Authors: K.M. Mahoney
The spreadsheet went sailing. Troy watched the papers flutter to the floor and suppressed the urge to smack Rafe upside the head.
“Come on, do you really want a bunch of idiots tramping all over your ranch?”
“No. But it’s a good plan.”
Troy studied Rafe’s mulish expression over the expanse of the scarred wooden table. “You don’t have to, you know.”
“I just barely scraped even last year,” Rafe pointed out. “You know that. And last year was a good year. I’m gonna lose my shirt if we don’t start bringing in more money. Dude ranches are popular right now.”
“And you’d have to shell out an insane amount of money to even begin to make one viable. It’s not necessary,” Troy stressed again.
“Then what do you suggest?” Rafe snapped.
Troy was a bit startled. He’d never heard that particular tone from his easygoing cowboy.
“I’m the numbers guy, remember? Let me take over the books, get some computer programs up and running. Maybe think about renting out some of the unused land. You’ve got options. And I can help you find them.”
Hope crept across Rafe’s face. “I’m not a business person,” he admitted.
“No kidding.” Troy softened the rebuke with a smile. “But lucky for you, I am.”
Rafe made that little humming sound of his. He looked across the table with an unusual uncertainty in his eyes. “You’d have to stick around.”
“I would,” Troy admitted. “At least for a while, until I got you back on your feet.”
Rafe began making little circles in the water spots on the table from where his glass was sweating. “Maybe I don’t want it to just be for a while.”
Troy swallowed heavily, trying to ignore the fist that grabbed him in the gut. He wanted this, so bad, but at the same time he didn’t.
Oh, hell. He could admit it, to himself at least. He was scared. He’d never been good at long term. Then again, Troy had never met anyone who meant as much to him as Rafe did.
“You fit in here,” Rafe said. “With me. With the ranch.”
“That’s not…” Troy paused before voicing his biggest fear. “What if it doesn’t work out? Between us, I mean.”
“It will.”
“You can’t know that.”
“It will,” Rafe insisted stubbornly. Troy couldn’t help feeling a little thrill at the certainty in his cowboy’s voice.
Troy just wished he had some of that certainty.
“I don’t know, Rafe. I can promise to stay until I get the books straightened out, until I get the ranch running efficiently from the administrative end. Any longer and I’ll have to think about it. Give me some time.”
Rafe wasn’t happy with the answer. That much was obvious. But the cowboy just nodded reluctantly.
“I’ll take what I can get. But I reserve the right to try and influence you,” Rafe warned.
“Bring it on, cowboy,” Troy teased. “Bring it on.
Rafe brought it. Over the next few days, he began a focused campaign—oh, hell, it was an all-out assault—on Troy. If he wasn’t snagging Troy into a kiss every five minutes, he was listing all the reasons why Troy’s life would be better if he stayed. Truth be told, Troy had been convinced after the second round of chase. He hated his life, his job, and the only friend he had back home was Ken. He must be getting old, because the bar scene didn’t appeal anymore. Here, he had work that he actually enjoyed, a relaxed atmosphere far different from the stress of his old life, and guys who, if not friends, were at least friendly.
And Rafe. He had Rafe. Troy was beginning to think that the risk was worth it. He’d never met anyone quite like his cowboy. Rafe was considerate and charming when he wanted to be. Strong and sexy. And damn, but the sex was hot. Smoking, spine-jarring, beyond amazing.
Now Troy just had to work up the guts to tell Rafe his decision. It should be easy. It wasn’t.
Besides, he was really, really enjoying Rafe’s persuasive techniques. Some of them, anyway. The guy seemed to have gone a little nuts in the last day or so.
Troy paused on the stairs leading into the house. Mark ran into him.
“You go first,” Troy ordered.
“Sissy,” Mark said.
“Damn right.”
Mark sighed. “Would you just give the man an answer, already?”
“When I’m good and ready, punk. Now move.”
Mark shoved open the door and stepped into the dim light of the house. A solid body hit him and squished him against the wall.
“Wrong guy!” Mark screeched. “Kiss me and die!”
Troy cracked up. He had to lean against the doorframe, he was laughing so hard. Rafe was in an equal state, still pinning his little brother against the wall, forehead propped on his arm as he laughed.
“Sorry, squirt,” Rafe said when he could get enough breath for words.
“I told you not to call me that,” Mark grumbled, squirming free.
“Sorry.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of apology in the word. Mark rolled his eyes.
“Go attack the right person,” Mark said, heading down the hall.
The kid had settled in surprisingly well. Seemed to Troy like some part of Mark remembered Rafe, because it hadn’t taken long for the younger man to get over any awkwardness around his big brother. Of course, the kid was still a brat, but Troy figured he’d grow out of that. Eventually.
“Hey there,” Rafe said, pulling Troy in for a kiss.
“Hey yourself.”
“Missed you.”
Now it was Troy’s turn to roll his eyes. “Please. I was only gone for an hour.”
Rafe nuzzled behind his ear. “Too long,” he whispered.
Troy groaned, going from half-hard to painful in a heartbeat. “You’d better be prepared to deliver,” he warned.
“Oh, I intend to.” Rafe herded Troy toward the stairs, still nipping and licking at the skin of his neck. “Another perk of staying. Me, delivering.”
“You used that one already,” Troy murmured.
“I know. But it’s a big one.”
Troy reached back and groped Rafe’s crotch. “That it is,” he teased.
Rafe groaned, half in feigned pain and half in arousal. “That was awful, honey.”
“Mmm. Come upstairs and I’ll make it up to you.”
Rafe later admitted that if sex like that was the result, Troy could make all the bad puns he wanted.
Troy was just getting sick and tired of the constant talking. He wasn’t used to his cowboy talking so much. But all through the sex, and the afterglow, Rafe kept listing off reason after reason for Troy to stay. The whole habit Rafe had developed of jumping around corners and attacking Troy with kisses and touches was fantastic. The logic? Not so much.
Troy finally had enough and brought out the big guns.
“What about the whole gay thing?” he pointed out. “I thought cowboys are all stereotypical redneck homophobes. Don’t think the locals will be real thrilled with a gay couple taking up residence down the street.”
Rafe chuckled. “Down the street? In case you haven’t noticed, I live pretty much in the middle of nowhere. My employees mind their own business, and no one in town really gives a damn what I get up to. They wouldn’t be pleased if we started kissing on Main Street, but as long as I don’t rub anyone’s face in it, it’s pretty much live and let live.”
“Damn. There goes another excuse.” Troy wasn’t exactly disappointed about that particular one biting the dust.
Rafe wrapped his sinewy arms around Troy and nuzzled his neck. “Face it, baby. You’re just gonna have to give in.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.” That had come out sounding way whinier than he had planned.
“Oh, you want to,” Rafe whispered with seductive persuasion.
“Stop it,” Troy scolded. “You can’t fix everything with sex.”
“Maybe not, but you can sure make things better.”
Troy couldn’t help laughing. Rafe was just looking too damn pleased with himself.
“You know, in all of this, you never actually asked me to stay,” Troy pointed out. He was being perverse and he admitted it. Both of them knew Troy wasn’t going to be heading back to the city. He figured it was kind of like getting married. Maybe both of you already knew the answer, but it was still nice to be asked. To know for sure that you were wanted, that your opinion mattered.
“Well, then, let me fix that right now,” Rafe said. “Never let it be said that I don’t give you what you want.”
“Rafe,” Troy said warningly. Damn, at times like these, the man grew six hands. Rafe was clasping Troy’s butt and wrapping around his back and still managing to rub against his cock.
Rafe laughed. “Sorry, you are just so damn irresistible.” He wrapped those muscular arms around Troy until Troy stopped squirming. Rafe dropped his head on top of Troy’s hair, clasping him tightly.
“What do you say, honey?” he asked. “Want to move in with me and become a rancher’s partner?”
What could Troy say to such a nicely worded invitation? “You got it, cowboy.”
Rafe whooped, swinging Troy around until he could seal the deal with a scorching kiss.
“You won’t regret it, sweetheart,” he said when they pulled apart to take a breath.
“Oh hell no. I let you get away with honey, but no way are you calling me sweetheart. I am not a girl!”
“I’m very much aware of that,” Rafe said with a leer, grinding their erections together. He dipped down for another kiss.
“Ewww, gross!”
Rafe’s head came up as both men turned to glare at the doorway. Mark sauntered in and headed for the refrigerator.
“You know, just because I don’t care that you guys are gay doesn’t mean I want to see it. Some things a person should not be exposed to. Big brother smooching on his boyfriend is one of them.”
“Get used to it, kid,” Troy said with what was probably excessive delight. “I’m moving in.”
Mark let out a wail worthy of the stage. “I’m doomed.”
Rafe started laughing. “You two are going to be better than Saturday Night Live.”
Troy shoved his elbow into the laughing idiot’s gut. It just made his arm ache. Damn, the man had a stomach like a slab of granite.
Rafe ignored the assault in favor of groping Troy’s butt.
“Ahh, my eyes!” Mark howled, covering his face with his hands. “Make it stop!”
“You are so dead!”
Rafe collapsed in a chair, whole body shaking with laughter. Mark stuck his tongue out at Troy and the chase was on.
As Troy slid around the corner on stocking feet after the brat, Rafe’s laughter followed him down the hall. Away from the kitchen, he could let his own grin break free.
Oh, yeah. He really, really loved his life.
K. M. has been creating stories since before she could write. After devouring every book she could get her hands on (and a few that she had to sneak past her parents), K. M. turned to writing her own. K. M. loves nothing more than wandering new places and, on occasion, entirely new worlds with her characters. Her characters range from cowboys to Victorian nobleman, accountants to shapeshifters, and everything in between. While K. M. has only recently begun publishing, she hopes to bring many more stories out of the darkness of her computer’s hard drive to share with others.
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