Page 4 of His Cowboy Heart

That was theonething I still liked about Wyoming and what had drawn me to the state in the first place.

The space… the kind that when youneededsome space, you actually gotspace.

I stared at the land of nothingness before me. It was like being on a completely different planet. No jam-packed city sidewalks, no honking horns, no people yelling into their cell phones as they walked past you. Hell, I was one of those people. Or at least I had been up until a few days earlier when I’d made the insane decision to fly to Wyoming to support my best friend, Brooks, as he navigated a troubling reunion with the guy he’d been in love with for most of his life.

I’d met Brooks’s man several nights earlier, and it had been hate at first sight for both of us. My low opinion of the guy had started long before I’d met him in person. Multiple phone calls from Brooks, who also happened to be my boss, had held a certain sadness to them and though it had taken me a bit of time, I’d managed to pry out of him that Xavier, the good-looking foreman of the ranch Brooks’s uncle owned, was the reason for Brooks’s despair.

Xavier had wanted to squash me under his shoe like an errant bug from the moment he’d seen me dancing with a reluctant Brooks when I’d insisted Brooks take me to one of the very few gay clubs in Casper. I’d been worried that flying uninvited to Wyoming to support Brooks would only upset him further, but he’d seemed happy to see me when he’d met me at the airport.

My belief that it took finding a new guy to get rid of an old one had been the only thing on my mind when I’d practically dragged Brooks onto the dance floor at the club. The poor man had been as stiff as cement, but after a few minutes of dancing, including a sexy bit where I’d rubbed myself all over him like I was his own personal lap dancer for the night, he’d started to lighten up, especially when he’d realized I was only messing with him. When he’d finally begun dancing, I’d hoped that he had finally found a few minutes’ peace from having to deal with the crap Xavier and the rest of Eden were putting him through.

Xavier’s unexpected arrival at the club, along with the looks of warning he’d been sending me, had made it obvious that he was under the misconception that Brooks and I were lovers, and I hadn’t tried to dissuade the man. Hell, I’d done the opposite and played on Xavier’s jealousy. The night had ended as I’d hoped—with Brooks leaving with Xavier—but a lot of weird shit had gone down in between. I only hoped that my friend had found what he’d been needing for so long.

Funny thing was, I wasn’t even one hundred percent sure if Brooks and I were truly friends, let alonebestfriends. From the moment I’d met him, I’d always felt a weird connection with him, though it hadn’t been physical or romantic. Brooks had operated so much like a machine that I hadn’t been able to tell what he thought of me. One could say I’d kind of wormed my way into his life to the point that even with no real office skills, he’d hired me to be his assistant in his father’s investment firm.

In all honesty, I hadn’t just come to Wyoming to support the man I longed to call my best friend. I’d also come because it’d been the first opportunity I’d ever had to leave New York City and go someplace else…anyplaceelse. When I’d seen the pictures of the state after googling it, I’d known I had to see it in person because the idea that something so beautiful and unspoiled existed in real life had been hard to believe.

If I hadn’t taken the time to drive from Casper to Eden and seen its raw beauty for myself, I would have given up on the idea of finally finding a place where I could be myself.

Just me.

Not the “gayest of gays in Manhattan” Jules.

Not the “always throws the best parties” Jules.

Not the pretty fuck toy for the “definitely not gay” guys who pretended my ass or mouth that they were sticking their dick into was a woman’s.

Out here I was…nothing. I was a blank canvas. I could remake myself, albeit temporarily, to see if I wanted the future I already had laid out before me or if I wanted to be someone, have something, that was unplanned… untouched.

I could be nothing and maybe something at the same time.

Three assholes beating me up in an alley because I’d dared to have a one-sided conversation with the old man behind the cash register when I’d rhetorically asked him whether the generic, shimmery nail polish ironically calledFlushed Fairywould look good on me had made that blank canvas just a little less pristine. I’d noticed the three verynothot cowboys, all wearing plaid shirts, different colored hats, and unbecoming boots when they’d come in the store, but I hadn’t paid them much heed. It hadn’t even occurred to me to do so, and now that scared the shit out of me.

For all my talk of being the self-proclaimed Queen of the Queers in the Big Apple, I’d been one of the few and fortunate nonconformists who’d somehow managed to escape physical confrontations that left members of the queer community in the hospital, or worse, six feet under.

I couldn’t say that anymore, though I knew I was lucky.

Very lucky.

The three men’s intention, at least in the beginning, had been to humiliate me and send me a message, not beat me to death. I’d gotten a punch to the face when they’d first grabbed me as I’d left the store. The blow had left me stunned enough to allow them to drag me around the corner and into the alley. A sharp shove had sent me sprawling onto the dusty ground and then a few kicks to the ribs had followed, but the physical pain had been nothing compared to the emotional pain they’d inflicted when they’d started spitting on me.

Even now, I couldn’t stifle the silent tears as I remembered the leader’s words about my nails and changing the color to meadow yellow. The degradation of being literally pissed on by some stranger in a dirty alley had seemed unimaginable. I’d lived nearly all my life surrounded by people just like me, so whenever I’d seen stories of hate crimes, I’d been morally outraged, but it wasn’t until that moment in the alley that I finally understood what true hatred was and how truly shielded I’d been from it.

I’d wanted to die when I’d heard that zipper being pulled down and then everything had changed. In the few seconds as I’d waited for the hot urine to spray all over me, I’d cried like a child whose fingers had been burned after countless warnings not to touch the flame.

There’d been no piss. There’d only been a few grunts, screams of agony that were abruptly cut off, a cold, deadly voice giving simple, curt orders… and then silence. I hadn’t moved from the little ball I’d curled myself up into because I’d instinctively known I was no longer in the presence of a mere bully. The things someone like that could do to me were inconceivable; they were the kinds of things you could never come back from.

What had followedhadbeen completely inconceivable.

Just not in a bad way. A really, reallynot badway.

A deep soothing voice, a gentle touch with work-roughened fingertips, whiskey-colored eyes filled with desire and wonderment, and finally the mouth. That gorgeous mouth that took what it wanted but gave more back. The sensation of those rough little hairs of his short beard as they scraped deliciously over my skin. His demanding but surprisingly soft lips as he’d slanted his mouth over mine. Our tongues had danced like they’d been doing it for a thousand years.

Then that amazing mouth had been torn away like it had been burned by fire.

Except in my case, it wasn’t a burn that had scared him off; it had been the hard dick that had pressed against his when he leaned into me.

“Fuck,” I whispered to myself before realizing where I was. “Fuck!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

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