Page 18 of Road to a Cowboy

Cal chuckled. “I’ve got some at home. Let me grab it.”

“No, you don’t have to?—”

But he’d already jogged away.

He returned two minutes later with the can of cleaner, sat on the lawn, and removed the carburetor from the machine.

“I can do that, Cal.”

“Just let him do it,” Austin said to Chester, fondness and exasperation comingling in his voice. “He’s already in fix-it mode. Nothing’s going to distract him now.”

Cal paused at that. Fix-it mode?

What did that mean?

“Well, in that case...” Chester threw him a grin. “Want to fix my car too?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Cal asked, proving Austin’s point about being in fix-it mode. He couldn’t help himself. Helping others made him feel useful.

“No idea,” Chester said with a shrug.

So Cal fixed the leaf blower—turned out, it was the carburetor—and he fixed the car too, because why not? He had years of experience fixing farm equipment. An older model car devoid of today’s fancy computers and electronics was peanuts by comparison. And Chester was happy, which made Cal happy, and that wasn’t a bad way to start his morning.

He’d discarded his flannel shirt when he’d begun working on the car, and there was engine grease under his fingernails by the time he was done that he wiped away with the waterless hand cleaner Chester had left out for him. Austin had been chatting with Chester, and it wasn’t until Cal lowered the hood of the car back into place that he realized Chester had disappeared and Austin was staring at him, color high in his cheeks.

“You okay?” Cal asked him.

“Huh?” Austin snapped his gaze from Cal’s chest to his eyes. “What?”

“You okay? You don’t look so good. Are you not feeling well?”

“No, no. I’m good. Great, in fact. But you...” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and his gaze dipped to Cal’s chest again. “You look... dirty.”

Cal glanced down at himself. “Damn.” The engine grease had somehow made it onto his T-shirt. Ah well. He’d be three times as dirty by the time he finished his workday. He grabbed the towel Chester had left out for him and rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck.

Austin made a wounded noise.

“You sure you’re okay?” Cal asked him, eyeing Austin for signs of illness. “Why don’t you sit down?”

The laugh Austin let out was very squeaky. “I’m good. So good. Never been better. Do you need to change before work? I can come with you.”

“No point.” Cal wiped his hands on the towel. “I’ll be twice as messy before lunch.”

Austin made another noise.

A growly noise.

Cal froze, his senses on high alert, that growl lighting a fire in his veins. He inspected Austin again, taking in the color in his cheeks and the way he bounced on his toes and how his eyes couldn’t seem to land on any one part of Cal, flitting from his sweaty neck to his chest to his arms.

That wasn’t illness.

That was...

That was...

Was it... lust?

Holy—

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