Page 35 of His Accidental Cowboy

“In Claire County, yeah. I was headed in this direction the night we met, and I just happened to get the interview with Brand the day after. I didn’t lie about not being exactly sure where I was heading.” His lower body jerked and then he laughed. “Sorry, phone vibrated.” He pulled it out and checked the message. “Ramie’s checking on me because I didn’t come home last night.”

“Ramie’s good people.”

“I like her a lot. She’s like a big sister.” Wyatt thumbed out a text faster than anyone Jackson had ever seen. “Just told her I’m fine, crashed with a new friend.” He looked up, eyes uncertain. “We are friends now, right? Real friends? I’m not just some dumb, inexperienced kid you’re teaching to be a cowboy?”

“You might be inexperienced in some things, Wyatt, but you are far from dumb. Don’t ever devalue yourself, okay? Everyone’s got their own set of skills, and we all use them the best we can. Maybe you ain’t so great at roping, but I bet you could run circles around me when it comes to anything besides basic math.”

“Probably so, but math doesn’t help me learn how to rope a steer any faster.”

“Guess not. So you got any leads on who your old man might be?”

Wyatt turned his head, attention back on the vast land ahead of them and the broken road leading to a town far beyond the horizon. “I trust you, Jackson, but right now I don’t want any help with that. I could be completely wrong about things.”

“I respect that. But if you do need help, ask me. I’ve been around here a long time and know a lotta people.”

“Thanks. I mean it, Jackson, thank you. It’s nice having a friend nearby. My best friend Jared is supportive of me coming out here, but he doesn’t get it. He thinks I should just let everything go and move on. But his bio parents are still together and happily married, so I can’t really talk to him about it. Not knowing your roots. But you get it.”

“On some level, I do. If finding your past is what will help you walk into the future with confidence, then find it. Even if it’s not what you’re hoping for, I do hope you get the answers you want.”

“Me too.” He flashed Jackson a familiar, flirty smile. “I’d be melodramatic and say if I don’t find those answers, then I’ll have just wasted my time. But I met you, so either way I got something great out of this whole experience.”

“Yes, you did.”

Wyatt swatted playfully at his ass. Jackson leaped off the tailgate and wandered a few feet toward the gulch. Plucked a long blade of grass and as he twirled it between his fingertips, an old trick Kirby taught him eons ago came back. It took Jackson a minute to get his thumbs and the grass positioned just right. He raised his hands to his mouth and blew. A reedy, high-pitched whistling sound came out and he smiled.

“Dude, what did you just do?” Wyatt asked.

“You ain’t never whistled with a piece of grass?”

“No.” He got up and walked over to Jackson. “Do it again.”

Amused, Jackson did, pulling out a louder sound this time. “Want me to show you how?”

“Hell yeah. Sweet.”

It took Wyatt a while to get the hang of it, but once Jackson taught him the right way to hold the grass and his thumbs, the kid managed a decent squawk of sound. They messed around for a while, trying to match the music still playing on the radio, and with different pieces of grass. Wyatt grinned and laughed like a kid without a care in the world and, in some ways, it reminded Jackson of the day he’d learned. Of the awe he’d felt watching Kirby make music out of something as simple as a blade of grass.

One of the few beautiful, magical moments of his childhood.

“This is so cool,” Wyatt said. “I can’t wait to show Jared. Do you know any other tricks?”

Jackson stuck the thumb and forefinger of his left hand into his mouth and whistled so loud Wyatt covered both ears with his hands. “How’s that?”

“Fuck, dude, that’s loud. Wow.”

“It takes a lot of practice. Maybe I’ll show you another day.”

“Cool. You’re a good teacher. Anything else you want to teach me today? Maybe back in your motel room?”

The heat in Wyatt’s eyes obliterated Jackson’s ability to say no, and he hustled them both back into the truck. Their second round lasted longer than the first had, with Wyatt taking more time exploring Jackson’s body: his neck and pits and chest and groin, even his feet, which were ticklish. Wyatt fucked him with two fingers so slowly that Jackson’s impatience won out. He flipped their positions, sat on Wyatt’s chest and put his cock-warming skills to great use. Wyatt thrashed but had no real purchase to toss Jackson off. All he could do was take the torture.

And Jackson tortured him, dragging Wyatt to the edge of orgasm, then backing him off, until Wyatt was a blubbering mess demanding to come. When Jackson released him and moved to his hands and knees, Wyatt barely had the coordination or patience to get the condom on before shoving inside on a long, steady thrust that Jackson felt in the back of his throat.

It was fucking awesome.

Wyatt eventually came on a long, low moan, his chest collapsing onto Jackson’s back. On the edge of coming himself, Jackson waited for Wyatt to slither onto his back, then crouched over him. When Wyatt opened his mouth, Jackson fucked shallowly inside, wanting the heat and pressure but not to choke the kid. Jackson warned him, but Wyatt swallowed his load with a lazy grin that made Jackson’s belly squirm with something new and kind of scary. Affection.

After a quick cleanup, they both napped and Jackson woke with the sun setting. Almost dinnertime and time for their daylong maybe-date to end. The entire affair had lasted longer than Jackson had anticipated when he’d scraped Wyatt up off the parking lot and brought him home. It had been the best, oddest day Jackson had had in a long damned time and he didn’t regret a thing.

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