“Hayloft?”
Ray shook his head again and playfully nipped along the subtle curve of collarbone.
“Empty stall?”
He paused for a heartbeat, mouth hovering just over the surface of Travis’s flesh, hot breath fanned over tongue-slicked skin. Ray shook his head again and resumed his erotic skin-feast.
“Oh God, Ray.” Travis dug his fingers into the solid muscle of Ray’s biceps as every nip and lick and suck sent a shock wave through his body.
“We gotta go somewhere. I need—” His brain cut out for a second when Ray bit down hard on the thick muscle where his neck and shoulder met. “Ah, fuck… Ray. You have no idea how bad I want you.”
Ray broke off and stepped back, chest heaving. “Pretty sure I do,” he said gruffly, skin flushed with desire. He carefully readjusted the shirt on Travis’s shoulders and bestowed on him the most provocative smile he’d ever had the privilege of receiving.
“Saddle up.”
Ray spun around, grabbed a bridle off the nearest hook, and tossed it over his shoulder in Travis’s general direction without bothering to look back.
“What?” Travis croaked. He caught the leather headpiece reflexively and held it against his chest, wondering what the hell he’d just missed. One minute they were a heartbeat from having sex right there up against the tack room door, and the next—
Ray tossed another bridle at him. “We’re going for a ride.”
“Now?”
Ray pulled a saddle off the nearest stand and turned around. His eyes were wild, expression excited and urgent, and Travis grinned when Ray gave him a lascivious wink. The man was one horny dog, a horny dog with a plan.
“Back forty. Complete privacy.”
“Hand me that damn saddle,” Travis said, feeling every ounce of the impatience he heard in his own voice.
Barely twenty minutes later they were saddled up and heading west at an easy canter toward the river that cut a path through the south range. It would have been ten minutes if Ray hadn’t needed to make a run up to the house and grab certain specific supplies for their ride. Ray couldn’t believe he was going to do this in broad daylight. And at the same time, he couldn’t wait another second. Having Travis again had been the only thing he’d thought about since last night—longer if he were honest with himself—and the only thing he wanted.
It was a huge risk taking this thing any further. He knew he shouldn’t, but in the last twenty-four hours, he’d managed to convince himself they could be discreet enough, that what happened to Harrelson wouldn’t happen to them, and conveniently forget Travis would be leaving. He’d deal with that day when it came; until then he’d enjoy as much time with the man as possible.
When they were well out of sight of the ranch, Ray reined Diablo in to a walk. Travis came up beside him on Wiley Dog, and they settled into an easy gait, riding side by side in companionable silence. The familiar tang of horse, earth, and dry native grasses drifted on a breeze that had picked up speed as it swept across the open land.
Travis’s knee rubbed gently against his with every sideways sway of the horses’ barrels, sending a rush of electricity crackling through his body at each brush. A raging hard-on was not conducive to riding, but he wasn’t about to move away from the touch. There was something oddly comforting and intimate about it, more than physical—a form of communication understood without the need for words, and Ray found himself wanting, needing, more of that.
Ray glanced over at the handsome cowboy and took in the strong, rugged profile. Travis turned and trapped him in that captivating bronze-fired gaze, but unlike the past couple of weeks—
Jesus, was that all it had been
?—he didn’t dart away in embarrassment or frustration. This time he met the cowboy’s gaze in equal measure. Unafraid. That incredible mouth curved up in a knowing, sensual smile, capped by a single sexy dimple. Those full, velvet lips were more enticing than he could have ever imagined. If he’d thought he could kiss Travis just once, have him just once, he was sadly mistaken. He would never get enough of this enigmatic man.
“We almost there?” Travis asked. The resonant voice was rough around the edges in a way that made Ray’s cock throb. He shifted in the saddle to ease the growing discomfort. The creak of leather and the strike of hooves on hard ground competed with the pounding of his pulse in his ears. If their destination weren’t already in sight, Ray would be pulling Travis down off Wiley right here.
He nodded toward the dense copse of Ponderosa pines that rose up over a bend in the river about a quarter mile ahead: his favorite spot. “Just ahead there.”
Travis followed his gaze, then looked back and leveled him with a near-blinding smile, his eyes alight with mischief. “Race ya!”
Without waiting for a response, Travis gave the big gelding a kick and clucked his tongue. The pair bolted into an effortless gallop, but Ray held a prancing Diablo back for a moment. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of watching that man ride: powerful and confident and truly beautiful. No matter the horse he sat, he was one with it—man and beast in perfectly synchronized harmony.
Diablo snorted, tossed his head, and stamped at the ground, voicing his displeasure at being held back.
“Okay, boy. Let’s get them.”
Ray gave the stallion his head, and the big animal needed no further incentive. He dug his hind hooves into the earth for traction and launched like a thoroughbred out of the gate into a full-out, eye-watering gallop.
As they closed in on their destination, Ray was only a few horse lengths behind Travis when a flash of something dark snapped out like a whip from the low, tree-shadowed grass. Rattler.
Wiley shied sideways sharply, as if on a lateral track, then hunched his hindquarters and reared straight up. His angry squeal rent the air. Travis had barely shifted in the saddle, moving easily with the horse. Ray couldn’t have stopped the proud smile that took over his face at that display of horsemanship if he tried.
But the smile froze on his face when the big buckskin overbalanced himself in his panic and went down backward, crushing Travis beneath him.
Ray’s breath caught in the back of his throat, and his heart stopped midbeat.
The world screeched to a trembling standstill, sound drowned out, color faded.
Wiley found his legs and stood, leaving a terrifyingly lifeless body on the ground. Suddenly Ray couldn’t breathe. His lungs felt like they were being squeezed in a vice grip. Seconds that felt like hours crawled by as Ray and Diablo raced the last few yards to Travis’s side.
He sat back tight in the saddle and slacked the reins with a “whoa” he didn’t fully register saying aloud. Diablo immediately dropped into a hard slide, and Ray was out of the saddle and kneeling at Travis’s side before the horse had come to a complete stop.
“Travis!” The voice pitched heavy with fear sounded foreign to his ears. Travis lay terrifyingly unresponsive on his back. For a brief moment of escalating panic Ray didn’t know what to do. His hands hovered uselessly over Travis’s body. Then he drew a deep breath and with a shaky hand, pressed two fingers firmly against the thick jugular vein in Travis’s neck. Relief washed through him at the strong, fast pulse that beat steadily under the pads of his fingers. He was alive.
“Travis?” Ray gently cupped the man’s face with one hand and placed the other gently on his chest. “Trav, can you hear me?”
No response.
Afraid to move him in case of spinal injury, Ray did a visual assessment of Travis’s body for any obvious signs of physical trauma, and his breath froze in mid-exhale. His heart clenched into a painful fist, and a wave of dizziness tilted the ground beneath him.
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ.”
Blood had begun to soak through the bottom of Travis’s shirt and protruding from the lower left side of his torso, a broken tree branch that had run him clear through.
Chapter Sixteen
“Sweet Mother Mary of Jesus.”
Ray had seen his fair share of bizarre accidents, had seen horses take a fall on their riders more times than he cared to remember, himself included. That was part of ranching life. But he had never seen anything like this before. He fell back on his heels as cold panic roared forward and clouded his thinking. His mouth was suddenly too dry to swallow, and a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. Images of a blood-soaked, lifeless Travis hanging limp in his arms flashed through his mind.
No
. He would not lose Travis. Couldn’t. Not like this.
A fucking tree branch.
Ray shook his head in denial. He refused to accept that something so innocuous could be the end of a man like Travis Morgan. He was too powerful, too vibrant, and
alive
to be taken out this way. Taken from him.
Anger welled up and flooded his veins, forcing the panic from his mind. He would not let that happen. Mind clear and focused, Ray snapped into action.
“You’re not going anywhere, Travis,” he bit out on a shaky voice. “You hear me?”
He pulled off his own shirt and carefully wrapped it around the base of the branch, immobilizing it to prevent any further damage and staunch some of the bleeding. He applied gentle pressure with both hands and assessed their surroundings.
They were too far from the ranch to be seen or heard. Diablo, although relatively close, was out of reach; even though well trained, he wasn’t like a dog that would come when called. He needed to get the two-way radio out of his saddlebag and call for help, but was too afraid of leaving Travis’s side for even a second.
“Fuck!”
White-hot rage boiled under his skin. His entire body was vibrating and strung tighter than a stud on breeding day. Travis was going to die out here if he didn’t get help quickly. Helplessness settled over him like a suffocating, crushing blanket. Ray looked to Diablo again and gauged the distance. Looked back at Travis’s too-pale face and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Okay”—he opened his eyes and said with a nod—“you hold on, Travis. Just hold the fuck on.”
Ray took a deep breath, carefully let go of the shirt, and ran to Diablo. Thankful the horse didn’t bolt, he grabbed the reins and quickly led him back to the supine cowboy. He dug the two-way out of the saddlebag, along with a spare shirt, and a blanket he’d tied behind the cantle. His hands left bloody prints on the leather and Diablo’s coat. He dropped back down beside Travis and resumed applying pressure on the wound with his left hand. Using his right hand, Ray covered as much of Travis’s torso as possible with the thick blanket and tucked it under his shoulders. The man was still unconscious, but his body had begun to shake.
That done, he reached for the two-way and radioed Hollis, sending up a prayer that the foreman would be in his office. Only seconds later Hollis’s gruff voice crackled over the radio. Ray closed his eyes and thanked the heavens. He’d never been so happy to hear the man’s voice.
“Hollis, it’s Ray.” He paused to check his pressure on Travis’s wound. “There’s been an accident. Travis is hurt. He needs a hospital, but I can’t move him.”
“Damn,” the foreman responded, his voice immediately sharp and clear. “Where are you? What do you need?”
“We’re on the south range along the river. I need you to get an air ambulance out here pronto. Get a pen for my GPS coordinates.”
There was a pause, and then Hollis was back to take down the information.
“Send some men out here to get the horses. I’m going in the helicopter.”
“Will do, boss.”
Ray put the two-way down by his knee and checked the wound. The blood loss had slowed some, but there was no way to tell how massive the internal bleeding was. Travis’s skin had taken on a deathly pallor that sent a spike of dread slicing through Ray’s chest. He felt for a pulse again—still there but weakening. Flesh now cold to the touch. His hands were stained with Travis’s blood. The bitter, metallic tang of it hovered heavy in the air and scoured the back of his throat. He wanted to spit it out, but his mouth was too dry to build up enough saliva.
Ray jumped when Hollis’s gruff voice crackled over the two-way.
“Yeah?” Ray barked; his gaze locked on Travis’s face.
“Chopper’s on the way. ETA fifteen minutes.”
Ray thanked Hollis and then said to Travis in a reedy voice, “Fifteen minutes, Travis. You hear that? Don’t you dare die on me. Not on my land. My fucking ranch, my fucking rules.”
Travis’s eyelids fluttered and slowly lifted. His gaze was unfocused, distant, and the bronze fire that normally flashed in those beautiful green eyes had died, leaving them frighteningly flat and empty.
“Travis…”
That vacant gaze followed the sound of Ray’s voice and recognition sparked in their depths a moment later. He tried to speak, but no sound came from his mouth. Ray ran his fingers through Travis’s silky locks in a gentle caress at his temple.
“S-so…c-cold…” Travis croaked through chattering teeth.
“Shh. Help is on the way. You just hold on.”
Ray adjusted the blanket under Travis’s chin, then leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to ones that had been warm and soft less than an hour ago but were now chillingly cold and tinged blue. Fear gripped his heart and squeezed it painfully, but he wouldn’t let Travis see it. He would be strong for Travis. Had to be.
“I’m not letting you go, Travis Morgan,” he said vehemently. “Got that?”
A half smile ghosted those unnaturally blue lips. “Con-trol…freak…”
Ray smiled back, but knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “Save it, Morgan.”
They fell quiet a moment, gazes locked, neither man able to pull away from the other. Travis’s smile faded from his face, his expression turned serious, and a flash of that enticing fire flared in his eyes.
“I think I-I’m…falling in lo—”
Ray quickly placed two fingers against Travis’s mouth. He didn’t want to hear that. It wasn’t something he ever thought he’d hear from Travis, and he definitely didn’t want to hear it now. Not like this. He shook his head sharply and his voice threatened to fail when he said, “You tell me later. Okay? We’ll get you patched up, and then you tell me.”
But Travis told him anyway with his eyes.