Page 70 of Brett and Rowdy
“I do too, Rosarita.”
Sooner or later, everyone filed out, including Rose, who bustled off to do some laundry.
Brett refilled his coffee, then sat across from him again. The man seemed to have a hard time sitting when Rose or Madison were standing.
“This is a crazy place at breakfast. Is it that way all day?”
“Off and on.” He chuckled. “Supper is more just the family, and the hands have their own cook, but if someone comes up to do business with me or Pappy or Maddie, they stay for lunch.” It worked for him; he was never lonely.
But Brett was a different thing. This was something just for him. Someone he wanted to be with in bed and hopefully out. And he hoped Brett felt the same way.
“What about you, darlin’? Did you sleep all right?”
“I slept like a log,” Brett said, reaching over to touch the back of his hand.
His skin tingled, his whole body lighting up from it. “Good deal. I did too. Being in my own bed and all.”
“Your bed is pretty darn comfortable, man.” Brett scooted closer, his chair scraping on the floor a little. “I can’t wait to see the rest of everything.”
A soft woof sounded, and Mr. Mann came clicking over.
“But first, I have to escort my dog outside. He thinks he needs a bodyguard. The great llama and sheep incident, you know.” Brett rose, dropping a kiss on his forehead before he moved around to let Mr. Mann out the back door. Brett hummed a tuneless little song, sounding very pleased with life, and he had to smile.
He didn’t think he’d spent any time with adult Brett so far where there wasn’t a kind of fine tension in him, but today, he read as relaxed and happy.
“How did Mr. Mann do last night?” he called. He didn’t think the long-eared weirdo had tried to get up in bed with them…
“He slept good. Never woke me up, anyway. And he’s pretty good about making me get up to let him out if he needs it.”
“Sounds great.” Barney was leaning on his leg suddenly, and he leaned down to rub those alert ears. “Am I talking aboutun otrodog, buddy. Not nice, huh?”
“Your Spanglish is showing,” Brett teased when he came to sit back down. “Mr. Mann has decided he can explore. Hey, Barney.”
“So, what all do you want to do today, darlin’?” Rowdy asked.
“I don’t know what there is to do, honey.” Brett chuckled, the sound warm. “Put me to work if you need to.”
“Oh, I reckon there will be a million weird little things people need from me all day, but that’s no problem. I figure I can justspend the day showing you around. And if you want to get some more stuff for Mr. Mann, we can either make an order from the feed store or we can run into town. Even I can give you directions to drive that.”
“I am supremely easy,” Brett said, and he thought the man might be stretching. He pictured that in his head, all that sweet muscle sliding under Brett’s skin.
Brett was stacked to the damn ceiling.
“Well, I don’t know about that…” he teased. “But you are kinda on vacay.”
“I am. Until you take me to the galleries in Santa Fe.”
They’d talked about that a lot after the Cattleman’s incident. Brett needed to go do some selling. “You need to get that portfolio together.” Brett was going to print some pictures of his stuff on good photo paper and make a little portfolio to carry to galleries.
“I know, I know. Portfolio. Got it. Also, I think I hate your end tables and your coffee table.”
“You do?”
“I do hate them.” Brett chuckled softly. And then. “So I’m going to make you some or bring you something that suits you better and reflect well on me. I can’t possibly be seen with someone with such shitty taste in tables.”
“Good to know.” He couldn’t stop laughing, a simple joy filling him, top to bottom. “All right. I would be more than happy to be the recipient of some of your art because, you know, it makes me stupidly happy.”
“I do. So now? Tell me about your ranch.”
