“I just want for Rick to be as happy as you and I are,” Toby said, tilting his head slightly to one side as he grinned at his mate. “I think it would be really cool for Rick to find someone of his own to cherish and care for.”
“Yeah, you’re probably only saying that, so I don’t keep walking in on you and Ernest going at it over the kitchen table,” Rick said with a smirk. Swallowing down the last of his coffee, he left the cup on the counter, recalling exactly how many times he’d been unfortunate enough to do that, shuddering. “I’ve got a tractor to fix. You two have fun. I’ll catch up with you later.”
He doubted that either Toby or Ernest noticed him leaving. It seemed Ernest wanted to “thank” Toby for his happiness comment.Toby will be late for work if you keep that up,he thought with a chuckle.
Playing cowboys. Whatever next.Rick shook his head as he made his way to the implement shed. But it could be a bit of fun. Rick had seen people going on “cowboy for a day” activities before. With their pristine jeans—some idiots even pressed seams down the front of them. Rick snorted. Thinking that a hat, boots, and a belt buckle would give others around them the impression they were the real deal.
It’s not like I don’t already have the hat, boots, and the damn belt buckle stashed somewhere in the back of my closet.Rick hunted through his toolbox for a wrench. He’d spent close to ten years on the rodeocircuit, and was as familiar with roping, bull riding, and everything else that sort of life entailed as any other cowboy actively employed on a ranch.I even won awards. Hmm…
It could be an entertaining way of spending a day. I don’t have to let the fumble fingers annoy me—I just have to see them as funny. And who knows, as Toby said, I might meet a cowboy of my own, or maybe bump into a few faces I haven’t seen since I left the circuit.
Determined not to say anything to Toby or Ernest, Rick decided he’d sign up to the event on the Bucket List Buddies website that night—when he got home.It’s just a day, and it would beat watching sports on television.
Chapter Two
Ian
Ian knocked on the door in front of him and barely had to wait a minute before it opened to reveal Brad, his best friend’s mate. “Hey, gorgeous,” Brad came in and reached up on his tiptoes to press a fleeting kiss to Ian’s cheek. He scented drywall, dust, and paint before he moved to the side. “Lionel, Ian’s here,” Brad called over his shoulder, heading out through the open door, giving Ian an apologetic smile. “Sorry, gotta rush, an emergency with plumbing.”
He waved a hand and then disappeared into the darkness.
“Come in, I’m in the kitchen,” Lionel called out.
Door shut, he followed the sounds and discovered Lionel standing at the kitchen sink, wearing low-slung joggers and an old college T-shirt, doing dishes. It was all very domestic. Ian felt a pang in his chest at the lack in his own life.
Lionel aimed a bright, radiant smile at him, nodding towards the refrigerator. “Grab a beer, and if you wouldn’t mind, top off my wine while you’re at it.”
His friend had never looked happier, and thankfully, he’d forgiven Ian for not going with him to the Bucket List Buddies’ second event, a ghost tour. He had met Brad, his mate, there. Ian went to the first event with Hector, where he met his mate, Morty. At first, Ian had thought it was co-incidence, now he wasn’t so sure. It was why he was here. He’d heard something, and he wanted to talk it over with someone before he drove himself nuts. As Hector was on babysitting duties tonight, he’d rung Lionel.
He topped off Lionel’s wine and, with his beer, went to the kitchen table and sat down. It had been weeks since they’d last caught up, partly because Ian mostly felt like a third wheel around his friends.
Lionel grabbed a towel to dry his hands, while Ian picked at the label on the bottle unsure how to start the conversation. As friends for decades, they’d never had awkward moments.
What’s wrong with me?
Just fess up to why we’re here, and you’ll feel better.
Ian wasn’t so sure his honey badger was right. How did one fess up about shit he’d kept to himself forever?
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Lionel stated as Ian lounged back on the chair, clutching his beer, staring. Lionel sipped at his wine, watching Ian closely over the rim. “Did I do something to piss you off?”
There was the concern, and Ian felt the stab of guilt. Ian shook his head and bit his tongue to prevent a sigh escaping. He loved his friends, Lionel and Hector, but since they’d found their mates, things had become more difficult to co-ordinate their time to hang out, and his family liked to take up his free time. He missed his friends. Except that wasn’t the only reason, was it?
Damn.
Lionel moved and eased himself down next to Ian and nudged his kneecap. “Seriously, what gives. I can tell something is off. It’s really fucking unusual for you to disappear for weeks with no contact.”
Argh, fuck.
Ian went to shrug his powerful shoulders, but his button-down tightened around his upper arms, making it more of a jerk, so he brought the bottle to his lips and took a sip to wet his dry mouth, considering his reply. “Just busy, family, you know, and with my sister and the baby, Mom is just nagging me to find an‘omega’ I don’t want.” There, he’d said it aloud for the first time. It felt good to say it when it was all that had been on his mind for months.
It was the last thing Ian wanted, it didn’t matter how he said it, his parents weren’t appearing to listen to him, which wasn’t new. He loved them, and they loved him. They had no issue with him being gay, none. Except, he couldn’t gauge how they’d feel with his sexual interests being as far removed from an omega as it could get. He was more submissive in the bedroom area of things, the exact opposite of his animal’s nature. He wanted to be the one being taken care of.
It wasn’t so much a secret, just he’d chosen not to share this with his closest friends. He didn’t want what they had, an omega; he wanted someone who could handle him in bed—or any room really—and make him tremble when they manhandled him. There were very few omegas he’d met—or found doing internet searches—that were big enough to do what he enjoyed. He’d tried, but no one could give him quite what he needed like an alpha. Only those interested in another alpha were few and far between in these parts.
Lionel chuckled, but a frown appeared as if it registered what Ian had said. “I bet me finding Brad and Hector with Morty, it hasn’t helped. Just… you sound convinced there about not wanting an omega.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he was trying tofigure out what was going on. “You did say you wanted to find your mate, though.”
He wasn’t wrong.
