Page 21 of Wistful in Wyoming
“What the hell is under this thing?” His cousin stood, picking up his hat, and reached to lift the cushion.
Panic-stricken, Jeremiah jumped to his feet to stop him. “Wait! Don’t!” But his desperate cry was too late. Grady flipped the fabric back and stared in shock at what he found.
“Jer?” He looked pointedly from the wooden dildo to the wood shavings on the porch floor then back again. “Did you—” Coughing, Grady’s face turned scarlet but not as bright as Jeremiah’s.
While Grady’s gaze flashed in every direction, Jeremiah’s mouth flopped open and slammed shut several times as he struggled to come up with a plausible explanation for the hand-carved cock.
“Ya know what?” With more composure than imaginable, Grady replaced the cushion, covering the phallic creation again. “I’m just going to pretend this didn’t happen, and we’ll never speak of it again. Okay?” He paused. “Listen, if you’re whittling dicks, well, that’s your business. I’m no one to judge what a man does in the privacy of his own home. I mean, sure, in my youth, there was a time or two I sorta wondered what it would be like ... ” His gaze fell to his boots as he cleared his throat. “But I’ve long since discovered that’s not my thing. I will tell you this though—you’re my cousin, and I love you. Full stop and no questions asked.” Setting his hat on his head, Grady tipped it, then walked down the stairs to his vehicle. After a quick glance back at Jeremiah and a nod of his head, he climbed into his truck and drove away without another word.
Groaning, Jeremiah plopped back down in the rocking chair. He rested his elbows on his knees, put his head in his hands, and hoped that the ground would open up beneath him and swallow him whole.
Can a person literally die of embarrassment? Because that has to be less painful than this.
For the rest of his life, he’d never be able to see or talk to Grady again without reliving the humiliation he was feeling. This date would forever be known to him as the Day of the Dick.
He rested there for several long moments, until he heard another vehicle coming up his drive. Lifting his head, he spotted Dale’s truck, and his whole body flushed hot at the sight. Flashbacks from last night shot through his mind, and desire stirred within him. Glancing over at the lump under the loveseat cushion, he debated between leaving it there and running the risk of it being found again or trying to hurry inside with it before Dale arrived.
His indecision made the argument moot when Dale’s truck pulled to stop, parking where Grady’s had been moments before. The driver’s door opened, and Dale stepped out, dressed casually in jeans and a light-gray T-shirt, his usual cowboy hat had been replaced with a baseball cap. As always, he looked delicious.
Dale’s whole face lit up as he eyed Jeremiah. The man was sin incarnate, but when he smiled, he was so beautiful that Jeremiah was sure there were angels weeping as they gazed upon him. Helpless to resist, Jeremiah grinned back, his nerves forgotten for the moment.
“Hey, cowboy,” Dale greeted him, taking the porch steps two at a time, stopping in front of where Jeremiah still sat. He was at eye level with the other man’s belt and licked his lips, glancing up at Dale and letting the heat of his thoughts reflect in his eyes.
Dale sucked in a sharp breath before taking off Jeremiah’s hat and tossing it on the loveseat. Threading his fingers though Jeremiah’s hair, Dale scratched along the back of his skull and down to his nape. Jeremiah moaned, letting his head fall forward and resting it on Dale’s firm stomach. His ranch hands were working on the fence in the far pasture, and Anthony had driven down to Cheyenne on personal business, so no one was around to see them.
“That feels amazin’. Love your hands on me.” Jeremiah raised his own hands, tucking them into Dale’s back pockets and squeezing both ass cheeks, relishing Dale’s answering sounds of pleasure. Dale’s denim-covered cock swelled before Jeremiah’s eyes, making his mouth water and his own dick harden.
Down, boy. We said we’d take this slow, so chill out.
They stayed like that for a minute or so before Jeremiah inhaled the fresh scent of Dale’s laundry detergent through his nose and realized something was different. “Did you quit smoking?”
“Yup. Hopefully for good. Willow said I couldn’t hold Shannon if I continued to smell like an ashtray.” After another moment of silence and contentment, Dale asked, “Are you ready?”
Not releasing his hold on the man’s glorious ass, he tilted his head back and met the other man’s gaze. “Yes. Because if we don’t leave, I’m going to drag you to my bed and keep you there until tomorrow morning.”
Chuckling, Dale stepped back, forcing Jeremiah to let him go. With a smirk, Dale adjusted himself. “As fuckin’ awesome as that sounds, I have plans for us.”
“Yeah?” He stood, making sure to rub as much of his chest against Dale’s body as he could, before grabbing his hat and settling it back onto his head. “What plans would those be?”
“You’ll see.” Dale quickly surveyed their surroundings before wrapping his arms around Jeremiah’s waist and jerking him flush against his body, conjuring up images of the night before when they’d both come in their jeans. Dale gave him a swift kiss on the mouth. “For now, babe, you’re just going to have to trust me.”
Chapter Thirteen
They’d only beenon the road for less than two minutes when Jeremiah’s phone chimed with a text. He pulled it out of his back pocket and swiped the screen. “What the hell? God, your boss is nuts sometimes, you know that?”
Dale chuckled, assuming Jeremiah meant his best friend Willow and not her husband. “What’s it say?”
“She wants me to build a ... get this ... achick-nic table.”
“Awhat?”
“A C-H-I-C-K-N-I-C table for her fucking chickens to eat off of. She even sent me a photo. It’s a miniature picnic table with a lip around it so she can fill it with feed for the damn chickens. Look.” He enlarged the image and turned the phone so Dale could see the screen. “I’m telling you, she’s goddamn nuts. Hell, the woman has the cast ofI Love Lucyon her ranch. A prairie dog named Fred, another one named Little Ricky, a cat named, Ethel, and the goats, Lucy and Desi.”
Dale grinned. “Well, to be fair, the goats came with those names.” His old boss had dubbed the pair after the famous couple a few years ago. When Carl Faulkner passed away last year, Willow had purchased the man’s alpaca herd, three horses, two working dogs, and the goats, along with two ATVs and some equipment. Dale had liked the woman almost immediately and had easily accepted when she’d offered him the foreman job. “So, she knows we went on a date last night, huh?”
His eyes widened. “She said something to you?”
He couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his face. “Not exactly. You know that goofy expression and tone most people get when they know a juicy secret and they’re trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing and not to blurt it out?” When Jeremiah snorted, Dale continued, “Yeah, that was her this morning when she asked how my weekend was going.”
