Strung Up: A Blacktop Cowboys® Novella (10 page)

“I went because I’d bought tickets and prepaid my hotel room a year in advance. When I didn’t dress like a cowboy or act like king of the damn rodeo, I wasn’t on anyone’s radar. I’d had two days of anonymous in the stands. On the third day—night—whatever, I hit this dive diner that’s off the strip. I sat up at the counter like I always did. Again, nothin’ about me said cowboy.”

I felt him smile against my skin as he pinched my ass. “Hate to break it to you, dude, but everything about you screams cowboy. Even when you’re nekkid. But go on.”

 “So this hot young guy, probably your age, sits two chairs away and strikes up a conversation with me.”

“You didn’t think that was suspicious?”

“Nope. Bullshitting with strangers about random stuff is the hallmark of this diner. We kept talkin’ even after our food arrived and he moved over to the seat next to mine. Just from the way he looked at me, I knew he was interested. And I hadn’t gotten laid for six fucking months. I suggested we hook up and he immediately said yes.”

As I struggled to get through this next part, Cres waited, keeping up those tender touches I could easily get addicted to.

“I followed this guy outside and around the back of the building and found myself in a blanket party.”

My heart thundered remembering the scratchy wool saddle blanket being pulled over my head. The absolute darkness. The lack of air. The ball-shrinking fear I was about to pay the ultimate price for wanting a few hours of companionship and someone to touch me. “When they started to drag me to the empty field behind the restaurant, I fought back with everything I had.”

“Do you know how many guys were involved?”

“Around ten. Took every one of those fuckers to take me down.” Stupid point of pride for me, but there it was. I forced myself to take a deep breath. “Even with the blanket over my head I recognized a few of the voices as guys I’d known on the circuit. Some of the shit they said to me…they were seriously sick motherfuckers. I didn’t hear it all because they had the blanket around my neck too tight and I passed out. That part wasn’t intentional because when I came to, they were arguing about not accidently killin’ me. Before I felt any relief I wasn’t about to die, they cut my shirt off, tied my wrists together in front of me and draped my arms over a fence post. I made the mistake of tryin’ to get free and ended up slicing the shit out of my forearm on the barbed wire. So I knew whatever they’d planned to do to me, I’d just have to stand there and fucking take it.” I flinched even now when I recalled the whistling sound of the bullwhip right before the loud crack of leather connecting with my flesh.

“Breck,” he breathed in my ear. “You’re safe here with me. You don’t have to talk about it if you can’t.”

“I’ve never told anyone about this, Cres. So just…give me a second.”

“Sure. Take your time. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Out of sheer mortification, I continued to face away from him. “One guy laid into me with the whip while his drunken cohorts laid into me about my perversions and bein’ an embarrassment to all decent rodeo cowboys. One dickhead called the open gashes a ‘bloodletting.’ Assholes laughed like fuckin’ donkeys about that. Another asswipe said our ancestors had it right. A sicko with my predilection would’ve been strung up as a warning to others.”

“These are the same ancestors that thought slavery was A-Okay,” he sneered.

“Right. Then they yanked me from the fence post and tossed me on the ground.” Bile rose in my throat. My stomach churned and no matter how rigid I held my body, I started to shake when I remembered the thick taste of my fear and the loathing they leveled on me. “Their final humiliation was they each pretended to fuck me. Grinding their groins against my ass, pumping their hips into my face. Tellin’ me I deserved to choke to death on a dick. Askin’ if that was how I liked to get fucked. Calling’ me a filthy butt fucker, a disgusting ass licker, a sinning sodomite, a cocksucking pervert…”

Cres rolled me over and wrapped himself around me. “Stop,” he said hoarsely. “Take a break. Jesus, Breck, you’re shaking like you’re about to go into shock.” He pulled the covers over us. “C’mere. For chrissake, let me warm you up.”

I pressed my cheek against Cres’s chest, letting the steady beat of his heart calm me.

That gave me the courage to skip to the end. “After these guys I’d once considered friends finished mentally brutalizing me, they kicked me a few times for good measure. My lip was split open. One of my eyes had already swollen shut. They left me tied up, helpless and bleeding in the dirt. I don’t know how long I laid out there, but eventually I wiggled around enough to free my head from the blanket. I managed to stumble to the back door of the restaurant. I refused to let them call the cops. I’d walked to the diner from my hotel, so no way in hell was I goin’ back there in case those fuckers had followed me. I called a cab to take me to my motor home I’d left at a campground outside of town. I guess I passed out after I crawled in bed.

“I woke up feverish. I went to one of those walk-in emergency clinics, got the infected wounds cleaned up, and they gave me antibiotics. After that…I must’ve slept for three damn days. But not long enough for the marks to scab over. I ended up with these scars.”

Cres didn’t say anything for the longest time.

But I wasn’t panicked he’d pass judgment on me.

Finally he said, “I know gay-bashing happens.” He pressed his lips to the top of my head. “I hate that it happened to you.
Hate
it.”

“But?”

“But I have to ask why you even considered takin’ this job. You’re training guys whose main goal in life is to compete in the CRA—the organization that supports fuckers like the ones who destroyed your career and physically attacked you. After all you told me about driving under the radar and steering clear of the rodeo life that turned you into a guy you didn’t recognize, why didn’t you tell the Gradskys to suck it?”

“I like your dirty euphemisms, Cres.”

“Answer the question.”

I sat up. “Sutton asked me the same question this mornin’.”

“What did you tell him?”

“It’s not like I have another skill set besides rodeoin’.”

Cres sat up too. “Bullshit. You have a college degree. There are a lot of other things you could do.”

“Name one.”

“Go to work for Stirling. You’re a farmer with an Ag degree. You’re perfect for her operation.”

“I’d considered that. But she needs someone full time and permanent. I already told you I’m not a permanent guy. Itchy feet, transient nature, remember?”

That startled him. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Spending three months in Colorado during the summer and bein’ able to leave when the snow starts to fly appealed to me. Havin’ a chance to mold a few of the guys in this younger generation appealed to me too. If they see me as a normal guy tryin’ to make a livin’, not the secretly gay former rodeo champion rocked by scandal…maybe I can make a difference and change their misperceptions.”

“Christ, you’re as altruistic as Mick.”

Had he meant that as an insult?

“When do you start teaching?”

“Next week. I’m nervous as hell.”

Cres scooted off the bed and started to get dressed. “I imagine you have set hours?”

“It’s pretty fluid. I have specific things I’m talkin’ about and then the other instructors and I are in group sessions with all the students. Berlin is emphasizing that we’re a team.”

“You don’t agree with that philosophy?”

I watched him zip his jeans and fasten his belt. There was nothing sexier than a man wearing just a pair of jeans, his chest and feet bare. And Cres epitomized sexy with his ropy forearms, and long and lean build.

“Breck?”

My gaze traveled up his body until my eyes met his. “I’ve got it bad for you, rancher. You slipped those jeans on and all I can think about is tearing them off again.”

He crawled across the mattress until we were face to face. “I’ve got it bad for you too, farmboy. So the point of all of my questions was to figure out when we’re gonna see each other.”

I said, “And?” because I knew there was something else on his mind.

“And if we’re keeping this
9 ½ Weeks
just between us?”

“I’m not hedging, but a lot of this is a day-by-day, wait-and-see thing. My coworkers know I’m gay. If the students ask I’ll be honest with them. But to me there’s a difference between sayin’ I’m involved with a guy and havin’ a boyfriend who’s part of my workin’ life. Especially when I ain’t exactly sure what all that workin’ life entails.” I reached up and ran my knuckles down his jaw. “I want to see you, to get to know you better, take full advantage of the time I’m here. So I don’t have a problem with your truck bein’ parked at my campsite. I don’t care if the Gradskys know we’re spending time together. If you wanna tell your brothers, I’m fine with that too. My natural reaction is to admit I want to keep you here in my bed and to shut out the world. That’s the way I’ve always done things. So this bein’ out and proud thing…I’m more inclined to take baby steps than a giant leap.”

Cres beamed at me. “Right answer.”

I let out a relieved breath.

“Now get dressed. You promised to cook supper and I worked up an appetite fucking you stupid.”

Chapter Six

Cres

As I entered the gates of the Grade A complex, I waved to Tammy and Trent, who were out for their pre-dinner walk.

I stopped to let Annie and her black lab, Shadow, cross the road.

Bill flagged me down and asked if my hardware store had a decent parts department since he was having a devil of a time getting what he needed from his local Mom and Pop place.

I slowed when I reached the recreation area.

Two groups of boys were shooting hoops on the basketball court.

Half a dozen girls played sand volleyball.

Most of the boys were more interested in watching the girls’ parts bounce than they were in bouncing the ball.

I waved to Mitzi and Bob in the feed truck, who were making the rounds and feeding the stock.

Breck and I had been involved for four weeks. Since I was here almost every night after work, I’d become familiar with the facility and the staff.

So far Breck had an easier go of being the “gay” bulldogging instructor than he’d expected.

But if he did have problems, would he tell you?

That…I wasn’t sure of.

Sexually, we meshed. It helped we were both horny as fuck all the time. The newness of being lovers hadn’t worn off and the heat between us hadn’t cooled a bit. In fact, now that we knew each other’s preferences and kinks, we were even more eager to get naked and raunchy. Even with all of that…we were keeping it just sex between us.

Sure you are. That’s why you know the comings and goings of ninety percent of the staff. That’s why you keep his refrigerator stocked with groceries since he cooks supper for you almost every night. That’s why your toiletries are in his bathroom. That’s why you ironed his work shirts when he didn’t have time. That’s why you surprised him with a PlayStation since you hate gaming on his Xbox. That’s why you’ve stopped running unless the two of you are running together. You’re doing all of that stuff because it’s keeping it “just sex” between you.

I shot a quick look at the envelope on the seat.

Undeniable proof, bud, that you’ve gone over for the man. If this was just a sexual relationship with an end date, you wouldn’t need to get blood tests done so you can ditch the condoms.

Annoying that the voice of reason picked today to point that out. Even more annoying that I’d chosen this day to listen to it.

I’d been so adamant about not starting a relationship—even after Breck had pointed out “just sex” was a relationship. I’d naively believed I could keep feelings out of the equation. That physical release would be enough. Like I could get off and get gone.

Right.

I got off plenty. I just couldn’t seem to yank up my boxer briefs after we finished fucking and get gone. I liked Breck, and spending time with him clothed held almost as much appeal as being body to body, skin to skin, mouth to mouth with him. We’d been able to build on, expand, and go beyond the physical attraction. The caring, open, and honest person Breck had become following his long journey to his self-acceptance was just the damn cherry on top. Yet, within those changes, he’d retained his sense of humor and his pride that he wasn’t just a dumb cowboy. Seeing him transform from a selfish guy into a thoughtful man blew my mind. He pulled me out of the dark place I’d been in for too long, but he let me decide when I was ready to cross the next boundary. He remained by my side as I approached another hurdle—stopping the guilt because I was alive and Mick wasn’t. That I deserved a second chance at happiness.

I wanted that happiness with him.

So he’d helped me come to terms with aspects of myself and my life that I could change….how did I help him see that by jumping back on the road when the semester ended, that he was hiding as much as I’d been? How did he know he wouldn’t like a more settled life if he never tried it?

Not something I could solve today, but hopefully each day we spent together would make him want more days until he couldn’t see a day without me in it. Because that’s where I was.

I pulled up to the office building and parked. Sutton had sent a box of paperwork for me to deliver to Berlin since both London and Brennen were down with a stomach bug.

Berlin and Chuck bounded down the steps before I’d reached the end of the sidewalk.

“Here, lemme take that,” Chuck said, plucking the box from my hands. “We appreciate you bringing this by.”

“No problem. I’m usually in the neighborhood.”

Chuck smiled. “And we’re happy to have you here, Cres.”

As soon as my hands were empty, Berlin hugged me. This family was the hugging-est bunch I’d ever met. “Have you seen my daughter and grandson?”

“Sutton is keeping them quarantined. This stomach flu is nasty stuff. It knocked him down for a week.”

“I’m not surprised London and Brennen caught it.”