Page 14 of Cowboy Dreams

“I wondered if it was just me.” I meant to leave the comment at that, but heard myself say, “He knew I’d been at Max’s.”

“Fuck, that’s Morse. Yeah, that car stands out. And Morse is not a friend of us queers.”

“How about the sheriff?” Because if all the law in this county was like Morse, I’d need to rethink my plans.

“Sheriff Breyer’s okay. He’s not waving any rainbow flags but he’s not pulling them down neither. He’s well respected, and most of the deputies follow his lead, but Morse was on the force before Breyer ever came here. The last sheriff was a mite hidebound, you might say.”

“Or I might say a bigot?”

“Might. He got on with Morse real good but that was over ten years back. Retired now and moved to Florida.”

I hope he likes it down there. He could take Morse with him.“That’s something.”

Joe tipped off his hat and met my eyes. “You wanna call tonight off? Tangling with the law can be hard on the nerves. Been there.”

I thought about a young Joe sitting in his truck while Morse and the old sheriff decided what to do with him. The idea made me rabid. “No, I’m not calling this off.”

“Good to hear. Inside, then?”

“Sure.” I led the way, hearing Joe’s boot heels click on my floors.

Upstairs, into my room, then Joe shut the door behind us. Hell, yes, I was doing this. I needed something to wipe the taste of that traffic stop from my mouth. Maybe on my knees. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, the electric current of anger still riding every nerve. I stripped off my clothes, tossing them at the chair without caring when my sweater hit the floor. I turned and Joe was standing there, his boots toed off by the door but otherwise still dressed. “Well, are you joining me?” I realized I’d barked the question when Joe frowned.

He took off his Stetson, turning it in his hands for a moment before setting it on the dresser. “What do you need?” he asked me. “You want to boss me around, own my ass? I’d be good with that.”

Do I?Topping would give me back a measure of control I suddenly craved, but I wasn’t sure I could be gentle with Joe tonight.

“I don’t need gentle,” Joe said as if he could read my mind. “I don’t break. Ask half a dozen broncs and a steer or twenty.”

“Have you ever broken a bone?” I queried, staving off the decision.

“Sure, a few over the years. Guess I should say I don’t break worse than I can heal.”

I paced a couple of steps to the window and back, the wood floor cool under my bare feet. “I don’t know what I want.”

Joe came to me. He ran those work-rough palms from my shoulders down my arms, then took my hands, tracing the veins on the backs with his thumbs. One after the other, he lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “Maybe you can let me take care of you, just for one night. Lie back on that big bed like a prince and let me do the work.”

I meant to refuse, to tell Joe that passive was never going to be my thing, but fatigue swept over me like a wave. The bed was right there. I could lie back and let Joe make the effort. Would that be a bad thing?

Guess I was going to find out. I stripped off my briefs and pulled the covers to the foot of the bed, then stretched out on my back, my head propped on pillows so I could see, arms at my sides. “Go for it.” My dick wasn’t hard, but a stirring in my groin said with enough time and enough Joe, that would change.

Joe tugged off one sock and then the other, stuffing them in his boots. I liked the sight of his long, knobby, bare feet below the hems of his faded, boot-cut jeans. He came over to my side, just out of reach, and put his fingers on his buttons. “Shirt on or off?”

“Off,” I told him. The flannel hid the good stuff, even if he wore this one snugger than a working man usually might. “Keep the jeans, though.”

“You like these?” He slanted a look at me as he unbuttoned his shirt and continued the movement of his hands to touch his belt buckle and brush down his fly.

“I do. Get that shirt off.”

“You looking for somewhere in betweenboss me aroundandlie back like a prince?” He slid the flannel off his shoulders and down his arms, taking his time about freeing himself from the sleeves. Then he pitched it, soft underhand, to land on my face.

I should’ve been peeved, maybe yanked the shirt away, but the scent of his skin and sweat and the faint overlay of horses and hay soothed my soul. I closed my eyes and breathed, there in the darkness.

The weight on my face vanished and light brightened behind my eyelids. I looked up. Joe’s storm-gray eyes peered into mine from a few inches away.

“Hey,” he murmured. “You with me?”

“Are you with me,my prince?” I teased and was glad to see him smile.

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