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“I really would love to drop to my knees and suck you off,” Finley said. “Or bend over and grab onto that bench and let you plow me.”
“Okay.”
Finley laughed and pulled his wet shirt off. “But not when my mother suspects we’re doing it.”
Kieran waggled his brows and tugged his off too. “She’s going to suspect it one way or another, so we might as well do it.”
Finley grabbed his dry shirt and pulled it on. “Still grosses me out.”
Kieran laughed and put his dry tee on also. Smoothing it down, he said, “How does it look?”
Finley grabbed his crotch once more. “You’ll never need to stroke it alone again. Let’s grab our goody bag and get back to the ranch. Maybe we’ll have a little time to fool around before the food arrives.”
They picked up their wet shirts and made their way into the store where a purple bag waited for them on the counter. Finley peaked inside the bag and laughed. He removed a tube with a label that read Butt Stuff.
“I’m looking forward to test driving this,” Finley said.
“Pretty sure I adore your mom.”
They made it back to the ranch with enough time to give Butt Stuff two trial runs.
“Think I shallliehere the rest of the night,” Kieran said breathlessly. “You go on to poker without me.” They laughed at the reference to the cult leader’s bad grammar and Finley’s witty reply.
“Short ribs,” Finley whispered. “BLT macaroni salad. Jalapeño and brown sugar cowboy beans.”
“Okay, okay.”
The food arrived before they made it to the homestead, but amazingly the guys hadn’t tucked into it yet. They treated Finley like a rockstar, though their worship would turn to jests when the cards came out.
Ivan pointed to Kieran’s shirt. He hadn’t realized he’d put the tee from Hope’s studio back on, but that was all Finley’s fault. He had noodles for legs and mush for brains. “Nice shirt. I have the yoga one.” When Kieran quirked a brow, Ivan just shrugged. “I have depth.”
Kieran patted him on the broad shoulder. “I don’t doubt it, big guy.”
“Don’t start without us,” Cash said as he and Harry hustled in.
Harry hoisted two pies in the air. “I brought dessert.”
The guys cheered at her announcement. Ivan added another leaf to the dining room table and procured a few more chairs from someplace in the house. They filled their plates and sat around the table, stuffing their faces on delicious barbecue and pie before Finley kicked their asses at cards. Cash was brilliant with business and people but horrible at poker. He ran out of chips first but stuck around to engage in the constant banter. Cash looked around the room with a fond expression on his face and smiled when their gazes met. He’d hired Kieran a legal team as promised and mentored him on several things. Kieran had felt a pressing need to make decisions about his future but was clueless about what his big picture should be. Cash had promised him that he’d figure it out when the time was right.
Kieran repeated that to himself every time the uncertainty made him anxious. He performed his jobs with pride, worshipped Finley with everything he had, and hoped lady justice would drop the hammer on Ritchie and his cohorts. He knew the latter would take a lot of time, but he expected to figure out his future quicker. Then again, Kieran had so many avenues in front of him, and maybe that was the problem. He went from living a life of limitations to having limitless opportunities. He’d gone from having no family to having a great, big found family. It was overwhelming to say the least. But giving Finley his tomorrows was his constant, and though he could visualize that big picture, he knew it would include asking Finley for his forever.
In August, pieces of his future snapped into place like a jigsaw puzzle. The picture wasn’t complete, but enough of the image formed for him to recognize it and the accompanying sense of rightness. He was working with the vet, Rebecca, to help irrigate and bandage a fairly deep wound on Buttercup’s hind quarter. Finley had left Kieran to assist the doc while he searched out the source of her injury. Buttercup started to get nervous when Rebecca flushed the lesion, and he soothed the horse with gentle hands and a calm voice.
Rebecca stood up and came to stand beside him when she finished, offering Buttercup apple slices for being a good girl. The horse gave the doc serious side-eye while chomping on her treat. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an amazing temperament with animals?” she asked Kieran.
He averted his gaze and busied himself cleaning up the exam room in the barn. Receiving compliments was still hard for Kieran, even when they came from the most genuine people. Finley found his affliction charming, but he hated the way he shut down and retreated behind his wall during times of overwhelm. Finley hadn’t knocked his defenses down; he’d carved out a door instead. Kieran could retreat behind it any time he needed to, but he never locked the door. It was the kind of compromise they made as they worked through their issues together.
Kieran cleared his throat and forced himself to meet Rebecca’s kind gaze. “I might’ve heard it a few times.”
The vet smiled. “And did that certain someone also mention a future for you in veterinary medicine?”
“I’m not smart enough to be a vet.” The admission heated Kieran’s cheeks and made him want to look away again, but he remained locked on Rebecca’s earnest gaze.
“I don’t agree with your assessment,” the vet replied. “But there are other careers in the field that won’t involve sacrificing a minimum of eight years in college. My vet techs have associate’s or bachelor’s degrees. And you wouldn’t be limited to just vet clinics either. You could utilize your skills right here or perhaps work for animal rescues. I know several wildlife vets who need technicians. You should look into all the options to see what fits you best.”
“I appreciate the suggestion.”
Kieran didn’t say anything to Finley about the conversation right away. He waited until they saddled up the horses for their nightly ride. “Who’s the best girl?” Kieran asked Nellie. They’d been working on her tolerating a rider for a while. They started by letting her get used to the weight of the blanket first before adding the saddle. When Finley deemed her ready to attempt the rider, he made Kieran wear protection practically from head to toe, including a jockstrap and cup. Finley called out tips from a safe distance while Kieran mounted the horse. Nellie whinnied and tossed her head but not because she was ready to buck him. It was her version of an eye roll at Finley’s theatrics.
