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Butch let out another sigh.If only it were that easy.Race’s words came back to him. “You wasted a weekend flying all the way here just to check the place out? Is your life in Bostonthatboring?”
Race cackled. “I had my reasons. Now, why don’t you tell me all about Montana? What have I been missing all my life?”
He let out a snort. “I’m the wrong guy to ask. I’ve been here three years, give or take, and all I’ve seen is Bozeman, and the ranch where I work.”
Race asked a lot of questions about Salvation, and Butch was happy to provide answers. The more they talked, the more Butch liked the guy. He felt… comfortable, as though Butch had known him a damn sight longer than a few hours. Race didn’t push him for details about the mystery girl who’d broken his heart, for which Butch was grateful. Only, his words became increasingly indistinct the more alcohol he drank, and by the time he’d bought a round, and Race was on his second, Butch knew he was licked.
“I think I’d better call it a night.” While he could still get off his stool with some degree of dignity, instead of falling onto his ass.
“Well, what else would you call it? Itisnight out there.” Race pointed to the windows. His brows knitted. “How’re you getting back to that ranch?”
“’M not. Gonna sleep in the truck.”
Race’s scowl deepened. “Like hell you are. I’m stayin’ across the street at the Murray. Why not stay there?” Before Butch could respond, Race surged ahead. “You don’t need to splash out on a room. There’s a couch inmyroom with your name on it. You can sleep on that. It’s gotta be more comfortable than your truck, dude. An’ there’s this fancy shower that youknowis gonna feel amazin’ in the morning.”
Lord, that was tempting. Less chance of the cops tapping on his window too.
“You sure?” Even as he said it, his booze-befuddled brain was already telling him—waytoo loudly—that Race’s suggestion made perfect sense.
“Wouldn’t have said it otherwise.” Race tossed some bills onto the bar top.
“Then it’s a deal.” Butch tried to stand, but the world shifted instead and he lurched off the stool. Race grabbed his arm, and they negotiated their way out of the bar, Butch’s arm slung around Race’s shoulders, watching his feet that seemed to be moving independently of him.
Crossing the street was a trickier business, and they surged forward when a gap appeared in the traffic. The Murray Hotel’s lobby was busy, and Race guided him to the elevators, Butch doing his best to appear inconspicuous. At least he didn’t heave in the elevator. He wasn’tthatdrunk.
Once they were inside the room, Butch made a beeline for the john. “Sorry. I’m gonna bust.”
“You do your business, then I’ll do mine,” Race fired back.
His bladder emptied, Butch washed his hands and went back into the room.
Race’s room wasn’t small, and he hadn’t lied about the shower, but one glance at the couch brought Butch to a standstill. He stood at one end of it, gazing at its length, trying to picture himself stretched out on it.
Nope. Did not compute.
“Hey dude?” he called out to the bathroom where he could hear Race taking a leak that sounded never-ending.
“Whassup?”
“As my dad used to say, ‘Houston, we have a problem.’”
The toilet flushed, and Race stumbled out of the bathroom. “We do?”
Butch pointed to the couch. “There’s no way I’m gonna fit on that.”
Race followed his finger and scowled. “Well shit. That’s dinky.” He raised his head and blinked. “Dude, you won’t fit on that.”
“Didn’t I just say that?” Butch peered at the carpet. It was thick enough to make sleeping on the floor a viable—if a little firm—option.
Race grinned. “Then you take one side of the bed, and I’ll take the other. It’s a king. Hell, you could build a pillow fort in the middle and we’dstillhave enough room.” He arched his eyebrows. “Unless you feel funny sharing a bed with a guy?”
Butch snorted. “I ain’t never shared a bed with anyone before, guyorgirl.”
“It’s real easy. You strip off, get in, cover up, turn out the light, and go to sleep. You won’t even know I’m there.”
The bed did look way more accommodating than the carpet.
“Deal.”
