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Rory forced his feet to move and exited the bathroom. He crept quietly down the hallway, hoping like hell they hadn’t woken Dylan. When he returned to his room and turned on the light, Rory found Scruffy stretched out on his bed. Rory lay down beside the plus-sized purr machine while waiting for Ivan to finish showering. He usually hated being sticky after sex, but he didn’t relish washing away the memories of what he’d shared with Ivan. Scruffy crawled onto his chest and headbutted his chin, seeking attention.
“Just like your master,” Rory said as he complied.
The cat purred louder, easing tension Rory hadn’t realized he was carrying. The shower continued overhead, triggering images of a wet, naked Ivan soaping up. He’d talked a huge game upstairs, but keeping his eyes and hands to himself around Ivan would be hard. The reward would be more than worth it.
“I’ve got this under control.”I’ve totally got this under control.
Meow.
Rory’s eyes popped open. He wasn’t even aware he’d closed them until Scruffy meowed. Weak sunlight filtered in through the crack in the curtains, and Rory jackknifed into a sitting position, dislodging the cat.
“Fuck!” He’d overslept.
A quick glance at the clock told him he wasn’t that late to breakfast. He leapt off the bed and dressed in a hurry. He made a quick pass in the bathroom to scrub his teeth before heading up to the big house. His face felt dry, and he wished he’d taken a few minutes to wash his face or even check his reflection in the mirror. But memories of what they’d done in the bathroom threatened to sabotage the promise he’d made to Ivan. Rory hauled ass to the main house, lecturing himself the entire way. Laughter and conversation drifted from the dining room, reminding him of how much these people cared for one another. It made him suddenly shy about going in. Rory stood just outside the dining room entrance, trying to breathe through his nervousness.
Toenails clicked on the hardwood, and Patsy appeared in the hallway. She made a cute little growly noise and wiggled until he leaned over to pet her. She raised her paw and placed it over his hand as if to assure him everything would be okay. Rory straightened and followed her into the dining room with an apology for his tardiness on the tip of his tongue. He forgot what he was going to say when everyone turned their attention to him. Rory was confused about the various smirks and smiles on their faces. Surely, someone had accidentally overslept on the ranch before him. When his eyes connected with Ivan’s, his amber gaze dropped to Rory’s neck, making him suddenly aware of the tenderness there. He recalled the brush of Ivan’s beard against his neck during their fevered make-out session.Oh shit.
Ivan averted his gaze, but Rory could tell the tops of his ears were red. He turned to grab a plate and caught his reflection in the mirror over the buffet, confirming his suspicions. He could practically hear “Taps” playing for their now dead arrangement.
That freaking beard burn Ivan had left on Rory’s neck screamed, “Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!” And everyone did, and then they looked at Ivan. It got so quiet in the dining room that a mouse fart would’ve sounded like a cannon blast. A wave of heat engulfed Ivan’s body but only some of it came from embarrassment. He ducked his head and turned his gaze to his food, but he knew it was too late. Anyone with eyes on him, which was everyone in the room, would’ve seen the blush staining his cheeks. He might as well have stood up and shouted, “I did it! I rubbed his neck raw with my beard while rubbing one out between his perky ass cheeks!” And to be sure no one thought him a scoundrel who took pleasure without giving it in equal or better measure, he would add, “And he came so hard he nearly collapsed.”
But Ivan did no such thing. He speared a sausage link with so much force someone might think it had insulted his mama. He lifted the pork to his mouth and bit off half its length, reverting to the little kid who’d wolfed down his food at mealtimes. Instead of eagerness to go back outside and play, Ivan wanted to retreat to the barn to hide from prying eyes. It reminded him too much of a previous time in his life when his name had been dragged through the mud and his face splashed across newspapers and media reports. First the run-in with Curt and now everyone staring at him in the dining room. It felt like history repeating itself, just on a smaller scale. The fork in his hand shook, and he tightened his grip on both the utensil and his composure.Think of something else, damn it.Memories of Rory coming apart in his arms danced across his brain, but he tossed up a wall to block them.Anything but that.Ivan forced his thoughts to the tasks he needed to accomplish before his new queen arrived, and calm washed over him.
Not a single person uttered a word or maybe even breathed while Rory made his plate. The only open chair was the one across from Ivan, and he shifted his eyes without lifting his head to assess Rory’s expression when he sat down. Their gazes met and held for a brief second. Ivan was pretty sure he caught a spark of pure mischief in Rory’s arctic eyes, an expression he’d labelhold my beer, and oddly, that made Ivan feel calmer.
“What are y’all gawking at?” Rory asked. “You act like you’ve never seen razor burn until now. And take a damn breath for crying out loud. Some of you are turning purple.”
A combination of laughter, exhaled breaths, and utensils scraping against plates followed Rory’s comment. Ivan admired his quick wit and unflappable demeanor, but he didn’t trust himself to communicate it through body language or eye contact.
“Razor burn?” Owen asked a few minutes later. “You sure about that?”
Ivan wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but that would just draw more unwanted attention.
“Positive,” Rory said. “I forgot to bring my shaving cream upstairs with me. Ivan had already left. Made do with what I had since I was already late.” Rory forked up a bite of fluffy scrambled eggs and chewed thoughtfully. “I also skipped my three-step face routine and didn’t exfoliate my skin. Want to bust my balls over that too?”
Ivan shifted his eyes to the right and saw Owen raise his hands in surrender while Tyler chuckled at Rory’s admonishment.
Rueben changed the topic to future projects Rory had planned for his channel. Grateful for the shift, Ivan continued to eat while everyone else hung on Rory’s every word. He finished long before anyone else and pushed back from the table. “I have a lot to do before my queen bee arrives,” Ivan said. “See you all at lunch.”
“Which will be cold-cut sandwiches and chips or various leftovers from previous meals,” Harry added. “Rory and I are headed into town this afternoon.”
“Congratulations on landing another deal,” Rueben called out. Ivan had just finished filling everyone in on his successful meeting the previous night when Rory had entered the dining room. “Rocky Mountain Liquid Gold could become a household name someday.”
“Thanks, Rue,” Ivan said, even though he didn’t aspire to reach that particular milestone.
Once in the kitchen, he rinsed his dishes and put them in the dishwasher before topping off his travel mug and heading to the barn. He breathed in the familiar scents of lumber, equipment, and the fluids they used to keep the machinery maintained. The hardest part about farming was timing the planting and harvesting seasons just right. If the seed went into the ground too soon, melting snow from the mountains and spring rain would flush them from the soil. If he waited too long, he risked low field production. And harvesting had its own set of weather-related obstacles.
Agriculture was in Ivan’s blood. He couldn’t recall a time when his life hadn’t revolved around weather forecasts—past, present, and future. Like any industry, agriculture had advanced its technology, but the success of a healthy crop and prosperous harvest came down to the weather. It was one part planning and planting and three parts luck. Ivan sought solace in the data on the forecast sheets. He’d studied them over the last few weeks, comparing historical numbers to the futures available. His mama was fond of an old saying:If you want to make God laugh, tell him what you’re going to do later, but Ivan had changed it toif you want to make Mother Nature laugh, tell her when you’re going to plant your fields.
The newest reports aligned with the plan he’d made last week, and Ivan realized the data was probably as good as it was going to get. He needed to shift his brain out of planning mode and into planting mode, which meant he needed to ready the winterized equipment. It wasn’t just possible they’d see a spring snowfall; it was probable. The temperatures should remain high enough to prevent mechanical damage after he changed the fluids in the various machines. Ivan wrote out a schedule for each piece of machinery and assigned the tasks. He wished he could say thoughts of Rory didn’t intrude, but he’d be a liar. A montage of images of the things they shared flashed through his brain. The lights might’ve been out, but his brain had no problem imagining the way Rory looked—wild and wanton—in the bathroom. And the sounds he made? If Ivan allowed his mind to go there, he’d be hard as stone in no time.
Once he’d completed his spring planting agenda, Ivan shifted his attention to his bees. Rocky Mountain Liquid Gold was more than a moneymaker; it was his passion project. The Gallaghers had never raised bees in Kansas, and Ivan’s first experience came when he’d been sent to Arrowhead Correctional Facility. He never could’ve anticipated how much he’d enjoy watching the bees build their hives or the absolute satisfaction he would get from making honey. Ivan had always taken pride in whatever task he tackled, but he had some serious hubris when it came to his precious bees and their liquid gold. A smile curved his lips as he thought about the shit Rory would give him over the brand name.No, no, no. We are not thinking about him right now.We? Had his brain become its own entity? Seemed like maybe it had happened since Rory had arrived on the ranch.
Ivan forced his attention to the schematics for hive improvements. New flower species and water source upgrades topped the priority list. His plans were ambitious but solid, yet Ivan was unsettled. He scanned his information again and realized his malaise didn’t have anything to do with the bees. Ivan didn’t like the way he’d left the dining room. Hindsight could either be his best friend or provide a swift kick to the balls. Ivan’s present reflection fell into the latter category. The knot in his stomach had nothing to do with illness or hunger. Ivan knew without a doubt that Rory would’ve interpreted his hasty retreat as rejection when self-preservation was his only aim. Ivan had wanted to reach across the table and kiss Rory or pull him into his lap and soothe the skin he’d abraded, but he hadn’t wanted to get a raging hard-on while surrounded by the rest of the crew, so he’d hightailed it out of there.
Ivan alternated between staring off into space and rereading the same lines without comprehending the words. “I gotta make this right.”
He took a few moments to straighten his desk before leaving his office. Cleanliness had been another recurring theme throughout his life. The message had started in Bible school and been reinforced in all the influential arenas of his youth and young adulthood. Maybe that was why he was so insistent that no one know his personal business. It was too messy.That’s not it.Indoctrination was a factor in the equation but not the sum.
