Page 166 of Checking Out the Librarian

Let me know when you get there so I don’t think about creepy trees.

Connor

The Ochoco Highway has some pints wrapped in ivy.

Pines

Jonathan

Should I be worried

He could have bantered with his boyfriend until mosquitoes marked the dusk, but he had to keep driving, and Jonathan had to work, so they said their until-laters.

And then he went all the way home.

After arrival hugs and a half-day of riding Cashew, after leaning against his bay gelding’s side for as long as he could, then demolishing his mother’s welcome home dinner and washing dishes alongside his sister, after all of that, which was basically like being wrapped in a security blanket, he curled up in his old double bed.

His Eugene life felt far away until he scrolled through his texts with Jonathan and saw the comforting evidence of a relationship written in phrases like “I will never say that,” or “What about no, no that,” and even his favorite “My human is a Real Blond Idiot,” and the gift that was “I miss you, too” in the days before they’d introduced Ribby and Pawsley.

Connor’s life was more than okay, better than comfortable. He had everything he could want.

Except.

Except his parents didn’t know yet. His Mom didn’t know.

This fucking adulting.

In the barn just after six, working through morning cleanup, Connor could feel the buzz of two cups of his Mom’s ranch coffee when his phone vibrated. Had to be spam or an automatic reminder, or maybe Hank about to start a workout, because no way was it Jonathan at six in the bird-chirping morning, but he checked that Jess was two stalls down before he pulled out his phone.

Jonathan

Hello Cowboy

Connor

Good morning!!! Why you up so early?

Jonathan

Can’t I be an early bird? You can be my worm

No way he’d reply to that, it was beneath Jonathan, clearly caused by the unusual time of day. But maybe he’d type in the phrase no reply to be sure Jonathan knew.

A picture dropped into their chat and Connor’s edges went fuzzy, although his vision and certain other parts got a lot sharper.

In the photo, Jonathan wore the same wide-legged white pants he’d worn the night they’d met, unbuttoned so they hung lower on his waist to show what looked like an impossibly smooth expanse of skin below his navel filling in the vee where the pants gaped. This time instead of a shirt, his chest was bare except for a red bandana tied at his neck and a red, white, and blue sash draped so that it went from one shoulder to the opposite hip.

His nipples were flat, dark circles and Connor’s mouth watered with the desire to lick those nubs and stroke the skin over his ribs, down to his waist.

Jonathan’s right arm was raised over his head, and Connor needed to suck a mark right there on his sweet exposed triceps, right now, and make sure that everyone who looked at his man’s delicious arms understood they could look, but they were not going to be graced with touching, not as long as Jonathan wanted Connor.

Connor

When did you

What is this

I need to see