”

“How did he—never mind. He found you.” The resourcefulness of criminals never failed to amaze him.

“He keeps finding me no matter what I do or where I go.” Quentin lifted his hand as if to hold Rick off. “And before you even ask, I’ve changed my phone number, I got a new phone, checked everything I have for GPS tracking devices. Seriously, I’ve done everything I can think of, everything my lawyer suggested I do, and it still isn’t good enough. That car is only two weeks old.”

“I believe you.”

“You do?” Quentin sounded utterly incredulous.

“Yeah.” No way was Quentin faking his frustration. “Stalkers are notoriously difficult to shake and even harder to prosecute.”

“You’re telling me.” Quentin slumped back in the seat. “How the fuck does he keep showing up? He’s like fucking herpes. It’s like once you get him, you can’t ever get rid of him.” Quentin blew out a sharp breath. “And don’t you dare ask me if I have herpes because I don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Just—he won’t stop. No matter what I do. He’s worse than the Terminator.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could do something.”

“Can you...” Quentin trailed off then shook his head.

“Ask. If there’s something I can do, I will.”

“Can you just let me stay with you tonight?”

Rick could think of a million reasons why that was a bad idea but he only had to think of one good reason to agree. If Judson came after Quentin, Rick didn’t want it on his conscience, not if he could protect him. “Of course,” Rick said.

“Really?”

“Sure. It’s not much, but it should keep you safe tonight until we can come up with another strategy.”

“Thanks.” Quentin sighed. “Only...”

“What?”

“This isn’t your problem, and I don’t want to drag you into it.”

“Well, I’m already in.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m certain Judson probably noted the make and model of my truck along with the license plate number.”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can protect myself and I can protect you too.” Or at least he hoped he could. “I think I should probably park somewhere else, though, so he doesn’t find us.”

“There’s only two motels in this tiny town. It’s not like he’s not going to check both of them.”

“Yeah. What we should do is park at one and stay at the other.”

“Smart. Except he’s probably going to trash your truck.”

“Yeah.” Another headache Rick just didn’t need right now. “Well, I don’t know what else we can do.”

“Neither do I.”

Rick drove to the Climax Motel, just to check things out. He found the light on in his room. “What the hell?”

“He couldn’t have followed you here. He just saw you.”

“He saw us together at the fair.”

“Oh. Yeah. Fuck.” Quentin peered up at the room. “Do you really think he’s in there?”

“I don’t know. He’d have to be damned fast.” Rick parked on the side of the building where there were no windows. “Come on.”

“I can wait here.”

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

They got out and went inside to the front desk.

“Ah, Mr. Browder,” Duggan Sumner, mayor and owner of the motel, and father of the shit stain who’d cost Rick his job, stretched out his suspenders with his thumbs. “How good to see you. Your things are right here.”

“Excuse me?” Rick had no idea what was going on now.

“You’ve been checked out.”

“By who?”

“Me.” Duggan pointed to a big sign behind the desk. “As it says, we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.”

“What’s going on?” Quentin asked.

“Long story.” Rick grabbed his gear. “There better not be a full day’s charge on my bill.”

“Well, you did—”

“You’ve already rented out my room to someone else.”

Duggan had the good grace to look slightly chagrined. He really thought he could get away with double billing.

“There had better not be a charge for today on my bill or I’ll take it up with my credit card company first and the chamber of commerce second.” Rick held the man’s gaze until the mayor looked away. Rick didn’t get off on intimidating other people, but he wasn’t about to pay for something he wasn’t getting either. He’d had his balls kicked just one time too many in this town today. He wasn’t going to stand idly by while someone took another shot them.

“Of course not.” Duggan Sumner handed Rick a receipt that only billed him for one day.

“Good.” Rick turned and strode toward the truck with Quentin hot on his heels.

“What was that all about?”

“I had a run-in with his son.”

“And?”

“And it didn’t go well.” Rick tossed his stuff in the back except for the suit and shirt. That he hung up inside the cab so it didn’t get wrinkled. Not like he’d need it. He wasn’t going to get a job and now he had someone else to take care of when he couldn’t even take care of himself.

Rick stood by the driver’s side door for a moment, breathing deep of pine scented air to hold off panic. What the fuck was he going to do?

“Rick?”

He got into the truck.

Despite the bad reputation, he tried to get a room at the other motel but they were full up from the rodeo. Outside in the parking lot of the seedy place, Rick just sat in his truck. He had less than a quarter tank of gas. He could fill up the tank and drive to the next big city but then he probably wouldn’t have enough money to get them a room.

“Rick?”

“Yeah?”

“We can go to my place.”

“Where he probably knows you’re staying?”

“I don’t think he knows about it. Besides, it has a security system.”

“Okay. Let’s go check it out.” Rick stopped for gas but the machine rejected his credit card.

“I’ll get it inside.” Quentin climbed out. “You want anything?”

A new life? To go back two years and not beat the shit out of that fucking waste of space? For someone somewhere to just give me a break? All that ran through Rick’s mind in an instant but what came out was, “No. Thanks. I’m good.”

“Okay.” Quentin went inside.

Rick kept an eye on him while leaning on the truck. He kept scanning the parking lot, even when the pump clicked and allowed him to start filling up his truck. Once the tank was full, he rehung the nozzle then went inside.

“Sure you don’t want anything?” Quentin had made a sizable pile of junk food on the counter.

“I’ll just have some of yours.”

“No, you won’t.” Quentin laughed. “Get your own.”

Rick went to check out the beer selection and found a craft brew that had promise. Then he checked the price tag. Better not. He would need to hang onto every dime from here on out.

“Grab two of those,” Quentin said as he grabbed three candy bars.

“I really—”

“Hey, you’re guarding. I can buy some things to make it more bearable.”

Feeling a little guilty, Rick grabbed two six packs and took them up to the counter.

Quentin got carded, which made him laugh as he proudly showed his ID, then they each carried two bags out to the truck.

“I always get carded.”

“You seriously look young.”

“I don’t look sixteen.”

“I was being a dick when I said that but you don’t look twenty-one. Maybe twenty tops.”

“Let’s hope that lasts for my whole life.”

“You want to be eighty and look twenty?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“It would be creepy.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’ll have that raspy old man voice coming out of a young face.” Rick shivered.

“Good point.”

They tucked the groceries in the back then Quentin directed Rick to a neighborhood that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. “You sure your place is around here?”

“Yeah. Pull up to that gate.”

“That one?” Rick pointed to a wrought iron gate with an elaborate buck head design complete with antlers twined into the metal work.

“Yeah. Just pull up.”

Rick complied and then Quentin gave him a five-digit number to enter into the keypad. When the gates opened, he couldn’t quite believe it. He drove in, expecting security to come running and toss them out. But that didn’t happen.

“What’s with you?” Quentin asked.

“Just being cautious.”

“Okay. Turn down this way. Go to the end. Yeah, that big house there.”

“This is the place you’re renting?” The faux rustic cabin had to be bigger than the two homes Rick had owned in his life combined.

“Yeah. Hold on right here.” Quentin tried to jump out but Rick had engaged the safety lock. “I’m going to open up the garage. If we’re lucky, dumbass doesn’t know I’m here and if he doesn’t see your truck he won’t know you’re here.”

Rick disengaged the safety lock, letting Quentin out. Once he opened the garage door, Rick entered a garage more spacious than his first apartment. His battered old truck looked entirely out of place in the pristine and almost completely empty space.

Quentin closed the door behind him so he shut off the truck.

“Follow me.”

Working together, they got everything out. Rick followed Quentin to a door at the front of the garage that led to a mud room and then the kitchen. The rustic theme dominated but it was upper end rustic. Heavy granite countertops, dark stained cabinets, brown faucets and accents. The appliances were black and fancy and looked brand new.

“I think we need to talk.” Rick put the beer in the fridge that held bottled water and takeout bags from the diner.

“Yeah. I figured that was coming.” Quentin grabbed two beers.

“But first, I’m going to check out the security system. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Together they walked around to ensure everything was locked up tight.

“Looks solid.”

“That’s good, right?”

“It is.” Rick left off saying that while security systems were good, there were ways around them. However, this one had three backups. Whoever owned the place took their safety seriously. Rick cast a sidelong glance to Quentin. Either trick riding paid a hell of a lot more now than it had in the past, or Quentin had another source of income.

Beers in hand, they went to sit on the lower level, overlooking a pool. An indoor pool with a fancy waterfall thing that probably filtered the water in the most stunning way possible.

“You’re not just a trick rider, are you?” Rick used the church key on his key ring to open his beer and Quentin’s.

“Nope.” Quentin lifted his beer to Rick. “To safety.”

“To safety and honesty.”

“Yeah.” Quentin clinked, sipped, and then moaned with pleasure. “Oh, yeah. That’s what I’ve been missing.”

Rick tried the beer too, pleased to find a nice hoppy brew. Seemed the less he had the more he appreciated what he did have, and he appreciated an excellent beer.

“Tell me.”

“I’m getting there.” Quentin huffed air. “Just let me enjoy my beer.”

“Quentin, please don’t—who are you, really?”

“I’m a trick rider.”

“And?”

“And I’m also...a trust fund kid.”

“Ah.” Rick swallowed half his beer, enjoying every damn bit of it because it would probably be the last he would have for a long time.

“Are you going to leave now?” Quentin hung his head.

“Why would I leave?”

“Because...” Quentin trailed off then just stared at Rick.

“Tell me about the guy stalking you.”

“I swear, we—”

Rick held up his hand. “Quentin.”

“Yeah?”

“Calm down. Okay? I’m not out to lecture you or berate you for what you did or didn’t do. I just need you to tell me the truth. Even if it’s embarrassing. Okay?” Rick had never been so terrified that he couldn’t take care of someone. Finding out Quentin had money changed things. Not his attraction, or his desire to help, but it took away that horrible anxiety that he simply didn’t have the resources to keep Quentin safe. Money in and of itself couldn’t protect Quentin, but it certainly made Rick’s job a hell of a lot easier. He’d been thinking they would have to figure out a way to sleep in his truck and now here they were in a quarter million dollar home.

“Okay.” Quentin took another sip of beer. “I met Judson at this party. I was high. He was high. I don’t even remember on what.”

“It doesn’t matter. Go on.”

“We had really lousy sex—safe sex, but still, it sucked. I just remember him being all hands and tongue and—ew.”

Rick considered asking why he hadn’t just stopped and walked away but he understood that too. He’d had less than stellar partners that he just finished up with rather than make a whole scene out of it.

“After, I got out of there as fast as I could. By the time morning rolled around, I honestly didn’t remember him.” Quentin grimaced. “But he remembered me. God, did he remember me. He said I was his first and I was so great and he was halfway in love with me and—fuck, I sound like I’m full of myself.”

“No, you sound like you’re describing someone with a personality disorder.”

“So I should feel sorry for him?”

“Fuck no.”

Quentin actually smiled at that.

“You’re pissed and you have a right to be pissed. You don’t owe him anything. Let’s get that straight right now. He took an interaction the wrong way. It happens.”

“It’s happened to you?”

“Sadly, yeah, but usually the guy just calls me names then goes away.” Rick shrugged. “There’s a benefit to being a big guy.” He thought that made him sound like he didn’t care when he did but that wasn’t the point right now. “Stalkers don’t react the way normal people do.”

“You mean this guy was bound to stalk me no matter what?”

“Not that, just some people are really primed for that kind of behavior. Sounds like this guy was. If you take what he told you at face value, that you were his first, that might be why he attached so hard and fast.”

“And my family money has nothing to do with it?”

“Has he asked you for money?”

“No.”

“What has he asked you for?”

“He wants to get together and do stuff. Like date things. Dinner and a movie. Dinner and dancing. At first I—fuck. I probably made things worse because I tried to let him down easy.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault. Okay?”

“But I should have told him to fuck off right away and been clear about that boundary.”

“Sounds like lawyer talk.”

“Yeah. My lawyer did mention that.”

“Did you go out with Judson a second time?”

“No. I didn’t really go out with him a first time.”

“You had sex with him once and that was it.”

“That was it.”

“And then he just kept calling you?”

“Texting.” Quentin frowned.

“What?”

“You’re gonna think I’m lying.”

“Try me.”

“He texted me from my own number.”

“He spoofed your number.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Yeah, that’s a thing.” Rick took out his phone, checked the battery, and then put it away.

“Waiting for a call?” Quentin managed to mix a little jealousy in with his genuine curiosity.

“Yeah.” Rick did not want to dump his troubles on Quentin’s already weighted down shoulders.

“Are you angry with me?” Quentin asked, his voice quiet.

“No. Why would I be?”

“It’s just that this was supposed to be a one-time thing and now I’ve pulled you into my fucking drama. I wouldn’t be mad if you told me to piss off and left.”

“You wouldn’t be mad?”

“Well, okay. I’d be mad but I’d understand.”

“I’m not leaving, okay?” Rick polished off his beer. “Truth be told, I really can’t leave.”

“Because you’ve been drinking?”

“No, because you have the rest of the beer.” Rick smiled and rose. “Ready for another?”

“I’ll go get it.”

“Let’s go together.”

“You really don’t think he can get in here, do you?”

“I don’t think so but then again I don’t know anything about this guy.” In the kitchen, they got more beer and some munchies. “Tell me what you know about him.”

“Like what?”

“Like does he have computer experience? He’s got to have some if he was able to spoof your number.”

“From what my lawyer found out, he works in the tech industry. Has a four-year degree but he’s also self-taught on a lot of subjects. Computer related subjects.”

“He might have known you long before he ever hooked up with you.”

“You mean he stalked me before I’d ever even met him?”

“Maybe. Can I see the texts he’s sent you?”

“I can show you the whole file on him.”

Rick followed Quentin to the living room where he opened a laptop. After a few clicks, he turned the computer to face Rick.

“Mind if I scroll through?”

“Be my guest.” Quentin dropped onto the couch, turned on the television, but muted the sound. He clicked around the channels but kept half an eye on Rick.

Meanwhile, Rick went through a detailed collection of information on Judson Vanover. It had been so long since he’d done anything cop related he soaked up his assignment like a sponge.

“You really are a cop.”

“Ex-cop.”

“No. You’re still a cop.” Quentin grabbed a pillow and wrapped his arms around it. “I feel like I need to tell you something else.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t an accident that I ran into you at the bar.”

Rick lifted his head and focused on Quentin’s very guilty face. “Explain.”

“The bartender called me.”

“He—why?”

“I told him I was looking for a bodyguard. He said he had a prospect for me. He described the man in the bar and I knew it was you.”

Rick didn’t know what to say.

“I realize now what I did wasn’t much better than what Judson did to me.”

“Two totally different things. I was looking for work.”

“But I wasn’t honest with you.”

“You’re being honest with me now.”

“I’ll pay you.”

“I’m not taking your money.”

“Why? Because you slept with me twice?”

“No. Because I want to sleep with you a third time.” Rick closed the laptop and went over to Quentin. He offered out his hand. “But only if you want to sleep with me.”

Chapter Four

Rick held his breath, waiting to see if Quentin would take his hand or not. When Quentin grinned and slipped his hand into his, Rick smiled too. Finally, something in his life was working out. He really didn’t know a lot about Quentin, but he knew he liked him and he knew he could help him. For right now, that was enough.

“Which way is the—”

He never got to finish asking. Quentin pulled him along hallways and up a flight of stairs to the master bedroom. In a style that could only be called plush rustic, the bedroom took up a good chunk of the top floor. Rick figured it had to be the nicest bedroom he’d ever been in. Not that he cared. He only had eyes for Quentin. Right now he’d be okay hooking up in his truck if that was all they had.

“I feel like I need to wash this day away,” Quentin said. “Do you mind?”

“You want me to get naked with you in a shower that I’m pretty sure is as close to a religious experience as I’m ever going to get, how could I possibly say no?”

“You’re fucking great, you know that?”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Rick followed him into the bathroom where they both stripped down.

“Oh, God. All that hair.” Quentin stroked his hands greedily over Rick’s chest then down to his cock. “So fucking perfect.”

“I thought we were going to clean up?”

“Yes. Of course. Where are my manners?” Quentin turned, showing Rick his backside.

“Talk about perfect.” Rick palmed Quentin’s buttocks and squeezed. “Anyone ever tell you that you have an absolutely stunning ass?”

“No.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Rick closed the distance between them, pressing his cock against the split. “And speaking of hard.”

“Cleaning up first. Hardcore banging after.”

“Right.”

Inside the shower, they didn’t have to take turns getting under the spray when there were two showerheads. Well, actually, there were six, but Rick only let Quentin turn on two.

“This is enough.” He really didn’t need water blasting his junk.

“If you insist.”

“I don’t want to get too accustomed to all this luxury.” Rick meant it in jest but realized he could soon be sleeping in his truck so maybe it really wasn’t funny. But tonight, he didn’t want to think about it. Let tomorrow take care of itself. He had to live for today or he’d be too overwhelmed to enjoy what little time he had with Quentin. And he wanted to enjoy the time they had together.

Washing Quentin was practically a religious experience. Smooth skin over strong muscles, nicely sleek yet solid enough to take some pretty rough fucks. Gently, he stroked soapy fingers down between his buttocks. “You sore?”

“No.” Quentin lifted his ass. “You?”

“No.”

“Then we’re good to go.”

“Not here.” Rick chuckled.

“What was that rueful laugh about?” Quentin asked, turning to face him.

“I had sex in a shower once. Let’s just say it didn’t end well.”

“What happened?”

“He broke his coccyx.”

“You broke some guy’s dick?”

“His tailbone.”

“Oh.”

“He slipped and sat down hard. After that, he couldn’t sit down without a donut pillow for months.”

“And you’re laughing at his misery?”

“I’m laughing at what idiots we were.” Rick shook his head then explained, “Fooling around in the shower wasn’t the problem. For some asinine reason, we were oiling one another up with baby oil.”

“In a tile shower?”

“In an old school shower. You know, the kind with a porcelain tub and a shower curtain drape?”

“I can’t believe you’d fit in there by yourself let alone with another guy.”

“Yeah. Well, we were seventeen and stupid.”

“I think stupid pretty much goes with being seventeen.”

“Pretty much.”

“Was it your first time?” Quentin slathered more soap onto Rick’s already soapy chest then urged the lather down his body where he used it to slick up his sac. After all the metaphorical blows to his balls, having a sexy young trick ridder rub them tenderly had all kinds of positive effects on Rick’s mood.

“Yeah. First time.” Rick allowed the doorway to the past to open just enough to let the good parts fill his head. “He was so funny. So smart.”

“And so gay?”

“Well, he wasn’t extraordinarily gay like you are, but gay enough we hooked up every day after school. Well, we did until he broke his butt.”

“No more nookie after that?”

“My dad figured out what was going on.”

“Not good?”

“No.” Rick turned and rinsed off. “But I really don’t want to talk about that now.”

“Me either.” Quentin got busy soaping up Rick’s ass. When he teased around his hole, he asked, “Is that okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Some guys don’t like that.”

“I do.” Rick closed his eyes and let hot water flow over him while Quentin used talented fingers to tease him. Everything in his mind melted away until he became nothing but physical sensations. When he felt Quentin’s mouth teasing the tip of his cock, he opened his eyes and found him kneeling between his big body and the wall. Quentin couldn’t fit Rick’s cock in his mouth, but he didn’t seem to care. He sucked at the tip and swirled his tongue over and around while stroking Rick’s ass. “Too much more of that and I’m going to lose it.”

“Good.” Quentin flicked his tongue at the point where the shaft met the head.

“I’m not finished with you by a long shot.” Rick pulled Quentin to his feet and kissed him. Damn, but the kid knew how to kiss.

“At the fair, why did you turn away the first time I tried to kiss you?”

“I don’t usually kiss my hookups.”

“Too intimate?”

“Most men kiss like dogs.” Rick cupped Quentin’s chin. “Not you. You’ve got this hot little twist thing you do with your tongue.”

Quentin grinned then kissed him in between drying off.

Still damp, they climbed under the covers.

In bed, Rick rolled to his side, pulling Quentin against him. When he teased his ass, Quentin winced.

“You are sore.”

“Just a little.”

“Let’s do something else.”

“I could blow you.”

“Let me show you something else that I think you’ll like.” Rick pulled Quentin on top of him.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“I thought we could grind.”

“Grind?”

“I love having a smaller guy humping on top of me. Not sure why.”

Quentin squirmed against him. “It’s like climbing a mountain of man meat.”

“Stop. My ego can’t take it.” Rick grinned then poured some lube onto his hands. He stroked over his cock and then Quentin’s. Once they were nice and slippery, he cupped Quentin’s buttocks and rocked his hips against Quentin while holding his sexy trick rider still. After a minute, Rick took a deep breath and held it. Too much more and he’d ruin their evening when the goal was to make it last.

“Hey,” Quentin said. “This is fun.”

“Feels good too.”

“Here. Let me.”

Rick released his hold so Quentin could rock against him, grinding their cocks together.

“Damn.” Quentin rose up on his arms.

“What?”

“I can’t kiss you while doing this.” Quentin grunted with frustration. “If only I were taller.”

“Or I could make myself shorter.” Rick parted his legs and lifted his knees, shortening the distance. He added a few pillows behind his head for extra measure. “How’s that?”

“Much better.” Quentin kissed him while sliding up and down and side to side. It didn’t take long for their precum to add extra slipperiness. “It feels so good but it’s like I can’t quite get over the edge.”

“Friction.”

“What?”

“We need more friction.” Rick grasped Quentin’s buttocks and pressed down while thrusting up.

“Jesus.” Quentin laughed and then braced himself by grabbing onto Rick’s shoulders and digging his toes into the bed.

Kissing him while rocking harder and harder, Rick made Quentin climax first but followed right after. Easing off his tight hold, he kept kissing him but eased off there too.

“Wow.” Quentin sighed.

“Fun?”

“Very.” Quentin rose up. “But now we need another shower.”

“Just a quick rinse. And then we can eat.”

“Yeah. I’m hungry too.”

They were in the kitchen in ten minutes, wearing nothing but towels while they ate leftovers and junk food.

“I wish this town had more places that delivered.” Quentin tapped the white paper bag. “I’ve been getting takeout from the diner.”

“I can cook.”

“You can?”

“You should know how to cook too, you know.” Rick didn’t mind a night of eating junk, but it certainly wasn’t his usual fare.

“Yeah. I just never—in the city, there are a million places that deliver.”

“I thought Rockport was a small place?” The image in Rick’s head was one of lighthouses and rocky shores.

“Yeah, but I don’t stay at that house very much. But even then, there are all kinds of places nearby that deliver. Climax doesn’t really have that.”

“Too isolated.”

“Which is why I thought I’d be safe.” Quentin popped a chip in his mouth. “So. I think the time has come.”

“For what?”

“For you to tell me your story.”

“Not a lot to tell.”

“Said the ex-cop evasively.” Quentin lifted one brow high, almost like an accusation. “Let’s start with the trophy belt buckle.”

Rick reacted without even thinking about it. Too late to corral his features, he knew he’d been caught out. “You’re the first to notice it in a long time.”

“I’m a trick rider on the rodeo circuit. I know a trophy buckle when I see one, even with almost all the detail smoothed off.” Quentin grabbed another beer.

Rick grabbed one too then they settled in the living room. “Where to start?”

“With the buckle.”

“Okay. I won it at a rodeo twenty...something years ago.”

“You’re not that old.”

“Yeah, well, I won it when I was a teenager. Won it bull riding. State champ. I was so fucking proud of that thing.”

“As you should be. That’s one hell of a dangerous sport.”

“Yeah. I knew going in it could get me killed. I think that’s why I liked it. I think at the time I almost wanted to die.”

Quentin’s eyes widened.

“I don’t feel that way now.” Rick tried to laugh dismissively but it came out sounding almost plaintive. “Let me back up a little. I came out in high school. I was seventeen and big and played sports and I thought, fuck this shit. I’m not going to lie about who I am. My father, a cop, beat the shit out of me.”

“What about your mother?”

“Died when I was seven. Surgery gone wrong. She got a blood clot in her brain. My dad was never the same after that. Then I came out and he never looked at me the same. I thought being a big tough bull rider would make him see I was still a man.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t work out.”

“Not even.” Rick sighed. “I think I could have gone on bull riding for a while then switched over to being a cowboy fulltime but my dad was a cop and I thought the only way to earn his respect was to be a cop too.”

“Did you hate it?”

“Not really. I was good at it. I liked helping people but it was just a job to me.”

“Weren’t you scared?”

“Not really. There’s a benefit to being big.”

“Tell me about it.” Quentin rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“There’s a benefit to being small too.” Rick took Quentin’s hand. “If I tried to backflip and land on a horse, I’d squash him.”

“Funny.”

“Yeah, but, well...” Rick decided to leave that alone and move on. “So I was a cop because of my dad.”

“That’s leaving out the part of the story I want to hear.” Quentin moved closer. “Why aren’t you a cop anymore?”

“I beat the shit out of a perp in my custody. I almost killed him.”

“Oh.” Quentin moved back. Not a lot but enough to be noticeable. “Did he provoke you?”

“Doesn’t matter if he did or not. A good cop doesn’t let their emotions run away with them. They said I had anger management issues, which I do, I guess, but there was no coming back from that mistake.”

“You’d never hurt anyone else?”

“No. Not in almost fifteen years.”

“Then what happened with this guy?”

Rick had carried the story for almost two years but he’d actually only told a handful of people, most of them in the legal profession. “He was...” Rick trailed off then started again. “We busted him for child porn.”

“Oh.” Quentin said a lot with one gasped word.

“Yeah. Puts a different spin on it, doesn’t it? But it really shouldn’t. Or at least it shouldn’t under the law. He was a suspect with rights and I violated his rights.” Rick tried to leave it there, but he couldn’t. “I admit that what I did was wrong but that sick fuck had things on his computer that would make the most jaded man recoil in horror.” Rick refused to let those images back in his head. “I lost it when he told me the kids seduced him.”

“What the actual fuck?”

“Yeah. A real piece of work. His lawyer—his court-appointed and paid for with my tax dollars lawyer—ran me through the wringer. I lost my job, my house, my pension...” Rick trailed off then finally met Quentin’s eyes. He expected to see condemnation there, maybe even fear, but what he saw was understanding.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Me too.” Rick sighed, releasing the tension that had built up in his shoulders. “I should have handled things differently. Looking back, I think he wanted me to hit him.”

“Why?”

“So he could be in the hospital rather than in jail. Pedophiles don’t do well in jail.” Rick pursed his lips then took a long pull on his beer. “Almost as soon as he went into the state facility, someone killed him.”

“Is that when his lawyer stopped hassling you?”

“By then, I’d already lost everything.” Rick settled his empty bottle on the table. “Can’t get blood out of a turnip or money out of a man who doesn’t own anything anymore.”

“That’s why you were at the bar looking for work.”

“Yeah.”

“I can pay you.”

“I know you can.” Rick pulled Quentin into his lap. “But I don’t want your money. I’ll find a job. Right now I just want to keep you safe.”

“But it’s not fair for me to use your skills without paying for them.”

“You are paying.” Rick pulled him tight. “Come on, who doesn’t have a bodyguard fantasy?”

“But you’re not a fantasy. You’re a real live person who needs money to survive.”

“I’m going to be okay.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” Rick rose, taking Quentin with him then sliding him down to his feet. “We can fight about it in the morning. Okay?”

“Okay.” Quentin took a step away then spun and wagged his finger at Rick. “But we are going to fight about this. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Rick grinned. “I got it.”

“Good.” Quentin nodded then led the way upstairs.

After cleaning up, they climbed into bed. Quentin fell asleep almost instantly. Rick envied him that. He didn’t toss and turn but stayed on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He thought about all the things he should have done differently. He thought about all the things that could go wrong in the coming days. Tension crept into his body until he felt so tight he could probably propel himself out of bed and halfway across the room. He closed his eyes and thought about Quentin. About that fast and furious fuck in the darkness between the food stalls. About them behind the truck and under a million stars. About them grinding. Rick smiled. The tension seeped away and finally, he fell asleep.

He woke to a tongue teasing over his cock.

“Fuck.” Rick blinked and tried to focus.

“No, suck.” Quentin’s giggle came from under the covers.

“You are a very naughty trick rider.”

“Mmm.”

Rick lifted the covers to find a great view of the back of Quentin’s head. “Come up here.”

Quentin shook his head and kept right on licking and sucking at the tip of Rick’s cock.

“Two can play at this game.” Rick got a hold of Quentin’s hips and pulled him up so that he could draw Quentin’s cock into his mouth. No better way to start the day than some good old sixty-nine. Rick took Quentin as deep as he could and then swallowed, tightening his throat around him. Not to be outdone, Quentin used both his hands and his mouth on Rick, giving him a pretty good simulation of a deep throat blowjob. It didn’t take long for both of them to climax.

“You’re the funniest game I’ve ever had,” Quentin said.

“What?”

“You said two can play and—anyway, I don’t think I’ve ever woken up better.” Quentin slid off Rick then turned himself around so his head popped out of the covers. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Rick pulled him close for a kiss but Quentin pulled away.

“Morning breath.”

“Don’t care.” Rick kissed him and after a brief hesitation, Quentin kissed him back.

After a little kissing and some slap and tickle, they got up.

“I think we should stop by the police department,” Rick said. “Give them a heads up on what’s going on.”

“And see if my car’s in one piece.”

“And get some real food.”

“I can’t wait to watch you cook.”

“I don’t cook in the nude.”

“Could you? It would make it so much more interesting for me.”

“Since my mission in life is to keep you entertained, I’ll see what I can do.” Rick checked his phone, disappointed but not surprised that he hadn’t gotten a single call. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans but slipped his same old belt through the loops.

“I’m glad you still wear it.” Quentin stroked over the buckle. “I know how much it means to you, considering it’s almost worn completely away.”

“Don’t you wear yours?”

“This is going to make me sound like a horrible, ungrateful asshole, but I’ve only won four and they’re all godawful ugly.”

“Yeah?” Rick laughed.

“Yeah. Too big, too garish. God, it’s like they scream look at my crotch!”

“You don’t want people checking out this very respectable bulge?” Rick palmed him gently.

“Don’t you get me revved up if you’re not going to take me out of the garage, buddy.” Quentin pushed his hand away. “I don’t mind them looking but I don’t want them thinking I find something that gaudy fashionable.” He considered Rick’s buckle again. “I wish I could see what it looked like when you got it.”

“Here.” Rick turned on his phone and flipped through the images. He only had a handful.

“Was that your mom?”

“Yeah.” Rick went back and held the phone out to Quentin. “Pretty, huh?”

“I can see where you get your looks.” Quentin looked up at Rick’s face. “None of your dad?”

“I had one but every time I looked at it I just felt like shit so I deleted it.” Rick pulled the phone close and started flipping through the images again.

“Is he still alive?”

“No.”

“You don’t want to talk about him?”

“Not really.”

“I feel you.”

“Here it is.” Rick handed the phone to Quentin.

“Wow. Now that I would have worn. Nice clean design. Simple gold over sterling silver.” Quentin handed the phone back. “Very, very nice.”

“Will you win one from this rodeo?” Rick flipped through the rest of images, remembering all the good times.

“Maybe. I’ve seen some of them on display. They’re nice.”

“Nice enough you might wear it if you win it?”

“Maybe. But I don’t count my belt buckles before I win them.”

“Good for you.” Rick turned his camera on and took a shot of Quentin.

“Hey!”

“I only keep pictures of people and things that make me happy.”

“I make you happy?”

“You do.”

“Let me see it.” Once Quentin approved the image, Rick tucked his phone in his jacket pocket then settled his hat on his head. “Let’s head on out.”

“Can we go by my car? I want to see what that asshole did.”

“That’s going to be our second stop.”

“Where are we going first?”

“Diner.”

“Good idea. I’ve got to keep you fed so I can ride you.” Quentin slipped his arm into Rick’s.

“A man with priorities.”

After a lingering breakfast, which Rick paid for despite Quentin’s protests, they went over to the parking lot.

Rick couldn’t believe what he saw. Neither could Quentin.

“It’s fine.” Quentin walked around the vehicle slowly, looking it over from top to bottom. “I mean the tire is still flat but he didn’t beat the hell out of it. There’s not one dent.”

“I think he’s smarter than we thought.” Rick realized that if Judson had damaged the vehicle, they could tell the local police and they’d be on the lookout for him. As things stood now, they could only report that he’d menaced them with a baseball bat. Given how his job interview had gone yesterday, Rick didn’t think they’d give his word about events much credence. They probably wouldn’t even file a report.

“What the hell is he playing at now?” Quentin pulled out his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling triple A.”

“I’ll change the tire.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Come on. It’ll take us less than fifteen minutes.”

“Okay.” Quentin popped the trunk and pulled out the spare.

Working together, they had the tire swapped out in under fifteen minutes.

“I’m really not okay with you driving it though.” Rick didn’t see any fluids on the ground, so Judson hadn’t cut the brake line or the fuel line but that didn’t make him feel overly confident that the son of a bitch hadn’t done something to the car.

“Should I just leave it here?”

“I’m worried it will get towed.”

“Where are we going to take it?”

“Here.” Rick traded the keys to his truck for the keys to Quentin’s car. “Follow me.”

Rick drove the car over to the fairgrounds with Quentin following in his truck. The car handled fine, but he felt prickles against his nerves the whole way over. He parked it toward the back of the lot, but not so far back it would stand out.

“It should be fine here for a day. We’ll move it again tomorrow.” Rick climbed into his truck but didn’t start it up.

“What?” Quentin asked.

“Would you be willing to rent a car for a few days? I’m thinking he knows your car and he knows my truck. If we had another vehicle, we could fly under his radar.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Has he texted you since you’ve been here?”

“No.”

“So he doesn’t have your new number.” Rick tried to think around corners about how Judson could be tracking Quentin. “Could he be tracking your credit card?”

“I don’t know.”

“If he is, we don’t want to rent a car.”

“I could pay cash.”

“They’ll still want a card to hold it. That number goes into the system. No. Let’s...let’s not worry about that for now. I guess we’ll have to take it as it comes.” Rick turned to Quentin. “Has he ever hit you?”

“No. Last night is the first time he’s been violent.”

“But he wasn’t. At least not in a way that would get him arrested. The blow to my truck didn’t even leave a mark. It’s like he’s trying to scare you away from, well, him.”

“He’s doing a good job.” Quentin laughed nervously. “I don’t want to be anywhere near him.”

“That’s what I mean. He should have been trying to protect you from me, but instead, he tried to attack you.” Rick knew mentally unbalanced people didn’t always do what they were expected to do, but something about the situation just didn’t ring right to him. Then again, he hadn’t worked any stalking cases during his time in Denver. He only knew a small amount from what he’d covered in training.

“He told me to get out,” Quentin said.

“With a baseball bat in his hand. No one in their right mind would have gotten out. It’s almost like he wanted to drive you away from your car.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. There wasn’t anything wrong with it when I drove it.” But then again, he’d driven it less than five miles. Rick found the whole thing puzzling. “I need—I’d like to talk to someone I know. If it’s okay with you. She might be able to give us some insight into this.” Something about the situation just didn’t add up but Rick couldn’t put his finger on what it might be.

“If you know someone who can help, I’m all for it.”

Rick called psychologist Vina Noe, a woman he’d worked with at the Denver PD.

After pleasantries, Rick got down to business. “Can I put you on speaker phone?”

“Of course.”

“I’m here with Quentin, the man being stalked. I’m concerned that the stalker’s behavior, Judson’s behavior, is, well, for lack of a better word, odd.”

“Not all stalkers behave the same way. Their motivations can be entirely unique.”

Rick had Quentin explain the situation to Vina.

“Sounds like an attachment disorder. Specifically, that he has a dependency personality disorder. It’s not unusual for a stalker to exhibit a broad range of behaviors, motivations, and psychological traits. They can escalate over time. It starts out as romantic gestures but when those don’t work to get them what they want, they can decide that eliminating the love object is a kindness. Usually, they then kill themselves.”

Quentin turned white.

Vina seemed to remember she wasn’t talking just to a seasoned professional. “Understand, that is the extreme end of the spectrum, not the usual or norm.”

Quentin didn’t seem entirely reassured.

Rick didn’t blame him.

“At any point did you firmly tell this man that you weren’t interested?” Vina asked.

“After I tried to let him down easy, I did. I thought he was clear about it but then the stalking got worse.” Quentin wrapped his arms around himself, holding himself. When Rick put his hand on Quentin’s knee, he loosened his hold. “I wanted to try talking to him again, but my attorney advised against it.”

“Why?” Vina asked.

“He worried it would only encourage him. He said any contact with me, negative or positive, could keep the flame alive.”

“I agree. Sometimes, the direct approach can stop the situation from getting worse, but if you’ve tried it and it didn’t work, I wouldn’t recommend any further contact outside of your lawyer speaking to him. Or a police officer.”

“I filed for a restraining order, but he’s violated it repeatedly. When I go to the police, they don’t seem to care.” Quentin leaned closer to the phone. “Can I hire you to look at the records I have and give me some direction?”

“I don’t know that I can give you more than you have.”

“Anything would help. And I’ll pay.”

“It’s not about the money, Mr. Tenney. It’s whether or not I can do anything to help you.”

Rick sat in silence, waiting for Vina to decide.

“Let’s do this. Send me the files.” Vina gave him her email. “I’ll read through them tonight and see if I can offer you anything more than you already have.”

“Thank you. I’ll do that.”

Rick thanked Vina for her time then cut the call.

“Okay. Now that we’ve got that going, let’s go to the police.”

“Why?” Quentin lifted his hands. “They won’t do anything.”

“I get your frustration, really I do. Like you said to me, I feel you, okay? But giving them a heads up is a courtesy thing. I don’t expect them to do anything but I want it on record that we contacted them. It might matter down the road.”

“Like if I have to go to court over something.”

“Yeah.”

They drove over to the police station.

Within twenty seconds of talking to Sheriff Winkling, Rick realized he’d wasted their time.

“I’ll make a note of it.” The sheriff scribbled something on a pad of paper then left it on his desk. “If he does vandalize something, be sure to let us know.”

“Yeah. I’ll do that.” Rick escorted Quentin out of the building. “I should have had you go in alone.”

“They can’t refuse to help me because the mayor’s son doesn’t like you.”

“Yeah, well, apparently they can.”

“So what the hell happened with him?” Quentin moved closer and whispered, “Did you hookup with him?”

“No.” Rick made a face. “Not my type.” He explained what happened at the fairgrounds over the parking spot. “Even as I was doing it I knew I shouldn’t, that it was childish, but I couldn’t stop. I’m starting to think I do have an anger management issues.”

“I don’t think so. I think you have an allergy to assholes.” Quentin laughed. “I would have done the same. Or worse. I once backed into a guy because he pissed me off.”

“You damaged your own ride to damage his?”

“I didn’t say it was a smart decision.” Quentin grinned. “Come on. Let’s go shopping so you can impress me with your culinary skills.”

They shopped and then returned to the house, which Rick went through top to bottom just to make sure everything was as they’d left it. Gated communities and security systems tended to get people to put down their guards. Rick would remain vigilant.

“So no one knows you’re at this address?” Rick asked as he put groceries away.

“No one. The woman I rented it from understood my need for security so she accepted cash.”

“No record. Good. What about if people need to contact you?”

“They have to call my attorney. There’s really no need for anyone to contact me directly.”

“What about the people running the rodeo?”

“Everything’s been set for months.”

“No changes to scheduling?”

“Nope.” Quentin grabbed an apple and munched while watching Rick. “Oh! I should send that file over to your friend.”

While Rick got lunch ready, Quentin sent the file on Judson over to Vina.

“We’ll see what she has to say. She said she’d get back to me sometime tonight or tomorrow.”

“When do you compete again?” Rick asked, slicing peppers and onions.

“Uh...” Quentin pulled out his phone and checked his calendar. “Two days. It’s the last event. A big flashy show right before they end the rodeo.”

“You’re not doing another blindfolded bit, are you?” Rick didn’t think his heart could take another round.

“Well, um...”

“Quentin.”

“I’m going to be doing Roman Riding.”

“You’re gonna fuck a gladiator?”

“Ha ha. Roman Riding is me with one foot on the back of two horses.”

“That’s not too dangerous?” Rick tried to imagine what could go wrong, scared himself, and decided not to think about it anymore.

“Not really.” Quentin sounded entirely too casual.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me the whole thing?” Rick put the knife down. “You’re going to do it blindfolded?”

“That’s my thing!” Quentin scoffed then turned away. “Everyone has to have a gimmick. The blindfold is mine.”

“It’s insane.”

“Hey, you were a cop.” Quentin spun around to face him.

“That’s a job.”

“So is trick riding.” Quentin plunked his hands on his hips and Rick found himself falling a little bit in love with him. Usually, guys caved right in when he pointed out the obvious. Quentin just flung it right back in his face.

“What other tricks are you going to be doing?” Rick set the peppers and onions aside and started slicing the flank steak.

“Well...” After a long hesitation, Quentin admitted, “I’ll also be doing a handstand.”

“On a moving horse?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not very impressive if the horse is standing still.”

“And?”

“And...well...flipping from one horse to another.”

“Wait. What?” Rick put the knife down again.

“It’s not a big deal. It’s really the same trick I did before only I’ll be going from one horse to another.”

“You’re going to do a blindfolded backflip off one horse and land on another while both of them are moving?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No. I’m talented.” Quentin moved closer and wrapped his arms around Rick’s waist as if he’d done it to pacify him a million times. What astonished Rick was that it worked. “Look, big guy, I’ve done it before. I’ve done this same set of tricks at least twenty times before.”

“Only twenty?”

“Twenty times in front of an audience. About a million times in prep.”

“And your horse man?”

“Enoch? He’s been working with me since I started doing trick riding.”

“Knows his stuff?”

“He’s managed the family stables for—I don’t know. Just about forever. Trust me. He knows what he’s doing with the horses.”

Rick wanted to argue, but he really didn’t have a leg to stand on. Then again, he really didn’t need a leg to stand on. He could just tie Quentin up so he couldn’t go.

“I know that look.” Quentin pulled away.

“You haven’t known me long enough to know any of my looks.”

“That may be but I still know that look. You’re thinking of messing with me.”

“Have you seen your ass? How could I not be thinking of messing with you?”

“Yeah.” Quentin kept backing away until he got himself to the other side of the counter. “I think I’ll just sit over here.”

“Doesn’t matter how far you get.” Rick went back to cutting the flank steak. “I know where you sleep.” Right after he said it, Rick realized how creepy it sounded. “Let me rephrase that.”

“Don’t bother.” Quentin held up a hand to hold him off. “I know how you meant it.”

“Not in the scary way.”

“Not in the scary way,” Quentin echoed. “You know, last night is the first full night of sleep I’ve had since, well, since this whole thing started. Trust me, I haven’t been climbing into bed and falling asleep right away.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think you realize how much you’ve helped just by being here.” Quentin grabbed a piece of red pepper and ate it. “Wow. It’s almost sweet.”

“That’s why they’re called sweet bell peppers.”

“Ah ha. That does explain it.” Quentin watched him for a bit. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh, what a leading question.” Rick flashed his best sultry grin.

“I meant with the food.”

“Can you set the table?”

“I can try.” Quentin deliberately rubbed his butt against Rick while getting out the plates and utensils.

“You’re going to pay for that later.”

“At least I’ll get to pay you.”

“Don’t start that again.”

“But it just doesn’t seem fair that—”

Rick’s phone rang, cutting Quentin off. When he pulled it from his pocket, he recognized the number right away. He answered, keeping his tone casual. The bartender had a guy out sick and would Rick mind filling in for him? Rick would be delighted. He hung up, smiling. Finally. Some money coming in. Wouldn’t be a lot, but it would be a start.

“Well. I guess you found some work.” Quentin continued to set the table but his mood had darkened considerably.

“Just for tonight.”

“Bouncing?”

“That makes it sound like I’m going out to be a ball. Or a disco dancer. Perhaps a disco ball.”

“Riverdancer. They kinda bounce.” Quentin slapped a smile on his face that looked painful.

“His regular guy called in sick so it’s a chance to get my foot in the door.” Rick paused but not for long. “And of course, I’ll need you to do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Come with me.”

Quentin’s head came up. Surprise widened his eyes.

“I’m not leaving you alone just so I can earn some money.”

“You wouldn’t have to go at all if you’d just let me—”

“You’re already putting a roof over my head and food in my belly. You’re paying me plenty.”

“You and your pride.”

“This from the guy who’s going to do a backflip off a horse while blindfolded when he’s got plenty of money in the bank. Yeah. I’m the crazy one.”

“If I was really crazy, I’d blindfold the horse.” Quentin tilted his head to the side as if actually considering doing so.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“Or what, you’ll fuck them out of me?” Quentin asked saucily.

“Ah ha. I knew we’d get around to what you really wanted.” Rick sniffled. “You just want me for sex.”

“Not just sex. I mean if you can actually cook, I’ll want you for that too.”

“Is it too early to say that I like you?”

Quentin blinked as if he’d never thought he’d hear those words.

“Maybe it is.” Rick hated to think he’d just screwed things up. He realized too late he should have just kept his mouth closed.

“No, it’s not. I just...I like you too.”

“Good.” Rick turned the stovetop on, settling the pan over the heating element. What the hell was wrong with him? Quentin had a damn stalker making his life miserable. The last thing he probably wanted was to get involved with another guy.

Chapter Five

Working as a bouncer at the Climax Bar wasn’t quite as easy as Rick thought it would be. Unlike his other brothers in blue, Rick had never doubled as a security officer. A lot of police officers did it for the extra money, but Rick had never wanted to spend his off time working when he could be hooking up. As he entered the third hour of six-hour shift, he remembered why he didn’t hang out in bars. Drunks annoyed him. It wasn’t just the slurred words or the waving around thing they did with their hands or even the fact that they talked loud enough to wake the dead. What really irritated him was how a good chunk of them seemed to be looking for a fight.

“You don’t scare me, buddy.” The man with breath like a shoe worn nonstop for over a year jabbed his finger into Rick’s chest. What was it with angry little men who did that to him? For the life of him, it felt like they were checking him for doneness. Or maybe poking him to decide if they wanted to buy him. Either way, it didn’t hurt, but it certainly didn’t feel good either.

“Chester, I’m gonna need you to settle down or out you go.” The bartender tried again to get Chester to leave Rick alone, but Chester had a hard-on for him.

“He started it!” Chester tried to poke Rick again but he also turned to address his comment to the bartender. Chester’s finger almost ended up in Rick’s mouth.

Rick dodged the flailing finger then checked on Quentin, who sat at the little table in the corner, watching and laughing. Rick was going to make sure he regretted that later. He’d tease him utill he was in tears but he still wouldn’t let him climax. Oh, no. Rick would make the kid crazy before he let him get off. If Quentin hadn’t heard of orgasm denial, he was about to have a firsthand demonstration of the power of anticipation.

“Damn it, Chester. You’re not even supposed to be in here.” Another man, younger but with the same thick hair as Chester, entered the bar and took the old man away.

“That his son?” Rick asked.

“Yeah. Chester’s got anger management issues.”

Rick paid attention to that. He didn’t want to end up an angry old man like Chester.

“Need a break?” the bartender asked.

“Yeah.” Rick grabbed a bottle of water and settled at Quentin’s table. “Having fun?”

“I am, actually.” Quentin had been doing something on his phone while sipping water and eating onion rings. Rick snagged one, slathering it in thousand island dressing before popping it in his mouth. “Hey, get your own.” Quentin tried to slap his hand but missed.

“Yours taste better.”

“Oh, the things I could say to that.”

“But you won’t.”

“Not here.” Quentin darted his gaze around. “Seems to be quite a few homophobes in here tonight. Way more than there were before.”

“Liquor seems to bring that out in some men.” Rick leaned close. “The truth is they want another man but they’ll be damned to hell twice before they’ll ever admit it.”

Quentin laughed. “You’re good at this, you know?”

“Being gay?”

“No!” Quentin shook his head, chuckling. “Bouncing. I don’t know where you got the idea you have anger management issues. That guy practically tenderized your pec and you just stood there.”

“He was twice my age and half my size. Hitting him wouldn’t have helped and would have painted me as a bully.”

“Still.”

“Besides, I’ve got this hot trick rider who’s gonna kiss it all better for me later.”

“Yeah?” Quentin made a point of looking around the room. “Where are you hiding him?”

“Cheeky.”

“Very.” Quentin returned his attention to his phone.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“Jesus Christ.” Quentin lowered the phone to the table. “You do not need to take me to the fucking bathroom.”

“Like I said, you’re not going in there alone.”

“Judson isn’t here. He’s not going to come in here. No way. Not only are you here but there are too many other people here for him to risk coming after me.”

“I’m not taking any chances so if you don’t need to go now, you’re going to have to wait until my next break.”

“I’m fine.” Quentin rolled his eyes and returned to whatever he was doing on his phone.

“Okay.” Rick returned to his place near the bar. The position gave him an excellent sightline all around the place. He could see everything except the bathrooms. The bartender could also hip him to who the problem patrons were. Rick wondered why he let them in but then again he couldn’t really keep them all out or he wouldn’t have a business. What made the job more intense wasn’t the regulars. They were known and their issues clear. The problems came with those who were visiting Climax for the rodeo and fair. The bartender didn’t know them or how they would react once they’d consumed one drink over the line. Finding that line was the trick. Some guys could pound beers for hours without an issue. Other guys had three and got violent. The handful of women who came in didn’t come in alone. So far, Rick had had to ask two couples to leave when it became clear they were playing a variation of the fighting game. The guy would leave his lady alone, wait for some guy to hit on her, and then come running to her rescue with fists blazing.

Rick kept waiting for Judson to show up. Every time the door opened, he expected to see his face there, a baseball bat in hand. As the night wore on, he relaxed. Maybe Judson had gotten the message. Just when he thought he’d have smooth sailing for his last hour on the clock, in walked a familiar face.

“Well, well, well. Lookie here. It’s Mr. Big Bad. The guy who can’t figure out how to back his fucking truck up.”

Rick stifled a growl of annoyance. The mayor’s son, Cyril, entered and from the smell of him, he’d been drinking long before he got to the bar.

“Take it right back outside, Cyril,” the bartender said. “You know your father doesn’t want you in here anymore.”

Rick wanted to laugh in the arrogant asshole’s face about that, but he kept a neutral expression while he stood there, arms loose at his sides.

“Fuck my father.”

Half the people in the bar went ooooo then burst out laughing.

“You think that’s funny, asshole?” Cyril poked Rick in the chest in the exact same spot Chester had. Must be a drunken loser thing. And of course, Cyril picked him to fuck with despite the fact Rick had not done or said anything. Out of a bar full of people mocking him, Cyril picked the one guy who hadn’t been to vent his anger on. “I asked if you think that’s funny?”

Rick refrained from commenting.

“You. Think. That’s. Funny?” Cyril spaced out his words, punctuating each one of them with a painful poke to Rick’s pec.

“I told you to go, Cyril.” The bartender came around the bar, dishrag in hand. “If I have to call your father down here again, you know you’ll have hell to pay.”

“Fuck you.” Cyril snarled the words at Rick.

“Damn it. Out. Now.” The bartender grabbed Cyril’s arm and tried to pull him out of the bar.

Cyril decided to take a swing but not at the bartender. He aimed for Rick’s face but missed by a mile. He might have recovered from the spin but the bartender’s pull on his arm spun him neatly into the bar, where he hit his head and collapsed on the floor.

“Oh, fuck.” The bartender knelt down next to him. “Call the sheriff’s department, will you?”

Rick had their number so he called. Sheriff Winkling wasn’t on duty but his deputy would be right over. Apparently, cleaning up after the mayor’s son was a full-time job for those sworn to serve and protect the people of Climax. Maybe not getting that job had been a blessing in disguise.

“I think he’s gonna need a doctor.” The bartender pressed his dishrag to Cyril’s head and it came away bloody.

“Who should I call?” Rick asked.

“There’s a number up there—”

“Mind if I have a look?” A young man with platinum hair asked as he came forward. “I’m a doctor. Well, an intern.”

“Be my guest.” The bartender backed off while Rick went ahead and called for an ambulance anyway. He worried about the liability of not calling for one. When he finally reached emergency services in the next big town over, he handed the phone to the intern, who relayed Cyril’s medical condition.

From what Rick heard, Cyril wasn’t badly injured, but the intern didn’t want any liability either.

When the deputy arrived, he sighed and crouched down next to Cyril.

Rick finished with his shift but he offered to hang around if they needed him.

“I’m good,” the deputy said. “I’ve got your name and number if I need anything else.”

Rick got paid in cash, slipped it in his wallet, and then went out to the truck with Quentin.

“That was fun.” Quentin climbed into the passenger seat.

“I remember now why I never liked going to bars.” Rick got into the driver’s side and got them on the road.

“Drunk people are annoying as fuck?”

“Yes. Now let’s hurry home and have a beer.”

Quentin laughed.

“That’s different,” Rick said. “We’re not drinking to get drunk.”

“We’re drinking to forget.” Quentin turned on the heater.

“I thought we were drinking to enjoy a good beer?”

“Oh. Yeah. That too.”

“Are you really—”

“I’m not.” Quentin waved him off. “It’s like the herpes joke. It’s just a joke.”

Rick couldn’t believe that Judson hadn’t shown up but then again, how would he have known where they were? However he’d been able to track Quentin he wasn’t able to do it now. All the way back to the house, Rick kept his eyes peeled for someone following them, but they had the roads practically to themselves.

“Home again, home again.” Quentin dropped his stuff on the table by the doorway then toed off his shoes.

Rick followed suit. Amazing how quickly he felt comfortable living with Quentin and living in such a nice place.

“Shower?” Quentin asked.

“It’s like you read my mind.”

“I’d suggest a cold beer and a hot shower, but I’m not taking a glass bottle into a tiled shower.”

“You’re smarter than me at seventeen.”

“I thought it was baby oil?”

“Yeah, but if we’d had beer, we would have taken that in there too.”

“Shower, then we can have a beer in the pool.”

“Could still break.”

“We’re going to be floating and talking, not playing whatever weird sport frat boys would play in a pool.”

“Don’t look at me.” Rick shrugged. “I never got into a frat. They didn’t have them on my campus.”

“Really? I thought all campuses had them.”

“Nope.” Rick stripped out of his clothes in the bedroom. “This place got laundry?”

“Yeah. Down off the kitchen.”

“Great.”

“So you do laundry too?” Quentin asked, stripping down.

“I thought you could do that.”

“Only if you want everything shrunk.”

“You don’t know how to do laundry either?” Rick couldn’t believe Quentin didn’t know even the most basic home keeping skills.

“Sorry. I spent most of my life up to this point either partying or learning tricks.”

“I’m going to have to teach you how to do laundry too.”

“Thank you.” Quentin leaned up on tiptoe and kissed Rick’s cheek.

Rick turned his head so Quentin kissed his lips.

Kissing, they made their way into the shower.

They got clean. Eventually. Then they kissed their way downstairs to eat and have a beer by the pool.

Instead of getting all the way in, they sat in their towels, on the edge, soaking their feet.

“I thought he’d come tonight. To the bar.” Quentin’s voice was soft but sounded loud since everything in the room echoed.

“Me too. But I’m glad he didn’t.”

“Especially when you had enough assholes to deal with.”

“Yeah. That’s why I don’t like bars.”

“What is up with poking you in the chest?” Quentin thrust his finger out in front of himself.

“I don’t know, but I’ve had more men than I can count to that to me.”

“I think they just want to feel you, see if you’re as muscular as you look.”

“Wouldn’t one poke be enough for that?”

“You’d think.” Quentin leaned over and kissed the spot. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Rick loosened his towel. “Did you see that other guy who poked my dick?”

“No one poked your dick.” Quentin rolled his eyes. “You just want me to kiss your dick.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot.” Rick took a long pull on his excellent beer. “You know what’s really been bothering me?”

“The fact I can’t fit your whole dick in my mouth?”

“Besides that. It’s what Judson said at the parking lot.”

“I really don’t want to talk about him. I’m all nice and relaxed and I want to have sex with you.”

“I know but—he said get out of here, not get out of there. Like he wanted to get you away from the car.”

“I thought he said to get out of there? As in he wanted me to get out of your truck.”

“That’s just it, though. I swear he said get out of here.”

“Why would he want me to get out of the parking lot?”

“I honestly don’t know. That’s why I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Oh, fuck!” Quentin got to his feet.

“What?”

“I never checked to see if Vina got back to me.”

Rick followed Quentin upstairs to the living room.

“Here.” Rick settled on the couch and patted the ottoman. “Sit here so I can see it too.”

Once he got the laptop warmed up, Quentin opened his email and found a letter from Vina.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“She doesn’t think she can tell me anything I don’t already know. Like she said, he has an attachment disorder. Probably wants my approval and validation.” Quentin looked over his shoulder at Rick. “That makes sense, I guess. I rejected him after our one night of sex.” Quentin turned back to the screen. “What’s weird is that she says most stalkers have a narcissistic personality disorder.” Quentin shook his head. “What’s that?”

“Narcissistic people are, well, for lack of a better term, in love with themselves. But it’s more fucked up than that. They’re entitled—think everyone owes them because they’re so great when they actually don’t like themselves very much. They go around all self-important to cover up their secret shame that they’re not as good as other people.”

“And you knew that right off the top of your head?”

“My father had a narcissistic personality.”

“Oh.”

“We can talk about it. He’s dead now.”

“What did he die of?”

“I don’t know how to do this except to do it like yanking off a bandage—my dad ate his gun.”

Quentin went very still.

Rick waited for Quentin to say something but then decided he probably didn’t know what to say. “You don’t have to say anything. There really is nothing to say. My father was unhappy. He refused to get help.” There was more, a lot more, like his father’s suicide note where he attempted to blame his actions on Rick for being a disgraced gay cop, but Rick knew his shame hadn’t driven his father to suicide. His father’s own shame had done that. Vina had helped Rick see the truth. In a lot of ways, Vina had saved his life.

“Do a lot of cops do that?” Quentin asked quietly.

“Some. I don’t know the stats on how many.” He did, but he didn’t think Quentin wanted to hear that more cops died by suicide than in the line of duty.

“Do you still have your gun?”

“No.” Rick wrapped his arms around Quentin and pulled him close. “I’m not going that direction, Quentin. I don’t want to die. If I did, I wouldn’t be trying so hard to find a job.”

“But what if you don’t find one?” Quentin rested his head against Rick’s shoulder.

“I will.” Rick kissed the edge of Quentin’s ear. “Besides, I’ve got this sweet trick rider who’s willing to—”

“Please don’t joke around.” Quentin turned so he could look into Rick’s eyes. “This isn’t funny.”

“I know. It’s not.” Rick stroked over Quentin’s face. “I no longer have any of my guns. I would have gotten issued one if I had joined the force here, but that didn’t happen. I have no interest in getting a gun. I have no interest in following in my father’s footsteps.” It suddenly dawned on Rick that he’d been about to do that very thing for the second time in his life.

“What?” Quentin tightened his grip on Rick. “Why did you make that face?”

“Because I don’t want to be a cop anymore.” Rick had thought of it earlier but now he believed that getting turned down for the job in Climax might just be the best thing that had ever happened to him. “I never really wanted to be one.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” Rick laughed uneasily. “I’m a little too old to go back to bull riding, but I’m not so old I can’t do regular cowboy work.”

“Nothing dangerous?”

“Well, just being alive is dangerous.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. Nothing dangerous.” Rick gave Quentin a squeeze then let go. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“You’re doing something dangerous.”

“It’s really not.”

“It really is.”

“Do we have to fight about this right now?” Quentin pulled away and returned to the email from Vina.

“We don’t have to fight about it at all.”

Quentin tensed.

“What?” Rick asked.

“Aren’t you going to leave now?” Quentin’s voice was so quietly devastated it almost broke Rick’s heart.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Then no. I’m not going anywhere.”

Quentin uttered a shaky sigh. “Okay.”

“What else did Vina say?” Rick felt something major had just happened but he had no clue what. Instead of pushing Quentin for answers, he’d let it simmer on the back burner. He’d find out when Quentin was ready to talk.

“That’s it. She didn’t really say anything new. Anything I didn’t already know.” Quentin sighed as he shut the laptop. “You know what really sucks? I’m waiting for the next move. Like, I feel like I can’t really do anything or make any plans because I don’t know what he’s going to do. It’s like he’s suddenly the boss of my life when I don’t want him to be.”

“That really does suck.”

“Promise me that...”

“What?”

“Just don’t leave without saying something to me. Like, if we have a fight, and you get mad, don’t leave without saying goodbye. Okay?”

“Okay.” Rick held him tight. “Is that what happened with your parents?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you have a fight, they left, and then died?”

“Oh, God, no. They’re alive.”

“I thought you said—”

“I’m a trust fund baby. Yeah. Through my grandfather, not my parents. My father’s father had the big bucks. My father got some too but not as much as me. It caused some problems. When I took Enoch it caused more.”

“You stole your horse man from your parents?”

“Pretty much, yeah. But I didn’t know who else to ask. And the horses know him. It’s not like my father didn’t have other people who stepped right into the space Enoch left behind.”

“Then why—who left you without saying goodbye?” Rick waited a long time for Quentin to answer. When he did, he kept his voice barely above a whisper.

“Boyfriends that I really liked. Guys I thought I had some kind of connection with.” After a long beat of silence and a dejected sigh, he finished, “Men who I didn’t think were just using me.”

“I’m sorry anyone ever did that to you.”

“Me too.” Quentin tightened his hold. “I just don’t want you to be one of those guys.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay.”

But Rick couldn’t escape feeling guilty that Quentin had been paying for everything. If it was the last thing he ever did, he’d find a way to pay Quentin back for helping him, something beyond protecting him, because Rick would always do that for free.

“Sorry I ruined the mood.” Quentin rested his head against Rick’s shoulder again, something Rick found he liked very much.

“Not at all. I don’t ever want you to think you always have to be shitting sunshine around me.”

“Jesus.” Quentin laughed. “What a way to put it.”

“That’s what it always felt like to me. Shitting sunshine so other people wouldn’t be afraid of me.”

“Why would anyone be afraid of you?”

“Because I’m big. And I guess if I’m not smiling I look like I eat puppies or something.”

“Do you?”

“No. I do not eat puppies.” Rick lowered his mouth to Quentin’s neck. “I do, however, nosh on cute trick riders.”

“You know, you have this way of making me feel like everything I am is okay.”

“It is.”

“But I—never mind. I guess it’s nice to be with someone who doesn’t expect me to be just one way.”

“Feeling frisky?”

“Hmmm.” Quentin lifted his arm and felt along the length. “I do feel frisky.”

“Let me feel.” Rick palmed Quentin’s cock.

“That’s not—oh!”

“What?”

“Wanna try something new?” Quentin turned his head, waggling his brows at Rick. “Something kinky?”

“Okay.” At Quentin’s urging, Rick got to his feet and followed him upstairs. He had no idea what Quentin had in mind.

“Do you trust me?” Quentin asked.

“Yeah.”

Quentin handed Rick something. “Enough to wear this?”

It took a second for him to realize he held a blindfold. “Sure.”

Rick slipped the blindfold on, thinking he’d still be able to see out the bottom but small cups fitted close to his face, blocking out everything.

“Whoa.” Rick had to put his arms out to maintain his balance.

“You okay?”

“It’s very dark.”

“Yeah.” Quentin laughed lightly. “I always wanted—well, if you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to do this.”

“Like I said, I trust you.” Rick had a feeling that the blindfold in Quentin’s act had a lot to do with a kink he’d probably never explored because he’d never trusted anyone enough. If Rick could help him overcome that, he would. Gladly. Something he could give back to Quentin for all he’d done for him. “What do I do?”

“Just let me lead the way.” Quentin eased the towel off Rick’s hips, making his nipples tighten.

“Without my sight, everything else is amplified.”

“Right?” Quentin asked, his tone excited. “When I’m working with a blindfold on, I can hear everything more deeply. I hear the smallest change in the horse’s hooves against the dirt, the smallest change in the crowd. When they all fall silent, I swear I can almost hear their heartbeats.”

“I can believe it.” As he stood there, unable to see, Rick felt Quentin’s body heat and knew exactly where he stood. He could feel his breath, hot and moist, against him. He could smell him, smell the soap he’d used and the beer he’d drunk but most of all he could hear him. He heard Quentin’s steps against the carpet. The fibers were new enough that they made a crunching sound that would have been imperceptible if he’d been relying on his sight. Without it, he heard a light smash-crunch each time Quentin took a step. Rick could hear Quentin’s excited breath, the way he caught and released his breath as he circled, examining him. Rick didn’t have to touch Quentin to know he was hard.

“You are so very handsome.”

“Thank you.” Rick had never thought too much about that. Mostly, he didn’t want to get full of himself. He’d always been able to hookup with other guys. Not effortlessly, but without a major effort. He found that if he waited, a man would look at him in a way that gave him all he needed to know. Rick would never be able to explain that expression. Something in the way a man lifted one brow or smiled or held his gaze for just a second too long—those almost imperceptible things told Rick that the man in question wanted to hook up with him. Without his sight, he’d be lost.

“Rick?”

“Just—I never realized how much I depend on my vision.” Rick had also never thought about how his two major relationships had come from fleeting affairs. Somehow, they’d become more without him really pushing for the connection. It had just...been there. Like it was with Quentin. Or at least he hoped. Rick would never put pressure on Quentin, but Rick hoped that when the rodeo ended, Quentin wouldn’t leave his life.

“Take a step forward.” Quentin spoke from just in front of Rick.

“Okay.” Rick stepped forward and almost face planted. “What the hell?”

“It’s okay.” Quentin moved to Rick’s side, linking their arms together. “You rely a lot on your sight for balance.”

“Isn’t that normal?”

“I don’t know. I was the same way until I practiced using a blindfold.”

Rick couldn’t believe how unbalanced he felt.

“Here. Step back. There you go. Edge of the bed. Sit.”

Rick felt a lot more comfortable once he settled on the end of the mattress. “I can hear you slipping off your towel.”

“Amazing how sensitive your ears get, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. And...” Rick trailed off, listening intently. “You’re getting oil, lube, and a condom.” Rick could hear the difference by not only where Quentin went in the room, but by the sound his hand made against the items.

“Damn, you are good.”

“All three?” Rick wondered exactly what Quentin had in mind. Not that he was worried. In fact, he’d never felt so relaxed. He couldn’t wait to see, or rather feel, what Quentin would do to him, but he knew all he had to do was say something to make him stop.

Rick heard and felt Quentin climb onto the bed behind him. He heard and smelled Quentin pour some of that body oil into his hands and then the swishing of him rubbing his hands together to warm the oil. And then Quentin smoothed it over Rick’s shoulders.

“Oh, fuck. You have no idea how good that feels.” Rick relaxed into Quentin’s massage.

Slowly, he worked over his shoulders, down his arms, over his back, and then he slowly slid his hands down to Rick’s pecs where he teased his nipples until Rick’s cock twitched and goosebumps washed over his arms and buttocks. While kissing his neck, Quentin kept right on working his talented hands down, teasing them over Rick’s abs, and then finally, mercifully, he wrapped them around his cock.

“Oh, fuck.” Rick wanted to rock his hips but he couldn’t do much while sitting. Still, he managed enough to set the pace. Slow, steady, insistent. Every rock song he remembered from his youth had that same backbeat. Almost like a heartbeat.

Quentin didn’t rush. He nuzzled close against Rick’s back and worked his hands in tandem, up and down, up and down.

“Here,” Quentin said.

“Where?” Rick felt dazed and dreamy, almost half asleep as if he’d entered a new time dimension.

“Up on the bed. On your stomach.”

Rick settled against the sheets but lifted up so Quentin could tuck pillows below his hips. When Quentin parted his legs, Rick suppressed a smile. He’d had a feeling he knew where this was going but he didn’t want to say anything in case Quentin changed his mind. Rick hoped like hell he didn’t.

Quentin returned to rubbing Rick’s shoulders then worked his way down Rick’s back. This time, he spent considerable effort working the tension out of Rick’s ass.

“Damn, but your butt is tight.”

“All that standing around at the bar.”

“Is that it?” Quentin pushed upward against his buttocks almost as if he were kneading them like bread, then he pulled down using the flat of his palms.

“Or I just need a good fuck.” Rick wondered if that would be enough to encourage Quentin to do what it was he really wanted to do.

“Is that it?” Quentin’s voice caught as he pushed upward again, parting Rick’s buttocks. Rick didn’t have to see to know Quentin looked at the dark hole between them. He felt Quentin’s gaze locked there. He almost felt his need.

“I think so.” Rick sighed and arched his back. “Do you think you can help me with that?”

“I think...I think I can.” Quentin rose up until he planted his butt right behind Rick’s. He rubbed his bare cock between Rick’s buttocks, teasing him while testing him. Very quietly, barely a whisper, Quentin asked, “Are you sure?”

“Very.” Rick pushed the pillow away from his head so that his ass rose up even higher from the pillows under his hips. “I told you, I love the feel of a smaller guy humping on top of me.”

“Humping but not fucking.”

“You trying to talk me out of this or yourself?”

“I’m trying to make sure you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Rick grinned and relaxed his head against his crossed arms.

“Okay.” Quentin gently eased Rick’s legs apart so he could kneel between them.

Rick half expected him to leap on him and bang away but Quentin didn’t. Like a good lover, he took his time. He teased those talented fingers over and against and then into Rick’s hole before he finally rose up and pulled on a condom. The sound of the tearing foil, the sqilch of the rubber as he rolled it down his length, and then the squish of the lube as he slicked himself up—all of it filled Rick with anticipation.

Quentin uttered a broken breathy sigh as he rubbed his cock between Rick’s buttocks.

Rick concentrated on Quentin, on the way his hand shook just a little as he teased him, the way his muscles strained as he held himself up. And then so slowly as to be almost maddening, Quentin pressed against him and slipped inside, uttering an almost imperceptible oh of pleasure.

Rick arched upward, lifting himself, enjoying that inexorable stretching and filling. Nothing in the world felt like that. No toy came close to the heat of a real man, especially one he cared about the way he cared about Quentin.

“Oh, God. Oh, fucking God, that feels so fucking good.” Quentin leaned over Rick until he pressed his forehead against his back.

“You’ve never fucked another guy?”

“Not sober.” Quentin scoffed. “Fuck, that sounded bad.”

“Sounded fine.”

“Okay, well, not sober and never with a guy as big as you.”

“I’ve never done this with a guy I care about as much as I care about you.” Rick thought he’d gone too far or maybe made it too real.

But then Quentin kissed his back and whispered, “I’m glad.”

“Me too.” Rich reached back and touched Quentin’s shoulder. “Take your time. I like the slow build.”

Quentin took his words to heart. He filled Rick as slowly as possible then pulled almost all the way out before sliding in again. He kept that beat for a long time, longer than Rick would have been able to maintain in his place. Rick heard the precise moment when things shifted. Quentin’s breath turned ragged and his balls lifted and tightened. Quentin dug his fingertips into Rick’s buttocks, firmly at first then harder, harder, almost to the point of pain as he increased his pace.

Rick tightened his channel, eliciting a groan of pleasure then a snarl as Quentin worked his hips at a frantic pace.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck!” Quentin climaxed and drilled as deep into Rick as he could.

Rick tightened around him, flexing his body so as to milk Quentin’s cock.

“Jesus, fuck!” Quentin shivered and shook, finally collapsing on top of Rick. “Oh, God. You. I didn’t—”

“Don’t move. Please don’t move. This is the part I like the best.”

“A weak-ass lover plopping down on you without even getting you off?”

“A satisfied man relaxing on top of me.” Rick wiggled a little side to side to get Quentin centered along his body line. “Just stay there for as long as you can.”

Quentin stayed until his cock shrank too much and he might lose the condom. He grabbed it and pulled out.

Rick stretched and then rolled over, pushing the mound of pillows aside. He gave his stiff prick a stroke or two then lifted his hands to the blindfold.

“No. Not yet.” Quentin climbed onto the bed and straddled Rick’s hips. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Rick grinned and lifted his hands up over his head. “I’m all yours.”

Quentin used the oil to slick his hands then wrapped them around Rick’s cock. After teasing him almost to the point of insanity, he finally let him climax in body shaking waves. Not being able to see intensified the feelings in a way Rick couldn’t describe.

“Good?” Quentin asked.

“Mmm.”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“Mmm.”

“Here. This should make it easier.” Quentin slipped the blindfold off then spooned up to Rick.

For once, he got to be the little spoon. And for the first time in a very long time, despite all the problems still hanging over his head, he fell asleep within minutes.

But the bliss didn’t last. His phone ripped him out of a deep, dreamless sleep at eight in the morning.

Rick checked the number, recognizing it immediately.

“You gonna answer that?” Quentin rolled over and covered his head with a pillow.

Rick flicked the call to the red button, silencing the ringer.

“Who was it?” Quentin’s mumbled voice came from under the pillow.

“No one.” At least no one he wanted to talk to. Rick couldn’t think of a single good reason for the sheriff’s office to call him this early. Not one. He’d deal with them later since he had enough to worry about with Quentin’s final show.

Chapter Six

Rick kept a low profile at the fairgrounds. He clung to the shadows and generally stayed out of everyone’s way. Mostly, he kept an eye on Quentin without being too obvious about it. Something about Judson kept poking at the back of his brain, something that just didn’t make sense. The difference between get out of here and get out of there seemed slight to Quentin but it was huge to Rick. That one letter made a hell of a lot of difference. Judson had been almost protective of Quentin. When Rick closed his eyes and pictured Judson taking a swing at his truck, he saw it differently than he had before. Judson seemed hell-bent on getting Rick to drive away. Judson hadn’t wanted Quentin to get out of the truck. He’d wanted Quentin to get away from his car. Or away from the parking lot. But why? That was the million dollar question. If he could figure out the answer to that, he felt he could unravel the whole damn thing.

Quentin hurried across the open area just outside the arena. To keep people out, they had three rings around the arena, the two outer rings covered in advertisement tarps, giving some shade and some privacy. Rick had only been able to get in because Quentin had credentials and marked Rick as one of his crew.

“Okay, I’m off to get ready for my show.” Quentin leaned up and kissed Rick’s mouth. Before Quentin could step back, Rick cupped his ass and turned him so that he pressed him against the wall.

“Be careful,” Rick said.

“I always am.”

“You know, you could still cancel.”

“I could, but I don’t want to.” Quentin grimaced. “I know that makes me sound like a dick but I really—I need to do this. I need to show him he’s not the boss of me. It’s my life. This is what I do and I love it.” Quentin glanced down at his dusty cowboy boots. “I guess I need you to understand that too.”

“I do.” Rick nodded when Quentin finally lifted his gaze to him. Even though he wasn’t happy with it, he still wanted to support Quentin in anything he wanted to do.

“Last night...”

Rick waited, eyebrows raised.

“I’ve never felt so close to someone. So...” Quentin shrugged helplessly. “I want to do that again only without the blindfold and looking right into your eyes.”

“I’d like that too.” Rick grinned and then kissed Quentin. “I really...” knowing now wasn’t the time to tell him how he felt, Rick finished, “I really like this hot bod of yours. You take good care of it for me.”

“I will.” Quentin seemed to sense Rick wanted to say more but he also seemed to understand why he couldn’t. Rick had never realized just how much information two people could convey without words.

Rick’s heart constricted when Quentin hurried away. Rick felt the only place Quentin would ever be safe was in his arms, but if he held him there too long or too hard, he’d crush the spirit right out of him. Rick couldn’t do that. He loved Quentin enough to let him fly free.

Oh, fuck.

Love.

Rick stood there, mouth agape, stunned by what had just rolled right out of his brain as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Love did not come easy for him but apparently, when it did show up, it had to hit him like a freight train. Twice before in his life he’d been struck but never his hard or this fast.

“And now let’s give a warm welcome to three-time regional trick riding champion, Quentin Tenney!”

Rick yanked his gaze to where two pickup men opened the arena entrance gate. Quentin, standing on the back of his horse, rode in, smiling and waving as he circled the arena.

Cheers and whistles filled the air.

Rick watched him, heart in his throat. Now that he realized just how much he cared, watching Quentin became a million times more difficult. Even the easy tricks had Rick clenching his fists and gnashing his teeth. Just like the first time he’d seen Quentin, Rick felt if he looked away, Quentin would fall. He had to keep watching even though each successively more dangerous trick clenched his muscles so tight that if someone were to touch him, he’d probably shoot himself across the arena.

The first half of Quentin’s show he did solo but the second part included his horse man, Enoch.

When the man stepped through the arena gate, looking like death warmed over, Rick had one of those cop moments where a bunch of stuff he’d put on the back burner came to a sudden boil.

Judson screaming get out of here!

Snatches from Vina’s email: stalkers forget to eat, they forget to sleep. They are so focused on their target that they can’t see anything else.

It had only been a handful of days since Rick had seen Enoch at the other end of the rope, guiding Quentin’s horse, but in that short span of time, the man had lost weight and the hat that shaded his eyes only enhanced the dark circles.

Judson wasn’t the stalker. Enoch was. And this would be the last chance Enoch would get to do something to Quentin for months. Maybe even forever.

It wasn’t about romantic love at all, but a sense of entitlement. Enoch knew Quentin’s movements until the last few days. Quentin hadn’t told anyone where he’d be staying, not even Enoch. Only Quentin and Rick knew about the rented house. That had kept Quentin safe but had clearly driven Enoch deeper into whatever fueled his hatred toward Quentin.

Rick could only guess that Enoch was a narcissist with boundary issues. Once Quentin took Enoch away from the family stables, he probably couldn’t go back, given the friction between Quentin and his father over the inheritance. Despite the fact Quentin would never leave the man hanging—a fact Rick knew because he knew exactly what kind of a man Quentin was—Enoch must have decided to punish Quentin for ruining his life.

“Or kill him.”

A shiver ran down Rick’s spine, galvanizing him to act.

Right as Rick grasped the arena fence, intent on climbing over, someone clamped a hand onto his shoulder.

“Rick Browder? Gonna need you to come down to the sheriff’s department.”

Sheriff Winkling himself. Fuck. Rick should have dealt with this as soon as he’d gotten that phone call, but he’d thought he could have a day to take care of Quentin. He’d never been so wrong. Keeping most of his attention on Quentin, Rick asked, “What can I help you with, sheriff?”

“Gonna need you to come down now. You can’t go around hitting people.”

“I didn’t hit anyone.” Rick kept his gaze on Quentin. Enoch encouraged his horse to run in a circle while Quentin did front flips.

“Cyril said—”

“Cyril is an entitled asshole that you and every other official in this town protects because of his father’s political influence.” Rick shook off Sheriff Winkling’s hand. “I didn’t touch that asshole.”

“I’m still going to need you to come with me.”

Rick watched as Quentin slipped on his blindfold.

Enoch tightened his hold on the rope that he used to lead the horse. One edge of his mouth quirked up in what could only be called a malevolent grin.

Sheriff Winkling grabbed Rick’s wrist, leaving him no other option.

Rick turned and punched the sheriff square in the face. Before the man could recover, Rick scaled the fence and went running toward Quentin.

On the next turn, Enoch would see Rick coming. All Enoch had to do was yank that horse out from under Quentin and he’d fall. No way could Rick get there in time to stop Enoch or to catch Quentin. The only thing he could do was pray that Quentin trusted him enough to listen.

“Quentin! Drop and hang on now!”

Quentin didn’t hesitate. He dropped down onto his horse and wrapped his arms around his mount’s neck.

Enoch snarled and yanked on the rope, causing the horse to roughly change course.

Quentin wobbled on his back but he hung on.

“Hang on, Quentin. I’m coming—oof!”

Sheriff Winkling tackled Rick from behind.

Rick got out from under the man and ran toward Quentin. He whipped his head around, trying to locate Enoch, but the man had slipped out of the arena. Rick got ahold of the lead rope and used it to slow the horse.

“What’s going on?” Quentin had shoved the blindfold down around his neck.

“Enoch.”

“Enoch?”

“He’s the one who’s been stalking you.”

“Why would he—look out!” Quentin’s warning came too late.

This time, Sheriff Winkling had the help of two deputies. Rick went down hard. In the background, he heard people in the crowd murmuring as they tried to figure out what they were seeing.

“Let go of him! He was trying to save my life!” Quentin jumped from the horse and ran to his defense but there wasn’t anything he could do. No matter what either of them said, the officers wouldn’t listen.

“You’re under arrest,” Sheriff Winkling said, yanking Rick’s arms behind his back and slapping on cuffs.

“For what?” Quentin demanded.

“For resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer, and—and—whatever the hell else I can think of from now until we get to booking.” Sheriff Winkling wiped blood away from his nose and lip.

“The man who’s been stalking me is here, somewhere on the fairgrounds,” Quentin said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “He just tried to kill me. Rick saved my life.”

“I didn’t see anything.” Sheriff Winkling grasped Rick’s bound hands and shoved him forward.

“Wait!” Quentin ran up. “He has my keys.”

Rick stood still while Quentin fished his truck keys from his front pocket. “I’ll be right behind you,” Quentin whispered.

“Follow us.” Rick lowered his voice. “I don’t think Enoch will come at you if there are officers around.”

As they dragged him away, Quentin followed right behind. Once they got out into the parking lot, Rick delayed things as much as he could until Quentin got into his truck. Rick relaxed a little but not much. Enoch could show up at any point and do anything now that he knew he’d been caught out.

Once in the squad car, Rick kept looking back. He didn’t relax until he saw Quentin behind them in his truck.

They got separated while Rick was taken into custody, but he knew Quentin would be safe. Enoch was pissed and crazy, but not so nuts he’d attack Quentin at the sheriff’s department.

When he got his one phone call, Rick asked if he could just see Quentin, just for a few minutes.

“You think anyone here is going to give you special favors?” The deputy put his hands on his hips. “You punched the sheriff.”

“I was trying to save another man’s life.”

“So you say but no one else saw anything.”

“Because they were looking at me, not at Enoch.” When the deputy didn’t believe him or didn’t care, Rick gave up until another deputy came on duty.

Rick tried again only to get told no again.

When yet another deputy came on duty, he tried again but didn’t hold out a lot of hope. “Quentin can get me an attorney. Instead of making the call myself, he can do it for me since he has the phone number.”

The officer gave him a dubious frown but gave in once he found out the sheriff had left for the day. “Don’t get any ideas that I’m soft or anything.”

“I won’t.”

“Just that Cyril gets out of everything by using his daddy’s connections.”

That explained why he’d agreed when the other two officers hadn’t.

When Quentin stepped into the room, Rick had never been so glad to see someone in his life.

“Are you okay?” Quentin ran to the bars and tried to reach through to Rick.

“No touching!” the officer bellowed.

Quentin jumped back and glared at the man.

“Are you okay?” Rick asked.

“Me? Why are you worried about me? I’m fine.” Quentin moved close without touching. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I figured it out when I saw Enoch.”

“I think you’re wrong. He’s been with my family forever.”

“Right. And then he was with you. Just you. He must have realized he couldn’t go back to work for your father.”

“Of course not. My father—oh.”

“Were you talking about leaving the sport?”

“How did you know that?”

“Just a good guess.”

“I was just considering options,” Quentin said.

“When?”

“Three months ago? Jesus, it was just a throwaway comment I made to Enoch. That I was getting a little too old to keep doing trick riding for more than another year or two.”

“I think that’s Enoch realized that if he wasn’t working for you, he couldn’t go back to work for your father. And that if he couldn’t work for you, you no longer had any value to him.”

“I wouldn’t have just kicked Enoch out into the street.”

“I know that and you know that but I guess Enoch didn’t.”

“But what about Judson?”

“I think Enoch fed Judson information on where you were, encouraging him to come after you to muddy the waters. I think Enoch manipulated Judson into pursuing you to give himself some cover. He might have even planned to hurt or kill Judson to put you in his favor.”

Quentin turned white and swallowed hard.

“Judson must have figured out something was wrong. That’s why he told you to get out of that parking lot. He must have known Enoch was setting you up.”

“For what?”

“I really, really don’t want to think about that.” Rick had visions of Enoch sneaking up behind Quentin and hitting him in the head with a crowbar. The last thing he wanted to do was put that image in Quentin’s mind.

“Come to think of it, neither do I.” Quentin’s hand shook.

Rick longed to reach through the bars but the officer watched them like a hawk. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you get me an attorney?” The thought of Quentin being alone for the night put such fear in Rick his hands shook too. He clutched the bars so Quentin wouldn’t see how upset he was. More than anything, he didn’t want Quentin to be afraid.

“I called my attorney, who recommended someone out here. She’s supposed to be here soon.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“One more thing.”

“What?”

“Call the bar and get one of the bouncers to watch over you.”

“I thought you were...” Quentin trailed off, his expression shuttering hard as if to protect himself from rejection—the very last thing Rick wanted him to feel. So much for nonverbal communication.

“I’m in jail and I don’t know how long I’m going to be in here.” Rick had never wanted to touch another human being as much as he wanted to touch Quentin right then, but he didn’t want to piss off the officer who had helped him. “I can’t protect you and Enoch is still out there somewhere.”

“Right.” Quentin glanced away then back. “I guess this means you’ll be moving on, then, once you get out.”

They stood in silence, looking at one another. Rick wasn’t sure if Quentin was telling him he wanted things over or if he thought Rick did and he just wanted to cover up his pain.

“That’s not what I want. Not at all,” Rick said.

“What do you want, then?” Quentin leaned a little closer and the light in his eyes became a little more earnest.

“This is...complicated.” Rick couldn’t think of a better word to describe their relationship.

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“I don’t want things between us to end.”

“Me either.”

Time spun out. Rick touched Quentin’s hand quickly then let go. “But I have to be honest with you.”

Clearly bracing himself for the worst, Quentin nodded and said, “I can take it.”

“I am flat broke busted.”

Quentin rolled his eyes and murmured under his breath, “Not this again.”

Rick plowed on, determined to get it all out in the open. “I am possibly the worst prospect in the entire state of Colorado.”

“I don’t give a shit about that. If you want to get technical, I owe you for all those days of twenty-four-hour protection. Let’s just say a hundred an hour times ninety-six hours makes it over nine thousand dollars that I owe you for staying with me.”

“While I lived with you rent and board free.”

“Because I wanted you there.”

“And I had nowhere else to go.”

Quentin flinched and Rick cringed.

“Fuck,” Rick said, reaching out. “What I meant to say is that I—”

“You feel guilty because I paid for everything.” Quentin crossed his arms over his chest, lifting one brow high.

“No. Yes. Kind of.” Rick struggled to put his feelings into words.

Quentin moved closer and lowered his voice. “Is that why you let me fuck you? Because you felt like you owed me?”

The very idea pissed Rick off but he decided the only way he was ever going to make it clear was by getting Quentin to draw the conclusion on his own. “When you let me fuck you was it in payment?”

“No,” Quentin said, clearly affronted.

“Then why in the fuck would you think I would do something like that to you?”

“Because—because...” Quentin trailed off but then fell silent.

“I let you fuck me because I wanted you to fuck me.” Rick held Quentin’s gaze. “Most guys—shit. We hookup then go our separate ways and I never really get a chance to ask for what I want.”

Quentin held his gaze, his eyes wide.

“Do you have any idea how nice it was to be the little spoon for a change?”

Quentin’s expression softened.

“The big guy always has to be the top. Always. Like it’s some fucking law. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it, but I need to be he held too. I need...” Rick trailed off then realized where they were. “This is not the place for me to bare my soul, okay? Just know that what I did in bed with you was voluntary. All of it.”

“I believe you.” Quentin stroked his fingers quickly over Rick’s then let go.

“I’ll gladly do it all again but for right now I don’t want you to be alone.” Rick touched his fingers quick and moved back. “I want you safe.”

“Okay.”

“Okay you’ll get a bodyguard?”

“I will.” Quentin lifted his finger. “But only until you’re out.”

“Deal.” Rick considered letting the matter drop entirely, but he also felt getting everything on the table now might not be the worst idea. “There’s more.”

“Okay.” Quentin moved closer so that Rick could whisper.

“This”—Rick pointed from himself to Quentin several times—“is complicated for other reasons besides our livelihoods. Like the difference in our ages and what we might do together in the future. This is complicated because we’re both complicated people.”

“I really like you, complications and all.”

“I like you too. I’m glad I saved your life. I’d do it again if I had to.”

“You’re in jail because of me.”

“I’m in jail because I punched the sheriff.”

“To save me.”

“I’m counting this as a win. In fact, it’s the biggest win of my life. I think my fifteen years working as a cop might have been just so I could save your life.”

“I don’t think so. You spent half your life doing something you hated just so you could save my life? No.”

“I didn’t hate it. I was a cop to help people and I did. I helped a lot of people. And then I almost killed one. I beat the fuck out of a guy who had hurt a lot of kids and would have hurt a lot more if he’d gotten set free. Understand, he had already been set free twice. Twice. It wasn’t like I went off on him for no reason.”

“I believe you.”

“I know you do. That’s why you need to believe that I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“I had next to nothing and you saved me just as much as I protected you, okay? I want to think of us as even but I’m having a really hard time getting there.”

“What can I do?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Rick shrugged. “I want to be with you but right now I don’t have much to offer.”

“You know how you liked being the little spoon? Well, sometimes it’s nice for me to be the big man.” Quentin brushed his fingers over Rick’s again, longer this time, with more intent. “Let me do what I can to put this right.”

Rick had never thought of it that way. He only wanted to be the little spoon when they were alone. Not being the big man in public—that was where he had a problem. And he’d never seen it until now.

“Rick?”

“You know what? You’re right. I didn’t realize that I was trying so hard to be the big man all the time.” It wasn’t other people putting him in that position. He had been putting himself there all along. “Please help me. I’d appreciate your help more than I can say.”

“I’ll do everything I can.” Quentin touched him again and then left when the deputy said his lawyer was here. “I’ll be in the lobby, waiting. If she can’t get you out, I’ll call the bar and see if I can get someone. If I can’t, I’ll figure something else out but I won’t be alone tonight.”

A huge weight fell off Rick’s shoulders.

“You’re more worried about me than you are about yourself.”

“Of course I am. I’ll get through this.”

“No. We’ll get through this.”

Chapter Seven

The sheriff’s department dropped the charges against Rick for assaulting Cyril, thanks to Quentin. That night in the bar, he’d been using his phone to record Rick’s interactions. When asked why, Quentin said, “You kept saying you had anger management issues but you never took a swing at any of those idiots who hassled you in the bar.” The videos went a long way toward showing Rick had not assaulted the sheriff out of anger. He’d only been trying to get away from him in order to save Quentin’s life. Rick still had to answer for that assault, but he didn’t have to stay in jail.

“If not for the lawyer you hired, I’d still be sitting in there.” Rick pulled Quentin into his arms.

“And I’d be in this big house with another guy, one I couldn’t hold.” Quentin hugged him so hard it almost hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt, the kind that told Rick exactly how much Quentin cared about him. “The only thing we have to deal with now is Enoch.”

“And Judson.” Rick knew Quentin wasn’t safe just yet.

“He went home.”

“He did?” Rick moved back so he could look down into Quentin’s eyes.

“The attorney spoke with him. Assured him I was okay and that I knew about Enoch.”

“Why didn’t Judson just tell you about him?”

“He knows I wouldn’t have believed him. Enoch knew it too.” Quentin shook his head. “Without Enoch to push his buttons and jerk him around, Judson realized there wasn’t anything between us. He went back to Maine. He’s got family there.”

“They’re going to help him out?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.” But Enoch was still out there, somewhere. Rick tightened his hold on Quentin.

“Yeah. Judson wasn’t a bad guy. Just mixed up.”

“And easy for a narcissist like Enoch to prey on.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Not tonight.” Quentin looked toward the window. “Or rather this morning.”

“We should get some sleep.”

They went upstairs and stripped for bed.

Quentin got under the covers first then patted the space in front of him. “Come on. I feel like being the big spoon.”

Grinning, Rick slipped in and turned to his side. Quentin snuggled up to his back and put his arms around him. Rick fell asleep within minutes.

Rick woke to soft kisses against the nape of his neck.

“Mmm.”

“Does that mean you’re waking up?” Quentin asked.

“I am.” Rick rolled onto his back and pulled Quentin on top of him. Instead of getting busy, they just held one another. If it were up to him, Rick never would have let go. But he had to. He had to go before a judge and answer for the crime of resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer. Rick had explained the situation to his attorney, and while she was sympathetic, she didn’t think the judge would be. Still, she hoped to get him off with just a fine. Quentin had already volunteered funds, which shamed Rick to no end, but he’d also learned that just as he needed to be the little spoon, Quentin needed to be the big man. Besides, a blow to his pride was a hell of a lot easier to take than risking losing Quentin. To keep his ass out of jail so he could protect him, Rick would put up with pretty much anything.

“We have to get going.” Quentin’s drawn-out groan said he didn’t want to get up any more than Rick did.

“I know.” Rick kissed the top of Quentin’s head, loving his sleep-musk scent. “Just promise me when we get home tonight we’re going to come right back up here and sleep like this.”

“I promise.”

They got up, showered, dressed, and had a hearty breakfast.

“I’m not letting you go hungry all day.” Rick made twice as much as they needed so that if they came home late, they’d have something ready to eat.

“Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”

“I try.” Rick had put on his interview suit. Funny, he’d thought he’d been keeping it neat and pressed to get a job. He never imagined he’d need it for court.

“Your hands are shaking.” Quentin took Rick’s hand. “Do you want me to drive?”

“Would you? I’m just nervous.”

“And you guzzled half a pot of coffee.”

“That probably didn’t help.” Rick laughed and it sounded strangled. “Jesus. I’m a wreak.”

“I know what will help.”

Before he could ask, Quentin dropped down to his knees, opened up Rick’s trousers, and sucked the tip of his cock into his mouth.

“You don’t have to...oh, fuck.” Rick grasped the wall to stay upright. Quentin went after him like a man with one mission. In minutes, Rick had reached full hardness and then hit climax. Quentin didn’t stop pulling on him until Rick finished coming.

Quentin rose to his feet. “There.” He fastened Rick’s pants. “That should help.”

“Yeah.” Rick did feel better. “You know, I’m probably going to need that every day.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“And mine.” Rick pulled him close for a soul-bending kiss then they walked out to the truck. Since he felt far from shaky, Rick decided to drive.

“Here.” Quentin handed him a mint. “We don’t want to go before the judge with sperm breath.”

“Depends what kind of judge he is.”

“In this town? He’s probably an upright, uptight asshole with a stick up his butt.”

Judge Malfoy Pentergrass did indeed appear as mean as a man who had just had eggs thrown at his house. From the bench, he peered down at Rick as if examining something he’d accidentally stepped in.

“So you’re the one who punched Winkling.”

Rick didn’t know if he should agree or not so he turned to his lawyer, who shook her head.

Rick did not respond to the judge with words or actions. He just stood there.

“Let me see here.” He pulled on glasses that had to have come directly out of the eighteen hundreds. He opened the file and scanned over the pages.

“Fifteen years with the Denver PD?”

When his lawyer nodded, Rick said, “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent record up until—ah. Well. That’s that, then.”

Rick had no idea if that meant things were good or bad.

The judge kept on reading while Rick stood there with his attorney and the district attorney stood at the prosecution table. Five minutes went by with just the sound of turning papers and the impatient breaths of the DA.

“One more time, counselor, and I’ll dismiss the case.” The judge didn’t even look up.

Rick met his attorney’s eyes. She smiled and shrugged. Maybe, just maybe, something would go his way. Rick hoped the DA took another annoyed breath. Never in a million years would he have imagined his fate would hinge on someone’s breathing but here he stood, waiting and praying. He almost considered making the noise himself so the judge would blame the DA but he knew if he did that it would backfire. And clearly, the DA knew the judge wasn’t fucking around because he stood stock still and controlled his breathing.

“Okay. Well.” The judge closed the folder and settled his hands on top of it and his gaze on the DA. “Where is Winkling?”

The question clearly caught the DA off guard. “I...I believe he is on duty.”

“So he’s working the morning shift?”

“I believe so.”

“Then what was he doing working the midafternoon shift yesterday?”

“I can’t answer that, your honor.”

“Did Duggan Sumner have Winkling go after Mr. Browder?”

“I don’t—I can’t imagine he would do such a thing.” After a pause, the DA added, “Your honor.”

“I can imagine it. In fact, I’m certain that’s what happened. And if it is, that means the arrest itself was unlawful.”

Rick almost pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He stood very still, hoping against hope that the judge would let him go.

“Even if it were,” the DA said, “that doesn’t mean the assault—”

“I’ve reached the end of my patience with the mayor, his son, and the police department covering up for both.” The judge rose and turned toward Rick and his attorney. “Did you resist arrest, Mr. Browder?”

“Yes, sir.”

“For what reason?”

“Quentin Tenney, a trick rider, was in imminent danger, your honor.”

“My client's actions saved the young man’s life,” Rick’s attorney added.

“I read his statement in the court documents. I also watched several minutes of evidence where you acted as security in the local bar.”

“Your honor, what does any of that have to do with—”

The judge didn’t even look at the DA when he cut him off by lifting his hand toward him. The judge kept his attention on Rick. “You didn’t react to any of those provocations.”

“No, sir.”

“So, Cyril filed a false complaint against you, which Winkling took at face value without even bothering to check the validity of the claim.”

Rick hadn’t been asked a question so he just stood there.

“Your honor, the defendant—”

“I didn’t ask you anything. And I don’t need to. The thing that got the ball rolling here was a fake allegation, which means this man never should have been arrested, which means everything that happened afterward rests squarely on Winkling’s own shoulders for being the lapdog of the mayor.” Judge Malfoy Pentergrass lifted his gavel. “Case dismissed.” He then pointed the gavel at the DA. “And do not even think of bringing a civil case against Mr. Browder.”

“I...”

“I expect you to convey that to Winkling.”

“Yes, your honor.” The DA shook his head and looked chagrined but when he lowered his attention to slipping his paperwork into his briefcase, he smiled. Just a little flicker at the edge but maybe the judge wasn’t the only one sick of the mayor and his son.

“So I’m free?” Rick asked his attorney.

“You’re free.”

After signing some paperwork and thanking his attorney profusely, Rick exited the courtroom and went right into Quentin’s arms. Shaking his head, still stunned by the turn of events, Rick told Quentin what had happened and then they left the courthouse.

“I can’t believe it.” Rick climbed behind the wheel. “I thought it would be this long, drawn-out nightmare but that judge knew the score. The mayor and sheriff have reached the point where they’re not going to be able to do this anymore.”

“That’s great.”

“I swear, I think if I filed a suit about discrimination in hiring practices, I’d probably win.”

Quentin stayed silent for a long time then tentatively asked, “I thought you didn’t want to be a cop anymore?”

“I don’t. I’m just saying—hey.” Rick took Quentin’s hand. “I was just thinking out loud, okay? I don’t want to work there.”

“Whew. Okay. I just got worried.”

Rick glanced into the rearview mirror, surprised to see a car coming up on them, fast. When he recognized the car, he double checked that they both had their seat belts on.

“What’s wrong?”

“Does Enoch have keys to your car?”

“I...I think so. I don’t remember.”

“Hang on.”

“What—” Quentin looked behind them. “Hey, that’s my car. That fucker is chasing us in my own goddamn car!”

“Get on the phone. Call the sheriff’s office.”

“As if they’re going to come out.”

“If they don’t, they’re gonna be knee deep in—shit!” Rick gripped the steering wheel as tight as he could. “Hold on.”

Enoch bashed into them, shoving the truck forward, causing the truck to fishtail. Rick got it under control and sped up.

“What do we do?” Quentin asked, fumbling with his phone.

“Does that car have airbags?” Rick split his attention between the road ahead and the car behind.

“Yeah. Front, side, back—the whole shebang.”

“Do you care about that car?”

“What?”

“Do you care if it gets destroyed?”

“If you can get us out of this alive, I don’t give a single shit about that car.”

“Then hang on.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m done dealing with this asshole.” Rick checked the rearview while he sped up. Once he cleared the hill and saw there wasn’t any traffic coming or going, he allowed Enoch to catch up and then he slammed on the brakes, forcing Enoch to smash into the truck’s solid back end. The front of the sports car crumpled up like a tin can while the airbags deployed.

Enoch either got knocked out by the airbags or the collision because the car turned sharply, flying off the road where it flipped once and then slid for a hundred feet before finally coming to a stop.

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Rick pulled over to the side, shaking so hard he had difficulty taking off his seat belt. “Where’s your phone?”

“Fuck. I dropped it.” Quentin fished for it on the floorboards then lifted it to his ear. “Hello? Hello? Yeah, yes. This is Quentin Tenney. There’s been—there’s been—”

“Here.” Rick took the phone and calmly relayed the details and their location. “Send an ambulance. He hasn’t moved from the car.”

“Do you think he’s dead?” Quentin asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What if he’s like that guy you beat up?” Quentin faced him, his eyes wide. “What if they just keep letting him out and he never leaves me alone and I’m always looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life?”

Rick pulled Quentin into his arms. He held him while waiting for the authorities to show up, disturbed by the fact he almost hoped Enoch had died in the collision. He hated himself for even thinking it. Wishing death on another person wasn’t the right thing and he knew it, but that man had put Quentin through hell for no reason. None at all. All Enoch had to do was talk to Quentin for two minutes and he would have known Quentin never would have left him hanging.

“Am I a bad person for wanting him dead?”

“No.” Rick tightened his hold. “You’re human. He hurt you.”

“Will he get to keep on hurting me?”

“I don’t know.” Rick kissed the top of Quentin’s head. “I just don’t know.”

It seemed to take hours for emergency services to show up. Thankfully, the sheriff’s department hadn’t sent Winkling. The deputy who had let Rick talk to Quentin showed up. He began the long slow trek down to the wrecked car. He’d made it halfway when the ambulance showed up. Another agonizing half hour went by before the deputy announced that Enoch was dead.

Quentin uttered a long relieved sigh then immediately shook his head.

“Don’t be angry with yourself for being relieved.” Rick held him tighter, moving him away from the chaos. “You have every right to feel relieved.”

“It just feels wrong.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” Rick wished he could do something, but there wasn’t anything to do. They couldn’t leave the scene. Well, they could have left in an ambulance, but neither one of them were injured.

After taking their statements, and about a million pictures of his truck, Rick was allowed to drive Quentin home.

He parked in the garage and then carried Quentin inside.

“I can walk.”

“I know.”

“Big man.”

“That’s me.” Rick kept going until he got Quentin upstairs. After putting him in bed, he stripped off Quentin’s clothes, his own, then curled up next to him.

They stayed in bed for most of the day, getting up only to eat and use the bathroom.

“I feel like I should be doing something.” Quentin slid back under the covers then rolled onto his back.

“What? There’s nothing to be done.”

“The horses.” Quentin bolted into a sitting position. “All of that. Enoch usually does all of that. Did all of that.”

“Okay.” Rick kept his voice calm because he believed the horses were okay but he didn’t want Quentin to stress about it. “Let’s get dressed and go check on them.”

“Okay.” Quentin pulled his clothing back on as did Rick.

He drove out to the stables where Quentin’s horses had been boarded. They were fine and they seemed happy to see Quentin.

“You get close when you’re practicing all the time.” Quentin petted and fussed over them.

Rick didn’t mind. Caring for the horses seemed to help ground Quentin.

“Want to go for a ride?” Quentin asked.

“Sure.”

They saddled up and rode around but Quentin’s heart didn’t seem to be in it. Rick hoped that it wouldn’t be long before he could look at his horses and not think of Enoch. The situation was just too raw right now.

After Quentin spoke to the owner of the stables and extended the time he needed them boarded, they returned home, showered, and climbed back into bed where Rick held Quentin.

“I still feel like there are a million things I need to do.”

“Like what?” Rick found that talking the list out usually brought it down to a manageable level.

“Shouldn’t I call his family?”

“The sheriff’s department will do all of that.”

“Will they tell them...the other part of it?”

“They’ll have to say something to explain why he ran into us.” Rick pulled Quentin closer. “Do you know Enoch’s family?”

“No. God. I really don’t know that much about him and I worked with him for years.”

“Stop beating yourself up. Half the guys I worked with at Denver PD were essentially strangers to me. The only one I really got to know was my partner.”

“Good guy?”

“Good woman.”

“You had a female partner?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, just—I guess I don’t think of women as cops.”

“When I first found out, I was pissed. I thought—oh, a bunch of stupid sexist crap that I’m ashamed to have ever thought. They put us together because they thought the token gay guy should be paired with the token diversity hire. They called her the twofer.”

“Twofer?”

“Female and black. Two diversity stones with one hire. They never realized how good Monica was. Is. As far as I know, she’s still there. She could walk into the most intense situation and de-escalate things.” Rick sighed. “My point is that even though we put our lives in one another’s hands, we weren’t intimately involved in one another’s lives. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to be close, it’s that work is work and home life is home life. You didn’t do Enoch wrong by not hanging out with him once you were done training for the day.”

“It’s like I know that up here”—Quentin touched his head then dropped his hand to his heart—“but not down here.”

“You’ll get there.”

“You could take my mind off it.”

“I could?” It didn’t take Rick long to figure out how, not when Quentin wrapped his talented hand around Rick’s cock. “Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Little.” Quentin rolled onto his back. “I want you on top of me.”

Feeling aroused as hell but also protective, Rick took his time warming Quentin up. He kissed him gently while teasing his ears and neck, especially that spot in front, the one that when he lowered his lips to it, his touch made Quentin moan and bare his neck. Rick teased that spot until precum leaked from Quentin’s cock. Only then did he slide his hand down and use that slick juice to tease Quentin’s hole.

“Inside. Go inside.” Quentin placed his hand on top of Rick’s, trying to guide him where he wanted him to go, but Rick wouldn’t be rushed. He took his time and tried to show Quentin exactly how much he cared about him.

When he finally reached for a condom, both of them were breathing hard. Rick slipped the latex over his cock then slathered it with lube while Quentin watched. He’d learned that Quentin liked to watch that part. He liked the idea of Rick priming the pump for him. Only for him.

Rick rose up over Quentin, careful to keep most of his weight off him. Most, because Quentin wrapped his legs around Rick’s hips and yanked him down.

“Jesus, you’ve got the strongest legs.”

“All that trick riding.” Quentin wrapped his arms around Rick’s shoulders. “But I have to say, riding you is a hell of a lot more fun.”

“Good to know.” Rick eased forward while keeping his attention on Quentin’s face. He loved the way his eyes went wide when he breached and then how his lids slowly settled while his mouth came open the deeper he went. By the time he bottomed out, Quentin’s head had gone completely back, his mouth completely open, and then a whimpering cry emerged, a cry that made Rick lower his lips to that sweet spot on Quentin’s neck.

Rocking his hips to that slow insistent beat, the one every human seemed to instinctively know, Rick brought both of them higher. When he neared the peak, he balanced on one arm, wrapped his hand around Quentin’s cock, and stroked in time to his thrusts.

Quentin met his gaze and held it.

Rick wanted to say a hundred things but found he couldn’t speak at all.

Quentin tightened his legs, urging Rick to go faster.

Rick struggled to keep pace with Quentin’s need.

“Oh, God. There. That’s...” Quentin trailed off and lifted his head.

Rick bit his sweet spot, making Quentin climax with him. When he couldn’t balance his weight with one arm anymore, he let go of Quentin but used his belly to rub him as he continued to release. Before he crushed him, he rolled to his side and rolled over, taking Quentin with him.

“I want to stay here,” Quentin said.

“On top of me?”

“In Climax.” Quentin rose up. “I want to stay here and I want you to stay here with me.”

“What the hell am I going to do in a town where the powers that be hate my guts?” Rick couldn’t even imagine what living here would be like, what with the mayor and the sheriff having it out for him.

“I’ve got an idea.” Quentin grinned.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s hear it then.” The longer Rick listened, the wider his smile became. For the first time in a long time, he started to think things might just work out after all.

Epilogue

“How about...” Rick lifted his hands as if printing the words across a banner. “There’s something in the water.”

“Ew, no. Sorry.” Quentin shook his head. “That sounds like we’re jacking off in the water.”

“Oh, for—Quentin, that’s disgusting.” Rick settled deeper into his chair and considered the reams of paper they’d destroyed trying to come up with just the right saying for their beer brewing business. After naming their company Climax Beer, and coming up with two dozen names for various varieties they would brew, Rick had been thinking of slogans. “Okay. How about...” Rick again lifted his hands. “Climax Beer, you can’t get any higher unless you’re here.”

“That has possibilities.” Quentin made a note on his day planner then got to his feet. “Okay, you keep thinking. I’ve got to go and see if we can get that taproom license.”

If they could get a taproom license, they could sell beer onsite. “Fingers crossed.”

“And toes and—” Quentin grinned as he looked down into Rick’s lap. “I think we should cross cocks. Just to be on the safe side.”

“Are you serious?” One thing about living and working with Quentin, he never ceased to amaze Rick. No matter how stressful opening their business had been, Quentin managed to inject levity into things. They had a great partnership, each of them carrying the weight when the other couldn’t. Each of them working as partners not just in work, but in play, and especially in bed. All they had to do was ask the other big spoon or little spoon? Sometimes, they both wanted to be the little spoon so they cuddled facing one another. When they both wanted to be the big spoon, they faced one another and did some serious hardcore grinding. But always, always, they took care of one another.

“Don’t I look serious?” Quentin put on his most determined expression.

“Yes. Yes, you do.” Rick got to his feet and unfurled the beast. Of course, once they crossed cocks things quickly got out of control.

“I’ve got that meeting in thirty minutes,” Quentin said.

“He’s five minutes away.”

“I hate to be late.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I know. I’m so nervous. This guy is just—what are you doing?”

“Returning a favor.” Rick got to his knees and drew Quentin’s cock into his mouth. It didn’t take long to get him off. “Now you’re nice and relaxed.”

“I’m going to want that before every meeting.”

“I’m always here for you.” Rick popped a mint and gave Quentin one for the road.

“Do you want me to pick up dinner on the way back?” Quentin asked.

“Nope. I’m making your favorite.”

“You in bed, naked but covered in appetizers?”

“Okay, your second favorite.”

“Lasagna?”

“With garlic bread.”

“Yes!” Quentin whistled his way out the door.

Rick cleaned up the dining room table, putting all their paperwork into a box specifically for that purpose then checked on his sauce. After tasting, he added a few touches then built the lasagna. By the time Quentin returned, he had it in the oven.

“Well?” Rick asked.

“We’re good to go.” Quentin plopped his day planner on the table. He flipped pages until he came to the master list.

“You really do have the most amazing handwriting. It’s almost like a computer.”

“I like things neat and tidy.” Quentin laughed as he checked off taproom license. “Or I least I like it to look that way from the outside.”

“You’re neat and tidy inside.”

“No, my thoughts are just chaos. That’s why I love this thing.” Quentin tapped the day planner. “We only need one more thing.”

“A good distributor.”

“Yeah.” Quentin closed the book and set it in the box. “But that is a problem for another day. It’s home time.”

“My favorite part of the day.” Rick pulled him close. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“Drink first?”

“Yeah. I found this new beer. Nice hop profile. With some tweaking, it could really be something.”

“Not tonight.” Quentin went to the fridge and grabbed two old favorites. “Tonight, I don’t want to do anything but sip and look out over the valley without a thought in my head.”

“Absolutely.” Rick could evaluate the beer later. Too much work made them anxious. Beer in hand, they donned winter coats, hats, and thick gloves then stepped out onto the patio. “Nothing like cold weather and a cold beer.”

“Makes me appreciate heating so much more.” Quentin settled at the table.

“You know what my favorite part of this is?”

“The beer?”

“The way the cold makes your cheeks red and your eyes sparkle.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

They drank in silence, watching night fall over the snow-covered town.

“Do you ever miss trick riding?” Rick asked.

“I can honestly say no.” Quentin lifted his bottle to Rick’s, tapping it lightly. “I thought I would. I thought that I would keep doing that until I literally couldn’t do it anymore. But then, after that day, I just...” Quentin shrugged. “I didn’t feel the need to do it anymore. Not that I regret it. Just that I didn’t need the thrill of danger when I had something much more important to live for.”

Rick waited, wondering what that might be.

“You, silly. You are worth living for. Building something together with someone who really gets me, really supports me.” Quentin turned away. “Great. And now I’m crying.”

“I don’t mind.” Rick patted his lap. “Come sit over here.”

Quentin climbed into his lap. Quietly, he asked, “Do you miss being a cop?”

“God, no.” Rick took a long swallow. “Don’t get me wrong, it was a good job that worked for me in a lot of ways, but building this business with you is so much better.”

“Even with all the ups and downs?”

“Well, just like sex, life is filled with ups and downs.”

“Funny.”

“I know. But seriously, I don’t expect everything to go smoothly. You know, in the hospital, if you flat line, you’re dead. Life is supposed to be like a rollercoaster. Can’t appreciate the high points if you never have any low ones.”

“Aren’t you profound?”

“I am.” Rick finished his beer. “Now, come inside so I can feed you and then do unspeakable things to your body.”

“Things like what?”

“Things that are unspeakable.” Rick scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Which means I can’t speak about them.” He huffed a plume into the cold. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Are we going to play with the blindfold?”

“We can.”

“I’d like that,” Quentin said.

“And then you can ride me like a horse.”

“Oh, my favorite thing.” Quentin hurried into the house with Rick hot on his heels.

As Rick closed the drapes over the sliding glass door, he felt another moment of profound realization. He kept his partner protected and Quentin kept him passionate. They never took one another for granted and always put one another first. He realized all the failed relationships he’d experienced had been leading him to this one. He and Quentin might have started as a hookup, but along the way, they discovered they had exactly what it took to form a forever after.

About the Author

Reading, writing, and white-water rafting are the three things

Anitra Lynn McLeod enjoys the most.

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