Page 9 of Wistful in Wyoming
“Fuck me.” He picked up the coffee mug again before remembering too late that he’d already finished it. “Dammit.” He hadn’t been sleeping well, and his normal one-pot a day coffee habit had increased to nearly two. “Get it done, get home, and forget about the man.”
Yeah, right. Like it was possible for him to forget anything about the hotter-than-Hades retired Marine.
Every night, he fell asleep recalling the feel of Dale’s lips, his hands gripping him tightly, the taste of him thick in Jeremiah’s mouth like a candy that never fully dissolved. The sexy foreman lingered in his mind, no matter how many times he wished it otherwise. No matter how many times he jerked off, the ghost of Dale hovered nearby, taunting him. Jeremiah was fairly certain he was cracking up, his mind breaking under the strain of his deepest desires being so close, yet impossibly out of reach. He hadn’t been to Cheyenne for an anonymous hookup in almost a year. Every time he’d decided to make the trip to blow off steam, visions of Dale had prevented him from even stepping out the front door.
He turned onto Skyview’s long driveway, bouncing over ruts and keeping an eye on the trailer behind him. It would just be the icing on the cake of his day if any of the hay fell off into the mud. The last of the snow from a moderate storm over the past weekend was mostly melted and the ground was soggy. It made for long, dirty days, but he’d rather deal with mud than snow any day. The cold sapped his energy worse now than it did when he was younger. Spring had always been his favorite time of the year—everything fresh and new as the sun warmed the Earth enough that sweaters, jackets, and gloves could be shed. Unfortunately, it was still early in the day and the sun was behind a sky full of clouds. A cold front had swept down from Canada late last night, and the cooler temperature had required Jeremiah to grab a light-weight jacket on the way out the door that morning.
Making a wide U-turn behind the house, he pulled the trailer loaded with hay around before backing it as close to the alpaca barn as he could manage. No reason to haul the bales any further than they had to. Glancing in his rear-view mirror a final time, he saw Dale standing outside the barn, a black hat shading his face and his thick arms crossed over his broad chest. The man looked pissed off and sexier than he had any right to be. The herding dogs, Johnny and June, were nowhere to be seen. Dale had probably closed them off with the alpacas in their pasture while they worked—Jeremiah had seen the foreman do it a few other times. Apparently, the dogs liked to try to “help” with certain chores when, in reality, they just got in the way.
Jeremiah climbed from the cab, stepping directly into a deep puddle he hadn’t realized was there. “Fucker,” he said with a growl when the water covered the tops of his boots. His jeans and socks were now soaked. Sighing in aggravation, he tipped his head back and stared at the sky for a moment. Someone up there had it in for him today. “Thanks a lot.”
Determined to get the job done as fast as possible, so he didn’t have to be around Dale longer than necessary, he strode forward, ignoring the other mud-puddles and stomping through brown, slushy water everywhere. The mess suited his mood—chaotic and uncontrollable.
“Throwing tantrums now?” Dale smirked before stepping forward and beginning to release the tie-downs holding the hay on the trailer.
“Not doing it with you today, Marine. I’ve got plenty of shit to do without dealing with your smart-ass mouth.”
Shoving the larger man aside, Jeremiah made quick work with the ties. “You going to open the damn barn or just stand there glaring at me?” His newly volatile temper was burning hot and high it seemed.
“No need to be a dick,” Dale jabbed back, anger tightening his stubble-shadowed jaw. Jeremiah ignored the desire to feel that coarse hair rub against his own, to see beard-burn on his neck and cheeks. He didn’t need anything from Dale. Not now. Not ever. Being sexually attracted to a guy and actually liking him were two totally different things.
“Where’s Shane?”
“In town, picking up some stuff at Ducky’s.”
Jeremiah rolled his eyes out of the other man’s view. Of course, the ranch hand had run the errand to the local feed and supply store instead of the foreman who was pissing Jeremiah off more and more with every second that passed.
Donning his gloves, he hooked his fingers through the baling twine and hauled the first bale up and off the trailer. “You just gonna fuckin’ stand there? Or are you going to help? If you want to gawk at me, at least do it while moving some of this shit.”
“God dammit, you’re sore today, huh?” Dale snapped, leading the way to the barn and throwing open the double doors. Jeremiah pushed past him, dropping the hay where Dale pointed. “What’s stuck up your ass?”
Certainly not you.
Clamping down on the retort before it could burst from his mouth, Jeremiah worked in silence. Back and forth, they carried the heavy bales then returned for more, avoiding each other as much as possible. It wasn’t long before the trailer was empty, and they began to load the hay the alpacas wouldn’t eat onto it. Once he got home, he’d have to haul all the hay again. Even with the help of his men, it was going to be more back-breaking work. He was sweating through his shirt in response to the physical labor he’d gotten used to decades before.
Pausing before grabbing the next load, he stripped off his jacket and flung it over the side of the trailer. Under it, he wore only an old and faded blue long-sleeved T-shirt. The material stuck to him around his neck, under his arms, and down his back where he’d sweated through it. He stank too, but he didn’t really give a fuck right then.
“I’d ask what’s got you so pissed off, but I’m sure I know.”
Gritting his teeth, he did his best to ignore Dale and the way his words fired an arrow of rage and want into his heart. He also didn’t allow himself to notice the way Dale’s gray T-shirt rode up in the back when he bent over, revealing a strip of tawny skin above the black waistband of his briefs peeking out the top of his worn jeans.
“Just like you know everything, huh? About everyone? Without even needing to be told. You should take your mind-reading skills on the road—you’d make a mint.” Jeremiah had let his frustration get the best of him again, the words pouring out before he was aware he was going to say them.
“Jeremiah, we should talk about this.” Dale stopped in front of him, blocking his path to the barn, propping his glove-covered hands on his denim-clad hips.
“Oh? Now you want to talk, huh?” Stripping his gloves off, he shoved them into his back pocket. “Now you’re talking to me instead ofatme? Not throwing demands in my face? Not telling me how it has to be without giving any fuckin’ consideration of what I might want and need?” He’d passed anger about two months ago and was fixed solidly on rage and torment.
Dale sighed heavily. “Yes. I realize now that at Christmas and before then, I might have been a little ... well, harsh.” He maintained eye contact with Jeremiah, letting him see the truth in his gaze. “I thought maybe I could explain.”
He stepped closer, standing within touching distance. Jeremiah could smell the salty musk of his sweat and the underlying spice that was all Dale. “Explain? You kiss me and rub your hard cock against mine, you tease and push and ... and ... demand shit from me! What makes you think for one fuckin’ moment I would listen to anything you have to say after all that? I was worth a grope in the dark but not a conversation then, but now I am? Fuck you!”
Jabbing his finger into Dale’s sternum, he let loose with every ounce of fiery hurt and shame he had buried in his soul. “I’ll say it again, fuck you, Dale! It’s not easy for me. You think I want to risk everything—my business, my legacy, and my family—on a night in the sack with you? No! No fucking way! I won’t do it. Yeah, you make my dick hard, and I want you more than I've wanted anyone in a long time, if ever, but if you can’t show me the common fuckin’ courtesy of giving me a chance to explain where I’m coming from, then you can go pound sand! I’m worth more than that!”
He didn’t realize until he paused for a breath that tears were streaming down his cheeks. His chest heaved with the force of his emotions, and his hands shook. He wanted to punch the handsome bastard in the mouth and then kiss him until they both passed out.
“Jeremiah, I’m ... I’m sorry.” Taking off his hat, Dale ran his hands through his hair, before jamming it back on his head. He lifted his hands, as if he was going to touch Jeremiah’s face, but then seemed to change his mind, tucking his thumbs into his jean pockets at his hips. Sheer regret filled his eyes. “I’ve been thinking a lot since Christmas. I was wrong. You have to understand—before ... ” He swallowed hard before continuing, “Years ago, I was hurt—badly. I waited and waited for him to come out. We were out of the Marines, there was no more danger of going public, but he kept putting me off. Every time he said he would come out, he didn’t, giving me a shit-poor reason each time. But I was in love, and he said he loved me, so I waited some more. Until one day, I came across pictures that he’d been tagged in on social media. He was with someone else—a woman—kissing her and showing off her engagement and wedding rings.”
Jeremiah felt the blood drain from his face and sorrow filling his heart for the man in front of him.
