Page 39 of Saddles and Snowstorms
“You always sleep this far away from people?” Brooks asked, his voice cutting through the darkness. The lamp cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw.
“Thought you might want some space,” I replied, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart. “I didn’t want to push you.”
He made a sound—something between a grunt and a chuckle—and shifted onto his side to face me. “Bit late for that, ain’t it?”
I couldn’t argue with his logic. Not after what we’d done on his couch. Not after he’d had my cock in his mouth and my hands tangled in his hair.
“Guess so,” I said, turning to face him. Our eyes met in the dim light, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.
The wind howled outside, rattling the windows once more, but inside Brooks’s bedroom, everything felt still, suspended in time. Like we were the only two people left in the world.
“C’mere,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. He lifted his arm in invitation, and I hesitated only a moment before sliding across the mattress into the warmth of his embrace.
His body was solid against mine, all muscle and bone and surprising gentleness as he draped an arm over my waist. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. It was racing just as fast as mine.
“This don’t mean nothin’,” he murmured into my hair, but his arm tightened around me as he said it. “Just keepin’ warm is all.”
“Course,” I agreed, knowing full well we were both lying to ourselves. But it was such a sweet lie that I didn’t care.
His fingers traced idle patterns on my bare back, calluses catching slightly on my skin. Each touch sent little sparks through my body, rekindling the desire I thought had been sated on the couch. I fought to keep my breathing steady.
“How’s your leg?” I asked, desperate to break the awkward silence.
“Hurts,” Brooks admitted after a pause. “But I’ve had worse.”
I nodded against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. There was something surprisingly intimate about this—more intimate than what we’d done on the couch. This quiet vulnerability in the dark.
“Thank you,” he said suddenly, his voice so soft I almost missed it beneath the howl of the wind.
“For what?”
“Findin’ me out there. Coulda froze to death if you hadn’t come along.”
I lifted my head slightly to look at him. His face was partially shadowed, but I could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Anyone would’ve done the same.”
“No,” he said firmly. “Most folks in town would’ve driven right on by. Wouldn’t have even noticed me.” He paused, his hand stilling on my back. “I make sure people don’t notice me. But you… you saw me the moment you got here.”
The simple observation hit me harder than it should have. Something warm bloomed in my chest that had nothing to do with physical desire.
“I just pay attention,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. But then I decided to test the waters a bit. “It’s hard not to notice a handsome cowboy with the most gorgeous brown eyes I’ve ever seen.”
Brooks scoffed lightly. “You’re just bein’ nice. I’m way too old for you.”
“How old are you, Brooks?” I asked, a hint of a challenge in my voice.
He was quiet for a moment. “Thirty-eight,” he said softly.
“I’m twenty-eight,” I nodded, still looking up at him. “I hardly think ten years is a lifetime.”
Brooks grunted, fingers resuming their lazy patterns on my back. “Feels like it sometimes,” he murmured. “Especially out here.”
I understood what he meant. Time moved differently in Sagebrush—slower, more deliberate. The days stretched long across the prairie, marked by sunrise and sunset rather than meetings and deadlines.
“You ever think about leaving?” I asked, immediately regretting the question when I felt him tense beneath me.
“No,” he said flatly. Then, after a pause, “This land’s all I got. AllI need.”
I nodded against his chest, not pushing further. The wind outside had changed its tune, no longer howling but moaning low and steady, like it was settling in for the night.
