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Authors: Scotty Cade

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BOOK: Final Encore
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bookcases framed both sides of the fireplace, and a

large flat panel television hung above the stone mantel.

The room was painted a light golden tan and furnished

with a large brown leather U-shaped sectional in the

center surrounding a beveled glass cocktail table with a

mahogany pedestal base. Everything sat on top of a

large cowhide rug that made the space seem cozy and

intimate. To the left was a very spacious kitchen with

wraparound granite countertops and stainless steel

industrial appliances. The breakfast bar faced the great

room with four leather upholstered barstools with

copper-studded nailheads.

Bily immediately headed for the couch and gently

lowered Ian onto it. As he began to stand, he was

stopped by a pair of hands tugging on his shirt. He

stopped long enough to get his balance and felt Ian’s

lips against his. In a flash, Bily was kissing him back,

and when they finaly broke apart, Bily grabbed one

last kiss and stood.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Bedroom? Now you hold on one minute,

cowboy,” Ian said.

Bily laughed and said, “Don’t flatter yourself; I

just want to get you some dry clothes.”

Ian laughed. “Oh, is that al? I was so trying to

play hard to get.”

Ian told Bily he could find his bedroom upstairs,

second door to the left, and explained where he could

find some underwear, socks, a T-shirt, and gym shorts.

On the way to the mahogany-railed staircase, Bily

passed a half bathroom on the right and continued on to

what he assumed was Ian’s home office. The room was

handsomely decorated with a large leather-topped

Chippendale oak desk and matching leather desk chair.

As Bily quickly scanned the room, he noticed a

console behind the desk that housed Ian’s computer

and CD player, and in front of the desk stood two

leather side chairs. The room had very high ceilings and

was surrounded by floor-to-ceiling oak bookcases.

Attached to the bookcases, three quarters of the way

up, was a round brass rail that folowed the bookcases

around the room. Attached to the brass rails was an

oak ladder on rolers that Bily knew was designed to

reach the top shelves. The shelves were filed with what

seemed like an endless supply of books, awards, and

accessories.

Bily hurried up the stairs and quickly found the

open door to Ian’s bedroom. He entered a very large

two-level room. Along the right wal was a king-sized

four poster bed with large marble-topped bedside

tables. To the far left was a nook that held a massive

armoire, and immediately to the right of the door was a

matching dresser and gold-gilded mirror. Directly

across from the bed was a second level to the room,

one step up, with two overstuffed upholstered

wingback chairs that sat in front of a fireplace. He made

his way to the door he assumed was the closet and

entered a room at least sixteen by sixteen feet with wal-

to-wal clothes racks and an island in the center that

held drawer units on al four sides. Bily felt a little like a

voyeur rummaging through Ian’s closet; after al, he

hardly knew him. He immediately stopped looking

around and got to the task at hand. He found the

underwear and socks exactly where Ian had said they

would be, and as promised, the next drawer down had

the T-shirts, and in the drawer to the right were the gym

shorts.

When Bily got back downstairs, he found that

Ian had already removed his wet shirt, belt, and walet

and was about to remove his left boot. Bily stopped for

just a minute to observe the tanned, topless Ian. Ian’s

chest was exactly how he had imagined it, smooth,

hairless, and very cut. His pumped-up arms were very

wel defined, and Bily made a mental note that he

needed to go back to the gym. When Ian saw Bily, he

stopped unlacing his boot and looked up. His right foot,

stil in his boot, was propped up on one of the leather

ottomans.

“Let me help with that,” Bily said.

“That was quick,” said Ian.

“Your instructions were dead-on.”

“Thanks,” Ian replied.

Bily quickly finished unlacing Ian’s left boot and

attempted to pul it off. His boot and sock were stil

very wet, so the boot didn’t give way easily but

eventualy came off. When Bily removed the sock,

Ian’s foot and toes were shriveled like prunes.

“We’l get you dry and warmed up as soon as I

get the other boot off,” Bily said with a little bit of

sadness on his face. “It wil probably hurt a bit.”

As Bily was bending down to remove Ian’s boot,

he thought back to his Eagle Scout days and

remembered that as soon as the boot came off, the foot

would begin to swel very quickly.

“Wait a second,” Bily said, and he headed to the

kitchen. “Do you have any plastic bags?”

“Yep, third drawer down on the left,” Ian said.

Bily found the bags and turned to the freezer,

filing a bag with ice and sealing it before heading back

to Ian. He slowly unlaced Ian’s boot, thankful he had

worn laced-up Ropers instead of a traditional boot.

Ian had winced only once or twice by the time

Bily was finished unlacing.

“Okay, this is it,” Bily said.

“Go for it,” Ian replied, and Bily started to pul

the boot off.

Bily’s heart was breaking as he saw the pain on

Ian’s face, but Ian didn’t say a word. He closed his

eyes and pressed his lips together and held on to the

arms of the couch.

Ian’s right boot didn’t give way any more easily

than the left. When the boot finaly skidded off, Ian and

Bily both took deep breaths, and Ian finaly relaxed his

grip on the couch and tried to smile.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Ian said as a single tear

slipped out of his left eye.

Bily reached up and wiped the tear away with his

thumb.

“I’m realy sorry, Ian.”

“No need to be sorry,” Ian said. “It was my

decision not to go to the hospital, remember?”

Bily just shook his head. “One more step,” he

said, and they looked at each other as they

simultaneously said, “the sock.”

With the boot now gone, Ian’s ankle immediately

blew up like a baloon. His sock was stretched as tight

as a sausage skin, and Bily doubted he could get it off

without realy hurting Ian.

“Wait, I have an idea,” Bily said.

“I’m waiting,” Ian responded.

“Do you have any scissors?”

“Yeah, in the office, top left drawer of the desk,”

Ian responded.

Bily was there and back in seconds and began to

cut the sock away. He started at the top and worked

his way down, puling the sock apart as he went. As the

cloth fel away from Ian’s ankle, Bily could see the

purple and yelow coloring starting to work its way up.

He stopped cutting when he reached Ian’s toes and the

wet sock fel to the ottoman.

“Genius,” Ian said, and it was Bily’s turn to smile.

With the boot and sock off, Bily could see how

bad the sprain realy was.

He took the bag of ice and lightly placed it on the

top of Ian’s ankle. “Twenty minutes on and twenty

minutes off, no more, no less.” Ian winced once more

but kept his foot stil.

“It’s a good thing you were wearing lace-up

boots,” Bily said, “or we would have had to cut the

boot off as wel.”

“Tomorrow, I’m buying stock in Justin Boots,”

Ian laughed.

“We’ve got to get you out of these wet clothes.

Put this on,” Bily said as he handed Ian the dry T-shirt.

“Now the pants, and no wisecracks this time.” Ian

laughed and started to unbutton his jeans.

Bily motioned for him to lift up just a little, and

Bily slid Ian’s pants down over his thighs to his ankles.

He removed the icepack just long enough to slide the

pants over the now totaly black, blue,
and very swolen

ankle. He replaced the icepack and slid the other leg of

Ian’s pants over his left foot.

When Bily looked up, Ian sat in a T-shirt and

underwear. His bare legs were thick, long, and

muscular and were covered in soft blond hair. Staring,

Bily was startled when Ian said, “Now what?”

“You know what,” Bily responded. “The

underwear, but I’l give you some privacy for that

move. Do you think you can manage?”

“I think so,” Ian replied. “But you need to get out

of your wet clothes too.”

“Okay,” Bily said. “I’l be back in a flash.”

Bily ran downstairs to Ian’s SUV to gather the

clothes and sneakers he’d brought from the ranch. He

went to the half bath he’d seen earlier and changed out

of his wet clothes. When he returned to the living room

in bare feet, dry jeans, and a T-shirt, Ian had his

underwear changed and had managed to slip on his gym

shorts.

“Good job,” Bily said.

“Hey, I had a lot of help,” Ian responded.

Bily grabbed a chenile throw from the back of

the couch and threw it over Ian’s legs.

“Now,” he said, “let’s get a fire going to warm

you up.”

“I know of another way I can be warmed up,”

Ian responded.

“Al in good time,” Bily said with a sly smile as he

kissed him lightly on the forehead. “Now that I have

you secure with no chance of escape, I can take my

time and torture you a little.”

Bily found everything he needed and within

minutes had a blazing fire going. Twenty minutes had

passed, so he removed the icepack from Ian’s ankle

and placed it in the freezer until another twenty minutes

passed, when it would be time to put it back on. He

watched as Ian’s eyes folowed him around the room

with the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

Bily brushed his hands together and said, “Now,

let’s see what I can rustle up for dinner.”

“I can’t guarantee you’l find much in the kitchen,”

Ian said, “I don’t cook very often.”

“I’l come up with something. Let me look around

a bit.”

Ian watched from the living room as Bily opened

and closed cupboards and drawers and found his way

to the pantry. After rummaging around, he came out

with two jars of spaghetti sauce and a box of angel hair

pasta. He opened the freezer and found a loaf of bread,

located the spice drawer, and retrieved a jar of garlic

powder.

“How’s pasta primavera and garlic bread?” Bily

asked.

“Sounds great to me,” Ian responded.

“Do you have a wine opener?”

“Yeah, but unfortunately, I’m out of wine,” Ian

said.

“Not true. I grabbed the bottle of red wine I

stashed for today’s ride when we switched vehicles.”

“You’re one smart man, Bily Eagan.”

“Don’t I know it,” Bily said with a smile.

Within minutes, Bily was walking over to Ian with

a glass of wine.

“Now for some mood music. Where’s the

stereo?”

Ian pointed to the cabinet doors at the bottom of

the built-ins on the left side of the fireplace. Bily turned

on the radio, which was tuned to 97.9 WSIX,

Nashvile’s finest, and stood back to listen to what was

playing. He identified Ty Herndon singing “Steam” and

looked over at Ian to see if he approved.

“Perfect,” said Ian.

Bily went back to the couch, kissed Ian on the

lips, glanced at his watch to make sure it wasn’t time to

reapply the icepack, and went back to the kitchen to

start dinner.

“I feel like such a slug,” Ian said.

“Nonsense, this is pretty fun,” replied Bily.

“Maybe for you, but I’m the helpless one,

remember.”

“Just the way I like it,” Bily said in his best mad

scientist shtick.

BOOK: Final Encore
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