Page 2 of Wistful in Wyoming

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Jeremiah’s head whipped around, his heart hammering as his fear rose so fast he thought he’d faint on the spot. Instead, he did his best to mask his near panic with anger. “The fuck?”

“You keep checking me out.” When Jeremiah opened his mouth to protest, his words were cut off when Dale glared at him. “Don’t try to lie to me. I won’t blacken your eye, since I like the attention, but there are plenty of guys here who would. Or worse.” The man leaned his elbows on the fence. He’d managed to sneak up on Jeremiah while his mind had been elsewhere. The devastatingly handsome man’s voice was low enough that only Jeremiah could hear him—thank God. Unfortunately, that deep, raspy tone was sexy as all hell too and doing all sorts of things to Jeremiah’s body that he fought to thwart. “Most don’t see it. But I do. Be careful, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but you keep it up and I’ll show you that even Wyoming ranchers can kick Marine ass.” Willow had learned her new foreman was a retired Marine when she’d spoken to him a few days after agreeing to buy the alpaca operation and hiring him. She’d mentioned it to Jeremiah, and since then, he’d been imagining what Dale looked like in dress blues—without a doubt, he had to be freaking gorgeous in them. Had he been an officer? Did he have a saber to go with his dress blues? Jeremiah couldn’t help but want to see Dale play with his ... sword. God, that was so miserably corny.

Chuckling, Dale eyed him for a moment before leaning his head closer, close enough to kiss. His chiseled face was cloaked in the deep shadow from his gray Stetson. “You’re hot as hell, neighbor.” He stressed that last word, like he was reminding Jeremiah exactly what they were going to be in about two weeks. “There’s no denying that. I love the ginger thing you got going on, but I don’t fuck in the closet. When you decide you’re not afraid anymore, you come find me. It’ll be more than eight seconds and hell of a lot more fun.” Grinning, he licked his lips, his amber gaze burning holes through Jeremiah’s clothes as he raked his eyes over Jeremiah’s body from head to toe. “Might still hurt a bit though.”

With a wink and a tip of his hat, Dale walked away. Despite the man’s warnings, and the surprise and irritation coursing through him, Jeremiah’s eyes were glued to Dale’s ass, framed in those damn black leather chaps, with the silver fringe slapping rhythmically against his thick thighs.

Harris is gay?Jeremiah was so shocked you could have knocked him over with a feather.And how the hell did Dale known I was in the closet?

Regardless of whether the man was gay or not, Jeremiah wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole. Not after Dale’s declaration. He wouldn’t be forced to come out for a hot piece of ass. Not now, not ever. His ranch, his livelihood, and his family’s legacy rested on his shoulders. He was fine with his twice monthly trips to the city—he got what he needed there without complications. So the guys in the club seemed to be getting younger as he got older. It shouldn’t bother him that he always awoke the next day with a sour taste of regret in his mouth. It was a sacrifice he’d been making his entire adult life and would continue to do so. No matter how much he craved the dark-haired Marine who both pissed him off and fascinated him at the same time.

Chapter Two

May

Jeremiah straightenedhis bolero tie for what felt like the third time in as many minutes. He couldn’t wait to get his damn tuxedo off. It was the first time in his entire life he’d worn one, and if he had his way, it would be the last. But Willow had asked him to give her away today, and he’d do anything for that girl—including wearing a monkey-suit. At least she’d forgone the traditional bow ties and cummerbunds in favor of vests and boleros. And as soon as the ceremony and pictures were done, he was getting rid of the jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves.

Pacing at the back of the small Methodist church, he waited for the bride to arrive. Thankfully, the happy couple hadn’t chosen the Protestant church up the street because Jeremiah would’ve never stepped foot in there. Pastor Whitehouse was not only a religious fanatic, but from what Jeremiah heard over the years, the man was also a hypocrite.

Jeremiah checked his watch—Willow should be there at any moment. The last he’d seen of Nathan, the man was at the altar with the preacher and his best man, Zach Ramsey, sweating bullets. You’d think the guy was being led to the gallows instead of into wedded bliss with his self-proclaimed soul mate.

Despite Nathan’s nerves, Jeremiah knew he was madly in love with Willow and would do anything for her. Jeremiah was so happy they’d found each other since both had lost their families years before. Nathan’s parents and sister had been killed in a car accident about ten years ago while he’d been deployed. Willow’s mother had passed away a couple of years ago, and the father she’d never known just last year. She’d been an only child.

Now, the couple was on their way to starting their own family together. Willow was carrying their first child, and in addition to giving her away today, Jeremiah was going to be the baby’s godfather. He was tickled pink over that honor, since he wasn’t sure his own sister would be giving him a niece or nephew anytime soon. Jenna was married to her work—hell, as far as he knew, she hadn’t dated anyone seriously in well over a year or two.

The sound of the door opening had him turning and lifting his gaze. Willow stepped into the antechamber, the sun shining in behind her and her friend, Maddie Carmichael, following. The bride was a vision in her white gown. She wore no veil, and her hair was down, falling in waves over her shoulders. Her colorful tattoos were front and center with the strapless dress, covering her entire right arm and shoulder and extending across her chest. Her small baby bump was mostly concealed by the skirt, and as she stepped closer, he caught a flash of pink from under the hem.

He kissed her on the cheek, careful not to disturb the subtle makeup she was wearing. “Willow-girl, I’ve never seen a prettier bride, but I gotta know—are you wearing your Converse sneakers under that fancy dress?”

She grasped the skirt with one hand and lifted the hem, showing off her odd-choice of footwear for the occasion. Of course, it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone who knew her well. “Bet your ass I am! This is my wedding day, and I’m not going to spend it with my toes smashed into high heels that are going to kill my feet. I’m here to get married and party, and there’s no reason why I can’t do it in comfort.”

“I tried to talk her out of it, but she wasn’t having it,” Maddie interjected from where she stood beside her friend. “And I thoughtIwas stubborn. Personally, I think it’s the baby hormones making her go looney-tunes.” Dressed in a blush-colored, calf-length, maid-of-honor dress, Maddie was as gorgeous as ever. Her long, blond hair was arranged in a simple bun on the crown of her head.

Laughing, Jeremiah pulled Willow into a tight embrace. “I’m so damn happy for you. You ready for this?”

“I’ve been ready since I got his first letter.” Placing her hand on the swell of her stomach, she blinked rapidly. “And now that this little one is on the way?” A tear escaped, and she brushed it away. “I’m not waiting a minute longer to start the next chapter of our lives. I don’t want this baby to ever doubt for a single second that her mommy and daddy don’t love her and each other. This is a new beginning. So, come on, let’s get this show on the road.”

When he held out his left elbow, Willow looped her right hand through his arm while clutching her bouquet of wildflowers with her left. Maddie kissed her cheek and winked before stepping between them and the set of double doors leading into the church. Jeremiah nodded to the two ushers who opened the doors. The music swelled, and he glanced at his best friend, seeing her lift her chin and beam. The joy shining from her eyes was enough to almost make him tear up, and they hadn’t even walked down the aisle yet.

When Maddie reached the altar and took her place beside the preacher, the organist began the wedding march and people filling the pews stood to face the bride. As Jeremiah escorted her forward, matching their steps to the classical music, Nathan’s love-filled gaze didn’t stray from Willow as she drew closer. Jeremiah couldn’t help but feel lucky to be there for the happy couple. He was so grateful to be a part of their big day, the moment when two of the nicest people he’d ever known exchanged their wedding vows.

As he handed Willow over to her future husband, and what he knew would be a lifetime of happiness, Jeremiah swallowed a bittersweet lump in his throat. Joy always seemed to go hand-in-hand with heartbreak for him. He’d long since given up the idea of a wedding for himself, but as he took his seat, his eyes landed on Dale, who was sitting across the aisle in the third row. Damn that man. Just the sight of the dark-haired retired Marine confused him. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to knock out some of Dale’s ridiculously-perfect teeth or kiss him until neither of them could breathe.

Weddings always messed with him, but thankfully, Willow and Nathan had opted for a short ceremony, and before he knew it, they were at the reception at the American Legion Hall and he had a welcomed ice-cold beer in his hand. He stood with his back to the wall, watching the newly married couple hold each other close and sway on the dance floor. Neither of them could dance worth a lick, but they were so lost in one another, he didn’t think they even heard the music.

Quite a few other couples were out there, including Maddie and Zach. Nathan’s best man had arrived two days ago and had been charming the woman ever since. Nathan and Willow had suspected the two would hit it off, but since Zach was still in the Army and stationed in Kansas for a few more months, Jeremiah wasn’t sure if anything lasting would develop between them.

Jeremiah took a sip of his beer and let his gaze roam around the room. As if being pinged by a radar, it settled on Dale—dammit. He was across the room with Beth Loach, a deputy with the sheriff’s department, who was flirting and practically drooling over Dale. The curvaceous woman was a knock-out in uniform—out of it, she was devastating, even from a gay man’s point of view. Moreover, Dale was definitely flirting back—which was odd, to say the least. When they’d first met, Jeremiah had figured the guy was straight, but then at the rodeo, Dale had implied he was gay. Now, Jeremiah wondered if the foreman was bisexual—not that it should matter because he didn’t want to be attracted to him at all. Speaking of which, the asshole looked so damn delicious, it was difficult for Jeremiah not to be drooling too. The guests had been invited to dress casually, despite the dressy bridal party, and Dale was wearing black jeans, which molded to his long, muscular legs, Tony Lama snakeskin boots, a light-gray western shirt, and a black Stetson. Yummy with a capital Y.

As if sensing Jeremiah’s gaze on him, Dale looked right at him and winked. Fucking winked! Argh, what an arrogant bastard!

* * *

Dale knewhe was pushing Urban’s buttons, but he couldn’t help himself. The guy was hot, and Dale was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Urban was also off-limits in so many respects, mostly because he was Dale’s employer’s best friend and neighbor and in the proverbial closet. But that didn’t stop him from wanting the guy ... and pushing those buttons to rile him.

He’d first noticed the man when Jeremiah had accompanied Willow to check out the alpaca operation Dale had been in charge of. And now that Willow had hired Dale to continue tending the herd he knew so well, he got to see a lot of the sexy owner of the adjacent ranch. He’d never been attracted to a ginger before, but Jeremiah’s flaming red hair, green eyes, and freckled, peaches and cream skin, which probably required tons of sunscreen to prevent burning, had Dale’s engine revving. At five feet eleven, Jeremiah was five inches shorter than Dale and a little stockier. Dale guessed the guy was around his age—forty-three—maybe a year or two younger.