Ty Hard
By L.E. Harner
Copyright
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Hot Corner Press at Smashwords
ISBN 978-1-937252-04-5
Ty Hard is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contact the publisher for further information: Hotcornerpress@gmail.com
Dedication
To Andy and Steve.
Dare to follow wherever love leads.
I would also like to acknowledge the help from some of the very best:
Liz Crowe, Lisa Worrell, and Sherry Smith
Also special thank you to Dan Skinner for the beautiful cover image.
Without this cover, there wouldn’t have been Ty Hard.
I am proud to count you all among my friends.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Tyler Hardin climbed from his truck in front of a sprawling adobe ranch house and wondered what in the hell had happened. Six or seven cowboys on horseback cut sharp turns around a small knot of horses, pushing them with waves of arms and hats, steering the small herd toward the open gate at the rear of the paddock. Other men stood around the yard or leaned on the split rail fence that surrounded a small kitchen garden. No matter what they were doing, everyone’s attention was on the Lifeline helicopter and whatever emergency had brought the air-borne ambulance out to the remote Willow Springs Ranch.
The door to the chopper slid closed and as the blade speed increased, the steady whop, whop, whop reverberated through him and threatened to take him places his mind didn’t want to go. Shouldn’t go. Pushing the memories away, Ty squinted against the bright Arizona sunshine and tried to make out the figure of his friend, Frank “Gibby” Gibson among the cowboys. Gibby would be the short, overweight one, if he could find him.
“Not sure what you’re selling, but this isn’t a good time.” The voice came from behind him and was right out of a wet dream. It was an intoxicating mixture of whisky and smoke, a deep baritone that settled somewhere low in his belly.
“What happened?” Ty asked, shielding his eyes and trying to get a good look at the man standing in the shade of the courtyard arch.
The cowboy nailed him with a steely dark gaze that seemed to blaze from his handsome face. His voice vibrated with barely controlled anger. “I can’t see any reason it should concern you. Now state your business or get the fuck off my ranch.”
The long, rangy cowboy was at least four inches taller than Ty’s own six-foot frame. He wore a tight pair of jeans and a white tee shirt that stretched across his lean, muscled chest. A white straw cowboy hat and dusty, worn boots completed the perfect picture. While the cowboy waited for an answer, Ty stepped forward and peered beyond the shadow cast by the brim of the big man’s hat. Ty could make out a strong, chiseled face, deep cleft chin, and dark eyebrows raised high in apparent disbelief that his question hadn’t been immediately answered.
“The Willow Springs is your ranch? That makes you Cass Cartwright. Sorry. Should have introduced myself right away. My name’s Ty. Tyler Hardin. I’m here to visit Frank Gibson. Gibby? Look, I didn’t mean to impose, I can stay back in Kingman…” he trailed off as a spasm tightened Cartwright’s face into a grimace.
“Fuck. You’re his friend from the Navy.”
Ty did a slow blink at the brusque tone and bought himself a moment of time before he answered. “I used to be his friend from the Navy. Medical retirement,” he said pointing to the fresh scar that creased from his eyebrow to jaw line. It had taken the field surgeons sixteen hours, plus two more surgeries stateside to put him back together. A regular Humpty Dumpty. After six months in rehab, the doctors declared him well enough to discharge and cut him loose from the only life he’d ever wanted.
Gibby was the closest thing to family Ty had. The old man had invited him to stay at the ranch while Ty figured out what to do with his life. He wasn’t about to explain their relationship to Cartwright, not until he knew what was happening.
“This way,” Cartwright said with a stiff jerk of his head. Then he turned on his heel and led the way into the cool interior of the adobe ranch house.
What was going on? Had his old friend been wrong about his boss? Gibby said when he’d talked to Cartwright that the rancher welcomed another pair of hands and he could stay as long as he wanted. Now it looked like he was about to get the unwelcome mat, instead. Shit. He should have called Gibby from Flagstaff, given him a little notice that he was almost here.
He watched silently as Cartwright moved to what looked like an entertainment center. When Cass opened the doors, however, Ty realized the cabinet was a minibar, complete with small refrigerator. “Beer or whisky?” Cass asked, taking a glass from the shelf. His gravelly voice slid over Ty, as comfortable as an old pair of faded jeans.
Drawing on an icy control that had served him well in the Navy, Ty pushed the flutter of attraction back into his mental lockbox. God knows a working ranch wasn’t the place for that part of him any more than the Navy had been.
“Neither. I don’t drink. Too many meds. What’s going on? Where’s Gibby?” Tension tightened his stomach and he shot out the words, no longer interested in manners.
Cartwright’s jaw clenched and his knuckles tightened around the glass he was holding. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled. Turning quickly he threw his glass, shattering it against the fireplace. Without looking at Ty, Cass said in a low voice that vibrated with emotion, “Gibby was in that helicopter. I’m sorry, Hardin. He had a heart attack and died an hour ago.”
The cowboy’s words slammed into to Ty and sent his thoughts and the blood in his brain into the all-too-familiar swirl. The light began to dim, then a roaring in his head that wiped out all other noise in the room. Ty stumbled backward and had only a moment to position himself closer to the couch before everything shut down and the world went black.
*
Cassidy Cartwright looked down at the hunk of man flesh on the couch. Nothing like his usual long, lean type.
Tyler had to be at least six feet tall, well over two hundred pounds of sculpted muscle, with broad shoulders that tapered to a flat stomach and tight ass. His well-muscled thighs were showcased in dark blue denim.
Down boy, he told his cock, with no small amount of disgust. Here he was lusting after the man Gibby thought of as the son he never had. Gibs’ body wouldn’t even be cold yet. God forgive me, but I can be a right bastard, sometimes.
Despite the self-recrimination, his fingers itched to stroke the scar that marked Tyler’s face, to brush the hair back from the pale forehead. His hair was short, but not military short. Soft black curls framed the most angelic face he’d ever seen on a man. His long, dark lashes fanned below his closed eyes, but Cass wouldn’t forget the vivid shade of blue that had looked at him and demanded answers. The shadow of a beard and square jaw prevented him from being too pretty, but still, Tyler Hardin was a beautiful man. Shit.
Cass had heard a lot about Tyler from Gibby over the last few years. The old cook certainly enjoyed telling stories over a drink or two. Hardin was one of his favorite topics. He’d learned they’d known each other since the younger man had joined the Navy and had stayed in touch even after his retirement. They’d been stationed together three times, once on a ship and two tours in Afghanistan. Cass wasn’t exactly clear on how that worked, but he knew they’d been in some dangerous spots together.
Last year, Gibs had been beside himself when Tyler called to tell his friend he was returning to Afghanistan for a third tour. Listed as next of kin, it had been Gibby the Navy notified when Tyler was injured. The old man had traveled back to Walter Reed twice over the last six months and when he’d returned from the second trip he’d made a request of Cass.
“D’ya mind if I bring the boy back here for a while? He needs a place where someone can keep an eye on him. He gets bad headaches. Plus…” he added, but looked away, “I think it’s about time the boy faced a thing or two about himself.”
It hadn’t taken a mental genius to figure out that remark. Tyler Hardin was still in the closet. He’d supposed Gibby thought it would open Tyler up if he lived for a while on the ranch where half the cowboys were gay or bisexual and the other half couldn’t care less.
He shook himself from his thoughts when he realized a pair of bright blue eyes were blinking rapidly, as Tyler struggled toward consciousness. Then the man was fighting to gain his balance, as he pushed himself off the couch. “Bathroom,” he muttered urgently.
Cass grabbed him by the arm and half carried him into the bathroom. He held Tyler’s head as the younger man emptied his stomach until he was wracked by spasms. When there was nothing left to come up, Cass helped Tyler rinse his mouth and wash his face with a cool splash of water. Without any ulterior motive, Cass wrapped a strong arm around Tyler’s waist and guided him to the back of the house, to his own bedroom. He lowered the other man to the bed, helped him remove the soiled clothes, and eased back to the pillows. Tyler covered his eyes with his forearm while Cass hurried to turn off the lights and draw the blinds. Then he sat on the bed with a damp cloth and gently wiped the light sheen of sweat from Tyler’s face.
“How can I help, Tyler?” he asked softly.
“Sorry. Migraine, need pill...and rest. Then I’ll get out of your hair,” Tyler said softly, as if each word might cost him his momentary control over the pain in his head.
A shocking wave of possessiveness washed over Cass, so strong it threatened to overwhelm him. He simply knew that he wanted Tyler Hardin with every fiber of his being. He wanted to take care of him, to make his pain go away, to wrap Tyler in his arms and never let go. Stunned at the suddenness and strength of his feelings, Cass leaned forward to whisper quietly near Tyler’s ear.
“Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ll grab your stuff and get your pill. You’re not going anywhere.” Shit. This was bad.
****
Tyler surfaced by degrees, unsure of where he was or how long he’d been sleeping. He knew it was the drugs, they always left him feeling this way. Like the worst hangover anyone ever had. Fuzzy, unsteady, and a little unsure of how the words in his head might tumble out of his mouth. He had the vague impression he’d been dreaming for a long time. Shit, he didn’t even know what day it was.
The nightmares were bad this time; didn’t want to let him go. He’d been trapped underneath the mess tent, just like in real life. He struggled against the pull of the dream for a minute, but it was stronger than he was, and soon, he was sucked under the dark spell once again.
People were screaming and he couldn’t get to them, couldn’t help, because he couldn’t fucking move! He could smell the smoke, feel the heat as the fire crept closer. This time, Gibby was underneath the heavy canvass with him, unconscious, unaware of the certain death that was in the flames, licking their way toward them both.
“Noooo,” Ty screamed, and struggled to move the steel support bars that pinned him to the ground. He had to reach Gibby before the fire took him.
The steel bars tightened around him, and then they were pulling him out, pulling him away from the fire, and then away from the tent.
“Shhhh, Tyler, I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe now. You’re safe with me,” said an unknown voice, breath brushing against his ear.
Someone was stretched out alongside of him, pressed against his side. Then those same steel bars turned him over, so that for a moment he was chest to chest with a stranger, before the man rolled over onto his back, bringing Tyler with him. He wanted to protest, but he realized this was all just a part of the dream.
He took comfort from the imaginary arms, buried his face against the illusory warmth of muscled chest and spicy man smell. Don’t ask, don’t tell, he thought just before he sank into a deep and blessedly dreamless sleep.
*
God, that was awful, Cass thought as he held Tyler to his chest. What must it be like to suffer from nightmares and debilitating headaches? The price for serving his country.
It had scared the shit out of him when he’d gotten out of the shower and heard Tyler crying out. With a towel wrapped around his waist, Cass had hurried to the bed. Tyler was twisted in the sheets, breath coming fast, clearly in distress. He’d quickly untangled the sheets, and climbed on the bed next to Tyler, murmuring nonsense words. It wasn’t unlike trying to calm a skittish colt.
Tyler finally calmed once he’d pulled him onto his chest, and stroked his back. When Tyler’s breathing slowed and he relaxed into deep peaceful slumber, Cass pulled the sheet over the two of them and closed his eyes. Pressing his face against the silky curls, Cass wondered what in the hell he was getting himself into.
Chapter Two
Unsure of just how early the cowboys would shuffle through, Tyler started the coffee first. From what Gibby told him of his job, the guys rose early and did their first round of chores before breakfast, but he’d been vague about the times. He figured he had plenty of time, so he was making one of his favorite recipes. He spread a thick layer of butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon on four rectangles of dough. He added nuts and raisins to two of them before rolling all four into long tubes and cutting four dozen cinnamon rolls. He placed those into the warming drawer to rise and checked the time. Not quite 4:00 a.m.
Early morning prep was his favorite part of the day. He could get lost in his thoughts as his hands went on autopilot, chopping vegetables, cracking eggs, pulling together ingredients for the rest of the day’s meals. The daily menu wasn’t his problem here, though, especially since he’d be leaving the ranch right after breakfast. He probably should have already been gone.
The heat rose in his face as he remembered waking this morning, hours before everyone else. His internal alarm was perennially set for the breakfast shift. Despite yesterday’s migraine and medications, when he woke, his mind had felt clear, rested. He’d known where he was, remembered Gibby’s death, and even recognized the arm draped across his chest. What he hadn’t been able to figure out was how he’d come to be in his underwear and spooned against a very naked Cassidy Cartwright.
Ty had found his bag near the bedroom door and dressed in the dark, moving quietly while taking inventory of how he felt. He’d been so sick yesterday afternoon, he knew there was no way they’d had sex, but why was the cowboy in bed with him? He’d watched the handsome face for a long minute and fisted his hands against an urge to stroke Cass’ strong brow, so relaxed in sleep. What would it be like to wake every morning in the arms of a man you loved?
“Feeling better?” The deep voice slammed into him, startling Ty from his thoughts and making him jump. He turned from the pile of sliced mushrooms and lost his breath in a woosh.
Cass stood in the arched doorway, wearing only a pair of faded jeans that fit like a second skin. He was all long, wiry muscle, classic washboard abs, and a trail of dark brown hair that led straight to the single open button at the waistband of his jeans.
“Uhm, yeah,” Ty managed and then tore his gaze away from the feast in front of him. “Thanks for uhm…everything.”
“Hmm…What are you doing?” Cass asked sleepily.
“Making breakfast. I figured what with Gibby…” his voice trailed off, and tears filled his eyes. He turned back to the cutting board so Cass wouldn’t see his weakness.
“It’s okay to cry, Tyler. I’m going to miss him, too,” Cass said, then strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind.
Ty stiffened. Damn, what was wrong with him? Cass was just trying to be nice and offer comfort in their shared grief. To his shame, he felt his dick harden. There wasn’t much room to maneuver away, since he was already standing close to the counter. He took half a step forward, to try to put a little space between them.
Cass moved with him, pulling him even closer, and he could feel the press of all that bare skin through the thin layer of his tee shirt. They stood that way for several long heartbeats and Tyler closed his eyes and imagined taking the comfort of that embrace to another level. Something gentle brushed across his hair and he allowed himself the fantasy of accepting a lover’s comfort.
With his eyes closed, savoring the moment, he almost didn’t realize the strong fingers that tilted his head to the side were real. Then lips brushed lightly against his neck, his cheek, and finally, soft as a whisper, against his lips.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Ty said angrily and pushed himself away from Cass.
Stepping back, Cass looked at him appraisingly for a minute. Then he licked his lips and with a slow, wicked smile, he said, “Tasting you.”
“Well, stop it,” Ty said, but there was no heat behind his words.
“My mistake,” Cass grinned, not looking the least bit sorry.
“What time does everyone usually eat breakfast?” Tyler asked, needing to turn the conversation to something normal.
Rich laughter rumbled through the kitchen. “You are a piece of work, Tyler Hardin. All right, if that’s what you want,” Cass said, deliberately dropping his gaze to the bulge in Ty’s jeans and back, before he answered. “Breakfast is around 8:00, lunch is at noon, dinner at 5:30.
“Gibby never said what you did, but based on the state of my kitchen this morning, I assume you and Gibby were cooks together in the Navy. I can’t give you the cook’s house right now, because Roy’s still living there, and I don’t plan on kicking him out of their home. I’ve got plenty of room here in the main house. I’ll give you a week’s trial, and if everything suits, the job is yours,” Cass said, suddenly all business.
Ty blinked at the sudden change in direction. From flirt to foreman in sixty seconds. He thought briefly about explaining what he really did in the Navy, but since he’d started as a cook, he figured it was close enough.
Cass continued, “Gibby’s desk and computer are in the office, not that he used the computer much. You should find the corporate credit cards in the drawer. Charge what you need, Bullhead City has the closest bulk food store. You might want to upgrade some of the equipment, I wouldn’t know about that.”
Ty watched as Cass moved to pour himself a cup of coffee, before he continued his rapid-fire directions.
“As far as what these cowboys like to eat and drink, I think Gibby kept some kind of a rotating menu, but of course, you’re free to make anything you like. Except liver. Make liver and you’ll be out on your ass. Oh, and run out of whisky, beer, or coffee and I can’t promise to protect your life,” Cass grinned.
Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Ty resisted the urge to touch his lips, where the heat of that brief kiss still lingered. He returned to prepping his vegetables, and quickly revised his plans. “I’ll be leaving right after lunch. I’ll set you up with lasagna for tonight. You’ll be able to heat it up, just follow the directions.”
“Got somewhere you have to be?” Cass asked, his voice close behind him again.
“Yeah. I’m going to head down to Laughlin. It’s not as busy as Vegas, and there are always jobs for chefs at the casinos.”
“I thought Gibby meant more to you than that,” Cass said roughly. “I thought you’d at least stick around for his service. Shit, I thought you might want to spend a little time with Roy. You know, share your grief.”
Roy. Shame washed over him, because he’d never asked about Gibby’s partner. He’d always known his friend was gay, but they’d never discussed the details. It was safer that way for both of them, considering the DADT policy of the military. If asked, he would honestly be able to deny any knowledge of his mentor’s private life. It had been an unspoken agreement between them.
The old man knew most of Tyler’s secrets, and he’d never pressed about the lack of dates or relationships. He realized Gibby had been ready to change the rules of their friendship. He’d invited Tyler here to the ranch, to stay in his home with him and his partner. Don’t ask, don’t tell had ceased to be a factor in either of their lives once Tyler received his medical discharge.
Guilt washed over him. “You’re right. I owe that much to Gibby. When’s the service? I’ll stay until then,” Ty said.
“We won’t know until they release his body, but probably not for a few weeks. We’ve got the rodeo in Kingman in two weeks and we’re sending a trailer and a couple of cowboys up to Steamboat Springs for the PBR. Sorry, that’s the Professional Bull Riding Circuit. I expect we’ll try hold the service when we can get everybody here for the day.
“I’ll definitely want you to cook for that. I figure we’ll hold a big ass barbecue to honor the old fart. Nothing would make him happier than feeding a hungry passel of cowboys. ‘Cept feeding a ship full of sailors, maybe.”
Cass refilled his coffee and continued. “All right, enough of this standing around talking, I’ve got to get outside and get to work. The hands have a coffee pot in the bunkhouse, but they’ll all be in for breakfast. There’s fourteen total, counting you and me. Gibby set it up buffet style in there,” he said, pointing towards the dining room.
Numbly, Tyler nodded, feeling drawn into a world he didn’t understand. With the Navy’s help, he’d woven a careful web of rules around himself. Now, all that remained of his well-ordered life was unraveling at warp speed.
“See you in a little bit, Cookie,” Cass said, patting him on the ass, before striding out the door without a backward glance.
*
Tyler studied the food-laden sideboard and realized he was proud of the first meal he’d cooked since the explosion. Amazing how much healing could come from one simple act. For the first time in months he felt productive, needed. He felt like his old self.
The menu was comprised of his favorite breakfast dishes. His cinnamon rolls oozed with sugary goodness and cream cheese frosting. The egg, veggie, and cheese casserole was light and fluffy, but full of protein for the long workday. He made several pounds of bacon, and put out gallons of juice, milk, and coffee. There were also boxes of cold cereal, fresh fruit, and bagels. Maybe not as many choices as a Navy breakfast, but damn sure enough for thirteen cowboys.
The men entered the main house through the mudroom, taking off their hats and hanging them from the hooks. They washed in the deep sink and one by one, made their way into the dining room. There was a lot of shuffling of feet and cleared throats, as if several of them had something to say, but no one wanted to be the first. They stood in small groups and spoke quietly, shooting curious looks at him. Before anyone got too restless, Cass strode into the room, and all eyes turned to the boss.
“Gentlemen, I know this here’s bound to be a difficult day. We lost a good friend yesterday. Tonight, after supper, we’ll meet in the living room and have a drink to celebrate and share our memories of Gibby. For now, we have work to do, and as you all know, Cookie would be the first one to tell you ranch life don’t stop for no one.
“That said, this here’s Tyler Hardin and he arrived here yesterday, just after…” Cass trailed off for a moment, and Ty thought the big man’s rapidly blinking eyes held a sheen of moisture. His voice was rough around the edges when he continued. “Gibby considered Tyler like his own son and brought him here with hopes he’d join our family for a bit. So, although Tyler shares our sorrow, his grief is that of a son for his father.
“This morning, Tyler took it upon himself to fix us all breakfast. If he can step up to cook for us, I figure the least we can do is meet his effort with some healthy appetites. I don’t know of any better way to honor our Cookie than with our enjoyment of a delicious meal. Dig in, boys, work’s waiting.”
It had been exactly the right note to take with these men, Tyler realized. Life did go on, God knows you learned that quick enough in a war zone. That didn’t mean you didn’t hurt, it just meant that you learned the value of keeping a routine. With a jolt, he realized he should have gone back to work a long time ago. The atmosphere, the camaraderie, all felt reassuringly familiar. Then like a one-two punch, he realized that for the first time since he’d joined the Navy, he had nowhere to go.
The noise level rose quickly as conversations exploded, diverting his pity party. Food left the buffet at an alarming rate, and he made careful note of which dishes were the most popular. He would need to add a few more servings to his calculations. Apparently, cowboys were even hungrier than sailors were.
“Looks like your food’s a hit,” Cass said quietly, from right beside him.
“I knew it would be,” Tyler replied and he shot a confident smile up at the tall cowboy. Cass gave him a double take, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was the same man he’d cared for through the night.
Tyler laughed at the man’s uncertain expression. “I think getting back to cooking did me a lot of good. I’m sorry about yesterday afternoon and this morning. I’m really not always so needy. I didn’t mean to fall apart on you. I’d pushed myself too hard, drove here from DC in just two days. I know I was over tired. Then the shock of hearing about Gibby…well, it was too much. Thanks for the help.”
“No problem. I—”
“Hey boss, you gonna get some food so the rest of us single guys can get a chance to talk to Tyler, too?” interrupted one of the men.
“Shut up, Jed. Don’t you have any class?” Cass shot back, glaring down the table. Apparently, Jed had made his point, because Cass made an apologetic face at Tyler, and then went to fill his plate. Once everyone was served, Tyler fixed himself a plate.
“Hey, Tyler, come sit over here,” said the ginger-haired man named Jed. He scooted over to make room for Ty on the bench, which was as far away as he could get from where Cass sat at the head of the table.
“Hey, sailor, come here often?” Jed joked to general laughter when Tyler sat next to him on the picnic style bench. “Seriously, Tyler, Gibby used talk about you a lot. He was real proud of you.” Jed thrust his chin towards Tyler’s scar. “You got that your last tour, right?”
“Yep,” he answered, then took a big bite of his roll, so he wouldn’t have to say anything else. He really didn’t want to talk about it. Not now, certainly not here, and absolutely not with a total stranger.
Help came from across the table. “Jesus, Jed! You’re such a numb nuts. You don’t just come out and ask a guy that kind of shit.” He stuck his hand across the table, “Name’s Tony Benedetto. Sorry about the language.”
“No problem, I’ve heard worse,” Tyler grinned at the olive-skinned, dark-haired man. He seemed to be good friends with Jed, as they continued to toss barbs back and forth. They were as different as night and day, dark and light. He had no trouble conjuring a mental picture of their great-grandfathers: pure prairie cowboy and Italian emigrant. He shook his head at the fanciful image.
Soaking up the camaraderie and testosterone-laden atmosphere, Tyler mused it had been a long time since he’d been just one of the guys. At Walter Reed and in rehab, the conversations were just poorly hidden therapy sessions, and too many people asked, “How did that make you feel?”
Here, he was accepted the way he was. Just Gibby’s friend.
When breakfast was finished, each man filed through the kitchen, rinsing his plate and placing it in the dishwasher before heading back out to work.
Tyler looked around for Cass, seeking approval for the meal he’d provided, but the boss appeared to be long gone. Instead, Jed lingered, maneuvering until he was last man in the clearing line.
Jed sidled up a little too close and said, “I’d like to have a drink with you, tonight.” Tyler didn’t miss the blatant interest in the man’s gaze.
“I’m sure we’ll have a chance to talk at the gathering tonight,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding the invitation. “Thanks for the breakfast conversation, but I need to get busy, if I’m going to finish cleaning this mess and have lunch ready on time. See you later.”
“I look forward to it,” Jed murmured, as he slipped out the back door. Moments later Tyler heard the front door close with a bang, and wondered if someone had overheard the not-so-subtle pick up attempt.
Shrugging, Tyler pushed the thought from his mind. The invitation hadn’t offended him, but it didn’t interest him either. He pushed away the lingering thrill he’d felt pressed so close to Cass, waking in his arms, the tantalizing brush of lips. Deep down, he knew what he was, but it didn’t matter. Nothing would ever happen. That wasn’t how he chose to live his life.
Chapter Three
Cass spent the morning with only half of his attention focused on his work. The other half was mulling over what to do about this situation with Tyler. He’d been way off his stride since he met the man…was that only yesterday afternoon? He didn’t like feeling so out of his element. It was time to pull back on the reins and get off this ride before it even started.
Something about the combination of Tyler’s powerful body and vulnerable mind had undone Cass. He had rules against things like this. For one, he never fucked anyone he worked with. Never. Not at neighboring ranches, rodeos, or livestock sales. Certainly never anyone on his own ranch. He wanted to be as temporary to his lovers as they were to him. And he sure as hell didn’t want a virgin in his bed. Especially on who still lived in the land of denial.
He’d realized he was in danger of violating his own rules when he’d had such a strong reaction to Jed’s obvious attempt to hit on Tyler after breakfast. He’d stormed out of the house before he’d done something stupid. Like march into the kitchen and claim Tyler for himself.
He’d tried to convince himself it was because Tyler was an innocent, and needed to be protected from the more experienced and unscrupulous Jedidiah Black. Tyler wouldn’t be the first man to lose his virginity to Jed. The itinerant cowboy liked to claim he could turn a straight man gay and made a sport of getting to a man’s ass before anyone else. It pissed Cass off, but up until now, he’d been able to overlook the redhead’s behavior. Jed only worked for him once or twice a year, whenever they had a busy spell or too many shows and rodeos stacked up. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be inviting Jed back after the next rodeo.
Cass wouldn’t lie to himself; he knew his problem wasn’t only with Jed’s warped moral compass. He’d recognized the green haze that had clouded his vision after breakfast for what it was.
Needing time and space, he and Demon, his big black gelding, headed in the opposite direction from where his ranch hands were working. He’d been riding the fence for hours, noting sections that needed attention. He ignored his growling stomach, and reminded himself of the need to stay away from the main house. When they made it to the far watering station, Cass dismounted so he and Demon could each have a drink.
As the horse lowered his head, Cass drank the remainder of a bottle of water in one long pull. He was just stowing the bottle in his saddlebag, when he caught sight of a horse and rider heading his way. His stomach clenched, wondering what had gone wrong, now. Then patted his shirt pocket and realized he had his cell phone. If there had been an emergency, someone would have called.
As the pair got closer, he was surprised to see Roy, and wondered if a long ride was his way of dealing with the grief of losing his partner. He remembered the pain of losing his parents, of being the one left behind. That memory was the foundation for everything he did.
“Hey, Cass. You missed lunch.” Roy dismounted and removed a box from his saddlebag. “Tyler sent this along. Thought you might be hungry.”
Caught off guard by the remark, Cass opened the container and found two enormous sandwiches, an apple, and a cinnamon roll left over from breakfast.
“If I eat all this, I’m going to need a siesta,” he joked.
“Frank always said his boy could cook,” Roy said, using his partner’s given name.
Cass looked closely at the older man. Overlaying the sadness, there was an air of unmistakable pride as he spoke about Tyler. As if Gibby’s feelings had transferred to Roy upon his death.
“So, how are things going between you and Tyler? He was real worried about you not getting lunch,” Roy said.
“Don’t worry about Tyler,” Cass said around a mouthful of roast beef. “He’s going to stay on until the service, then head on his way. Maybe go down to Laughlin, he said.”
“No! He can’t do that. You can’t let him leave, that’s not what Frank wanted,” Roy said, and he looked perilously close to tears.
“What are you talking about? What do you mean, what Gibby wanted?” He dropped the sandwich back into the container and wiped his hand on his bandana.
Roy turned away and feigned an interest in the horses. “Frank always worried about you, Cass, wanted you to find a special someone. He said you had a hell of ranch, but you still needed a home. He meant with someone you loved. Partners, you know, like me and him.” A tear escaped from the corner of his eye, and Roy swiped it away.
Cass pretended not to notice, and said, “Shit, Roy that’s not me, and you know it. I’m perfectly happy the way things are. And what’s that got to do with Tyler?”
The old man’s chest rose and fell with a sigh. “Frank always said it would be perfect if he could get you and Tyler in the same room together. He said you were each running hard from something and if you could be made to stop for half a damn minute and talk to each other, you’d find the answer.”
“What the fuck, Roy? I ain’t never run from anything in my life,” he’d said with some heat. As if that would turn the lie to truth.
“He always wanted to get you two together, but he knew Tyler’d never go for it while he was in the Navy. You know, that don’t ask shit. Plus, something about his dad, but he never told me what that was about. Frank said that the only good thing about Tyler getting a medical discharge was now he could come home.”
As if suddenly in a great hurry, Roy mounted his horse, and looked down at him. The old man was clearly not finished with his surprising news.
“You know, Cass, you and Tyler were Frank’s two favorite people. I know he would be smiling in cowboy heaven if you could see your way to give Tyler a chance,” Roy said, and rode away before Cass could think of what else to say.
Gibby might have had some good intentions, but he was way off base this time. Blowing out a breath and dragging his fingers through his hair before jamming his hat back down, he realized this was a hell of a situation. Tyler was an unsuitable choice for a liaison for so many reasons. And it sure as hell wasn’t his responsibility to help the younger man come to terms with his sexuality.
Cass continued along the fence line, grateful that Demon seemed to sense his mood, and was content to meander, seeming to pay more attention to their surroundings than Cass was. Willow Springs Ranch had long been considered a sanctuary for misfit cowboys and livestock. Openly gay cowboys weren’t always accepted at other ranches, but they could always find a job and a home with him. He’d built four bunkhouses, with plenty of room for privacy, and he stayed out of how the men decided to divide up the space. Gay, straight, or bi, it didn’t matter to him, and anyone who had a problem with that was out of job. He’d be damned if anyone would have to hide his true nature out here.
This morning it had seemed a blessing to have Roy in the cook’s casita, since it provided a good excuse to keep Tyler in the main house with him. Now he realized it was a mistake to ask Ty to stay and take on cook duties. He knew better than to even consider getting involved with one of his men, but he’d temporarily let his dick do his thinking.
Of course, he could be worrying over nothing. Ty might decide to leave after a day or two at the isolated ranch. Life wasn’t easy out here. They might only be fifteen minutes by air to Laughlin, but it was a hell of a long drive. He’d been a fool this morning pushing Tyler to stay. Now, he needed to arrange for Gibby’s memorial at the earliest opportunity, and let the kid get on with his life. So Cass could get on with his own.
Chapter Four
The celebration of Frank “Gibby” Gibson started early. At the dinner table, the men shared stories of the old cook, and his sometimes cantankerous, but always bighearted nature. Ty realized the picture that emerged from these cowboys was of the same man who had taken him under his wing, all those years ago. Praise in public, reprimand in private, and never admit how much he cared. He hadn’t needed to. All the men around Gibby knew exactly where they stood with him. Generous to a fault, Gibby had always been there to lend a helping hand.
The tributes continued as they moved into the living room, and whisky started to flow. Tyler stood back, absorbing the stories, pride at the way the man he thought of as a surrogate father had touched so many lives. If only his real father— he pushed that thought angrily away.