Long Tall Drink (6 page)

Ray froze.

Travis flashed a half smile and tilted his head to the side. “Excuse me.”

It took Ray a second to realize he had Travis trapped in the narrow walkway. He angled his body away and pressed his back up against the saddles. A horn dug into his spine as Travis moved past deliberately slow, taunting—the bastard. His magnetic gaze didn’t waver from Ray as he went.

Ray’s hip burned where Travis’s hand had been. Scorched right through the thick denim and branded the skin. He silently counted to five, cleared his throat, and followed.

“I want an answer, Travis.”

Travis regarded Ray. The light changed in his eyes like he was weighing how much he wanted to reveal. “Who was sitting beside me?”

“Ross and Jesse.”

“There you go.”

Ray frowned. “‘There you go’ what?”

Travis stepped in close, and once again Ray froze. Travis looked down into his eyes, searching, intense. He was close enough for Ray to see the bronze striations in those captivating green eyes, the darker rim around the outside of the iris, and those goddamned long, thick lashes. Travis reached over Ray’s shoulder, leaning even closer, a hairbreadth from touch. The man smelled of cedar leaf, ginger, and a hint of woodsy smoke. And damn if Ray didn’t want to press his nose to Travis’s neck and inhale, open his mouth and taste that tanned skin.

His entire body was strung tight, every nerve heightened into acute awareness, and there was no force behind his voice when he spoke. “Back the fuck off, Morgan.”

Travis smiled, seductive and cocky and knowing. His dancing, fiery gaze didn’t falter as he lifted a bridle from one of the hooks behind Ray and stepped back.

“Think about it, Ray. You’re an intelligent man.”

Travis dropped the bridle in a tack box on top of a collection of assorted grooming and training gear, a bucket of carrots wedged in the corner. He picked up the box and held it out for Ray. “Your tack, boss.”

Chapter Five

The day was coming to a close, and Travis was having trouble focusing on the ornery buckskin currently testing his boundaries.

Thoughts and images of a certain sexy rancher were taking up far too much of his available brain space. It had only been a few days, but he had to admit he truly enjoyed working with Ray. While they weren’t exactly working together, per se, they were working side by side. Relatively. And even though their training techniques were similar, Travis had picked up a couple of new tricks from the man. That right there didn’t happen often. In fact, Travis could count the number of times it had on one hand. It moved Ray yet another notch up in his estimation.

Travis had been paying more attention to Ray than he should, absorbing the man’s every detail and nuance, imprinting the musical cadence and inflections of his deep, rough voice. Learning the man from a distance. And he knew without a doubt the feeling was mutual. Travis hadn’t missed the surreptitious glances, the sudden darting of eyes to avoid being caught watching, and the throat clearing and slightly flushed cheeks when he had.

Not to mention the spike in atmosphere in the tack room earlier, when Travis had laid his hand on Ray’s hip and invaded his space. He’d had Ray on the edge.

And damn if that didn’t completely turn Travis on.

The man put out a hard, uncompromising air, but Travis knew that was only for show. He’d observed the sensitive hand Ray used with the horses he trained and how quickly those horses trusted him. It was also clear how much Ray respected and cared for Dot, respected the men who worked on his ranch. Ray cared more than he let on. Travis had come across more than one genuinely hard man in his life, and there was nothing gentle or kind to be found in them. Those men were born that way, whereas Ray wore it like a shield. And Travis understood why.

If he weren’t in a situation where people knew who he was, if he hadn’t just had the shit beat out of him back in North Dakota, Travis would have already had Ray under him faster than a rodeo bronco out of the chute.

But folks did know him here. And Ray was his boss. It wasn’t just his reputation at stake. Ray had even more to lose if they were caught.

And the recent beating was still too fresh in Travis’s memory.

He’d been on the Double Diamond Ranch for barely a week, but his warning signals had been flashing and ringing from day one. He’d known better than to go against his infallible intuition, so why he’d ignored it that time, he couldn’t say.

The moment he’d been introduced to the hands, the atmosphere had turned frosty. Not one person, aside from his boss and the cook, had spoken to him unless absolutely necessary. He’d been disappointed at having to quit so soon after starting but knew he was jeopardizing his life by being there.

Travis had hefted his duffel bag—that hadn’t even been unpacked—over his shoulder and hightailed it out of there. Things would have been okay if he hadn’t stopped at a local pub for a couple shots of tequila, if he’d kept going until he’d cleared the state line. But he’d needed something to take the edge off while he worked out what to do next, where to go. And that was when it had all gone south. He knew he wasn’t getting out of North Dakota without at least one broken bone when he’d heard “Looky here, fellas. It’s the Brokeback cowboy” behind him.

Travis had looked up into the mirror behind the bar and counted five men from the Double Diamond in its reflection. He was a fighter, more than confident in a one- or two-on-one, possibly even a three-on-one, but five?

Life may have thrown him more curveballs than most, but he was far from suicidal. He knew when he didn’t have a chance and found no shame in walking away.

He’d slid a couple of bills to the bartender and ordered five more shots for his
friends
. When the bartender had lined the drinks up and called the bewildered men forward, Travis had shot back his last tequila and slipped away quietly while the ranch hands indulged.

He’d made it two miles down the road before he’d finally breathed a long sigh of relief. Unfortunately it had been too soon. If only there had been at least one passing vehicle he could have hitched a ride with.

The Double Diamond hands had caught up to him, banked their truck hard onto the shoulder, and piled out ready to rumble.

Travis unconsciously rubbed a hand over his ribs at the memory.

But that was Double Diamond and this was Ford Creek. He’d been welcomed here without question or reservation. With the exception of Sam Davis, that is.

Travis stole another glance over his shoulder. Ray was leading a sturdy-looking paint back to the corral on his way to swap for another steed. For such a solid man, his stride was effortlessly fluid.

Logically, Travis knew they both had far too much to lose to take the risk, but it didn’t stop his mind from coming up with a way around it. There was no denying they were attracted to one another, and they both had reputations neither wanted damaged or destroyed. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t take advantage of the situation regardless. They were both mature and experienced enough to stay under the radar. Ray had obviously done so thus far without the slightest hint of rumor or speculation. It would be mutually beneficial for the both of them, and it would only be for a few months.

The tension was already growing at a rapid pace between them, and it was only a matter of time before one of them snapped. Even though the urge to move on hadn’t struck yet, Travis knew he wouldn’t be able to stay put longer than a few months anyway—never could.

Mind made up, Travis turned back to his charge, feeling a little more relaxed and able to focus clearly once again.

Turned out the ornery buckskin wasn’t so ornery after all. Not once the animal figured out who was in charge. Travis finally had the gelding following him obediently around the pen when he heard an aggressive bray from the other ring. A heavy, thudding crash against aluminum railings followed. He whipped around just in time to see Diablo rearing, raking his hooves through the air, ears flat back, nostrils flared—and Ray on the ground against the rails.

Impulse and adrenaline catapulted Travis up and over the six-foot fence as though it were nothing more than a highway guardrail. There were less than two hundred yards between the round pens, but it may as well have been two miles. Travis’s boots felt weighted with cement as he ran.

“Ray! Get out of there!”

A furious Diablo charged at Travis—ears flat back, teeth bared—when he grabbed the rails and started to climb over. Ray didn’t even flinch. Just shot a quick glance over his shoulder and raised one hand, signaling Travis to stop. The warning in his expressive eyes was stern and immutable, his voice level and forceful when he said, “Stop.”

“Stop? What the hell—”

“Unless you want to lose a limb,” Ray said, his voice unchanging, “I suggest you back away from the fence.”

“Dammit, Ray. You need to get out of that pen.”

“And you need to back off.”

“That horse is going to kill you.” Travis had yet to break his stuck-to-the-fence-like-Velcro imitation, his voice pitched a touch high.

Ray cracked an infuriating half grin, and his eyes twinkled. “No, he isn’t. You’re just pissing him off.”

The stubborn son of a bitch thought this was a game? He didn’t know what Ray had been drinking, but whatever it was it had clearly impaired the man’s judgment.

“Fuck that. I’m coming in.” Travis made to move up another rail, intent on pulling Ray’s dumb ass out of the ring. Diablo charged again with an angry squeal.

“You can stay right where you are, Morgan.” Ray’s rough voice cracked like a whip, the twinkle gone from his eyes. “Better yet, go back to your own horse.”

Diablo tossed his head and stamped the ground in agreement, attention focused on Travis.

“Ray—”

“Go.” The stubborn man shook his head once and turned back to the dangerous stallion.

With a frustrated sigh, Travis jumped off the fence and took one step back to appease Ray and the angered horse, but he was reluctant to leave the rancher alone. Just in case. “I’m staying right here.”

Ray didn’t respond.

Travis crouched down to make himself less threatening to Diablo and willed the pounding in his ears and rapid, short breaths that made his throat drier than the Nevada desert to settle down.

At that first, quick glance, Travis had thought Ray was in serious danger, and panic had immediately set in, coloring what he’d actually seen.

Now that the disconcerting blinders were off, the ones he didn’t want to think too much about, he could see what had really been going on.

Ray had been sitting on the ground—as he still was—cross-legged, hands palm up on his knees as though mediating, with his back against the rails. His posture relaxed, his shoulders rose and fell with an easy, even rhythm. He had simply been waiting Diablo out, letting the horse act out until he settled on his own.

The less threatening Ray was, the less aggressive the horse would be. Travis shook his head. He practiced the same tension and release and approach and retreat methods as Ray, but sitting on the ground, that vulnerable to an angry twelve-hundred-pound animal, was taking it a bit too far.

And he was damn well going to give the man a piece of his mind for it later.

Gradually Diablo’s volatility meter began to ease back to the right. The rearing became a stamping of the earth, snorting, and head tossing, which then settled back further to a few snorts and head tosses. Then the animal stood his ground looking anywhere but at Ray. Tension Travis hadn’t realized his body had been holding finally released when the big horse lowered his head and looked at Ray with a calmer air.

“Hand me a carrot,” Ray said, his voice low and even. The man hadn’t moved a muscle the entire time Diablo had put on his show.

Travis turned to the bucket of carrots a few feet away and reached for one. He placed it in the open, waiting palm. His fingers brushed the skin, brief and gentle, as he retreated. Ray’s shoulders tensed infinitesimally, then settled back. Travis smiled at the telling reaction. That small touch had affected Ray as strongly as if Travis had grabbed hold and squeezed tight.

Ray broke the carrot in two and placed one half on each palm. Then lowered his hands back to his knees and resumed his Zen-Buddha routine.

Half an hour later Travis was smiling, and his chest swelled with pride as he watched Ray standing in the middle of the pen. Diablo’s neck was draped over his shoulder as he nibbled at Ray’s shirt while Ray scrubbed the big animal’s jaw. The horse had tugged at the shirt enough that it had come loose of his jeans. Nibbling again, Diablo pulled the shirt up enough to expose a flat stomach, pale skin, and a trail of dark hair that disappeared into the jeans waistband.

Travis unconsciously licked his lips.

Ray chuckled softly at Diablo’s antics and murmured inaudible, low-toned, dulcet words of praise in the now tame-as-a-kitten animal’s ear.

A sudden screaming thought slammed into Travis’s brain that had him instantly straining and uncomfortable against the zippered fly of his jeans: Ray would be an amazing lover.

Ray sat in a chair on the front porch, absently chewing on a cinnamon stick as he waited for the men to come in for dinner. More specifically, waiting for Travis.

He had a bone to pick with the man.

Wind chimes trilled melodically in the dying evening breeze. The temperature had dropped as the sun began its descent, but warmth crept into his chest and fanned out as he recalled the afternoon. How panicked Travis had looked when he’d come charging to the pen when Diablo was playing his games. Charging to Ray’s rescue. He couldn’t ignore the feelings of pride and desire that the action had sent spiraling through his nervous system, but he could push them aside, force them into the background.

Travis came around the side of the barn with that unmistakable swagger of his, Jesse Davis in tow. Though he couldn’t make out the words, the harmony of their voices carried across the yard—Travis’s deep baritone and Jesse’s eager tenor. Jesse kept looking up at Travis as he spoke, hanging on his every word. Travis laughed at something Jesse said, and the sound reverberated in Ray’s chest, a sound he wanted to hear again, to cause. A ping of some strange emotion he refused to identify bubbled below the surface. Ray narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched the two men approach.