Page 14 of Wistful in Wyoming
“Goddammit, Willow!” Jeremiah’s cheeks flamed. “What the hell? Why don’t you announce it to the whole friggin’ county while you’re at it, huh?”
“Clothes are a good place to start. Though if he opens the door naked, I doubt they’ll make it to dinner,” Nathan added from off screen.
“Nathan, not helping!”Fuck!Now he was thinking about being naked with Dale. Thank God Willow could only see him from his chest up because he was getting hard just thinking about her sexy foreman.
“Willow. Please. Concentrate and help me.” He chewed on his lower lip until he tasted blood. He was two seconds away from canceling with Dale, locking his doors, closing the curtains, and pretending he’d moved to Timbuktu.
“Okay, you have jeans on I assume?”
No way was he going to angle the camera down to show her his lower half, even though his nerves had his semi-erection deflating again. “Yeah, a new pair of blue jeans.”
“Where’s he taking you? And can I just say, I told you so? I’m so fucking excited for you two! I need all the details tomorrow!” God, she was like a squirrel, darting all over the place.
“Willow! Focus! We can talk about all this later. He’s going to be here soon, and I’m not dressed!” His voice kept rising along with his anxiety.How do people do this on a regular basis?His heart would never be able to survive if every date was going to be like this.
“You’re overthinking it. Wear that blue button-up I got you for Christmas—it makes your eyes pop. Your black hat because I know you won’t go without it even though your hair is gorgeous. You’ll be casual but dressy. Perfect. Don’t forget clean underwear—oh! Wear a jockstrap! Gay guys have a thing for those, right?”
Rolling his eyes, he prayed for patience. “Willow, I am not wearing a jock on a first date. Jesus woman, don’t believe everything you read in those romance novels.”
“Ha! You called it a jock—that means you have one!” Giggling like mad, Willow nearly dropped the phone.
He refused to think about his small collection of brightly colored jock straps and what Dale would think of them. Sex was off the table tonight. He was too keyed up to even contemplate it. He wanted to date and get to know Dale, do all the things couples did. Hold hands at the movies, go for ice cream, and take goofy selfies. He might never get a chance to experience this again, and he refused to complicate it by jumping into bed too fast. Even if the thought of having Dale in his bed made him hard as concrete. And even if it had been over a year since he’d had sex. The last time had been a sloppy blow-job in a bathroom stall with a nameless man who’s face he couldn’t remember. Fuck, that was so pathetic.
“Thanks for the help. Sort of, I guess.” Checking the time, he saw he was down to fifteen minutes. “Shit! I need to go.” Not waiting for her to respond—she would understand—he ended the call and tossed his phone onto his bed, which was currently piled with shirt choices. He grabbed the blue long-sleeved button-up and slipped it over his shoulders. Normally, he’d wear an undershirt, but the material was thick enough he didn’t think he needed one. He slapped on more deodorant, now that he was starting to sweat bullets again, and lightly sprayed his favorite cologne on his neck and chest before buttoning the shirt and tucking it in. His championship buckle sat heavy between his hips, and he almost took it off.
“Fuck it. I’m a cowboy—he knows that—if he doesn’t like it, too fuckin’ bad.” Sticking his phone into his back pocket, he grabbed his wallet, keys, and dress hat from a peg on the wall and headed downstairs. His booted foot stepped off the last stair just as there was a knock at the front door. He unsuccessfully attempted to swallow the lump forming in his throat, wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs, and moved toward the door on shaky legs.
He mumbled a pep talk to himself on the way. “Here goes nothing. There’s no going back now. Just don’t let the closet door hit you on the ass on the way out.”
* * *
Dale stoodon Jeremiah’s welcome mat, apprehension tightening his muscles until they were as taut as a guitar string, threatening to snap at any second. Jeremiah was someone special—he felt it in his bones. He just hoped neither of them screwed things up before they had a chance to see if it could be something more. They’d already had a rough start—now it was time to try and smooth it out.
The door opened, light spilling out and haloing the man standing in front of him. Jeremiah’s face was pale and a little green around the gills, but he was absolutely breathtaking.
“H-hey,” he stuttered, his obvious nerves making Dale smile.
“Hey, yourself. You look amazing.” Trailing his eyes down Jeremiah’s body, he noted the snug fit of his jeans and the belt buckle that show-cased his riding skills and drew attention to the enticing bulge behind his fly. Dropping his gaze to the tips of Jeremiah’s black dress boots, Dale took a long leisurely trek back up the man’s body, tracking the fit of his sky-blue shirt over his broad shoulders, thick arms, and wide chest. He licked his lips as lust flared deep in his gut. His gaze stopped at Jeremiah’s eyes, the sharp green blazing with desire as he gave Dale the same once-over. Dale had made similar choices with his own clothes, but all in black—jeans, a dress shirt that fit him perfectly, and his best boots. The only color was from the shiny, pearl snap buttons on his shirt.
“The man in black, huh? Don’t let Willow see you—she’ll make you sing Cash songs with her.” When their eyes met again, Jeremiah’s cheeks flamed before he ducked his head, letting his hat hide his face. “You look really good too.”
Laughing, Dale held out his hand. “Ready?” The question had a double meaning—he was asking more than just if Jeremiah was all set to go. Was he ready to take this monumental step?
Nodding, Jeremiah grasped his hand. His palm was a little sweaty, and there was a slight tremor, but it didn’t stop the electric awareness from zinging up Dale’s arm, just like it did every time they touched. Grinning, he paused long enough for Jeremiah to shut the front door, then tugged his date down the steps after him. “Come on, sexy cowboy. Let’s go.”
The drive to Redworth passed quickly, with Dale tapping his fingers on the wheel along with the music. He wanted to reach out and hold Jeremiah’s hand, or even better, have the other man scoot over to the middle of the bench seat, so he could drape an arm over his wide shoulders as he drove.
Jeremiah filled the silence with updates about the JP and the upcoming pregnancy checks they’d be doing. Dale did his best to listen, but he was nervous too. No, it wasn’t his first date—far from it—but if tonight didn’t go well or Jeremiah freaked out, it might be the end of them before they even got started.Now that I’ve got my head screwed on straight, I can be patient with him, but what if he jerks away from me? What if we see someone we know, and Jeremiah panics and runs?Dale could deal with hesitation, could understand it, but he didn’t think he’d be able to survive an outright public rejection.
Pulling into the parking lot of the Wagon Wheel, they had another fifteen minutes before their reservation time.
“We’re a little early—do you want to wait here or at the bar?” Dale asked, turning toward Jeremiah, who’d removed his hat during the ride and set it on his knee. The yellow glow from one of the lot’s lamps added a brilliant glimmer to his red hair, making him look as if he were wreathed in flames. Dale’s heart stuttered, then began to pound, and he didn’t give the man a chance to answer him. “Goddamn, you’re so beautiful.”
Jeremiah’s neck, face, and ears turned beet red, and he tilted his head down, his gaze dropping to his own lap. “No one’s ever called me beautiful before.”
Reaching out, Dale lifted Jeremiah’s chin with his fingertip. Even that small touch was electrifying. He knew then, in that pivotal moment, that Jeremiah was going to change everything he thought he knew about himself.
Everything.
