Page 12 of When The Dust Settles

“Sometimes,” he answered. “And other times I can’t sleep, so I drive over by the resort and I see you running after midnight, or riding your horse.”

Strange that he would know it was me in the dark, but he was right: I ran when I could. I knew I’d dropped a lot of heavy muscle for a leaner frame, but I was still strong and not at all wasting away. It was simply that he and Zach didn’t see me often enough to realize it had been a gradual change, not an overnight one.

“I—”

“That ain’t good to be workin’ that horse at night; you’ll screw him all up.”

I was so stupid. For a split second I’d been about to speak to him like he was a normal human being, not a complete asshole, full of nothing but judgment, like my cousin. “She,” I emphasized, “is fine. But thanks for your concern.”

He shook his head and still didn’t let go.

“And I promise I ain’t sick or nothin’,” I told him. “I used to work real hard to be as big as my dad and Zach, and even Rand.” The steroids I’d injected bulked me up as well, but I stopped all of that when I left my father’s ranch. I was healthier now because I ran and swam, which was more natural for me and burned off my nervous energy. Plus the steroids had made me kind of a dick, and with them out of my system for more than twenty-four months, I saw a change in my temperament as well, where most people were concerned. Most people being those who didn’t treat me like a five-year-old.

He nodded slowly.

“Never mind,” I grumbled, trying to pull loose. “I don’t know why I even—but I ain’t sick, so you can just not worry, all right?”

“Say thank you.”

“For what?”

“Keeping you from falling.”

“Oh yes,” I bit off. “Thank you so much.”

He shoved me away, and I stumbled before I got my footing. Of course I turned and flipped him off and then headed back to the truck. I settled in, survived a few more taunts about my wet pants, flipped them all off, and went back to sleep.

I had read somewhere that if you could sit for fewer than five minutes and nod off, then you might be sleep-deprived. I wondered what less than a minute meant.

Chapter 3

GREEN LEAF was, in my opinion, not a good name for a ranch. Tea? Sure. A nursery? Yeah. But not a ranch. So when we finally rolled up on it, I was thinking we were stopping someplace to eat again or visiting a health food store or something. But no, it was a dude ranch, which made a little more sense, but still, I was amazed.

On a real cattle drive, you started before dawn. On a fake one, apparently middle of the day was normal. I was again cursing Stef and the fuckin’ payback until I saw the man who crossed the porch of the house everyone had come from. Beautiful did not do him justice. He was shorter than me, slender and loose-hipped with a fluid stride that was a pleasure to watch. His smile lit his big cornflower-blue eyes, and when he walked over to Rand with a woman and another man, I understood they, along with many others, were coming with us.

Of course, once everyone was mounted up, the pretty man and I were nowhere near each other. Apparently he was not too experienced, so instead of riding at the back with me, he was at the front with Rand and Mac and Zach. Being separated by two hundred head of cattle from a guy I wanted to get to know was not my idea of fortuitous. But at least when we stopped for the day, I could go talk to him.

I was ready to find someone, and not simply for a one-night stand. In the past two years, I really tried to go to bed with someone to see what being a gay man was all about. But every bar I went to in Lubbock, and the couple I visited the last time I was in Dallas for a convention, were not what I expected. The men there moved faster than I was used to. And no, fucking in a bathroom was not what I wanted for my first time. The bar scene really made no sense because none of those men lived where I did. And how was I supposed to have the conversation about the topping I saw myself doing and how careful I would need to be with the guy who was bottoming if they were bent over a sink or shoved into a stall? I wanted to talk things out with someone, because even though I knew I would top—of course I would, without question, because that would need to happen so I could still be me—but… I had questions. So many questions. Starting with how they felt about it, bottoming, being under me, having my weight on them, pressing them down into the bed and feeling me move inside them. I needed that. I wanted to hear about the readiness in another, I needed to be someone else’s desire.

The craving in me could be traced back to Rand. I blamed him. I wanted what he and Stef had. I wanted the monogamous, go to bed at night and wake up in the morning with deal. A guy who would look at me like I wasn’t stupid, who thought I had a lot to offer, who would actually just see me…. That’s what I craved. But so far, all the boys I saw at bars or my restaurant or around the hotel were just passing through. I had lots of offers for steamy sex with no strings attached, but since all I’d ever wanted was to belong to someone, I had, as of yet, not gone to bed with a man. I wanted at least the potential for permanence.

When we stopped for lunch, I went to find Rand and tell him the pace was too fast for the new mothers and calves toward the back. He was showing some of the kids how to make a lasso, boys and girls clustered around him, and I saw the looks on the faces of the mothers. He made quite the picture there, and when I glanced over at the guy I wanted to get to know and saw his parted lips, yearning all over him, I got that I was right about him. No man who wasn’t gay looked at another guy like that. Now all I had to do was get him to see me.

I was about to cross to him when Mac moved from behind Rand over toward where the food was. At that moment I understood my guy was not lusting after the boss man, but instead the foreman of the Red Diamond. He moved really fast to get into line behind Mac for chow and then slid a hand over his forearm to get his attention. When Mac turned, he furrowed his brow as he regarded the guy, who was either oblivious or didn’t care, too intent on what he wanted. And I got it: the small, pretty man was interested in big, strong, and gorgeous, and he’d found it in Mac. Whatever the foreman of the Red Diamond’s faults were, he was still stunning. He and pretty boy would have made a beautiful couple if he was gay. I would have given the object of my latest fantasy the heads-up that he was barking up the wrong tree, but since he didn’t see me at all, I doubted he could hear me either.

“Glenn!”

My eyes flicked to Mac, who had yelled.

“You need to eat!”

But I had a granola bar in my pack, so I was fine. I turned and left to go back to where Juju was standing with the dogs. She wasn’t tied, she never needed to be, Juju stayed where she was put unless I called her.

Walking by Zach and some of the others, I heard him telling the story of the last time I went bull riding. It had not been one of my finer moments. Since my name was still on the list for my father’s ranch, when we had to compete in the annual rodeo, I had to go.

The year before, Stef had been at the rodeo with me and I’d broken my wrist, but the year after, I broke the same wrist, three ribs, and my nose. It was sheer luck that my legs hadn’t been smashed when I was trampled, but the enormous heavy hooves had missed me by inches. No one mentioned that, of course, not even Zach, and hearing everyone laugh, again, like they all hadn’t done it enough the first time once they knew I would live, was another reminder that I didn’t belong in their company anymore. As if I ever did.

“Don’t tease ole Glenn, y’all,” Zach cackled. “He’s sensitive.”