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“Crap.” He brushed his hair back from his face, probably getting ink everywhere. It was just about time to change the color. With just dark hair, people often found him intimidating, but when he splashed a bit of color on his scalp, people suddenly opened up to him. And if he hated it, he could just cut the tips off and start over.
Time for something different. He had to get Clint off his mind somehow.
* * * *
Scotland tossed his keys onto the small antique table left behind by the last owner. The attic had been a treasure trove of multi-generational stuff. He’d given most of it away but hadn’t been able to part with the table.
Taking a breath, he headed right back outside. The air was hot for so late in August, but the humidity had dwindled, so it was tolerable.
His shirt still stuck to his skin as he hurried around the back of the house, the rush from his drive home still clinging to him. The cabin looked empty, with the interior lights off from what he could see through the two square windows at the front. The porch light was on, though, casting a bit of light as the sky went from bright to gray.
The only thing he hated about the fall was how quickly his day ended when he was working. He would barely get home most days before the darkness started to creep in, the threat of frost looming just around the corner.
Before he knew it, he’d wake up to a dusting of snow clinging to everything green and turning it brown.
Two sets of long ears poked out of the grass in the paddock, but they weren’t pointed at him for once. Clint must’ve gone through the fence, because he was standing a couple of feet from them, nothing but a few grasshoppers between them. He held his hand out, clicking to them as he gently called their names.
Scotland paused at the fence, slinging his arm over the top rail as he leaned against it. Most people were afraid of the two donkeys, probably too worried that their toes would be stomped or the donkeys would bite them.
They were the sane ones.
From what he could tell, Clint was in sandals and shorts, his toes an open target for hooves or carrot-seeking teeth alike. He seemed to have forgotten a shirt again, sweat shining on his skin as he took a slow step forward.
“You guys are the cutest fucking things I’ve ever seen,” said Clint, his voice low. He brushed a fly away from his face, his gaze focused and determined as the donkeys continued to graze, popping their heads up to watch him every few bites.
Scotland kept quiet, hiding a smile behind his hand. His truck wasn’t quiet, but Clint must’ve missed the sound of him pulling in the drive.
“Come here,” said Clint as he made the clicking noise again. “I brought an apple I found in the fridge. I don’t really like it, but I’m sure you guys will. And here,” he reached into his pocket, pulling a second apple out, “I brought two. See?”
How am I not supposed to fall in love? Scotland grinned, chuckling as the donkeys rushed ahead at the sight of the apples, nearly bowling Clint over in the process.
“You guys are cute together,” said Scotland, raising his hand in greeting as Clint looked his way in surprise. “Just don’t let them put their heads between your legs.”
Even as he said it, Dumber scooted a little closer to Clint as he chomped on his apple, dipping his nose down so it was at the level of the ground. Between one moment in the next, he closed the distance, tossing his head up between Clint’s legs.
Clint let out a little cry as he was simultaneously sacked and thrown onto the back of Dumber, who immediately whirled and took off at a donkey lope, Clint clinging to his back as his cry became a scream.
Scotland ducked through the fence with a curse. “Dumber, you little ass, put him down!”
A puff of dirt rose into the air as Clint disappeared into the grass, Dumber bolting and galloping to the far edge of the field. Dumb trotted across the space to where Clint had disappeared as he presumably searched for another apple, his long ears pricked with interest.
“You okay?” Scotland called out as he jogged over to Clint, spotting his sprawled form in the trampled grass.
Clint threw his head back, letting out a laugh as he got to his knees. Dumb nudged at his arm, searching for another treat as Clint dusted some of the dirt off himself. Scotland held out his hand, helping Clint to his feet.
He didn’t let Clint’s hand go, tugging as Dumb put his head down and started to nudge ahead again.
“Not you, too, you ass,” said Scotland, pulling Clint close and shielding him from his little prankster donkeys. Clint’s breath puffed against his ear as he kept laughing, his grip weak on Scotland’s hand.
Why did I think donkeys are a good idea?
“You okay?” asked Scotland, his breath catching when he realized just how close they were. With a field at the backs, there was only an inch between them, Clint’s naked chest smudged with grass and dirt. All he had to do was lean down and turn his head slightly and Clint’s lips would meet his. They tingled at the thought, his mouth dry as he took a deep breath through his nose.
Clint smelled of the afternoon sun with a touch of sweat and donkey. It was so familiar that Scotland went weak, his breath shuddering. Clint’s laugh stuttered to a halt, his half-lidded eyes going wide as their gazes caught.
“I’m fine,” said Clint, his voice raspy and low. “Just caught me off guard.” He moved closer, until the distance was nothing, and Scotland could barely breathe. He was like fire against Scotland’s body, his skin breaking out in goosebumps and tingles as every hard inch pressed against his own.
“They like to do that,” said Scotland, licking his lips. He couldn’t look away, finding a cute mole on Clint’s shoulder and staring at it. There was a stretch of freckles he hadn’t noticed the night before, and Clint’s skin was tinged pink from the sun. “Take you off guard, I mean.”
