Page 7 of His Cowboy Heart

I had yet to see his smile.

Or hear his laugh.

As we climbed each step, his grunts and groans as he struggled to bear my weight woke my dick back up when I imagined those sounds coming out of his mouth while I fucked him. Once we reached the top of the stairs, the walking was easier, and I spent those few seconds telling my dick to stand down. I practically fell into one of the chairs when we reached the kitchen table.

Surprisingly, my head hurt quite a bit, so I closed my eyes and let my guardian angel take care of me. Not because I wanted him to but because I needed him to. I was used to taking care of myself and under normal circumstances, a gash to the back of the head and a bump to the noggin wouldn’t have been an issue, but the last thing I wanted was to walk out of that house and have my new colleagues and bosses watch me face-plant into the dust.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, and your hair hides the cut pretty well, but it’s going to be a few days before the swelling on your temple goes down. You might have a concussion so you should probably go to the hospital, but since you’re a butch, macho man who’d probably just slap some duct tape on the cut and then go ride your horse or lift those hay things or do… whatever… I’ve put some butterfly bandages on it, though they’re not going to stay put long.”

The guy’s words snapped me from the half-doze I’d been in. He was right about not going to a hospital, but I knew the signs to watch for if I did have a concussion.

“Keep the ice on it,” the man said before he disappeared again. A moment later, there was a tall glass of ice water in front of me. “Are you hungry?”

The pie that had smelled delicious not five minutes earlier now made my stomach churn. “I’m good,” I managed to get out. “You know if Xavier or Curtis are around?”

“Curtis went to meet a friend who has a bunch of cows around here somewhere.”

“Cattle,” I offered. “You call ’elm cows out here and you’ll find yourself getting horse—” I stopped abruptly when I realized I’d been about to say horsewhipped, a commonly used but entirely harmless threat that no one, not even the naivest of tourists, would have taken seriously.

But the man sitting next to me wouldn’t see it that way. He’d seen firsthand what the “wrong” behavior resulted in when it came to towns like Eden; towns that were, in many ways, still stuck in the past.

“Um, Xavier and Brooks, he’s Curtis’s nephew, they’re um… riding.”

I swore I saw the young man’s skin flush with color. He would suck at gambling.

“Riding?” I asked huskily as I was immediately transported to the night before when I’d imagined my dick sheathed in the hottest, tightest grip it would ever know.

Something in my voice must have triggered the young man’s next move. I snagged his wrist before he could escape me once again. “Is it me?” I asked. I began stroking my thumb over the inside of his wrist. “Or is itallhicks that scare you? Because we’re not all like those three men?—”

“No,” he responded. “No, you’re not all like them. But yes, it is you.”

“I don’t under?—”

“Guys like… like from the other day. They don’t even bother to try and hide who they are.”

“And I do?” I asked in disappointment.

“I don’t know. I’ve met some of the best of them… guys who say one thing but mean another. The ones whose blinders come off when they realize the lips wrapped—” The young man stopped abruptly but I knew what he was going to say. How many times had men taken advantage of his effeminate appearance so they could play the “not really gay” card when they were done using him?

I nodded even as it stung to know that I fell into the second group that deemed me as thewhat you see is whatever you want to seekind of guy. “I’m sorry,” I said as I dropped my eyes to the two mugs sitting in the center of the table. Something about them made my chest hurt. I was still rubbing my thumb over the slim wrist my fingers were still loosely wrapped around.

No further explanation seemed necessary. I was sorry about a lot of things, but many of them had nothing to do with him or anything I’d done to him directly. I’d set my life up in a way that was purposefully designed to keep people at arm’s length and yet the first time I’d touched him, I’dtouchedhim.

Just like he’d touched me.

I couldn’t let that happen ever again and yet I couldn’t force myself to release him.

“You need to make sure someone checks in on you every half hour or so for the next several hours. If you fall asleep or pass out, it could mean?—"

“Brain bleed,” I finished for him. “I should get out there and introduce myself,” I said awkwardly, but for the life of me, I couldn’t understand what made me add, “You said the next timeyouthankedmeyou’d make sure I’d know what was between your legs. What happens when it’s the other way around?”

“Huh?”

My eyes moved from the mugs to his wrist. He had some abrasions on the heel of his palm, probably from trying to catch himself when those three assholes had shoved him to the ground.

“What about whenIneed to thankyou?” I asked. My words were met with dead silence, but I could feel his pulse point begin to beat harder as I stroked my thumb over the span of his wrist.

I dropped my mouth to the inside of it and placed a soft kiss there. The softest of whimpers fell from his mouth as the simple kiss I’d intended turned into something else. As my lips grazed the skin of his hand, I cast a glance up and saw those green eyes were hidden from view and the arch of his neck seemed to be calling for its share of kisses.

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