Page 25 of Cowboy Seeks Husband
He did grin then. “Pretty much.”
Yeah, Roan stood no chance. Ben was a shoo-in. Why would Walker choose a lightweight like Roan over a gorgeous guy like him? He couldn’t help but wonder why Ben was even here. Was he in it for the money, too? Was Walker? Hell, was anyone on this show really looking for love? If anyone was, it was probably Ben. There was just something about him.
Something kind of perfect.
Roan bit into his lower lip and hoped against hope that he could stay long enough to help his mom. That was all he needed. Let Ben and the others have Walker. Just so long as it wasn’t Antoine or Peter. Or anyone who’d called him Retching Roan.
But, Ben, sure. He was a nice guy, and besides, he already seemed like he fit here on Reed Ranch.
Another part of the gorgeous scenery.
Roan didn’t fallasleep until three a.m. that night, thanks to the most violent electric storm he’d ever experienced. It frightened him to death at first, but when the barn didn’t collapse, he settled in to listen. Once it moved on some distance, he found the rain pretty soothing. Less soothing was Antoine and his squeaky noises whenever a foundation-shaking thunderclap fell. It didn’t help he’d gotten so used to listening for any kind of sound coming from his mother’s bedroom that the slightest snore or whine woke him up instantly.
He got out of bed at six, groggy and disheveled, because he wanted to beat everyone to the bathroom, showering quickly out of consideration to the limited hot water. The red light of the camera caught his attention, but he noted it was positioned in such a way that it only recorded from the chest up. He hoped.
When he stepped out of the fogged up cubicle, he nearly squealed. Victor was sitting in the bathtub—covered in foam, thank God for small mercies.
“Sorry.” A long, muscled leg appeared from underneath the bubbles and he rubbed soap all over it. “I figured we’d waste less time this way.” Victor winked at him.
“Uh, I can come back to shave later,” Roan said, shuffling toward the door.
“By then this place will be covered in steam and smell like a hair salon. Shave now, dude. Seriously. I won’t stand up if it offends your sensibilities.”
“Okay,” Roan croaked, and he wondered if he could shave with his eyes closed. He maneuvered the towel around his hips without flashing anything more than Victor had already seen, and lathered up.
“Mmm, there’s something so sexy about a man shaving,” Victor said, and Roan froze. He laughed a rumbling laugh. “Don’t mind me, I’m just going to objectify you from here. Jesus, you’re pale, aren’t you? No tattoos, not a one?”
“No,” Roan said. He glanced at Victor in the mirror and noticed from his expression that he’d definitely seen the little barbells in Roan’s nipples, but thankfully he didn’t say anything about those.
Roan jutted his chin out to get the fiddly bit under his lip.
“You should think about getting a tattoo,” Victor said. “Something pretty. Like you.”
Roan ignored the flirting. “Do you have any?”
Victor grinned at him in the mirror, and Roan quickly turned his eyes back to his shaving. “One on each cheek.” He put his hands on the edge of the tub. “Want to see?”
“Nope, thanks, I’m good.” Roan wasn’t usually shy about nakedness—he’d lived in a dorm—but something about this whole situation made him nervous. It didn’t help that the red eye of the mounted camera seemed to pierce right through him. He shaved faster than he normally would, just wanting to get out of there. If he missed a spot, well tough luck. It wasn’t like he’d be dancing cheek to cheek with anyone today.
When he shuffled out of the bathroom, Peter was there, waiting to get in. “Oh, hey, dude.”
“Uh, you can’t go in there,” Roan said.
Peter looked at him like he was crazy. “What, why?”
Roan winced. “Because Victor’s in there.”
“But you—and he—” He went quiet and listened. “He’s having a bath? With you in there? You horndog.”
“No, that’s not—he came in while I—” Too late. Peter gleefully turned away and stuck his head in their bedroom. “Roan just showered with Victor!” he yelled.
Roan pushed past him. “Whatever,” he muttered when they all hollered at him. He wasn’t going to get caught up in these petty mind games. He yanked on a pair of briefs under his towel, then hung it over the rung of the top bunk to dry.
Farm day today, apparently. So what should he wear? Jeans, but probably not too tight. He had a gorgeous pair of dark Calvin Kleins that were not too thick and made his legs look fantastic. He liked to pair those with a very thin pink Henley. So thin his nipples were visible to anyone who cared to look hard enough. It was a pretty flamingly queer outfit, but then it wasn’t like he had anything to hide here. He pulled the jeans over his hips and the Henley over his head in a rush to get not-naked as fast as possible.
Which was when Walker Reed stepped through their bedroom door.
Antoine squeaked—again—and hid under the sheets. Victor wandered in wearing nothing but a tiny towel—somehow smaller than the one Roan had used. Maybe it was just all of his muscles. With his glistening skin on display, Victor gave Walker a long and appreciative once-over. Roan went hot to the tips of his ears and turned away.
