Page 4 of Wistful in Wyoming
As the group gathered around the fire pit, where Shane Rivers, the ranch hand Willow had hired a while back, was lighting the kindling, Dale glanced around to find Jeremiah gone. The man had finally rabbited, and Dale wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Either way, he had to keep reminding himself that Jeremiah was firmly in the closet and would undoubtedly never emerge, so therefore, he would continue to remain off-limits.
Easier said than done, asshole.
Chapter Three
September
Jeremiah strodedown the path that ran along the fence lines of both his ranch and Willow and Nathan Casey’s smaller one. Over the past year, the dirt had gotten well packed from everyone using it to either walk or ride the horses or ATVs on. They’d long since added a gate in the fence between their properties. Ease of access had quickly become a necessity for both him and the couple. They often ate dinner together, laughing long into the night. He’d enjoyed every moment of watching Willow’s pregnancy progress, not to mention, the endless ribbing he gave Nathan over being so over-protective. Not that he had much room to talk. Jeremiah loved their little girl already, and she wasn’t even here yet. Willow’s due date of September 25 grew ever closer, just under two weeks away.
He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Autumn had arrived along with colder temperatures. His mind was a riot of thoughts, scrambling over each other and making his nights sleepless and his days long. He felt as if he were standing on a precipice, a decision hanging heavy in his mind, one that could change everything. He was hoping to talk it out with Willow and Nathan, the two people who truly knew him—who he didn’t have to hide parts of himself from.
He was tired to the depths of his soul, but the fresh air on his face, the endless sky, and wide open vistas of the land made him feel a little less alone for some reason. After the rodeo and argument with Dale last fall, followed by the their almost kiss at Nathan and Willow’s wedding, then watching Willow and Nathan fall in love and begin their family, Jeremiah was out of sorts.
Hiding his true self was just something he did. He’d never considered coming out, not ever. He’d heard too many homophobic comments and seen the damage even rumors could do to other gay men in the ranching community, that he’d resigned himself to making do with one-night stands in Cheyenne. He was forty-two years old, and he’d spent at least thirty of those years living in fear of being outed. He didn’t know any way to live other than behind closed doors.
Nearing the house, he saw the couple curled together on the porch swing, a blanket covering them, their heads touching. They leaned against each other, speaking quietly, the hushed words broken only by the occasional giggle from Willow. Jeremiah’s chest clenched in envy, and he spun on his heel. He might be a lonely asshole, but he wasn’t going to break up such an intimate moment because he was feeling maudlin.
The sound of a door opening drew his attention. Glancing to his left, he saw a strip of light appear between Skyview’s two barns. From where he’d stopped in his tracks, he had a perfect view of Dale’s trailer. The gruff man had stepped out onto a small slab of concrete that served as his patio. A flame flared, briefly illuminating the man’s handsome face, before extinguishing and leaving behind a red glow at the end of a cigarette.
Jeremiah’s feet moved of their own accord. Hell if he knew if it was the looming specter of his empty house behind him that had him closing the distance between himself and the man he couldn’t stop dreaming about. It’d been a year since Dale had confronted him at the rodeo, and Jeremiah had thought of little else since. In the past, he would’ve headed into Cheyenne to blow off some steam and put whatever was bothering him behind him, leaving it at the feet of some random hook-up. But since meeting Dale, Cheyenne no longer held an allure for Jeremiah. He’d avoided the man as much as possible over the past several months since the wedding, but it’d done nothing to quell the desire he felt whenever he caught a glimpse of Dale or when someone simply mentioned his name.
“Come on, cowboy, I can hear your footsteps,” Dale said in a low, husky voice as Jeremiah drew closer. It sent delicious shivers down Jeremiah’s spine. “Don’t worry though—the lovebirds just went inside and never saw you.”
Ignoring the evident dig at him, Jeremiah murmured, “Evening.”Seriously? That’s all you got? Who says blah shit like that? Me, apparently.
Chuckling, Dale finished his cigarette, stabbing the butt out in a small, metal bucket filled with sand. “Want a beer?”
Trying to act nonchalant, he shrugged. “I’m not a man that ever says no to a beer.”
One step ... two ... three ... he kept moving, his palms became sweaty and a thick lump formed in his throat. He was close enough now to see Dale’s face. Wreathed in shadows from his hat, he was more handsome than ever. He looked mysterious and dangerous, a deadly combination that woke Jeremiah’s libido with a jolt of electricity, shooting straight to his cock, making him half-hard. Willing the response away, he closed the distance between them.
Dale smiled wryly. “You might to this one. It’s my new batch of home brew. Could be good. Could taste like an old man’s nut sack—no way to know until you try it.”
“You’ve tasted an old man’s nut sack?” Jeremiah laughed, feeling lighter in that moment than he had in months.
Reaching behind him, Dale pulled the trailer door open and waved him forward. “Come in, I’ll tell you all about it.”
Jeremiah climbed the steps, feeling as if he was entering a wolf’s den and he was the prey.
Heaven help me.
He remembered the argument at the rodeo last fall just as much as he recalled their near-kiss at Willow and Nathan’s wedding. Both incidents should’ve had him running home with his tail between his legs, but he was helplessly drawn to Dale like a magnet. He wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into, but he also knew he didn’t want to be alone tonight. He was lonely—painfully so. He supposed he saw in Dale an opportunity to really be himself, for once in his life, and for longer than a quick fuck in a bathroom stall in some gay bar two hours away from home. It wasn’t even fully about sex, though the desire was there, the evidence of which pushed against his fly, it was about being around someone who knew what it was like to be different with absolute understanding. To be afraid of being jumped and scorned for no other reason than who he loved or was attracted to.
“You going to stand in the doorway, letting my heat out or come inside?”
“Shit, sorry.” Stepping inside, Jeremiah glanced around as Dale came in behind him and pulled the door closed. The inside of the RV was clean and functional, basic to the extreme, but somehow it suited Dale. Being a retired Marine, orderliness was probably a deep-seated trait he couldn't shake, even if he wanted to.
After wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, Jeremiah doffed his hat.
“You don’t have to look so nervous. Seriously—sit down and chill.” Dale waved him over to the small dinette table.
Taking a seat, he set his hat on the bench next to his hip. “I’m not nervous.” He tasted the lie even as he said it—his anxiety level was nearly through the roof.
Dale crossed his arms and glared at Jeremiah. “What? You think I’m going to jump you? Consent is sexy, dickhead, and mandatory when I take someone to my bed. Nothing’s going to happen without you first saying you want it—and with actual words, not just those bedroom eyes of yours. I can be attracted to someone without pushing them into something they don’t want or aren’t ready for.”
Jeremiah gaped at the other man, not sure what to say or do in response to his little speech.Consent is sexy? Bedroom eyes? Attracted?His mind was a whirlwind of possibilities, and his body was reacting to each one. Again, Dale was an enigma—a contradiction of terms. Jeremiah didn’t really know if he was gay or bisexual. Plain straight seemed to have been taken off the table at some point. It was clear the man was interested in Jeremiah in a way that wasn’t just neighborly or friendly.
With a single nod, Dale turned away and opened one of the kitchen cabinets to retrieve two pilsners and bottles from the fridge. After pouring beer into the glasses, Dale passed one over to Jeremiah before taking a seat across from him. Their knees brushed against each other’s in the narrow space under the table, and Jeremiah fought the urge to hook their legs together and run his foot up the back of the other man’s calf. Playing a childish game of footsie shouldn’t be a turn on, but damn him if the thought didn’t make his dick twitch anyway.
