

## Ty Hard

### Willow Springs Ranch: I

## Laura Harner
Ty Hard is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2011 by Laura Harner

Cover photograph by DWS Photography

Cover Art by Laura Harner

All rights reserved.

Smashwords edition. Published August 2013 in the United States by Hot Corner Press.

ISBN: 978-1-937252-04-5

Warning: All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Contact the publisher for further information: Hotcornerpress@gmail.com

## Dedication

To Andy and Steve.

Dare to follow wherever love leads.

I would also like to acknowledge the help from some of the very best:

Liz Crowe, Lisa Worrall, and Sherry Smith

Also special thank you to Dan Skinner for the beautiful cover image.

Without this cover, there wouldn't have been Ty Hard.

I am proud to count you all among my friends.

## Chapter One

Tyler Hardin climbed from his truck in front of a sprawling adobe ranch house and wondered what in the hell had happened. Six or seven cowboys on horseback cut sharp turns around a small knot of horses, pushing them with waves of arms and hats, steering the small herd toward the open gate at the rear of the paddock. Other men stood around the yard or leaned on the split rail fence that surrounded a small kitchen garden. No matter what they were doing, everyone's attention was on the Lifeline helicopter and whatever emergency had brought the air-borne ambulance out to the remote Willow Springs Ranch.

The door to the chopper slid closed and as the blade speed increased, the steady _whop, whop, whop_ reverberated through him and threatened to take him places his mind didn't want to go. Shouldn't go. Pushing the memories away, Ty squinted against the bright Arizona sunshine and tried to make out the figure of his friend, Frank "Gibby" Gibson among the cowboys. Gibby would be the short, overweight one, if he could find him.

"Not sure what you're selling, but this isn't a good time." The voice came from behind him and was right out of a wet dream. It was an intoxicating mixture of whisky and smoke, a deep baritone that settled somewhere low in his belly.

"What happened?" Ty asked, shielding his eyes and trying to get a good look at the man standing in the shade of the courtyard arch.

The cowboy nailed him with a steely dark gaze that seemed to blaze from his handsome face. His voice vibrated with barely controlled anger. "I can't see any reason it should concern you. Now state your business or get the fuck off my ranch."

The long, rangy cowboy was at least four inches taller than Ty's own six-foot frame. He wore a tight pair of jeans and a white tee shirt that stretched across his lean, muscled chest. A white straw cowboy hat and dusty, worn boots completed the perfect picture. While the cowboy waited for an answer, Ty stepped forward and peered beyond the shadow cast by the brim of the big man's hat. Ty could make out a strong, chiseled face, deep cleft chin, and dark eyebrows raised high in apparent disbelief that his question hadn't been immediately answered.

"The Willow Springs is your ranch? That makes you Cass Cartwright. Sorry. Should have introduced myself right away. My name's Ty. Tyler Hardin. I'm here to visit Frank Gibson. Gibby? Look, I didn't mean to impose, I can stay back in Kingman..." he trailed off as a spasm tightened Cartwright's face into a grimace.

"Fuck. You're his friend from the Navy."

Ty did a slow blink at the brusque tone and bought himself a moment of time before he answered. "I _used_ to be his friend from the Navy. Medical retirement," he said pointing to the fresh scar that creased from his eyebrow to jaw line. It had taken the field surgeons sixteen hours, plus two more surgeries stateside to put him back together. A regular Humpty Dumpty. After six months in rehab, the doctors declared him well enough to discharge and cut him loose from the only life he'd ever wanted.

Gibby was the closest thing to family Ty had. The old man had invited him to stay at the ranch while Ty figured out what to do with his life. He wasn't about to explain their relationship to Cartwright, not until he knew what was happening.

"This way," Cartwright said with a stiff jerk of his head. Then he turned on his heel and led the way into the cool interior of the adobe ranch house.

What was going on? Had his old friend been wrong about his boss? Gibby said when he'd talked to Cartwright that the rancher welcomed another pair of hands and he could stay as long as he wanted. Now it looked like he was about to get the unwelcome mat, instead. _Shit._ He should have called Gibby from Flagstaff, given him a little notice that he was almost here.

He watched silently as Cartwright moved to what looked like an entertainment center. When Cass opened the doors, however, Ty realized the cabinet was a minibar, complete with a small refrigerator. "Beer or whisky?" Cass asked, taking a glass from the shelf. His gravelly voice slid over Ty, as comfortable as an old pair of faded jeans.

Drawing on an icy control that had served him well in the Navy, Ty pushed the flutter of attraction back into his mental lockbox. God knows a working ranch wasn't the place for that part of him any more than the Navy had been.

"Neither. I don't drink. Too many meds. What's going on? Where's Gibby?" Tension tightened his stomach and he shot out the words, no longer interested in manners.

Cartwright's jaw clenched and his knuckles tightened around the glass he was holding. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he growled. Turning quickly he threw his glass, shattering it against the fireplace. Without looking at Ty, Cass said in a low voice that vibrated with emotion, "Gibby was in that helicopter. I'm sorry, Hardin. He had a heart attack and died an hour ago."

The cowboy's words slammed into Ty and sent his thoughts and the blood in his brain into the all-too-familiar swirl. The light began to dim, then a roaring in his head that wiped out all other noise in the room. Ty stumbled backward and had only a moment to position himself closer to the couch before everything shut down and the world went black.

*

Cassidy Cartwright looked down at the hunk of manflesh on the couch. Nothing like his usual long, lean type.

Tyler had to be at least six feet tall, well over two hundred pounds of sculpted muscle, with broad shoulders that tapered to a flat stomach and tight ass. His well-muscled thighs were showcased in dark blue denim.

Down boy, he told his cock, with no small amount of disgust. Here he was lusting after the man Gibby thought of as the son he never had. Gibs' body wouldn't even be cold yet. _God forgive me, but I can be a right bastard, sometimes._

Despite the self-recrimination, his fingers itched to stroke the scar that marked Tyler's face, to brush the hair back from the pale forehead. His hair was short, but not military short. Soft black curls framed the most angelic face he'd ever seen on a man. His long, dark lashes fanned below his closed eyes, but Cass wouldn't forget the vivid shade of blue that had looked at him and demanded answers. The shadow of a beard and square jaw prevented him from being too pretty, but still, Tyler Hardin was a beautiful man. _Shit._

Cass had heard a lot about Tyler from Gibby over the last few years. The old cook certainly enjoyed telling stories over a drink or two. Hardin was one of his favorite topics. He'd learned they'd known each other since the younger man had joined the Navy and had stayed in touch even after his retirement. They'd been stationed together three times, once on a ship and two tours in Afghanistan. Cass wasn't exactly clear on how that worked, but he knew they'd been in some dangerous spots together.

Last year, Gibs had been beside himself when Tyler called to tell his friend he was returning to Afghanistan for a third tour. Listed as next of kin, it had been Gibby the Navy notified when Tyler was injured. The old man had traveled back to Walter Reed twice over the last six months and when he'd returned from the second trip he'd made a request of Cass.

" _D'ya mind if I bring the boy back here for a while? He needs a place where someone can keep an eye on him. He gets bad headaches. Plus..." he added, but looked away, "I think it's about time the boy faced a thing or two about himself."_

It hadn't taken a mental genius to figure out that remark. Tyler Hardin was still in the closet. He'd supposed Gibby thought it would open Tyler up if he lived for a while on the ranch where half the cowboys were gay or bisexual and the other half couldn't care less.

He shook himself from his thoughts when he realized a pair of bright blue eyes were blinking rapidly, as Tyler struggled toward consciousness. Then the man was fighting to gain his balance, as he pushed himself off the couch. "Bathroom," he muttered urgently.

Cass grabbed him by the arm and half carried him into the bathroom. He held Tyler's head as the younger man emptied his stomach until he was wracked by spasms. When there was nothing left to come up, Cass helped Tyler rinse his mouth and wash his face with a cool splash of water. Without any ulterior motive, Cass wrapped a strong arm around Tyler's waist and guided him to the back of the house, to his own bedroom. He lowered the other man to the bed, helped him remove the soiled clothes, and ease back to the pillows. Tyler covered his eyes with his forearm while Cass hurried to turn off the lights and draw the blinds. Then he sat on the bed with a damp cloth and gently wiped the light sheen of sweat from Tyler's face.

"How can I help, Tyler?" he asked softly.

"Sorry. Migraine, need pill...and rest. Then I'll get out of your hair," Tyler said softly, as if each word might cost him his momentary control over the pain in his head.

A shocking wave of possessiveness washed over Cass, so strong it threatened to overwhelm him. He simply knew that he wanted Tyler Hardin with every fiber of his being. He wanted to take care of him, to make his pain go away, to wrap Tyler in his arms and never let go. Stunned at the suddenness and strength of his feelings, Cass leaned forward to whisper quietly near Tyler's ear.

"Don't worry about it, baby. I'll grab your stuff and get your pill. You're not going anywhere." _Shit. This was bad._

****

Tyler surfaced by degrees, unsure of where he was or how long he'd been sleeping. He knew it was the drugs, they always left him feeling this way. Like the worst hangover anyone ever had. Fuzzy, unsteady, and a little unsure of how the words in his head might tumble out of his mouth. He had the vague impression he'd been dreaming for a long time. Shit, he didn't even know what day it was.

The nightmares were bad this time; didn't want to let him go. He'd been trapped underneath the mess tent, just like in real life. He struggled against the pull of the dream for a minute, but it was stronger than he was, and soon, he was sucked under the dark spell once again.

People were screaming and he couldn't get to them, couldn't help, because he couldn't _fucking_ move! He could smell the smoke, feel the heat as the fire crept closer. This time, Gibby was underneath the heavy canvas with him, unconscious, unaware of the certain death that was in the flames, licking their way toward them both.

"Noooo," Ty screamed, and struggled to move the steel support bars that pinned him to the ground. He had to reach Gibby before the fire took him.

The steel bars tightened around him, and then they were pulling him out, pulling him away from the fire, and then away from the tent.

"Shhhh, Tyler, I've got you, baby. You're safe now. You're safe with me," said an unknown voice, breath brushing against his ear.

Someone was stretched out alongside of him, pressed against his side. Then those same steel bars turned him over, so that for a moment he was chest to chest with a stranger, before the man rolled over onto his back, bringing Tyler with him. He wanted to protest, but he realized this was all just a part of the dream.

He took comfort from the imaginary arms, buried his face against the illusory warmth of muscled chest and spicy man smell. Don't ask, don't tell, he thought just before he sank into a deep and blessedly dreamless sleep.

*

God, that was awful, Cass thought as he held Tyler to his chest. What must it be like to suffer from nightmares and debilitating headaches? _The price for serving his country._

It had scared the shit out of him when he'd gotten out of the shower and heard Tyler crying out. With only a towel wrapped around his waist, Cass had hurried to the bed. Tyler was twisted in the sheets, breath coming fast, clearly in distress. He'd quickly untangled the sheets, and climbed on the bed next to Tyler, murmuring nonsense words. It wasn't unlike trying to calm a skittish colt.

Tyler finally calmed once he'd pulled him onto his chest, and stroked his back. When Tyler's breathing slowed and he relaxed into deep peaceful slumber, Cass pulled the sheet over the two of them and closed his eyes. Pressing his face against the silky curls, Cass wondered what in the hell he was getting himself into.

## Chapter Two

Unsure of just how early the cowboys would shuffle through, Tyler started the coffee first. From what Gibby told him of his job, the guys rose early and did their first round of chores before breakfast, but he'd been vague about the times. He figured he had plenty of time, so he was making one of his favorite recipes. He spread a thick layer of butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon on four rectangles of dough. He added nuts and raisins to two of them before rolling all four into long tubes and cutting four dozen cinnamon rolls. He placed those into the warming drawer to rise and checked the time. Not quite 4:00 a.m.

Early morning prep was his favorite part of the day. He could get lost in his thoughts as his hands went on autopilot, chopping vegetables, cracking eggs, pulling together ingredients for the rest of the day's meals. The daily menu wasn't his problem here, though, especially since he'd be leaving the ranch right after breakfast. He probably should have already been gone.

The heat rose in his face as he remembered waking this morning, hours before everyone else. His internal alarm was perennially set for the breakfast shift. Despite yesterday's migraine and medications, when he woke, his mind had felt clear, rested. He'd known where he was, remembered Gibby's death, and even recognized the arm draped across his chest. What he hadn't been able to figure out was how he'd come to be in his underwear and spooned against a very naked Cassidy Cartwright.

Ty had found his bag near the bedroom door and dressed in the dark, moving quietly while taking inventory of how he felt. He'd been so sick yesterday afternoon, he knew there was no way they'd had sex, but why was the cowboy in bed with him? He'd watched the handsome face for a long minute and fisted his hands against an urge to stroke Cass's strong brow, so relaxed in sleep. What would it be like to wake every morning in the arms of a man you loved?

"Feeling better?" The deep voice slammed into him, startling Ty from his thoughts and making him jump. He turned from the pile of sliced mushrooms and lost his breath in a _woosh_.

Cass stood in the arched doorway, wearing only a pair of faded jeans that fit like a second skin. He was all long, wiry muscle, classic washboard abs, and a trail of dark brown hair that led straight to the single open button at the waistband of his jeans.

"Uhm, yeah," Ty managed and then tore his gaze away from the feast in front of him. "Thanks for uhm...everything."

"Hmm...What are you doing?" Cass asked sleepily.

"Making breakfast. I figured what with Gibby..." his voice trailed off, and tears filled his eyes. He turned back to the cutting board so Cass wouldn't see his weakness.

"It's okay to cry, Tyler. I'm going to miss him, too," Cass said, then strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

Ty stiffened. Damn, what was wrong with him? Cass was just trying to be nice and offer comfort in their shared grief. To his shame, he felt his dick harden. There wasn't much room to maneuver away, since he was already standing close to the counter. He took half a step forward, to try to put a little space between them.

Cass moved with him, pulling him even closer, and he could feel the press of all that bare skin through the thin layer of his tee shirt. They stood that way for several long heartbeats and Tyler closed his eyes and imagined taking the comfort of that embrace to another level. Something gentle brushed across his hair and he allowed himself the fantasy of accepting a lover's comfort.

With his eyes closed, savoring the moment, he almost didn't realize the strong fingers that tilted his head to the side were real. Then lips brushed lightly against his neck, his cheek, and finally, soft as a whisper, against his lips.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ty said angrily and pushed himself away from Cass.

Stepping back, Cass looked at him appraisingly for a minute. Then he licked his lips and with a slow, wicked smile, he said, "Tasting you."

"Well, stop it," Ty said, but there was no heat behind his words.

"My mistake," Cass grinned, not looking the least bit sorry.

"What time does everyone usually eat breakfast?" Tyler asked, needing to turn the conversation to something normal.

Rich laughter rumbled through the kitchen. "You are a piece of work, Tyler Hardin. All right, if that's what you want," Cass said, deliberately dropping his gaze to the bulge in Ty's jeans and back, before he answered. "Breakfast is around 8:00, lunch is at noon, dinner at 5:30.

"Gibby never said what you did, but based on the state of my kitchen this morning, I assume you and Gibby were cooks together in the Navy. I can't give you the cook's house right now, because Roy's still living there, and I don't plan on kicking him out of their home. I've got plenty of room here in the main house. I'll give you a week's trial, and if everything suits, the job is yours," Cass said, suddenly all business.

Ty blinked at the sudden change in direction. From flirt to foreman in sixty seconds. He thought briefly about explaining what he really did in the Navy, but since he'd started as a cook, he figured it was close enough.

Cass continued, "Gibby's desk and computer are in the office, not that he used the computer much. You should find the corporate credit cards in the drawer. Charge what you need, Bullhead City has the closest bulk food store. You might want to upgrade some of the equipment, I wouldn't know about that."

Ty watched as Cass moved to pour himself a cup of coffee, before he continued his rapid-fire directions.

"As far as what these cowboys like to eat and drink, I think Gibby kept some kind of a rotating menu, but of course, you're free to make anything you like. Except liver. Make liver and you'll be out on your ass. Oh, and run out of whisky, beer, or coffee and I can't promise to protect your life." Cass grinned.

Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Ty resisted the urge to touch his lips, where the heat of that brief kiss still lingered. He returned to prepping his vegetables, and quickly revised his plans. "I'll be leaving right after lunch. I'll set you up with lasagna for tonight. You'll be able to heat it up, just follow the directions."

"Got somewhere you have to be?" Cass asked, his voice close behind him again.

"Yeah. I'm going to head down to Laughlin. It's not as busy as Vegas, and there are always jobs for chefs at the casinos."

"I thought Gibby meant more to you than that," Cass said roughly. "I thought you'd at least stick around for his service. Shit, I thought you might want to spend a little time with Roy. You know, share your grief."

_Roy_. Shame washed over him, because he'd never asked about Gibby's partner. He'd always known his friend was gay, but they'd never discussed the details. It was safer that way for both of them, considering the DADT policy of the military. If asked, he would honestly be able to deny any knowledge of his mentor's private life. It had been an unspoken agreement between them.

The old man knew most of Tyler's secrets, and he'd never pressed about the lack of dates or relationships. He realized Gibby had been ready to change the rules of their friendship. He'd invited Tyler here to the ranch, to stay in his home with him and his partner. Don't Ask, Don't Tell had ceased to be a factor in either of their lives once Tyler received his medical discharge.

Guilt washed over him. "You're right. I owe that much to Gibby. When's the service? I'll stay until then," Ty said.

"We won't know until they release his body, but probably not for a few weeks. We've got the rodeo in Kingman in two weeks and we're sending a trailer and a couple of cowboys up to Steamboat Springs for the PBR. Sorry, that's the Professional Bull Riding Circuit. I expect we'll try hold the service when we can get everybody here for the day.

"I'll definitely want you to cook for that. I figure we'll hold a big ass barbecue to honor the old fart. Nothing would make him happier than feeding a hungry passel of cowboys. 'Cept feeding a ship full of sailors, maybe."

Cass refilled his coffee and continued. "All right, enough of this standing around talking, I've got to get outside and get to work. The hands have a coffee pot in the bunkhouse, but they'll all be in for breakfast. There's fourteen total, counting you and me. Gibby set it up buffet style in there," he said, pointing towards the dining room.

Numbly, Tyler nodded, feeling drawn into a world he didn't understand. With the Navy's help, he'd woven a careful web of rules around himself. Now, all that remained of his well-ordered life was unraveling at warp speed.

"See you in a little bit, _Cookie_ ," Cass said, patting him on the ass, before striding out the door without a backward glance.

*

Tyler studied the food-laden sideboard and realized he was proud of the first meal he'd cooked since the explosion. Amazing how much healing could come from one simple act. For the first time in months he felt productive, needed. He felt like his old self.

The menu was comprised of his favorite breakfast dishes. His cinnamon rolls oozed with sugary goodness and cream cheese frosting. The egg, veggie, and cheese casserole was light and fluffy, but full of protein for the long workday. He made several pounds of bacon, and put out gallons of juice, milk, and coffee. There were also boxes of cold cereal, fresh fruit, and bagels. Maybe not as many choices as a Navy breakfast, but damn sure enough for thirteen cowboys.

The men entered the main house through the mudroom, taking off their hats and hanging them from the hooks. They washed in the deep sink and one by one, made their way into the dining room. There was a lot of shuffling of feet and cleared throats, as if several of them had something to say, but no one wanted to be the first. They stood in small groups and spoke quietly, shooting curious looks at him. Before anyone got too restless, Cass strode into the room, and all eyes turned to the boss.

"Gentlemen, I know this here's bound to be a difficult day. We lost a good friend yesterday. Tonight, after supper, we'll meet in the living room and have a drink to celebrate and share our memories of Gibby. For now, we have work to do, and as you all know, Cookie would be the first one to tell you ranch life don't stop for no one.

"That said, this here's Tyler Hardin and he arrived here yesterday, just after..." Cass trailed off for a moment, and Ty thought the big man's rapidly blinking eyes held a sheen of moisture. His voice was rough around the edges when he continued. "Gibby considered Tyler like his own son and brought him here with hopes he'd join our family for a bit. So, although Tyler shares our sorrow, his grief is that of a son for his father.

"This morning, Tyler took it upon himself to fix us all breakfast. If he can step up to cook for us, I figure the least we can do is meet his effort with some healthy appetites. I don't know of any better way to honor our Cookie than with our enjoyment of a delicious meal. Dig in, boys, work's waiting."

It had been exactly the right note to take with these men, Tyler realized. Life did go on, God knows you learned that quick enough in a war zone. That didn't mean you didn't hurt, it just meant that you learned the value of keeping a routine. With a jolt, he realized he should have gone back to work a long time ago. The atmosphere, the camaraderie, all felt reassuringly familiar. Then like a one-two punch, he realized that for the first time since he'd joined the Navy, he had nowhere to go.

The noise level rose quickly as conversations exploded, diverting his pity party. Food left the buffet at an alarming rate, and he made careful note of which dishes were the most popular. He would need to add a few more servings to his calculations. Apparently, cowboys were even hungrier than sailors were.

"Looks like your food's a hit," Cass said quietly, from right beside him.

"I knew it would be," Tyler replied and he shot a confident smile up at the tall cowboy. Cass gave him a double take, as if he couldn't quite believe this was the same man he'd cared for through the night.

Tyler laughed at the man's uncertain expression. "I think getting back to cooking did me a lot of good. I'm sorry about yesterday afternoon and this morning. I'm really not always so needy. I didn't mean to fall apart on you. I'd pushed myself too hard, drove here from DC in just two days. I know I was overtired. Then the shock of hearing about Gibby...well, it was too much. Thanks for the help."

"No problem. I—"

"Hey boss, you gonna get some food so the rest of us single guys can get a chance to talk to Tyler, too?" interrupted one of the men.

"Shut up, Jed. Don't you have any class?" Cass shot back, glaring down the table. Apparently, Jed had made his point, because Cass made an apologetic face at Tyler, and then went to fill his plate. Once everyone was served, Tyler fixed himself a plate.

"Hey, Tyler, come sit over here," said the ginger-haired man named Jed. He scooted over to make room for Ty on the bench, which was as far away as he could get from where Cass sat at the head of the table.

"Hey, sailor, come here often?" Jed joked to general laughter when Tyler sat next to him on the picnic style bench. "Seriously, Tyler, Gibby used to talk about you a lot. He was real proud of you." Jed thrust his chin towards Tyler's scar. "You got that your last tour, right?"

"Yep," he answered, then took a big bite of his roll, so he wouldn't have to say anything else. He really didn't want to talk about it. Not now, certainly not here, and absolutely not with a total stranger.

Help came from across the table. "Jesus, Jed! You're such a numb nuts. You don't just come out and ask a guy that kind of shit." He stuck his hand across the table, "Name's Tony Benedetto. Sorry about the language."

"No problem, I've heard worse," Tyler grinned at the olive-skinned, dark-haired man. He seemed to be good friends with Jed, as they continued to toss barbs back and forth. They were as different as night and day, dark and light. He had no trouble conjuring a mental picture of their great-grandfathers: pure prairie cowboy and Italian emigrant. He shook his head at the fanciful image.

Soaking up the camaraderie and testosterone-laden atmosphere, Tyler mused it had been a long time since he'd been just one of the guys. At Walter Reed and in rehab, the conversations were just poorly hidden therapy sessions, and too many people asked, "How did that make you feel?"

Here, he was accepted the way he was. Just Gibby's friend.

When breakfast was finished, each man filed through the kitchen, rinsing his plate and placing it in the dishwasher before heading back out to work.

Tyler looked around for Cass, seeking approval for the meal he'd provided, but the boss appeared to be long gone. Instead, Jed lingered, maneuvering until he was the last man in the clearing line.

Jed sidled up a little too close and said, "I'd like to have a drink with you, tonight." Tyler didn't miss the blatant interest in the man's gaze.

"I'm sure we'll have a chance to talk at the gathering tonight," he said, deliberately misunderstanding the invitation. "Thanks for the breakfast conversation, but I need to get busy, if I'm going to finish cleaning this mess and have lunch ready on time. See you later."

"I look forward to it," Jed murmured, as he slipped out the back door. Moments later Tyler heard the front door close with a bang, and wondered if someone had overheard the not-so-subtle pick up attempt.

Shrugging, Tyler pushed the thought from his mind. The invitation hadn't offended him, but it didn't interest him either. He pushed away the lingering thrill he'd felt pressed so close to Cass, waking in his arms, the tantalizing brush of lips. Deep down, he knew what he was, but it didn't matter. Nothing would ever happen. That wasn't how he chose to live his life.

## Chapter Three

Cass spent the morning with only half of his attention focused on his work. The other half was mulling over what to do about this situation with Tyler. He'd been way off his stride since he met the man...was that only yesterday afternoon? He didn't like feeling so out of his element. It was time to pull back on the reins and get off this ride before it even started.

Something about the combination of Tyler's powerful body and vulnerable mind had undone Cass. He had rules against things like this. For one, he never fucked anyone he worked with. _Never_. Not at neighboring ranches, rodeos, or livestock sales. Certainly never anyone on his own ranch. He wanted to be as temporary to his lovers as they were to him. And he sure as hell didn't want a virgin in his bed. Especially one who still lived in the land of denial.

He'd realized he was in danger of violating his own rules when he'd had such a strong reaction to Jed's obvious attempt to hit on Tyler after breakfast. He'd stormed out of the house before he'd done something stupid. Like march into the kitchen and claim Tyler for himself.

He'd tried to convince himself it was because Tyler was an innocent, and needed to be protected from the more experienced and unscrupulous Jedediah Black. Tyler wouldn't be the first man to lose his virginity to Jed. The itinerant cowboy liked to claim he could turn a straight man gay and made a sport of getting to a man's ass before anyone else. It pissed Cass off, but up until now, he'd been able to overlook the redhead's behavior. Jed only worked for him once or twice a year, whenever they had a busy spell or too many shows and rodeos stacked up. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be inviting Jed back after the next rodeo.

Cass wouldn't lie to himself; he knew his problem wasn't only with Jed's warped moral compass. He'd recognized the green haze that had clouded his vision after breakfast for what it was.

Needing time and space, he and Demon, his big black gelding, headed in the opposite direction from where his ranch hands were working. He'd been riding the fence for hours, noting sections that needed attention. He ignored his growling stomach, and reminded himself of the need to stay away from the main house. When they made it to the far watering station, Cass dismounted so he and Demon could each have a drink.

As the horse lowered his head, Cass drank the remainder of a bottle of water in one long pull. He was just stowing the bottle in his saddlebag, when he caught sight of a horse and rider heading his way. His stomach clenched, wondering what had gone wrong, now. Then patted his shirt pocket and realized he had his cell phone. If there had been an emergency, someone would have called.

As the pair got closer, he was surprised to see Roy, and wondered if a long ride was his way of dealing with the grief of losing his partner. He remembered the pain of losing his parents, of being the one left behind. That memory was the foundation for everything he did.

"Hey, Cass. You missed lunch." Roy dismounted and removed a box from his saddlebag. "Tyler sent this along. Thought you might be hungry."

Caught off guard by the remark, Cass opened the container and found two enormous sandwiches, an apple, and a cinnamon roll left over from breakfast.

"If I eat all this, I'm going to need a siesta," he joked.

"Frank always said his boy could cook," Roy said, using his partner's given name.

Cass looked closely at the older man. Overlaying the sadness, there was an air of unmistakable pride as he spoke about Tyler. As if Gibby's feelings had transferred to Roy upon his death.

"So, how are things going between you and Tyler? He was real worried about you not getting lunch," Roy said.

"Don't worry about Tyler," Cass said around a mouthful of roast beef. "He's going to stay on until the service, then head on his way. Maybe go down to Laughlin, he said."

"No! He can't do that. You can't let him leave, that's not what Frank wanted," Roy said, and he looked perilously close to tears.

"What are you talking about? What do you mean, what Gibby wanted?" He dropped the sandwich back into the container and wiped his hand on his bandana.

Roy turned away and feigned an interest in the horses. "Frank always worried about you, Cass, wanted you to find a special someone. He said you had a hell of a ranch, but you still needed a home. He meant with someone you loved. Partners, you know, like me and him." A tear escaped from the corner of his eye, and Roy swiped it away.

Cass pretended not to notice, and said, "Shit, Roy that's not me, and you know it. I'm perfectly happy the way things are. And what's that got to do with Tyler?"

The old man's chest rose and fell with a sigh. "Frank always said it would be perfect if he could get you and Tyler in the same room together. He said you were each running hard from something and if you could be made to stop for half a damn minute and talk to each other, you'd find the answer."

"What the fuck, Roy? I ain't never run from anything in my life," he'd said with some heat. As if that would turn the lie to truth.

"He always wanted to get you two together, but he knew Tyler'd never go for it while he was in the Navy. You know, that don't ask shit. Plus, something about his dad, but he never told me what that was about. Frank said that the only good thing about Tyler getting a medical discharge was now he could come home."

As if suddenly in a great hurry, Roy mounted his horse, and looked down at him. The old man was clearly not finished with his surprising news.

"You know, Cass, you and Tyler were Frank's two favorite people. I know he would be smiling in cowboy heaven if you could see your way to give Tyler a chance," Roy said, and rode away before Cass could think of what else to say.

Gibby might have had some good intentions, but he was way off base this time. Blowing out a breath and dragging his fingers through his hair before jamming his hat back down, he realized this was a hell of a situation. Tyler was an unsuitable choice for a liaison for so many reasons. And it sure as hell wasn't his responsibility to help the younger man come to terms with his sexuality.

Cass continued along the fence line, grateful that Demon seemed to sense his mood, and was content to meander, seeming to pay more attention to their surroundings than Cass was. Willow Springs Ranch had long been considered a sanctuary for misfit cowboys and livestock. Openly gay cowboys weren't always accepted at other ranches, but they could always find a job and a home with him. He'd built four bunkhouses, with plenty of room for privacy, and he stayed out of how the men decided to divide up the space. Gay, straight, or bi, it didn't matter to him, and anyone who had a problem with that was out of job. He'd be damned if anyone would have to hide his true nature out here.

This morning it had seemed a blessing to have Roy in the cook's casita, since it provided a good excuse to keep Tyler in the main house with him. Now he realized it was a mistake to ask Ty to stay and take on cook duties. He knew better than to even consider getting involved with one of his men, but he'd temporarily let his dick do his thinking.

Of course, he could be worrying over nothing. Ty might decide to leave after a day or two at the isolated ranch. Life wasn't easy out here. They might only be fifteen minutes by air to Laughlin, but it was a hell of a long drive. He'd been a fool this morning pushing Tyler to stay. Now, he needed to arrange for Gibby's memorial at the earliest opportunity, and let the kid get on with his life. So Cass could get on with his own.

## Chapter Four

The celebration of Frank "Gibby" Gibson started early. At the dinner table, the men shared stories of the old cook, and his sometimes cantankerous, but always bighearted nature. Ty realized the picture that emerged from these cowboys was of the same man who had taken him under his wing, all those years ago. Praise in public, reprimand in private, and never admit how much he cared. He hadn't needed to. All the men around Gibby knew exactly where they stood with him. Generous to a fault, Gibby had always been there to lend a helping hand.

The tributes continued as they moved into the living room, and whisky started to flow. Tyler stood back, absorbing the stories, pride at the way the man he thought of as a surrogate father had touched so many lives. If only his real father—he pushed that thought angrily away.

"Hey, Tyler. How are you?" Roy blew out a breath. "This is tough," he said softly.

Tyler found himself pulled into an unexpected hug by the wiry man with watery brown eyes. Squirming uncomfortably, he disentangled himself and led Roy to an isolated corner of the room.

"How are you holding up, Roy?"

"Okay. Just...okay. You? Are you doing all right? Did Cass talk to you?" Roy asked, as if trying to divert attention from himself.

"Cass? No...I mean, I saw him at dinner, but we didn't talk. Why?" Tyler asked.

When the old man didn't answer, Tyler decided to ask the question that had gnawed at his conscience all day. "I can't say Gibby told me too much about you," he started awkwardly.

Roy seemed to know what Tyler needed to hear. "He wouldn't have. Not to you. Knew it'd make you uncomfortable. He'd planned to change all that once you got out here," Roy said. "He always wanted us to meet, said you would find the family you needed here at the ranch. You were like a son to him."

The old man looked so sad, that Tyler put an arm around his shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sorry, Roy. Sorry the three of us won't have that chance."

"We got time, kid. We'll get to know each other some before I go," Roy said.

"Where are you going? Isn't this your home?" Tyler asked, surprised the older man was thinking of leaving.

"Naw, not anymore. Not without Frank. I ain't no cook, and I'm too damn old to face another season chasing damn cattle. I have a daughter and three grandkids in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. She's been after me for ages to come live closer. But I ain't going nowhere 'til you and me get to know each other a little bit."

"I'd like that. I'd like to know more about Gibby's life out here. We didn't talk enough the last few years. I lost that chance forever, now," Tyler trailed off, his throat suddenly tight with unshed tears.

"What are you talking about? You emailed him every week. He bragged on you all the time, told anyone who'd listen what you were up to. You meant a hell of a lot to Gibby, kid, and that means you mean a hell of a lot to me."

Roy held up two fingers to signal to someone across the room. One of the cowboys appeared with two glasses of amber liquid and set them along with a bottle on the sideboard near where the two men were standing. The man slipped away without speaking and Ty realized the cowboys were looking out for Roy. The older man took a glass and handed the other one to Tyler.

"A toast, just between us for the man we loved," Roy said.

Tyler didn't drink after his head injury, but he let the protest die on his lips. Sharing this drink with Roy, honoring his old friend was the least he could do. Besides, he hadn't taken his evening dose of medication yet. Maybe he could just use this drink to help him get past the nightmares tonight.

"To Frank," Roy said.

"To Gibby," Tyler added. The whisky was smooth, with undertones of peat and smoke. A single malt, his favorite. It was gone too quickly.

"Hey, sugar. Remember me?" said a familiar voice behind him, interrupting the moment.

Turning, he found Jed smiling at him, arms spread wide, as if they should hug after being separated since lunch.

Tyler held out his hand to shake. "Of course, Jed. How are you?"

Jed took his hand in a two handed grip that lasted longer than was comfortable. "I just wanted to tell both of you how sorry I am for your loss."

"Thanks, Jed—" Roy started, but was cut off.

"In fact, I'd like to offer a toast," the redheaded cowboy said, as he refilled their glasses from Roy's bottle.

"If I could, I'd like to start the round of toasts," Jed said in a loud voice that drew everyone's attention to their corner of the room.

"To Gibby, the best damn cook at any ranch I've ever worked at," he called out. Raising his glass, others followed suit, and they all drank to Gibby.

A small, Hispanic man Ty had never spoken to before stood and cleared his throat nervously. He'd been quiet at the table, not joining in the talk or the teasing. He'd occasionally leaned over to Manuel, who would whisper back. Now Tyler wondered if he'd been getting a translation. "My name is Jose and this was my first job in the US," he said speaking directly to Ty in heavily accented English. "Mr. Gibby helped me to learn English and we were working together to get my citizenship..." his voice tightened and he trailed off for a moment. Then straightening his back, Jose said, "To Gibby!"

A chorus of "Hear, Hear," echoed through the room.

It seemed everyone wanted to toast Gibby, and although Tyler was keeping his sips of whisky small, Jed stood next to him, keeping his glass full. He lost track of how much he drank. When the toasts finally wound down, the one man he'd been following with his eyes all night stepped to the center of the room. Everyone quieted as Cass cleared his throat to begin his tribute.

"I'll never forget the day I talked to the rep at the VA, told him I was looking to hire a vet who could cook and who wouldn't mind living out in the middle of nowhere. I needed someone willing to take a chance on me and my new ranch. The rep didn't know of anyone, said to put a card on the bulletin board and if someone was interested he or she could call.

"Two weeks later, Gibby called, said he was retiring from the Navy, and the job sounded perfect. I told him he was hired, but damned if the ornery old cuss would take what was offered straight up. He said since I was just starting out, he thought there was something I should know. Told me bold as you please, he was gay, and planned to keep looking for someone to share his life. Said if I had a problem with that to let him know now, save us both the trouble.

"It was the damnedest job interview I ever held," Cass said to general laughter.

"Roy, the day Gibby met you was one of the happiest in his life. He told me you completed him." Tyler heard the sharp intake of breath from the old man beside him. Cass continued, "I offer a toast, to Roy and Gibby. May we all be so lucky."

Ty watched as Cass drained his glass, set it on the table, and came to fold the old man into a bear hug.

"Come on, let's give them some privacy," Jed said quietly by his side. Throwing an arm casually across Ty's shoulders, he led the way through the French doors, out into the sultry night.

Stumbling a bit as he stepped through the door, Tyler realized he'd had way too much to drink. Thank God he didn't have far to get to his bedroom. Then with an unhappy lurch of his stomach, he realized he didn't know where his bedroom was. Cass had put him in the master bedroom last night, helped him with his meds. Now, he needed to know where he was supposed to put his stuff. He closed his eyes for a minute, and the picture of a naked Cass, tucked against him when he'd wakened flashed in his memory.

A hand cupped the back of his head, threading into his hair, and just for a moment, he thought his memory had conjured Cass to his side.

"I hope that dreamy smile means you're thinking of me," whispered a voice close to his ear.

Ty jerked back, nearly lost his balance again, then caught himself against the rough cedar supporting the roof of the porch.

"I'm not like that, Jed," he said, feeling the flush crawling up his neck.

"Not like what? Gay? Come on, Ty. We both know that's not true. You're just inexperienced. I'm just the man to help you over that little bump," Jed said, moving closer.

"Get the fuck out of here, Jed," said a rough voice from the edge of darkness on the far side of the porch. Cass.

"Fuck you, Cass. Just because this is your ranch doesn't mean you can tell me what to do when I'm off the clock."

"This is my house, my land, and Tyler is my guest. He said he wasn't interested, so back off," Cass said.

Tyler could feel the waves of anger pouring from Cass. Jed was either too stupid or too drunk to recognize the danger he was in.

"Actually, he said he wasn't, " _like that_." Jed used his fingers to indicate the quotation marks in the air. "We both know that's bullshit, don't we Cartwright? You're smelling virgin ass, same as me. Only you don't fuck anything this close to home, so get the hell out of my way, I claimed him first. I'll loosen him up for you. Train him up ri—"

Jed never saw the punch coming. His head snapped back and down he went, like so much trash.

"Fuck. Okay, well that was stupid," Cass said, rubbing his knuckles. "I suggest you head inside, Ty. Unless you want to answer questions about what went on out here. You can use that set of doors there," he said, indicating a darkened set of doors on the side of the porch. "That is if you want to avoid going back through the living room," Cass said, then he turned and went inside through the brightly lit French doors.

Tyler heard him calling for Tony and suspected Jed was about to get helped back to the bunkhouse. Would he still have a job come morning?

Ty hurried through the darkened doorway that Cass had indicated and took a minute to get his bearings. He didn't want to turn on a light, but the damn room was starting to spin. He stood still letting his eyes adjust and firmly telling his head the room was not actually in motion. The ambient light spilling from the porch provided enough illumination that he could cross the room without bumping into any of the dark lumps that must be the furniture.

There were two doors at the back of the room, so he had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right the first time and went for the door on the left. Wrong. He'd discovered a sauna. Remembering not to shake his head and start the spinning all over again, Ty tried the second door and was rewarded with the main hallway. Navigating in the dark, he only bounced against the walls once or twice on his way to the kitchen. He was more than ready to find his own room, strip off his clothes, and get some sleep, but he needed to check on things, first. Breakfast would come early.

He poured himself a glass of water. Damn. Why did he let Jed refill his whisky? He didn't think he was drunk, but how could he tell? Maybe he should walk a straight line to Cass. Fuck, no. He didn't do cowboys. Uhm...scratch that. He didn't do any boys. Damn, he really needed to get his bag and find a room. If he had to, he'd open doors until he found an empty bed.

****

Cass closed his bedroom door to shut out the noise from the celebration. He looked down at his swollen knuckles. _Shit._ Why couldn't Jed have kept his big mouth shut? Cass hadn't wanted to fight. He was the boss, supposed to be the example out here. Fighting with one of his own ranch hands would lead to nothing but trouble. Instead of walking away, and letting Ty take care of his own mess, he'd let that goddamn Jed get under his skin. What was it about Tyler that brought out this protectiveness? Maybe it was the injury. Or maybe he was just feeling sentimental about Gibby's passing.

Hell, it was probably the way the black-haired beauty filled those tight jeans tonight. Mmm...that and the broad shoulders that bunched and strained with Ty's every move. Whatever. He needed to get over it, yesterday. The man was a stranger, and he wanted him to stay that way. In spite of the old man's ridiculous fantasy or his own lust.

He gave a snort. Tyler had told Jed, in so many words, that he wasn't gay. Was he really that far in denial? In the closet even to himself? He thought of the look in Tyler's eye after he'd stolen the barest of kisses this morning. The man had gotten a boner for God's sake. He got tangled up in that memory for a bit. Shit. With a shake to clear his head, Cass decided that Ty knew exactly what he was, but for whatever reason, was choosing not to act on his desires. That was his business.

Meanwhile, he needed to decide what to do about Jed. As long as Ty remained a guest, Cass would keep an eye out, try to keep that horndog away. He frowned. It wasn't just Jed's moves on Tyler that was bothering him. Those comments about Cass's sex life had been downright personal. Had that just been the alcohol talking tonight? Or was there some other, deeper resentment simmering? Yeah, he acknowledged, Jed bore watching.

With any luck, life would go back to routine after Gibby's service. Ty would get enough of ranch life and head out in a few days.

Cass stripped to his boxers. Last night, his cock had gotten hard when he'd helped Ty to bed. When he thought about what it had felt like this morning to press himself against Ty's back, to steal a taste of those lips.... He had a feeling his dick might not go back down until he got Ty out of his sight permanently.

There is no way I can sleep with this damn pole, he thought, looking down at his cock straining against the thin fabric. Tucking his thumbs inside the waistband, he was just sliding his boxers down his thighs, when, with a soft tap, the bedroom door swung open and Tyler stepped inside.

## Chapter Five

"Whoops," Ty said, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if hiding a smile. "Looks like I caught you with your pants down, cowboy."

With his boxers halfway between his hips and his knees, Cass straightened and looked at Ty for a long moment. Tyler gulped, and Cass thought that the man might be sick again. If so, this was turning into an ugly habit. Then rich laughter burst forth, as if it could no longer be contained. Tyler was laughing at him!

Cass snorted, trying to hold back his own laughter. "You're drunk! I thought you didn't drink?"

"Not s'posed to. It's bad with my...with my drugs. Figured a toast wouldn't hurt, but uhm...Jed? Yeah, Jed, he kept pouring and everybody kept toastin'. It was nice talking with everyone about good old Gibs. 'Sides, I'm not real drunk...just happy." Tyler smiled at him and winked flirtatiously. Cass thought it was as if someone brought him his own personal sunshine. The man was too gorgeous for words.

Pulling his boxers back up, covering if not hiding his painfully stiff cock, Cass noted the way Ty's gaze locked on the tented front of the black silk. He bit back a moan. Shit.

"Yeah, Gibby was a helluva man," Cass agreed. He wanted nothing more than to get Tyler out of his room before his raging desire took over his rational mind. The vulnerable, innocent Ty had made him crazy with lust. This sexy, laughing Ty was fucking irresistible.

Forming the words to send Ty away, Cass was shocked to hear himself say, "Why don't you tell me how you met Gibby?" Apparently, his mouth was no longer operating under the control of his brain. Neither was his body, because Cass threw an arm around Ty's shoulders and led him to sit on the edge of the bed.

Ty sat, and then looked up at him, his blue eyes unreadable. "I'd like that." He scooted back further on the bed.

Telling himself he was just being polite, Cass pulled on the heel of Tyler's boots and dropped them to the floor, before climbing on the bed beside him. Not exactly close enough to touch, but close enough. For now.

Tyler must have been lost in memories, because he didn't seem to notice Cass removing his boots or sitting so close. Cass waited, letting the man gather his thoughts.

"I met Gibby when I was in boot camp. He was the main chef in the chow hall. I was assigned to the galley during workweek. Most of the recruits worked in the kitchen, running the dishwashers, keeping it clean. A few of us got to work the food line, serving the food like at a buffet. It was a prime job and I worked my ass off to keep it.

"I'd joined as an apprentice, meaning, I only had to stay in for a couple of years, but I wasn't guaranteed any advanced Navy training. I realized during workweek that I loved almost everything about the galley. The long hours, the camaraderie all worked together to make me feel at home. Gibby noticed, and asked if I wanted to be a cook, full time. He offered to help me get into the rating, uhm, the career field before I left boot camp."

Suddenly glancing up at Cass through his eyelashes, Ty said, "I was barely seventeen and looked younger. Men who leaned that way...you know, towards boys, had been trying to pick me up for years. So did a few guys closer to my own age. I'd thought I'd be safe from that kind of shit in the Navy." Tyler shifted his legs, his knee brushing against Cass's thigh, as he settled himself more comfortably.

"One night, towards the end of boot camp, I was heading back to the barracks and one of the male cooks pulled me behind the chow hall. There were two more guys back there. They had me surrounded. I was young and terrified that I'd get in trouble if I didn't do what they said. They told me I would get discharged if I didn't cooperate. I just couldn't get kicked out. I had nowhere else to go."

Cass put his hand on Tyler's shoulder and gave a squeeze. He didn't want to hear this, didn't want to think about what happened to a young and cornered Tyler.

"Had you ever..." he trailed off, not sure how to ask if Ty had been sexually active with a male before the attack.

Tyler smiled a gentle smile up at Cass, and sent his heart into spin. Shaking his head he answered, "No, all I'd done was kiss a guy once. It didn't work out well," he said with a frown.

"Gibby found me a few hours later, on his way to work. He took me to the clinic. He got my Company Commander and a Corpsman friend of his to come in, and together they patched me up and put me to bed. I don't remember much of what happened over the next few days. They covered up the real reason I was in the clinic, protected me, and made sure I graduated from boot camp.

"From then on, I was stationed with the old man, unless I was attending some training he'd arranged or on one of the missions. He treated me like a son, better than my—"

Blowing out a breath, Tyler continued, "He knew. Gibs knew the real me. Loved me anyway."

Cass realized he'd been stroking Tyler's back, offering a soothing gesture that could never be enough to make up for the pain.

"What's not to love, Tyler? What happened wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong, baby." He winced, as he heard the endearment that slipped out so naturally. _Shit._

Tyler gave a sad smile, but didn't look up. "Thanks." Then he heaved a sigh, as if the load he bore was wearing him down. "I might as well tell you all of it. You'd start to wonder about it in a few days, anyway. I told you I kissed a guy once and that I was barely seventeen when I went to boot camp..." his throat worked and he pressed his lips together. "Shit, this is hard. The old man was the only one who knew."

Cass kept stroking, his hand sliding across the bunched muscles of Tyler's back and shoulder, then down his arm and back again. He kept quiet, letting Ty work out what he wanted to say.

"I was an only child, born to my parents late in life. Mom called me her happy surprise. My dad never said much. He loved my mom, and whatever made her happy was okay with him. Sometimes though, I got the feeling that he'd rather she'd gotten a puppy, instead of pregnant. I think he was a little jealous of sharing her attention. He never treated me bad, just more like he was indulging Mom, rather than like he loved me.

"Mom used to love to talk to me and I would sit at the kitchen counter for hours while she baked and cooked and told me stories. She loved to tell me how she'd dreamed of a big family, but God saw fit to only give her one special boy. There was always this unspoken expectation that when I grew up, I'd marry and give her lots of grandbabies to hug.

"Of course, I knew even then that I liked boys better than girls, but I kept my feelings to myself. Don't get me wrong, there wasn't a whole lot of angst involved. Hell, I was just thirteen. I didn't spend a lot of time thinking about growing up and having babies.

"One day a new kid came to our school, Thomas Hunsicker. Even though some of the kids teased him, he and I hit it off right away. You get the idea, I'm sure. We became closer, until one day we were having a sleepover at my house because we had to get up early for a baseball tournament the next morning. We were teasing each other, and that turned into wrestling, and when he pinned me, he leaned in and gave me a quick kiss.

"Of course, with all the noise we'd been making, Dad had to come see what was going on. He opened the door just in time to see the kiss. He pulled Thomas up by the neck and literally threw him out of the front door. I'd chased after Dad, trying to explain, trying to keep him from hurting Thomas.

"Dad turned on me and gave me a beating with his fists and belt. Then he started drinking." Ty stared at his hands without speaking for a time. "I don't think I ever knew where Mom was that night. Out somewhere with her friends, I suppose. When she got home, Dad was totally shitfaced and I was on my bed covered with bruises and blood.

"When I refused to tell her what happened, she started in on Dad. He wouldn't talk either, and he finally left the house and drove to his favorite bar. Mom cleaned me up, put ice on the worst of the bruises, and then told me she'd be back. She left to go get Dad."

A single tear ran down Tyler's cheek, and Cass gently swiped it with his thumb.

"Mom was killed on her way to the bar. Hit by a drunk driver. Dad blamed me for Mom's death. We barely spoke for the next three years. He never forgave me.

"The day I turned seventeen, he took me to the recruiter's office and said to sign me up and get me out of town. I left two weeks later. I didn't even get to finish high school."

"Shit, Ty. He was a grown man, he should have known better! How in the hell could he blame a thirteen year old kid because some asshole drunk driver killed his wife?"

Tyler blinked up at him, as if he were very far away. All caught up in the past, Cass thought.

"I must have left out the most important part. The asshole drunk driver in the other car was my dad. Mom died instantly and Dad walked away with nothing more than a black eye. It was my fault he went out drinking that night, and that started the whole chain reaction that killed my mom. My fault, don't you see?"

## Chapter Six

Tyler's soul was laid bare before him, so much pain in those beautiful deep blue eyes. The moment their gazes met, Cass's heart pushed any thoughts of self-preservation aside, and claimed the man as his own. He was keeping Tyler. It was just that simple.

Moving very slowly, he pressed a palm to Tyler's cheek. When Ty started to pull away, Cass brought his other hand up and cradled Tyler's face. He refused to let Ty look away. He wasn't sure what must have shown on his face, but Tyler sucked in a sharp breath and went very still.

Slowly, Cass lowered his mouth until it hovered a breath away from the other man's lips. "I'm going to kiss you now, Ty," he whispered.

He brushed his lips softly at first, inviting, welcoming. He glided his mouth over Ty's, a barrage of sensations assaulting him. When Tyler didn't pull away, Cass swiped his tongue against the tightly pressed seam of lips.

Ty's lips parted on a sigh, and he closed his eyes. Cass kept the kiss gentle, slow, undemanding. Tyler jerked at the first touch of tongue, but again, he didn't pull away. Cass thought he might explode from the sheer seductive force of the kiss. Emotion poured through him, and the final piece of the shield that had surrounded his heart for so long threatened to drop away. His senses were scorched with need as he nibbled Ty's bottom lip, then he made himself at home, his tongue tracing slow, exotic circles around Tyler's.

*

Tentatively at first, his mouth began to move against Cass's kiss. He shifted his head slightly to allow the kiss to deepen, and a small moan escaped. Desire bubbled inside him, and his heartbeat picked up speed and threatened to race away. His blood pounded in his ears, need rose to a fevered pitch. For the first time in his life, he allowed himself to be swept up by true passion.

Intellectually, Ty knew there was nothing wrong with his sexual orientation. It was just the way he was wired. Always had been, always would be. He'd been with women a few times, tried to convince himself sex was sex. Visiting an occasional whore in the Philippines, Europe, New York, had kept the rumors about his sexual preference from burning too hot. Don't ask, don't tell, don't pursue.

What he felt now, sitting here on the edge of Cass's bed was more intimate than any sex act. For the first time in his life, he was sharing his darkest memories, touching, kissing another man. He'd craved this intimacy. Was it possible? Was he ready to stop living the lie? Ready to put the pain and guilt behind him?

"You're thinking too hard, baby," Cass growled against his lips.

"Oh, God," he whimpered. "Cass, I don't know if I ca—"

Cass pressed his fingers against Ty's lips. "Shhh...I want you, and I'm willing to go as slow as you need me to," Cass said.

Ty's cock was straining against his zipper, and he shifted his hips, trying to get a little more room. Cass brushed his hand across the taut denim and Ty thought he might shoot his load from just that brief contact. His hips jerked, and this time it was Cass who let out a low, deep moan.

"We'll go nice and slow, baby," said Cass, his voice a deep caress. "I want you to lie back. I'm going to undress you and then I'm going to taste you," Cass whispered.

Tyler tensed at his words, desire warring with guilt. Was he really ready to shed his protective cloak of self-denial?

"Shh.... That's all we'll do tonight. I need to taste you, Ty. I want your hard cock between my lips, down my throat," Cass said.

"Oh God," Ty whispered again, and there was no longer any question of what he wanted. The sheer heat of Cass's words seared into him, marking him. Despite a lifetime of denial, he wanted what Cass was offering. He wanted to feel what he'd dreamed of all his life and he wanted it with this man.

He sucked in his breath as Cass started to undress him, removing his shirt, unzipping his jeans. The heat in the cowboy's callused hands scorched Ty's bare skin. Every touch, every rough caress stoked his internal fire, until he was burning white-hot with desire.

"God, you're beautiful," Cass said, and with a gentle but firm hand, he pressed against Tyler's shoulders and lowered his back to the bed.

Ty looked into the face that leaned over him, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He was painfully erect, more aroused than he'd ever been in his life. He knew what he wanted, knew he was desired, and still a shudder of fear passed through him. Once he took this step, there would be no going back.

"Tell me, Tyler. I don't want to push you too fast. If you want to stop now, we can. I'll just hold you while you sleep. But if you're willing to try, to take a chance on this old cowboy, I promise to take you someplace you've not even let yourself dream of."

Ty searched Cass's steady gaze. Cass lifted one corner of his mouth in a small, reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, we'll start nice and slow," Cass said again, while he traced just the tips of his fingers across Ty's lips, down the column of his neck. He flicked Ty's nipple, nearly sending him bucking from the bed with the sensation.

Cass cupped Ty's balls, and he could feel the heat of the touch through the thick denim. "I meant it when I told you I just wanted to taste you tonight. We won't go any farther than that."

Tyler took a deep breath, and gave a short nod, afraid to trust himself to speak.

*

He held Ty's gaze for a long minute, giving him every opportunity to change his mind, praying he wouldn't. Cass had never wanted a man more than he wanted Tyler Hardin, and he wasn't about to fuck it up by moving too fast. It was like breaking a horse, only a helluva lot more important. He needed to get Ty used to his voice, to his touch, before they went any further.

_And what will you do with him once he's broken_ , the small voice in his brain asked. What makes you think this one's any different from all the others? How long before you push him away, just like the rest? He brushed the thought aside as his mouth claimed Ty's once again, before he started the long, slow exploration of the other man's body.

Cass was used to rangy cowboys, with long, hard muscles, and who smelled of leather and hard work. Ty was big, bulky, and he smelled...well, fuck. He smelled delicious. Just like one of his goddamn cinnamon rolls he'd made for breakfast. Cass slid his tongue over Ty's spicy skin, tracing a path along his neck, covering his collarbone in kisses.

Ty's well-defined pecs were covered with dark, silky hair and topped with flat coppery disks. Cass stroked one nipple with his tongue and then he blew on the dampened skin. He worked at the puckered peak with his teeth and mouth, drawing a moan of pleasure from the other man, before moving to the other nipple. When he judged that Ty was ready for more, Cass followed the ridges and planes of the most defined abs he'd ever seen outside a magazine.

Ty's muscles quivered under the assault and his moan of pleasure drove straight to Cass's already rock hard cock. Pushing aside his own need for release, Cass followed the trail of hair as it vee'd a path straight to the treasure he'd been craving since he'd first laid eyes on Tyler. He pulled the jeans the rest of the way off, taking Ty's underwear with them. Extending proudly from a triangle of curly black hair, Ty's engorged cock twitched and throbbed, as if begging for long-denied attention.

Kneeling between Ty's thighs and pressing his face into the soft nest of curls, Cass breathed deeply of the spicy man-scent. "Fuck, Ty. You smell so good," he murmured, just before his tongue darted out to capture the pearlescent drop of pre-cum hovering on the broad cap of Tyler's cock.

Ty gasped, his back arched, and his hips thrust at the first touch of tongue. Cass quickly took the weeping tip into his mouth, gentle at first, pulling, sucking. Keeping his hand fisted around the base of Tyler's prick, he worked at the tip, flicking his tongue into the slit, spreading moisture along the thick column, teasing and tasting.

The tension in Tyler's body radiated from his every pore. Cass knew Ty waged a personal war between pleasure and shame and he was determined to make sure his lover's pleasure emerged a clear victor in this battle. Again, a fierce sense of possessiveness swept through Cass, but he pushed the feeling aside and focused on Ty.

"God, please, Cass, I—" Ty said, his voice tight with a desperate need.

"What, baby? Tell me what you need," Cass said.

"You, oh God, don't stop, I need you!"

"I'll never stop, lover," Cass said. Then cupping Tyler's balls in one hand, he pumped his own cock with his other hand. Ty's sac drew up tight, and he knew neither of them would last much longer. Opening his jaws wide, he took Ty's cock deep and fast, letting it bump against the back of his throat with each hard stroke. Ty's hips thrust in strong, jerky movements. When Ty began to fuck his mouth, Cass hummed around his cock, letting him know he could take it harder.

"Oh fuuuuck," Ty yelled, his head thrown back, hips pushed up.

Cass opened his throat and swallowed around the big cock, enjoying the feel of the hot cum shooting down his throat. He continued to milk every drop, even as his own load shot into his hand.

*

Every nerve ending he possessed was firing signals of pleasure to his brain. Ty's muscles shook, simply overwhelmed by the magic of Cass's mouth, by the promises of his words. He was fucking trembling with pleasure.

When Cass crawled to the top of the bed, Tyler allowed himself to take refuge in the other man's arms, to be held by him against the barrage of sensations. Neither man spoke; it seemed both of them needed a minute to bring their breathing back to normal.

"I never knew—" he started when he could speak. He broke off mid-sentence, unsure of how to express everything he felt. Gratitude, relief, and lust all mixed together, but the overriding sensation at the moment was anxiety. He wanted to take Cass into his arms, to take the next step, but he was afraid he'd fuck it up. He'd never even touched another man before now, only dreamed of it. What the fuck did he know about giving a blowjob?

"You're thinking too hard again, baby," Cass whispered against his cheek.

'I don't know what to do next," Ty admitted, tentatively reaching his hand toward Cass's hips.

Cass grabbed his hand and held it for a moment. "You don't owe me anything. I promised we would take this slow, and I meant it. We have plenty of time."

"But it's not fair to leave you...to leave you..."

Laughing, Cass said, "Ty, baby, you didn't leave me hanging, if that's what you're thinking. Come here."

Cass took Ty's hand and swiped it against the tip of his own cock, and Ty's fingers came away sticky with Cass's cum. "We came together. Feeling you, tasting, watching you come for me...there was no way I was letting you go over by yourself."

Cass brought their joined hand to Ty's mouth and rubbed his cum on his lover's lips. Then he closed his mouth over Ty's, mingling the taste of their sex. "Tomorrow's soon enough," Cass whispered, his words a promise.

## Chapter Seven

"You goddamn son of a bitch! You just had to go and take what was mine. You never fuck anything close to home. You knew I wanted Tyler, but you fucking took him anyway."

Well, hadn't this morning just started out great, Cass thought. Never taking his eyes off Jed, he said quietly "You don't want to do this, Jed. I swear to you, I didn't fuck him."

"Maybe not yet, but you plan to. I ain't stupid. I saw the way you was eyeing each other at breakfast. Hell, you practically fucked him at the table."

"Ty's a grown man, Jed. He'll make his choice when he's ready, and it isn't up to either one of us. Now nice and easy, put the gun down."

Without a flick of a glance, Cass saw Tyler move out the kitchen door and through the courtyard. He moved smoothly, quietly as he crossed the dirt drive behind Jed. Shit, he needed to get the gun out of the asshole's hands before Ty got anywhere close to the trouble.

It seemed Tyler had other ideas.

"Hey, Jed," Tyler said quietly, as he got closer, drawing Jed's attention from Cass for a second.

Cass tried to take advantage of the momentary distraction. He took one quick step forward, but he wasn't nearly close enough to disarm the bastard. Jed whirled and fired a shot that kicked up dirt a scant inch from Cass's left foot.

"Fuck, Jed! Put down the goddamn gun before someone gets hurt," Cass yelled. The other ranch hands had started to gather, forming a loose circle around the men. That was all well and good if it was fists, but goddamn Jed brought a gun to the fight and someone was likely to catch a stray bullet if the asshole kept firing.

Too late, he realized Ty was intentionally drawing closer to Jed, despite the gun. He wanted to shout out, to warn Tyler to stay back, that he would handle it.

In the blink of an eye, Ty went from too far away to reach Jed, to close enough to hug him. There didn't seem to be any space of time or sense of motion, he was just suddenly there. Then Ty was airborne, spinning, and yelling, his right leg bent at the knee, left leg extended. Cass saw Jed's head snap back half a moment before his brain registered the sound of Ty's foot connecting with the side of Jed's head.

With eyes rolling up to disappear under sagging lids, Jed went down in a boneless heap, gun clattering harmlessly to the dirt.

Not exactly a ranch hand's weapon, Cass thought, as he watched a very cool Tyler Hardin deal with the situation. Ty bent down and retrieved the nine-mil, clicked on the safety and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. Never taking his eyes from Jed, Ty casually asked, "You going to call the sheriff?" Only then did he look up and it seemed to come as a surprise that everyone was staring at him.

"Goddamn that was cool," said Tony. "Like some kind of action hero," he laughed. "Think we'll have to give you your own name."

"Ty Hard," said Roy, entering the circle of men standing around watching. "That's what Gibby said they called him."

"Ty Hard, huh?" said Cass. "Well, I don't know about that, but I do know you probably saved my life," he said and crossed to Ty in three steps. Without hesitating, he pulled him into a kiss that seemed to go on forever. Dimly, Cass was aware of the other men whooping and hollering. When Cass finally pulled back from the kiss, Ty was breathing hard and his eyes had taken on a sexy haze.

Cass grinned before turning and pointing at Jed, still an unmoving useless heap. "That asshole is dangerous. Tony, you and Rot Gut grab his shit. Throw him in the truck and take him on down to Kingman. Stop by the office before you head out and I'll have his last paycheck ready.

He turned back to Ty and saw his lover had recovered from the kiss. He wanted to put that look of hunger back on his face. Maybe he wouldn't wait until tonight to continue with the next lesson. First, he needed to make sure Tyler never did something that crazy again.

"As for you, _Ty Hard_ , I appreciate what you did, but we need to get one thing straight. You're the cook and I'm the cowboy. If anyone needs to be going after assholes, it's going to be me. Don't you ever fucking go up unarmed against a gun again. You hear me?"

Ty turned a quarter of a turn and their gazes locked. The look in Ty's eyes went as cold and dead as any snake. "I take care of my own shit. No one fucking messes with me." Without another word, he turned and walked back into the house.

Cass sucked in a breath at both the words and the tone. Ty had just gone someplace very bad in his head.

"Damn, he's stone cold," Rot Gut said.

"Ty Hard," agreed Manuel.

"That last bit? That kind of dead in his eye? Damn, that's the part that worried Gibby, Cass. I think you better go after him," Roy said softly.

"Okay, show's over everyone," Cass called out. "Get this piece of shit out of here. Manny, I changed my mind about the check. Go get two weeks pay from the petty cash and tuck it in Jed's pocket."

He took off his hat and swiped a hand over his sweaty forehead and let his gaze drift towards the kitchen door. Now he knew. Tyler could take care of himself in a fight, but it damn near made him want to cry to see Tyler's warm blue eyes turn empty and lifeless. With what the man had been through overseas, his injuries, and medication...hell, Tyler was a walking advertisement for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Gibby had wanted to bring Tyler here to heal, to spend some time getting his life back together before he had to face any stressful situations. In short order, Tyler had been forced to face the death of a man he loved like a father, gotten his dick sucked, and now, had disarmed a man firing a goddamn gun.

Way to go asshole, he thought. He couldn't have made Tyler more stressed if he tried. He should just leave the man alone, give him some space to sort through his feelings. He knew he couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that.

"Manuel, take over for me, today," he said, his gaze flicking between his men and the house. "I'm not sure how long..."

"Sure, boss, no problema. Let's go, caballeros. We have work to do. Tony and Rot Gut, get this piece of shit out of here. Take your time, boss," Manuel said, smiling at him.

With a sharp nod of his head, Cass started toward the house. Toward his man.

****

Ty stood with his hands gripping the edge of the counter, eyes closed, and counting. In...one, two, three, four, five. Out...one, two, three, four, five. He did not want to take more drugs, did not want to lose another piece of himself. _Fuck._

Suddenly, light exploded all around him. He recognized the flash-bang grenade, even as he dove for cover. He rolled and bounced right back to his feet, fighting stance ready. He saw no one, but everything slowed, just as it always did when he prepared for battle. He was careful to keep his heart rate down, felt the blood crawl through his veins. He moved slowly, began to take inventory. His knives...where the fuck were his knives? He patted his forearms and looked down. Where the hell was his uniform? Special ops...were they supposed to be undercover?

The familiar press of a gun tucked into his waistband told him he was armed, but goddamn he needed his knives. Slowly, he reached for the gun, automatically checking that it was loaded and the safety off. He looked around and realized he was in a kitchen...he knew kitchens—there would be knives. With the stealth of a jungle cat, he moved to the block of wood holding an assortment of blades. Selecting two paring knives, Ty continued to make his way down the hall.

There weren't many shadows, so he clung to the walls as he moved silently through the house. He'd never seen anything like this house anywhere in Kandahar Province before. Never seen a house with bright sunlight streaming through broad windows. The buildings that still had windows were shuttered, the glass layered with grime, darkened by any means possible. This little incongruity told him the target he was pursuing must be somewhere outside the city, and was very wealthy.

There were voices outside, but that wouldn't be anyone from his team. They wouldn't speak freely if anyone in the compound was still alive. Unless of course they had already captured the entire camp. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why couldn't he remember the mission? His team? He'd have to report this lapse to Doc.

"Ty? Tyler? You back here, man?"

Tyler moved swiftly, taking cover behind a door. He palmed the small knife, checking the balance, automatically calculating the throwing distance. He tucked the gun back into his waistband, he preferred to kill silently. That would keep him safe until he could find his team leader.

"Tyler?"

*

"Tyler?" Cass called out softly, not at all happy about the silent house.

Tyler should have been in the kitchen, should have answered when his name was called. Cass just didn't know enough about Ty's injuries, about PTSD. What if Ty was on the floor, collapsed under the debilitating headaches that plagued him? What if it was something worse?

This morning he'd awakened alone in his big bed, already missing the feel of Tyler curled against his side. They'd fallen asleep after a very intense blowjob, the very first Ty ever experienced from a man. Cass admitted to himself that he'd hoped for a repeat when they woke, but either Ty had been too skittish or the call to make breakfast was just too strongly ingrained.

Cass hadn't a moment alone with Tyler since then. The men had already been in the house waiting to eat by the time Cass had made it out of the bedroom. He could have waited until they'd gone outside after breakfast, but he thought it might make Tyler even more uncomfortable. He'd planned to go outside, have his usual meeting with the men, and then sneak back in for a quick word with Tyler before he rode out for the morning.

Instead, he'd walked outside and ran straight into Jed and his gun. Shit, he needed to talk to Tyler, where was he?

"Tyler?" Cass called softly as he went through the door of the bedroom.

In an instant, a massive forearm circled his neck, and a big hand splayed against the back of his head. The broad, hard body of his lover pressed up against his back, but there was nothing gentle about this embrace. It was deadly serious.

"Ty...Tyler," Cass pushed out through his compressed windpipe. He let his muscles relax against Tyler, needing the man to feel the total lack of resistance, hoping to communicate with his body that he was not the enemy.

"Tyler, it's me, it's Cass. You're safe here, babe," Cass rasped out, his throat on fire.

"Cass?" Tyler whispered uncertainly and loosened the chokehold slightly.

"Yeah, Tyler. It's me. We're on my ranch, remember? Willow Springs Ranch. Come on, big guy, loosen up, now. Let me breathe," Cass whispered.

Ty's arms dropped suddenly to his side, and the knife slipped from his hands. Cass turned and wrapped his arms around the other man's waist, but not before he'd caught a glimpse of the complete confusion on Tyler's face.

"Shh...it's all right, now. Everything's all right," Cass said, swaying slightly, tucking Tyler's head against his shoulder.

Ty started to shake, a small tremble that shivered through him. Cass didn't know if it was a reaction to what happened with Jed or their own narrow escape. All he knew was a fierce need to protect the man in his arms.

Keeping one arm around Tyler, Cass moved him toward the bed. "Come on, handsome. We didn't get much sleep last night. How about we lie down for a little bit? Maybe take a little nap together, okay?"

Cass felt relief wash over him when Ty let himself be led to the bed. "Let me help you get out of these, you'll sleep better," Cass said as he stripped the jeans from his lover. "Does your head hurt? Can I get you some of your medicine?"

"I don't...I don't want to take...makes me feel..." Tyler stammered out, starting to get agitated.

"Shh...you don't have to take anything right now, let's just lie down here together and see if that helps, okay?" Cass said. When Tyler curled on his side, facing away, Cass rubbed his callused hand soothingly over the younger man's back until his breathing relaxed, and he fell into a deep sleep.

Cass curled around his lover's body, draped his arm over his hip, and pressed a kiss to the smooth brown shoulder. Tyler needed help. He might have been physically well enough to be released from care, but there was no doubt, he wasn't finished healing yet.

## Chapter Eight

Tyler only got as far as mentioning his name to the receptionist before the double doors separating the waiting room and the clinic pushed open and a small, good-looking man hurried out, hand extended.

"You must be Tyler. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, clasping Ty's hand in both of his. Then he tucked his arm around Tyler's waist and led him into the secure medical treatment area. There was nothing left for Cass to do but wait.

For the next forty-five minutes he surreptitiously observed the other men in the room. Were the women Veteran's tougher and they didn't need healthcare? Or maybe this was a men only clinic day. With a mental shrug, Cass continued to watch. Eventually, each man had made it through the double doors and back out, until the receptionist and he were the only two left. She finally came out from behind her glass booth and flipped the sign to indicate to the world that the clinic was now closed. She smiled at him as she wobbled past on high heels and thin legs to return to her secure desk area. Apparently, like him, she was here for the long haul.

With a sigh, he picked up yet another magazine about beautiful people whose lives didn't connect with his in any way. After Ty's flashback, he'd called the Kingman VA Clinic, unsure if they'd see Tyler. He needn't have worried. After a couple of minutes on hold, he'd explained part of Tyler's situation to a social worker named Perry, who'd insisted he bring Tyler in for an appointment. Perry had even shifted things around and arranged for Tyler to meet Dr. Hoffmann that very afternoon, so they'd climbed in the truck and made the two-hour drive to town.

He glanced up when the sharp smell of nail enamel wafted through the room. The receptionist was painting her nails with a textbook propped against her monitor. Apparently, they were closed enough for extra-curricular activities, but not closed enough for her to leave.

"Long day?" he asked when she'd glanced up to find him staring.

"Not too bad. I'm still in school, so I only work afternoons and we close at five. It gives me time to take classes at the community college a couple of nights a week."

"Are you open late like this one night a week?" he asked, a little confused, since it was past closing time.

"No, no, we're not really open. Perry asked me to stay as a favor. I'm happy to do it for your friend." With an apologetic smile, she turned back to her book, dainty nailbrush dripping with pink poised over her left hand.

Out of things to pretend to read, Cass propped his elbows on his knees and absently tapped his cowboy hat against his calves. Thirty long minutes later Ty emerged, with the man's arm around his waist again. Still? Was the doctor making moves on Ty?

"Don't forget Tyler, take two capsules in the morning, and two at night. Same time each day, like maybe six and six. You're probably going to feel like shit for the next few days, more tired than usual. Stay with them, and that sleepy effect will fade. Doc said you won't have to take these forever, but you can't just stop taking them, okay? You wait 'til Doc gives the word. Go over and talk to Missy, she has some more paperwork for you to take home. Bring it back next Thursday when you come to see me."

"Thanks for everything, Perry. I really appreciate it," Tyler said. He turned to the receptionist and Perry turned toward Cass.

Perry, not the doctor, he thought, as a piercing blue gaze locked with his. Perry was only a couple of inches over five feet, with delicate features accentuated by the long dark hair pulled back from his face in a ponytail. A beautiful man who set all kinds of gaydar alarms ringing.

"Mr. Cartwright? Nice to meet you, I'm Perry White," he said holding out a hand.

"Call me Cass. Seriously? Perry White?" Cass said, looking down and shaking the other man's slender hand.

"Seriously. Never gonna work in the newspaper business. Parents suck," he grinned. "Thanks for bringing Tyler in, it's a real honor to meet him. Will getting him here next week be any problem? Or should I go ahead and schedule transportation? It's no problem to schedule the van pick up. Especially since we're going to be seeing each other twice a week, starting week after next."

"Tyler's got a car, but if he's not supposed to drive, I'll make sure he gets here," Cass said, with a quick glance to check on Ty.

Perry fixed him with a searching look, started to say something, then stopped. He glanced quickly over at Tyler once more and said softly, "Thanks for taking him in temporarily. We're going to work on the vocational rehab and reintegration into a community. I understand why the Docs back east wanted to release him to an almost-family member, but this situation disintegrated in a hurry. It's more than he should have to deal with so soon. This is a tough time right now for anyone to be in his position. Disabled Vet. No job, no home..." the social worker trailed off.

"He's got a job _and_ a home," Cass said through suddenly clenched teeth. "Excuse me, it was nice to meet you," he said. He pushed his hat down on his head and moved to Ty who was waiting by the door, a sheaf of papers in one hand a bottle of pills in the other.

"Ready to go home?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ty agreed tiredly.

****

"What's the matter? Isn't the steak cooked the way you like it?" Cass asked.

He looked down, startled to realize he'd only taken a few bites of the perfectly seared strip of rare beef. His mind was caught up in all the things he and Perry had talked about this afternoon. Doctor Hoffmann had joined them halfway through the appointment, asked a few questions about the head injury and the surgeries that put his Humpty-Dumpty-self back together. He'd hoped he could escape the appointment with nothing more than an updated prescription. Not that he hadn't appreciated the medical care after his injuries, but six months of it was more than enough.

Unfortunately, before the doc could leave, Perry spoke up about Gibby's death and the flashback. All of a sudden, Ty had seemed to present a more interesting case than just another head trauma. The doctor changed the prescription and added twice-weekly therapy sessions, plus vocational rehab, and life counseling. Christ, it had really pissed him off.

After the doctor left, he'd laid into Perry for interfering in his personal life, but the smaller man wasn't intimidated by either his words or his attitude. He'd just stared with his tranquil blue eyes until Tyler ran out of steam, then proceeded to make a ridiculous number of plans that he deemed necessary for a full recovery and integration back into civilian life.

Belatedly, Ty realized Cass was waiting for an answer. With a quick shake of his head, he popped a piece of steak in his mouth and spoke round it.

"Sorry, the steak is perfect. This was a good idea. I mean getting some supplies and eating before we start to drive back. How do you get used to living so far out in the boonies?"

Laughter poured out of Cass, his dark head thrown back, teeth flashing white against his tan skin. "Seriously? How'd you do it in Afghanistan or on a ship? You couldn't exactly run down to the neighborhood market. You build a plan, make a list, and learn to be comfortable with what's actually on hand. But it's also why anyone who comes to town picks up everything on the running list taped to the fridge.

"Looks like you and I will be coming to town pretty regular for a while. I'll run the errands while you have your appointments. That'll keep things pretty simple."

"That's not what I expect, Cass. Perry says he'll help me find a place in town and a job. Soon as I have a permanent address I can switch my bank so the VA payments will be easier to get. I never came out here intending anything except a visit with Gibby before I moved on to find my own way. I still think Laughlin sounds good for a job once things settle down, so I'll probably look for a place to live in Bullhead City," he said, mentioning the city on the Arizona side of the Colorado River.

Realizing he'd been doing all the talking, he took another bite of steak, and looked up to find Cass staring at him. The man's lips were tightly compressed, his nostrils flared, and a tick in his jaw was visible below his left ear. He didn't know the cowboy that well, but if he had to put a name to the expression, he would say the other man was seriously pissed.

Before Ty could ask what was wrong, Cass threw a wad of cash on the table.

"Finish up, we need to go. I'm going to gas the truck and I'll meet you out front in a few minutes.

Swallowing around the partially chewed meat, Ty asked the now empty table, "Was it something I said?"

****

Cussing a blue streak, Cass kick at the lopsided bumper of his truck and pressed 9-1-1 on his cell phone. He stepped back to avoid the pebbles of shattered glass that littered the asphalt on the driver's side. Two flat tires and a smashed driver side window. Hell, Riley's was a busy steakhouse on Route 66, right in the middle of where every tourist on the way to Las Vegas stopped for gas, but he doubted they'd find any witnesses. This was just the sort of random act of vandalism a bunch of high school kids could get into in a hurry in a small town on a Friday night.

He absently walked around the truck as he gave the dispatcher the details and she promised to send a deputy as soon as she could. He dug in his wallet for his insurance agent's business card and left a brief message on the answering service.

With a sharp exhale, Cass moved to the restaurant's porch to wait for the cops. Riley's Steakhouse was a large barn-style building, with a raised boardwalk separating the front door and the parking lot. He sat in one of the rocking chairs and eyed the numerous barrel tables, chairs, and checkerboards. It was just bad luck that no one was sitting outside, waiting for a table.

Flipping open his phone again to call the ranch, he realized he was delaying the inevitable. He should go inside to find Tyler and let him know what happened to the truck. Shit. He should go find Tyler and apologize. He'd acted completely out of character when Ty spoke about trying to put his life back together. The man had been dealt one bad hand after another, and was doing his level best to survive. Who was Cass to judge? He had no claims on the man, but goddamit, he'd never felt like this about anyone before.

The front door swung open, and Cass jumped to his feet to face Tyler, the apology already on his lips.

What walked through the door was a completely new flavor of tall, dark, and handsome. Although they'd never met, he had no trouble identifying the new Sheriff. His picture had been plastered all over the local paper for the last two months. He'd been a controversial selection, and a clear indication that the mayor was trying to free herself from the good old boy network that had kept the county in a stranglehold for the last decade. And the man was holding the door for Tyler.

"Are you new in town, Tyler?" Holden Titus was asking. Holy shit. How long had they been talking?

"Yes, sir. Well, not really in town. I'm staying on the Willow Springs Ranch with a...friend of a friend, I suppose you'd say. I just got discharged from the Navy and I'm still sorting through what to do next."

Deep laughter rumbled through the Sheriff's chest. "I remember when I first got out of the Navy. I called everything that moved sir." He clapped a big hand on Ty's beefy shoulder. "You don't need to call me or anyone else around here sir. Unless you're in to that sort of thing," he joked. "Listen, I've got to get back to work. I've got a report of some vandalism I need to check out, since I was already at the scene. It was nice to meet you, Tyler. Looks like we've got some sea stories to share. Maybe we could get together for lunch next time you're in town. I'm new around here, myself. It would be nice to make a friend."

Before Tyler could answer, Cass stepped forward, hand extended. "Hey, Sheriff. I'm Cass Cartwright. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I wonder if I might be the victim of that report?"

Holden looked up for a moment, then grinned, and took his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Cass. Let's have a look at your truck."

"Your truck? What happened, Cass?" Tyler asked.

Cass spent the next hour filling out forms, answering questions, and watching a futile effort to find fingerprints. An over-sized tow truck pulled up just as the last of the city vehicles was departing.

"You staying in town, tonight?" Sheriff Titus asked. "We could go back inside and grab a beer at the bar. Start on those sea stories. Or maybe not," he said, as he looked at the rocking chair where Tyler slept soundly.

Cass felt the smile tug at his mouth when he looked at Ty. The new meds must have already kicked in, he thought. "Some other time, Holden, thanks. They're bringing the new tires," he nodded at the wrecker. "I need to get Tyler back tonight. He's had a pretty rough day."

Titus gave him a look. It was a good look, and Cass fought the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. He had a momentary thought that he and the Sheriff would be a good match in a poker game.

"Anything else you want to tell me, Cartwright?" Holden asked.

Looking back at the sleeping man, Cass weighed his options. He didn't really think the damage to his truck was anything other than a random act. On the other hand, _if_ Jed were involved, he'd like the bastard to pay.

Trusting his gut, he told the Sheriff what was on his mind. "I don't believe this had anything to do with what happened here, but we did have some trouble out at the ranch this morning. To be honest, so many other things happened since then I didn't think of it until just now. I had to fire a ranch hand for being drunk and waving a gun around this morning. A couple of my men dropped him off at the YMCA. I suppose he could have gotten pissed off enough to do this, if he saw my truck."

"Want to tell me the ranch hand's name and what he was so upset about?" the Sheriff asked.

Cass raked his hand through his hair before he put his hat back on. "Jedediah Black. He had an interest in Ty, and thought I might be letting my own interest interfere and prevent him from having any luck with the newcomer."

Holden's face was perfectly neutral, except for the one eyebrow that arched over his right eye. "And were you?"

"Yep."

"I see," Holden said.

"Bother you?" Cass asked bluntly.

"Nope. I got enough on my plate without worrying about what people get up to on their own. I assume you noticed the color of my skin?"

"Yep," Cass said again, and gave the Sheriff a grin. "All right, I just thought you might need to know. There's just one other thing. Ty kicked Jed's ass." He snorted and shook his head. "No, that isn't exactly right. Ty took one flying kick and Black went down in a heap, out cold.

"Ty got back from Afghanistan not too long ago, and he was injured pretty badly—"

"Yeah, I saw the scar on his head, and wondered," Holden said.

"The whole thing with Jed this morning triggered some kind of combat flashback. That's why we're here. Went to the VA. For everybody's sake, it would be best if Black stayed far away from Ty. And he sure as hell better stay the fuck away from me."

## Chapter Nine

Weekends at the ranch were a different pace than the rest of the week. Most of the men took off if there wasn't a need to haul animals to a rodeo or livestock sale. Cass usually split the duties up, and either he or Manuel stuck around to make sure everything ran smoothly. This was his weekend off, and he had plans for his chef.

"Come on, sleepyhead," he said, sticking his head in the door of Tyler's guest room. Between the long day and the addition of the new drugs, Ty had been nearly comatose with exhaustion by the time they'd returned from Kingman. As much as he would have loved to tuck the man in bed next to him, Cass was smart enough to realize he needed to take things slow.

"Get yourself dressed, pack an overnight bag, we have plans," he said, and then left to pack his own small bag.

*

Ty held on to the rail of the all-terrain four-wheeler, grinning as Cass gave him a quick tour of the ranch. He couldn't help smiling at the carefree expression on Tyler's face as they bounced over the ruts and rock.

"The ranch has over twenty-thousand acres, between what I own outright and what I lease from the government."

"Wow. That's huge. I had no idea your ranch was so big," Ty shouted over the sound of the engine.

"We don't have much free range cattle. We monitor the land carefully, keep the cattle from causing permanent damage to the natural landscape. The desert isn't like the land back east. Our scrub doesn't support much in the way of grazing, so we keep most of the livestock closer to the main house and provide their food and maintain fenced pastures. We provide stock for rodeos, do some dude ranching occasionally, even have a camp twice a year for kids. It keeps me and about a dozen ranch hands busy, most of the time."

"And you have a big garden and I thought I saw some fruit trees, behind the main house," Ty said.

Cass glanced over to make sure Tyler wasn't making fun of him, but all he saw was a genuine interest.

"Yeah, that's kind of my own pet project. I like gardening. It's all organic. Gibby used to use a lot of the herbs and vegetables."

"Good to know. I'll check it out when we get back. Where are—holy shit! Is that a lake?"

"Hardly a full-fledged lake, more like a pond on steroids. It's about three acres and stocked with large-mouth bass. You like to fish?"

"Love it. I used to go fishing when I was training down in Panama City. Sometimes deep-sea, but mostly just a little fishing hole near the Air Force base. Training was a little...intense. I could take a sleeping bag and spend a couple of days by myself, winding down."

"Well, you're welcome to one of those sleeping tents any time," he said, pointing to the small structures on the far side of the lake. It never gets too hot here, never too cold, either. We're just high enough in the Black Mountains to give us four mild seasons."

"There's so much here, Cass. I had no idea. Gibby seemed to think I'd want to work here, but I couldn't imagine having enough to do, stuck out in the middle of nowhere. I kind of had a picture of our camp in Afghanistan..." he trailed off.

Reaching over, Cass clamped a hand on Ty's shoulder, but let the moment pass without saying anything. Sometimes the only comfort came from knowing you weren't alone.

After a minute, he felt Ty's shoulder relax, and he removed his hand. "So tell me kid, not afraid of flying are you?" He'd timed his question perfectly to coincide with the four-wheeler topping the crest of a hill and revealing the private airstrip and the Cessna tied down and waiting.

****

Tyler looked around the luxury suite, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the extravagant furnishings. They were on one of the suite levels of the Bellagio Hotel, overlooking the famous fountains. "I've never been to Las Vegas, before. I don't think my blue jeans are exactly going to cut it here, Cass. This hotel, this suite...you obviously have something in mind that I'm not sure I'm ready for. Something I might never be ready for. You should have said something."

The cowboy wrapped long arms around his waist and rested his chin on Ty's shoulder. Ty forced himself to relax enough to accept the embrace, but not enough to melt into it, as certain parts of his body were encouraging him to do.

"Hear me out, Ty. Please?" Cass asked, voice a hot whisper against his neck.

Ty gave a quick nod and tried to figure out what to do with his hands. His arms felt awkward hanging down by his sides, but Cass was wrapped around him, holding him tight.

"I've been on my own a very long time. My parents were big adventurers. We were a close, happy family, took a lot of trips together. To celebrate my graduation from high school, they planned an African safari. They started the trip without me so I could make a quick side trip to visit MIT to plan for my first semester in the fall. The department chairwoman tracked me down to tell me that my parents had been killed. The jeep they were in overturned and suddenly, my whole world changed. I went into a bit of a tailspin. Gave up the idea of college, quit my job, sold their house. I bought a pickup truck and headed west. Decided I was gonna be a cowboy."

Ty noticed Cass's voice took on a singsong rhythm and his words rolled a little more, as if he was pulling his cowboy persona over the pain of losing his family. A shudder passed through the rancher, and he seemed to shake himself out of the memories.

"Sorry, got lost for a minute there. The point is...I've been on my own for twenty years. I never had any intention of settling for one man, because I know how quickly all that can be ripped from you. In a lot of ways, Jed was right about me. I never bring anyone home, never had a relationship, unless you count the guys on the ranch."

Cass dropped his arms suddenly and moved around him to press his forehead against the window. Ty wasn't sure what to do. He was pretty sure of what he wanted, but he didn't think this was the time.

"I don't know what's happening to me," Cass said in choked voice. "Practically from the first moment I saw you, I wanted to claim you, to keep you. Shit, I know I'm fucking this up. You've never been with anyone but me, and even that was just a baby step. But Ty...I gotta tell you—"

Cass swallowed hard, then ran a hand over his face, leaving his eyes covered for a minute. Ty put a hand on the cowboy's shoulder.

"Come on, Cass—"

"No, I'm sorry, Ty. You're right. I should have told you where we were going, what we were doing. I just wanted to surprise you. I've never had someone I wanted to...hell, I don't know. I just want to make you feel better, okay? You've had a shitty time of it lately, and I just want to give you this weekend as something a little special." He turned to face Ty.

"Let me give you this weekend. It's no big deal, no strings attached. Here's all I had planned...I hate fuckin' shopping, but I thought we could go downstairs and get a pair of slacks for the evening. The dress code said business casual, and, well, I figured it would just be easier to get that here."

"What the fuck are you talking about? What dress code?"

Cass grinned, his good humor and confidence temporarily restored and went to the small table and took an envelope tucked into the front of the welcome basket of fruit and wine. Holding out two passes, he asked, "Do you play poker, sailor? We've got a Texas Hold'em tournament that starts in an hour. Then I figured dinner and a show. That's it. No other plans. Tomorrow we can go wherever you want. Please, Ty. Say yes, let me give you tonight. Don't sweat the bed; I'll stay on the couch. Let this just be about me giving you a special weekend because I want to, not about anything else."

The silence was tense as Cass looked at him expectantly. Hell, what could he say? The big cowboy was wearing his heart on his sleeve. He knew what a risk the man had taken to tell him all that and his words had cut right through every last line of Tyler's defense.

Ty couldn't even remember who he thought his lifelong self-denial was appeasing. There was nothing he could do, no price he could pay that would change what happened to his mother. He owed his father nothing. Not one fucking thing. His penance was done, the price paid. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket to check the time. He heard Cass's shape intake of breath and realized his friend thought he was going to call someone or maybe even a cab.

Ty looked up into deep, dark eyes and a let a slow grin curve his lips. "We better get our asses in gear, then, if I'm gonna kick your ass in poker."

****

Cass looked at the table. Ace of hearts, jack of hearts, three of spades. He kept his eyes absolutely flat. No way was he going to telegraph the real strength of his hand. Better if Ty thought he was bluffing than to think he was facing three aces after the flop. For all the tension in the gallery, Tyler appeared remarkably relaxed. Of course, it wasn't his money that he was playing with, and he stood to earn eight thousand dollars just for losing.

It had cost Cass a thousand dollars apiece to enter both of them into the tournament. With five tables of ten players, it had taken nearly two hours before Ty landed at his table. The competition had dwindled, until only he and Tyler remained. Although he was a skilled player and regularly survived to the final table in his monthly trips, Cass had expected to bow out hours ago, as soon as Tyler was eliminated. Instead, his friend's luck stood him in good stead, and he'd survived to the final two, with even more chips than Cass. _Lucky bastard_.

The dealer reached forward, dealt the turn. Ten of hearts. No help, possible harm. With three hearts showing, and the river to come, Cass quickly calculated the risk of the other man drawing a flush. The risk was high, but acceptable against three aces. Maybe he could smoke him out.

"Check," he said, not making a bet. If Ty had a hand worth betting, he'd make his move now. He watched his sailor carefully, but there wasn't a flicker of interest in the turn card. Ty just kept a casual smile on his face and watched everyone with apparent equal interest.

"Check," Tyler echoed.

The dealer slid the river card from the deck. Ace of diamonds. Goddamn. Four of a kind, quad aces. Maintaining his outward appearance of dead calm, Cass placed his bet, making it big enough that Tyler would likely fold. Especially, if Ty wanted to last too many more hands.

"Damn, cowboy. Are you trying to take advantage of me, since this is my first trip to Las Vegas?" Ty asked. His smile was wide, ice blue eyes sparkling with the teasing tone. He looked at the cards on the table, then at Cass's chips. He chewed on his bottom lip.

Cass was almost starting to feel sorry for Ty. It was clear the man wasn't sure his hand was good enough to win. If he knew about the other two aces, he'd just walk away from this hand, relieved he still had chips left to play.

"Okay, I'll see your bet and raise you..." Ty looked at the stack of chips, and then named an amount.

With the confidence of an angler who knew he'd just landed his biggest fish, Cass pushed the rest of his chips to the center of the table. "All in." The gallery buzzed with excitement. If Cass won, the tournament continued for at least one more hand. If Tyler won, he would walk away with twelve thousand dollars.

"The bet is quickly called. Mr. Cartwright is all in. Gentlemen, show your cards.

Cass used one card to flick the other over, revealing the aces he'd been dealt. Then he raised his head to meet Tyler's crystal gaze. For a moment, everything faded, no sound, no one watching his every move, nothing but Tyler. He was lost, pulled into a vortex of longing, his mind flooded with memories of taste and touch. Of Tyler begging for more as he shoved his cock into Cass's hungry mouth and down his throat. He felt the heat flare in his face and he forced himself to look away, to drag his gaze to the table and to Tyler's cards.

To Tyler's royal flush. _Shit_.

****

"You are one Goddamn hard to read son of a bitch," Cass told him, for the third time, since they'd returned to their room.

Ty laughed and raised his bottle of water, tapping it against the cowboy's beer in a toast. He'd been stone cold when the dealer completed his royal with the ten of hearts on the turn. Sure, he'd known then that the hand was won, but he wasn't in it for the hand, he was in it for the tournament. Which had made it imperative to finish the seduction, seal the big win. When his friend slid those chips slowly across the table, taken that ultimate risk and gone all in— Ty had to be honest with himself...the vision he'd conjured of his cowboy going all in had nothing to do with cards and everything to do with his own ass.

Cass's scrutiny at the end had been so intense that they'd actually gotten a little lost in each other.... With a start, Ty realized he'd been drifting while Cass was still talking and had moved to sit next to him on the couch.

"...was watching. You never even twitched when the dealer turned the ten and made your royal. I expected you to bet that round if you had a decent hand," Cass said.

"Why did we play cards tonight?" Tyler asked, his heart racing far faster than it had all evening.

"I thought you'd enjoy a night out. Coming here once a month to play is something I really like to do and I figured you'd get a kick out of it," Cass said. A little wrinkle formed between his eyebrows.

"No, I understand that," Ty said patiently. "I mean why do you play cards in a tournament?"

"Easy. I like to win," Cass grinned.

"Right," agreed Ty. "But that's not all of it, is it?"

Cass fiddled with the label on his beer bottle, watching his hands, as if he needed a minute to gather his thoughts. "No, you're right," he said finally. "I enjoy the strategy, reading my opponents, figuring the odds and taking acceptable risks." He continued even more slowly. "And I approach each hand as a part of the overall strategy. I'm not gonna make a stupid bet or take an unacceptable risk for the sake of just one hand, because it's all about winning the tournament....

"Shit. You knew how I'd react every step of the way," Cass said, the realization plain on his face. "You played your hand so that I'd go all in, and you'd win the tournament, not just the hand. It's exactly what I would have done. That was well played, Ty. Really well played. I seriously underestimated you. I thought when you said you'd never been to Vegas..."

"I answered the question you asked, Cass." He leaned forward and took the beer bottle from the cowboy's hands. Carefully, moving with deliberate intention, Ty placed both bottles on the coffee table. He turned and straddled Cass's lap and cupped his face in his hands. "Just because I haven't played before, doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing," he whispered, close enough that their lips brushed against his words.

Closing the scant distance, Ty swiped his tongue over the other man's lips and tasted the malty exhalation of breath. He threaded the fingers of one hand into the soft brown strands at the back of Cass's head, holding him in place, pulling him into the kiss. His other hand was gentle against the bristled jaw of his cowboy and he used his thumb to trace his lover's cheek. Cass moaned when Ty pushed his tongue between parted lips, for a long, slow kiss. Arms wrapped around his back, sliding inside his shirt, rough calluses against his skin. He deepened the kiss and rocked his hips, rubbing his ass against the hard length he felt in Cass's lap.

_Thump, thump, thump—_ "Room service," a voice trilled from the hallway.

Ty pulled back from his exploration of his lover's mouth, and forehead to forehead, they panted, trying to catch enough breath to answer the door.

"Just a minute," Cass called. Then more quietly, he said, "Hold that thought, baby."

Ty moaned as he lifted himself from Cass's lap and wondered if either of them would be able to eat the late night burgers.

## Chapter Ten

Cass signed the bill, added an extra gratuity, and practically pushed the bellhop out the door, shutting it as firmly as he shut down the slender young man's hopeful suggestion he stay until they were finished eating.

"Ready to eat?" he asked with his back to Ty. He removed the silver covers from the plates, while he concentrated on bringing his breathing under control.

Firm hands grabbed his hips, spun him around, and pushed him against the table. Then Tyler was pressed against him, stroking his hair, and bringing him in for a possessive, demanding kiss. Cass relaxed into the embrace, and his body enthusiastically overruled his planned slow seduction. Apparently, Tyler was setting new rules. He wasn't a passive participant, he wasn't slowly working himself up to overcome a lifetime of resistance. No, his Tyler was right here, right now, and demanding every ounce of Cass's attention.

"Yeah, I am," Tyler said, as if answering Cass's thoughts. Ty dropped to his knees, buried his face against Cass and inhaled deeply. Blood left his brain and headed south so fast it took Cass an embarrassingly long time to realize Ty was answering his question about being hungry.

"Smells good," Tyler said, then his hands slid from Cass's hips and started fumbling with his belt. As soon as the buckle released, he unzipped the slacks and stroked Cass through the fabric of his boxers. Closing his eyes, Cass fought to keep his hands by his side when what he really wanted to do was thread his fingers in the glossy black hair and pull until Ty's mouth opened to take his cock. He took a deep breath and risked a look at the man kneeling before him. He sucked in his breath at the sight.

Tyler was looking up at him, lips swollen from their earlier kisses, eyes heavy. With a quick dart of his tongue, the other man moistened his lips, and then he said the sweetest words Cass had ever heard.

"I want to taste you."

Cass closed his eyes for a moment then forced himself to ask the question he knew he needed to ask. "Are you sure, babe?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure," Ty said, and then he slid Cass's slacks to the floor, taking his underwear with them. Ty wrapped his fist around Cass's cock and gave an experimental stroke before locking gazes with his lover. Moving slowly, watching every reaction, Tyler drew a slow circle around the head of his cock with his tongue, then his lips formed a perfect "O" and Cass watched as his dick slid into his lover's mouth. Ty didn't take much more than the broad cap with the first downstroke, but he continued to push down and slide up, his deliberate pace a tease against Cass's desperate desire.

Fighting against a nearly overwhelming need to claim his lover's mouth with a hard fuck, Cass leaned his hips against the table. He was unable to close his eyes, unable to look away from Tyler's lips stretched wide around his spit slick cock. Moving of their own volition it seemed, his hands cupped Tyler's face and his thumbs stroked the stubbled cheeks, feeling them hollow on every upstroke.

"Jesus Christ, Tyler," he said as the other man changed the stroke, and now used his tongue to flick against the bundled nerves on the underside of his cock. With firm hands, Ty pushed Cass's thighs further apart and pressed between his legs to lick his balls. He took his time, lavishing his attention on every new taste, every new angle. Ty seemed to know just where Cass's limits were, and pushed him right to the edge of every one of them, before backing off and moving his hot, nimble tongue somewhere else.

When Ty's mouth returned to slide over his cock, Cass was beyond thought, and his hips moved as he started to fuck Tyler's mouth. Each stroke was just a little harder, just a little deeper than the one before. Ty hummed low in his throat, not a protest, but a sound of pleasure, and the hand on Cass's hip pressed into the flesh, guiding him into harder thrusts.

When Ty's other hand gently fondled his balls, Cass choked out, "Gonna..." and tried to pull away. Tyler just opened his throat and took all there was, burying his nose in the curls at the base of Cass's cock.

The world went white behind his eyes, each nerve ending in his body seemed to reverse course, sending all sensations to gather at the base of his spine, just before the cum spurted from his body in hot jets against the back of Tyler's throat. When his knees buckled, the only thing that kept Cass from falling to the floor was Ty's hand pinning his hips against the table.

His voice wavered between a whimper and a growl, "Oh God, Ty, baby. I can't—" This time when his knees buckled, Tyler helped lower him to the floor.

Cass looked at Tyler for a long moment, noting the crystal blue eyes shining with undisguised pleasure. Tyler knew what he'd done to Cass and looked to be feeling pretty proud of himself. Cass couldn't blame him. That was undoubtedly one of the best blowjobs of his life. And not just because it was Ty, although, if he was completely honest with himself, that played a major factor.

He shouldn't have assumed that because Tyler was new to man-loving, he wouldn't know what he was doing. Cass was nearly catatonic from pleasure, so if that was any indication, Tyler was already damn near an expert.

Cass mentally reviewed and revised his planned seduction of Ty. He'd been off his game ever since his first night with Tyler. It was past time to turn the tables for a bit and see if he couldn't shake his man up a little. He'd get right on it...as soon as he could move.

*

Tyler didn't even try to mask his smile as he helped Cass to sit beside him on the floor. It might have been the first blowjob he'd ever given, but he'd paid for enough of them over the years to know exactly what he liked. There'd been no shortage of available women at any port willing to grant sexual favors, some for a price, some for a promise. He'd figured if he used the same techniques the women had used on him, it was likely Cass would enjoy it, too. And judging from his cowboy's inability to stand, he'd been right.

Just like with the poker tournament, Cass had underestimated him again. He couldn't really blame the man. Tyler realized he'd appeared weak from the very first day they'd met. He was afraid Cass had mistaken the physical weakness associated with his injuries for a frailty in Tyler that didn't exist. He was a Navy SEAL, or at least he had been one. Assessing a situation and adjusting as necessary was second nature.

Tonight, the entire structure of his world was about to change...hell, had already changed. He'd been wrapped in his perpetual cloak of denial for years, yet the pivotal moment of final acceptance hadn't even been about him. No, the decision to make the necessary changes in his life came when Cass had exposed his own vulnerability. Assess and adjust.

" _I don't know what's happening to me," Cass had confessed. "Practically from the first moment I saw you, I wanted to keep you for myself."_

The mental ties that bound Ty slid away with the power of Cass's words, and he knew he needed to fully accept himself and acknowledge that his desire to be with Cass was a necessary and normal part of his life. As soon as he'd given himself permission to say good-bye to the guilt over his mother's death, he'd known he'd end the evening with the cowboy's cock in his mouth. And maybe some place else, too.

"Get naked. I want to feel your skin against mine," Cass said, reaching for his slacks and pulling a small packet of lube from the pocket. His words and movement drew Ty from his introspection and he hesitated briefly, savoring the thought of his cowboy's skin and plans for the lube.

Misinterpreting the delay, Cass added, "Please, babe, let me feel you." Then his hands and mouth were everywhere, as he slowly undressed Tyler.

Cass pushed Tyler backwards until he lay flat on the plush carpet of their suite. Ty shifted his hips to help Cass slide his slacks down, and then they were stretched out naked together, hot, needy.

"This is becoming a habit," he murmured against Cass's ear. Cass leaned his shoulders back so he could get an angle to look a question at him. "I'm just saying, Cartwright, that you've been pressed naked against me since the first night I met you. Are you finally ready to do something about it?" he teased.

Cass jerked against him and Tyler felt the other man's cock stir to life. "Oh, fuck! Who are you and what did you do with my sailor?" Cass murmured, stroking a calloused hand along Ty's cheek. "Never mind, I'll look for him later," he said, and captured his mouth, staking claim. The kiss was deep, demanding, and just shy of punishing. Ty was so turned on, he wondered if he was going to come just from the drugging goodness of the cowboy's kisses.

Then Cass wrapped fingers around his cock, and with only one stroke, Tyler was gasping, his lips torn away from the kiss, hips pressing into the touch.

"Like that?" Cass whispered, and his hot breath raised gooseflesh all the way down Tyler's back.

Tyler shuddered, and whispered back, "I like everything you do to me. Will you—" his words were cut off with another mind-numbing kiss. Just as Tyler thought he might be lost forever in that kiss, his lover pulled back enough to let his answer brush across their lips.

"I want you home and in our bed when we make love. We have lots of time. All the time in the world. Tonight, I just want to feel your cock against mine. I want to explore your body, make you ready for me."

Before he could argue that he _was_ ready, Ty felt the cool liquid lube spread, and then Cass's hand tightened around his cock. Every touch, every glide, seemed to stoke an invisible fire just underneath his skin. Each stroke conspired to send him nearer the edge, closer to losing his last shred of control.

Cass shifted and aligned his hips with Tyler's, then with a slow, deliberate movement began to grind, cock against cock, the slick wet heat a scorching hot promise. Ty had never been so aroused, so fucking responsive. He was burning with pleasure, burning with need. Now that the fuse was lit, it wouldn't stop burning until he was consumed by this passion.

Ty whimpered as Cass slid lower against his body, pushing his thighs apart, settling between his legs. Then lips met Ty's skin, lingering, teeth scraping, nibbling.

"Cass, please," he begged, not even sure there was anything that existed beyond his desire to feel the hard press of his lover's cock.

*

Cass didn't pretend to understand everything Tyler had gone through in his life. There was no doubt he had scars that went far deeper than the one that creased the side of his beautiful face. There had to be emotional scars from his father's cruelty, the attack in boot camp, the untold horrors of war.

"Please, Cass," Ty whispered. Cass smiled at the desperate hunger in Tyler's voice.

"Fingers only tonight, baby. I want you home in our bed when we make love," Cass repeated. He knew it was where Tyler would feel safest. He slid his fingers against Ty's crease, rubbed over the tight opening, until he felt the muscle relax against the steady attention. When Ty's legs fell open, and his hips rose, Cass pressed the tip of his finger inside and back out, moving slowly, an extension of the gentle massage.

With each pass, his finger slid in a little further, and Tyler began to writhe under his deliberate focus. When he encountered no more resistance, Cass withdrew, smiling at his lover's disappointed whimper. He added more slick to his fingers, and resumed the stroking, noting the way Ty moved his hips, pushing them forward, his ass trying to recapture that elusive finger. Cass lined up two fingers and slowly worked them against the muscle with the same seductive gentleness. In, then out, feeling the silky heat that clamped around his fingers, knowing it was all for him.

"Cass, please. So full. So good," Ty murmured, his head thrown back.

Cass wrapped his other hand tightly around Tyler's thick cock, and stroked in time with his buried fingers. Tyler's balls were drawn up tight to his body, his legs trembled under the double assault. Cass curved his fingers and brushed gently against Tyler's sweet spot. The response was instantaneous. Ty's head and shoulders pressed into the bed and his hips pushed up, his knees fell wide apart.

"Unh..." the inarticulate cry punctuated the ribbons of white that spurted and painted Tyler's broad stomach, chest, and neck. Cass twisted his hand, the rolling movement extending Ty's orgasm, and his lover continued to pulse around his fingers.

Cass slowly withdrew as he watched every expression on Tyler's face, looking for signs of pain or revulsion or regret. All he saw was the evidence of pure pleasure. Ty had the look of a man well-fucked.

Cass rose to his knees, and stroked his cock with his already slick hands. He looked down on his lover, filled with a possessive pride and a need to mark his man. "Put your hand over mine, babe. Let's finish this together."

## Chapter Eleven

He woke to the sound of his cell phone and a tangle of limbs. Gently pushing legs and sheets aside, Cass rolled to the edge of the bed and silenced the ringing. He didn't want to wake Ty, but there wasn't anywhere to go in their suite, so he sat on the side of the mattress and kept his voice low.

"Cartwright."

"Cass, it's Manuel."

"What's wrong?" he asked, every nerve went on high alert. Manny wouldn't call unless there was an emergency.

"We got some cattle down on the north side, boss. It doesn't look good. Doc Van's on the way, but...fuck. Looks like..." he trailed off and Cass could tell he wasn't going to like what came next. A hand slid up his back, offering comfort, and Cass turned to lock gazes with his lover as he listened intently.

"We'll see what Doc Van and the sheriff have to say. We've already lost five by my count. I'll be able to tell more in the daylight, but we're gonna lose more, for sure. Not sure how many."

"Manny, Goddammit, finish what you were going to say. Looks like what? And why's the Sheriff coming?"

"There's no easy way to say this, Cass. The cattle were poisoned, this was deliberate."

"Okay, we're on our way. We should be there in a couple of hours at most, as long as we can get clearance."

"What's wrong?" Tyler asked, looking up at him, blue gaze full of concern. The sheets pooled around his waist, his broad chest bare, and his hand was a hot press against Cass's thigh.

"We need to go, there's trouble at the ranch. Manny says cattle are dying and he thinks it's poison. He's called the vet and the sheriff's office."

"All right. I'm going to take a quick shower. Three minutes tops, then I'll take care of the room. Do what you need to about the plane and grab your own shower. If we hurry, we can be ready to go in about fifteen," Ty said, standing and letting the sheets fall to the floor. He walked around the bed and for a brief moment, Cass fantasized he was bringing his morning wood for a quick blowjob. But Tyler leaned down and took Cass's face between his hands.

"Thank you for yesterday, Cass...for last night. It means a lot. Now let's go home and take care of this," he said. Ty bent to brush a chaste morning kiss and then moved unselfconsciously toward the bathroom. Cass watched the muscles of Tyler's bare ass contracting and releasing with each step as he strode away.

"Damn," he whispered to himself. He blinked rapidly, then looked down at his phone. With a sigh, he called the Las Vegas Executive Terminal and scheduled their early morning take off.

****

Tyler placed the covered tray of sandwiches on the sideboard, next to the platter of assorted meats and cheeses. The men could pick pre-made or build their own subs. The big pot of coffee was ready, along with tea, lemonade, and various soft drinks. The beer was icy cold.

What a fucked up day, he thought. Men, horses, and livestock trailers had moved through the compound at odd intervals throughout the morning and afternoon. The rest of the time, the main yard remained quiet while the vet and the men fought to save the cattle they could. Now, the last of the trucks was pulling out, and all that remained were the ranch hands, the sheriff, and the veterinarian. And Cass.

He'd missed Cass today, which he knew in the logical part of his brain made no sense. His heart and body seemed to have no such boundaries. Apparently, the cowboy wasn't the only one to go all in last night.

The back door slammed and the shuffling feet announced the return of the ranch hands as they removed their hats and boots on the mud porch. The low tones of murmured conversation spilled through the doorway, but the words were drowned in the noise of the deep sink. Ty poured chips into a large bowl and took the lid from the bowl of homemade picante sauce. He placed the condiments on the table. When he turned around Cass was right there, standing at the kitchen counter, following him with his gaze.

Whatever Cass was feeling was carefully hidden behind an expression closely related to the one he'd worn at the poker table. There were signs of sorrow and exhaustion etched into the thin face. Shadows smudged the tender flesh beneath his deep brown eyes.

As the men headed his way, Tyler stepped to the side so they could get to the food-laden sideboard. Talk was subdued, and with fewer ranch hands around because of the weekend, it was a much quieter beginning to any meal he'd experienced at the ranch.

After their first pass at the buffet-style meal, Ty consolidated the remaining sandwiches to one platter, then turned back to the kitchen. One look at Cass had him sucking air through his teeth. The wistful look he'd caught on the big cowboy's face shifted quickly to a more guarded, neutral expression, as if he didn't want anyone to know what he was thinking. He knew that stoic expression was hiding something...but what? Pain? Rage? Whatever had been there, however fleeting, it was something Tyler wanted to erase.

Tyler moved until he stood directly in Cass's space. One hand cupped the bristled jaw, while the other rested lightly on his lover's hip. He looked up into tired brown eyes.

"Are you okay?" Tyler asked softly.

Cass searched his face and apparently liked something he saw. The side of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile that erased some of the darkness in his gaze. "I am now. You?"

Tyler raised his mouth in invitation. "Yes," he whispered. Then he pulled the taller man into a swift embrace, holding on through the shudder that wracked the wiry frame.

"Ahem." It was a patently false throat clearing, obviously designed to get their attention. Then a deep voice said, "I hate to interrupt, but do you mind if we bring the coffee pot into the dining room? It's been a long day already."

Tyler scooted back as if scalded, then felt the heat crawl up his neck. He looked up at Cass, and noticed the careful mask had slipped back into place.

"Sorry, Sheriff. I didn't, uh, see you there. I'll bring it right out," he said, cursing himself for blushing. Moving toward the counter with the industrial-sized coffee urn, he spoke over his shoulder. "Hey, come on, Cass. You need to eat something, too. Then you can tell me about what happened."

"God, Tyler, you're a life-saver," Manny said as he entered the dining room.

"You men have had a long day," he said, looking at the tired faces, the dirty clothes. "This was the least I could do. I'm sorry it isn't more, I just wasn't sure when you'd be back."

Besides Manny, he recognized Tony, Rot Gut, Juan, and a couple of the other men. The sheriff's head was bent over a towering stack of three sandwiches, his arms folded around his plate, as if he thought someone might steal his food. Holden seemed to be watching his food with unusual attention, as well. At the opposite end of the table sat another man, one Ty knew must be the vet, but they'd yet to be introduced. Paler than the others, he was as tall as Cass, with short wavy brown hair and chiseled features.

He was also carefully watching his plate, but unlike the other men, he'd ignored the pre-made sandwiches and was building his own with vegetables and cheese. Damn, the vet must be a vegetarian. He should have thought of that.

"I've got peanut butter and jelly or plenty of other food in the kitchen," Ty said quietly, moving to the other end of the table.

"It's fine," the man barked without looking up. He shoved the end of his sandwich into his mouth effectively cutting off further conversation.

"Drew..." Cass said, an unmistakable warning in his voice as he loaded his own plate with food. "Tyler, why don't you grab a plate and join us? Everyone's worked all over the ranch today, so we all need to catch up with each other. That way you can hear what's going on, too."

Ty opened his mouth to ask a question, but he caught a small shake of Manny's head. Snapping his mouth closed, he brought a sandwich to the table and put his plate in the spot next to Cass. He gave his cowboy's shoulder a quick squeeze as he took his seat.

"Thanks, Ty," Cass said. "We really needed this. Manny, would you mind starting off? Seems as if you were in on the beginning of everything."

"Sure thing, boss. We had the air conditioning off and the windows open in the bunkhouse last night. I was asleep, but something woke me up. You know how it is when you hear something out of place? I went outside and I was pretty sure I heard a truck. I don't think it was a four-wheeler, but if it was, it wasn't one of ours, because I went straight to the barn and all ours was there. I woke Juan, told him I was heading to the north field.

"Could you tell what direction the vehicle you heard was headed?" Holden asked reminding everyone this was a possible criminal investigation.

"No, not really. If you want me to give you an educated guess, the truck was traveling along a game trail, heading west, to the main road. We can go out on a quad tomorrow morning and look for tracks, but it's gonna get dark too soon to try and look for anything out there now. I can show you where I think it was." Manny stopped to pile some chips on his plate, as he appeared to think over what had happened.

"Last night, I was more concerned with what anyone might be doing near our livestock. I drove toward the water station, because that's the most likely spot to find some of the cattle at night. As I got close, I saw two cows already down and another two others staggering. There were another dozen or so nearby. I got on the phone and called Doc Van, you, and then Juan and Tony. Juan came out to meet me right away, and when the Doc arrived, Tony brought him along."

Doc Van, Andrew...Drew must be one and the same, Tyler realized, as the man finally looked up from his sandwich. With a quick flick of his eyes at the opposite end of the table, the veterinarian started his recap without waiting to be asked. "You've all heard my report. This young man doesn't seem as if he needs the gory details," he said, nodding toward Tyler. "Final number is thirteen dead. Not a Goddamn thing I could do.

"The only reason there weren't more is because Manuel here has a brain, and kept the rest of the herd away. At least he's smart enough to know it couldn't be some fucking accident. Because his head isn't up his fucking ass! Not like our citified-fucking sheriff, down there. Wouldn't know a Goddamn cattle crime if it jumped up and bit him on the ass. Which this one did." Tyler looked from the sheriff to the vet and wondered what the hell he'd missed.

Andrew shook his head, "I'm sorry, Cass. Regardless of what the sheriff says," he practically spit the title, "I am _not_ going off half-cocked. This was sabotage. There is no way oleander leaves and branches just fell from the sky in the middle of your ranch. There isn't an oleander bush between here and Kingman, none of the cattle ranchers are that stupid. Now, unless there's anything else you need from me, I've got another call over at Colmenter's."

With that pronouncement, Andrew glared around the room as if daring anyone to try to stop him. Then he stood abruptly and stomped through the kitchen. The slamming door was a sharp retort in the stunned silence of the dining room. Nobody said a word until the sound of his medical van faded completely.

"Now what in the hell has gotten into him?" Cass wondered aloud, repeating Ty's own thoughts. When no one answered him, he turned to Tony. "You probably know Jed better than any of us. Does this seem like something he would do?" Cass asked.

Tony stiffened under everyone's attention, and looked down at his plate. "Jed's my friend," he mumbled. "He has some problems, but nothing like what you're talking about. But you shouldna done what you did to him, Tyler. You shouldna embarrassed him like that."

Before Ty could respond, Manny said "Boss, me and the guys need showers and some sleep," effectively diverting the attention away from the awkward situation.

"Holden?" Cass tossed the question to the sheriff.

"No problem. I just have a few more questions for you, Cass."

Tyler watched all of the drama, feeling as though he had definitely missed something important by staying in the house all day. It seemed as though Holden and Cass might have some things to say in private, so he followed the men into the kitchen and loaded them down with the leftover sandwiches. He had to admit he was stung by Tony's remarks. All he'd done was disarm a drunken ranch hand. He hadn't set out to embarrass Jed. Seemed to him, the idiot had done that well enough on his own.

When Ty returned to the dining room, Holden was standing by the sideboard, yawning and pouring another cup of coffee. Cass was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. Both men looked exhausted.

Ty moved to stand behind Cass and placed both hands on his shoulders. "Do you know what happened, yet?" he asked.

Blowing out a heavy sigh, Cass said, "Someone drove onto the ranch and put oleander clippings around the water station in the north quarter. We were lucky Manny got out there as quickly as he did and prevented any more cattle from eating the leaves. It wasn't a fucking accident, Holden," he said, suddenly leaning forward, arms on the table.

"No," the sheriff agreed mildly. "But there isn't any evidence right now that's going to help us find out who did this, either. Goddamn prima donna doctor went off halfcocked. So tell me what you think? Is this something your former ranch hand would do?"

"Jed? Hell, I don't know. I wouldn't have thought he'd fire a gun over losing a shot at a guy, either. I can't believe I ever did anything to him that's worth hurting innocent animals."

The sheriff sighed. "This isn't about the animals, and you know it. This is personal toward you, Cass. Whoever did this was looking to cause you pain. Is there anyone besides Jed who fits that category? A former lover? Other employees you've fired? A hate crime?"

"What? No! I don't know who would do something like this. This isn't exactly the most liberal part of the country, but mostly people out here are live and let live. I don't flaunt my lifestyle in town and I don't hire hands that take offense. Hell, I've had other ranchers send me guys who they thought would fit in better at the Willow Springs."

With another huge yawn, Holden looked toward the door and then back. "Tyler, can I press you for a travel cup or two of this coffee. It's a long-assed drive back to Kingman."

"I have a better idea. Why don't you stay? We've got plenty of room. It's going to be dark soon, and you shouldn't be driving back on such little sleep. I'll throw your uniform in the washer and you can shower, sleep, and when you're ready, you can just get up and go. That's when I'll give you some coffee."

Tyler stopped talking and tried to ignore the fact he'd just invited someone to stay the night, as if this was his house.

Holden looked into his coffee mug for a long moment, as if it might hold the answer. He folded his lips together, shifted his weight, sighed. "Yeah, all right. That makes sense. If you're sure it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," Cass answered, looking suspiciously as if he were hiding a smile. "Ty, you're going to have to loan him some of your clothing though, because he sure isn't gonna fit in mine. And don't worry Holden, we'll put you in a room with a lock. Your virtue is safe enough, if that's what's bothering you."

Holden's chestnut colored skin camouflaged most of the flush.

## Chapter Twelve

Cass watched Tyler move around the kitchen, wiping the countertops, putting coffee grounds in the filter for the morning pot, checking the salt and pepper shakers. It was like sitting in a diner at closing time.

"Angry?" Ty asked, without looking around.

He blew out a big breath and tried to figure out what he was feeling. "I'm kind of numb, I think. Why would anyone do that?"

Unexpectedly, Ty circled around behind him, wrapped strong arms around his waist, and laid his head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Cass. I hope this isn't because of something I did. I mean, I was never interested in Jed, you know that, but maybe I could have handled things differently. You've been nothing but nice since I...since Gibby...." He felt Tyler swallow hard against his back.

Cass twisted in Tyler's arms as he turned around on the stool. Drawing the younger man to stand between his knees, he pressed their foreheads together. "Tyler, there is only one person responsible for all of this. If it is Jed, then it's something wrong with him. Not with me, not with you, not with us together. Him."

Holding Tyler this close, breath touching breath, Cass was consumed with desire. He was hungry to possess and be possessed, to take and to give. But he had to be sure, had to know that Tyler was comfortable with the choice he'd made. Doubt had swept through him earlier when Ty pulled away and blushed when they'd been caught in their embrace. On the other hand, Tyler had invited the Sheriff to stay the night at the house, as if this were—

"Tyler, are you sure about this? I mean we haven't—"

"Is this because I got embarrassed earlier or because I invited Holden to stay?" Ty whispered.

The moment felt increasingly intimate, more intimate than making love, as if he and Tyler were about to take an irrevocable step. This was unchartered territory for both of them.

"Both," he admitted. Reluctant to let this intimacy pass, Cass prepared to jump with both feet into the mysterious world of relationships.

"Tyler, I think I might be in big trouble, here..." Before he could finish his confession, Tyler pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.

****

Tyler kept the kiss soft, a brush of lips, a promise not yet fulfilled. Then pulling back slightly, he said, "I think we both might be in trouble, cowboy." He knew what Cass was about to confess. He could practically see those three words like a fucking aura surrounding Cass's soft brown curls. Those same damn words that were hovering on the tip of his own tongue. The little words that didn't come anywhere close to describing the enormity of the feelings tumbling around, wreaking havoc in his world. Three little words that loomed large between them.

Tyler had spent the day thinking over everything that happened since he arrived and he'd finally realized just what an innocent the cowboy thought he was. Everything his lover had done showed his willingness to take care of Tyler, but Ty had been taking care of himself and others for years. He'd seen a lot of death, caused some of it, and he'd always survived.

Before Ty allowed Cass to say those words, he had to know his lover saw him for the man he was, not a delicate fantasy who needed saving. For all his confidence and desire to be with Cass, he wouldn't allow them to move forward until he'd had his say.

"Cass, you need to know who I am, to see me for something other than the damaged goods who showed up on your doorstep. I wasn't just a cook, like Gibby, you know."

"Why are you telling me this, Tyler?" Cass asked him, their faces still close together.

"I don't want you to be with me because you think I need to be rescued or because you think you need to help me find myself. Shh...let me talk for a minute," he said, when Cass would have interrupted.

"It's not like I didn't know I was gay, or even like I was trying to deny the truth, I was...punishing myself? I don't know. I was so young when I joined the Navy, and my dad said they would kick me out if I got caught. It was true, you know? I saw it happen to others, and I wasn't going to ruin my life by doing something to get me kicked out of the only family I had left.

"Gibby got me started cooking, but I went into the SEALs on my own. I trained hard, I went on missions, I...did things." He pointed to his head, to the scar that ran from his eye to his jaw. "This really fucked me up, Cass. Most of the time, I know I'm okay, and the new meds are really helping. But it isn't something you can fix, and maybe I shouldn't be around you. Because you need to know that what happened with Jed...what happened after—" He swallowed hard. "I know something's not right in my head. I could really have hurt you...."

*

Cass's felt his chest tighten at the pain in Tyler's voice, but he couldn't act out of pity. He thought he understood what Ty was trying to tell him. He'd lived a full and normal life before his injury, and some of the things he'd done as part of his job probably wouldn't be considered very nice in polite company. It was his history as a SEAL that made his head injury so unpredictable. Because when Tyler lost track of where he was, he would likely revert to that dangerous place in his mind. But Cass had more faith in his lover.

"You didn't hurt me, Ty. You heard my voice and responded to my name. You let me go, Tyler. I know there's a part of you that's thinking about moving out, but I don't want you to leave. The VA's going to help, so are the meds, but I want you to stay with me, to stay at the ranch. You have a job, one that's important out here, and I didn't offer it just because I felt sorry for you. I know this is a lot for any man to deal with all at once. But make no mistake Tyler, I want you. And you're not going to stop me from saying the rest. I lo—"

"What the fuck do you mean he's on the way out here?" Holden was shouting into his phone as he hurried into the kitchen. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he struggled to untangle the Velcro tabs on his Kevlar vest. He listened intently for another minute.

"All right, let me know if Morgan catches up to him. Issue the BOLO alert, and add the armed and dangerous tag." He listened again, then his already deep voice dropped even lower. "If Black comes to harm because of the armed and dangerous, you can Goddamned well own it, Franklin. You were told to hold him for me if you found him, not cut him loose after fifteen minutes. I'm at the WSR already, and that's got to be Black's destination, because there isn't any other place out this way.

"And for Christ's sake, remind Morgan I'm here and armed. I don't want him going off half-cocked. Send backup and keep me informed."

Holden snapped his phone shut and looked over them. "Obviously, that was dispatch and Deputy Franklin. Apparently, they picked up your man Black coming out of some dive. The officer brought him in for questioning, but Deputy Franklin, in his infinite wisdom decided to let him go. We don't have much of a description, except that he's driving an old pickup truck, possibly a Chevy. He was last seen heading this way on Ranch Road Seven.

"I suggest—"

Whatever it was the Sheriff was about to suggest was lost in the thundering explosion that rocked the kitchen to its foundation, shattering glass, and raining hell upon the three men who had been standing at the epicenter of the blast.

## Chapter Thirteen

He'd been here before. People were screaming and he couldn't get to them, couldn't help, because he couldn't _fucking_ move! Acrid smoke stung his nostrils, and already the little fires were breaking out around the destruction. He was on his back, covered with long pieces of wood and a chunk of stone pinned his right arm and the side of his chest. Drywall was everywhere. This wasn't the mess tent. Where the fuck was he?

He looked to his right, trying to make out anything that would give him a clue to his location. Turning his head slowly, he saw the khaki-clad black man face down, and knew the Master Chief wasn't going to be leading any more missions. Given the size of the splintered piece of granite protruding from the base of his spine and the copious amounts of blood pooling under the man, Ty doubted he would even make it to the field hospital.

Painfully, he turned his head to the other side, aware of the blood that streamed from his own face. At least he could fucking move his head...at least he wasn't nearly dead, this time. He squinted through the dust, trying to find something or someone to help him.

_Oh God, no! Gibby!_ The man who had been like a father to him lay broken, crushed under the weight of the refrigerator. The appliance had obviously been tossed by the blast, and landed on his old friend. He deliberately clamped down on his grief—there would be time enough for that later. Now he let the cold fury loose, a quiet deadly force to move him through what needed to be done.

Whoever had set this bomb was a dead man. As dead as the Master Chief. As dead as Gibby. Ty wasn't sure if he was the only man left alive on their mission, but by God, he would seek vengeance against the murderer who had done this to his friends.

With his upper arms pinned under a ton of rubble, he used his bleeding hands to painfully shift a piece of wood that was cross-wise on his chest and held his left arm prisoner. The timber finally rolled, but came straight towards Ty's face, and caught the corner of his eye. The flare of pain was instant as the wood connected with his old scar tissue. Blocking the throbbing bite of pain, Ty twisted until he was able to free his left arm. Using the leverage of his body against a heavy piece of granite, Ty screamed as he pulled his right arm free, leaving a long gash in his triceps.

Able to move his arms once again, Ty viciously kicked and pushed at the rest of the debris until he was free. He scrambled out of the way, desperately looking around the room for weapons. His hearing was completely shot from the explosion, but he knew there would be others around. Friend or foe, others would be coming.

It looked as if he was in a giant kitchen. Moving cautiously, he stepped over to where Gibby lay, still and unmoving, hidden under the metal box. The small fires would likely flare up and burn what remained of the building they were in. Ty couldn't just leave Gibs. Not here, not like this. He would get them both outside. Then he would find and kill those responsible.

Using a piece of the granite to prop up one end of the fridge, he squatted at the other end to take a secure grip. If he moved too slowly or twisted in the wrong direction, the appliance would shift and crush what remained of his friend. Like a powerful squat-thrust, he exploded upwards from his thighs and lifted the refrigerator. When he had the body free, Ty bent to lift his friend and carry him from the scene.

"Tyler."

The voice echoed inside his head. No...there was no one here, no one alive.

"Ty..."

"No, no, no," he whispered aloud to no one. He wanted to shake his head, to chase the voice away, but he knew instinctively that would be bad. He had another head injury, he knew that much...knew he might hurt something further if he wasn't careful. He needed to get out. _Get out. Get out. Get out._ The mantra slipped through his brain, picking up speed, pushing at his resolve to follow his training.

Movement from across the room caught his eye. He kept crouched low, hidden behind the refrigerator until he knew what he was facing.

"Manny, it's a fucking nightmare in here. I think they all must be dead," shouted the dark-haired stranger. "Ain't no fucking way anyone could live through this." The man paused, listening to something outside.

"Tyler," the voice in his head whispered again. He looked down at the body and saw something metal glinting in the flickering light. A blade. One of the kitchen knives, no doubt. He palmed the blade, even as another man burst into the room from the opposite side of the destroyed kitchen.

"Jed? What are you doing here?" the first man asked, sounding bewildered.

"Tony? Tony...what the fuck..." Jed started then trailed off as he looked around the room.

He had names for all of them now, Ty thought, but he didn't know if they were part of the cavalry or the enemy. He didn't like the way the redhead and the shorter one called Tony were looking at each other. He really didn't like it when Tony pulled a shotgun from where it had been pressed against his thigh, and pointed it toward Jed.

"You shouldn't be here, Jed. Just go now. I'll come find you when it's all over."

"Tony?" Jed said again. "Did you..."

"Go on, Jed. The Sheriff's here somewhere, more help is gonna be on the way. Manny's already called 9-1-1. Get out of here, Jed they're going to pin this on you."

"I don't understand, I was—"

"Come on, Jed...think. You have a grudge against Cass. Everyone knows he turned your ass down—"

"That's only cause I was working here, Goddamn it. He woulda come around eventually. Besides, it's not like I wasn't enjoying myself, meanwhile."

"No, Jed. Cass never would have. That's what's so fucked—you know he's fucking that dude who kicked your ass."

"So what? You think I blew up his kitchen because he cock blocked me?"

"No, but the cops will think you blew up his kitchen because you're sick. Especially after all the cows and the oleander leaves."

Listening to them argue was making Ty's headache worse. Nothing about this situation made any sense. He couldn't put it together...couldn't quite.... All he knew was he needed to get Gibby's body outside before the fire got loose, and to do that, he needed to get the shotgun away from the one called Tony.

Something brushed his hand, making him jump slightly. He looked down into deep brown eyes, eyes that blinked at him. Eyes that weren't Gibby's. _Oh God, what is happening?_

The man's lips moved, but Ty couldn't hear what he was saying. Bending over, he placed his ear next to the stranger's mouth.

"Ty, babe. Need help." The man's breath was warm against his ear, somehow familiar. "Stop Tony," he gasped.

Ty pulled back slightly so that he could see the other man's face, and he realized it was a face he should know. That he wanted to know. Could he trust him? Fingers squeezed again, so Ty bent forward to listen once more.

"I'm...Cass. Love you, Ty. Stop To—" his whispered words cut off abruptly. Ty felt for a pulse, and found it fast and thready, but unmistakably there.

Stop Tony. It was what his own instincts told him as well. Tony was the one with the shotgun. He smiled grimly to himself, because he liked the odds. After all, he was the one with the knife.

He tuned back in to the men's conversation, dimly aware of the distant sound of sirens.

"Why, Tony?" Jed was asking.

"Because you fucking took me and then threw me away. All these years I've waited for you to treat me like I was more than your fuck buddy. You didn't care. I was just another conquest. I never understood what you saw in Cartwright. Was it just the chase...the unattainable? Is that why you went after Tyler right under his nose?"

Jed had the unmistakable look of someone thinking on his feet and trying to save his own ass. "Tony, I didn't—"

Tyler stood suddenly, and as he hoped, his movement caught the other men's attention. Tony's shotgun wavered as he turned. Ty's arm moved with the certainty that comes with the muscle memory of a perfected skill. The shotgun clattered to the floor, as Tony fell to the ground, knife embedded in his throat.

****

Cass woke slowly, the bright lights and antiseptic smells letting him know he was in the hospital. Opening his eyes, he scanned the room, noting the monitors, the IV drip, the small man with piercing blue eyes sitting beside his bed, looking serious.

"Perry?" he said, feeling very foggy, but aware enough to worry about why the social worker from the VA was here. "Where's Tyler? Is he okay?" Cass asked and tried to sit up. The scene from the kitchen replayed in his head, the explosion. God, Ty must have been so confused. He needed to find Ty now.

Perry's grim face lit up, reminding Cass just how gorgeous the man was. "Relax, Cartwright. Tyler will be back here soon. He's meeting with the Doc right now. The only way he'd agree to leave your side, even for a few minutes, was if I promised to sit here until he returned. You two are really something."

"But what happened? Is Tyler okay? Why's he seeing the doctor?"

"He's seeing Doc, because he has a few minor injuries. Scrapes on his face and hands. A nasty cut on his triceps, nothing life threatening, but he wouldn't let anyone treat him until you'd been cleared from the emergency room and declared out of danger.

Perry stood and started to pace the small room.

Cass ignored the other man and eyed the IV, debating if he should remove it himself so he could go look for Tyler. "How long until..." he trailed off. _Fuck it._ He was going to find Ty. He sat up and started peeling the tape from the back of his hand.

"Hang on, Cartwright, he'll be back any minute. I promise he isn't going to stay away from you one second beyond what it takes to stitch up his arm."

Perry looked uncomfortable for a moment, then seeming to make up his mind about something, he sighed. "I wanted to send him down to Prescott for a few days, to the VA hospital down there, but Doc overruled me. There isn't technically anything wrong other than I know his PTSD didn't need that shit at your ranch." Perry held up a hand forestalling any interruptions.

"Not your fault, I know that. But my first thought has to be his mental health. He was placed in a situation that came as close to a war zone as it could get. He killed to save your life. I thought he would benefit from a few days away from the reminder.

"From me, you mean," Cass said flatly.

Perry gave a rueful smile. "Yes, away from you. I wasn't sure you were good for him when you brought him to the clinic. Look, I'm a social worker with a counseling certificate, not a mind reader. I realized right away that Tyler was in a vulnerable position alone with you. I saw the possessive way you watched him, and I wasn't sure he was ready for that type of...attention."

The smaller man walked back over to the chair and sat again. He smiled before he started to speak. "Ty made sure everyone in the ER and the Admissions Office knew you were his partner and he wasn't going anywhere. With everyone else distracted by the injuries to the Sheriff, there wasn't anyone to kick him out. Dr. Hoffmann was already on-site and told the charge nurse to let Ty stay with you, so she did.

"It wasn't personal, Cass. I was just looking out for Tyler," Perry finished with a shrug.

"Like hell you were," Cass snapped at the social worker. "You just wanted a piece of his ass," he ground out.

Perry threw his head back and laughed. When he could finally breathe enough to speak, he choked out, "Is that what you think? Honey, I've been married to the same man for seven years, and I can promise you, there's no itch. No, I just didn't want to see someone with his record hurt over a casual fling. He was a certified hero, and I thought he deserved better. But now that I see how you are about him, maybe he's getting just what he deserves."

Cass stopped fussing with his IV long enough to give Perry his full attention.

"What does that mean...a certified hero?"

Perry tilted his head to the side, "You didn't know? Tyler Hardin was awarded the Medal of Honor along with his second Purple Heart." Perry pushed to his feet and moved toward the door. "I'm going to let the nurse know you're awake. Will you be okay for a minute?"

"Hell, yeah. Tell her to bring the doctor, too. I want out of here. I need to take Tyler home."

## Chapter Fourteen

"Will you quit trying to sit up? The doctor only let you come home because I promised you would stay in bed and get as much rest as if you were still in the hospital," Ty said. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Now tell me what you want? I thought I'd make a simple soup for dinner. And we have plenty of sandwich makings. The guys did an amazing job in the kitchen, but it's going to be a few more days before I can do much cooking."

Cass hadn't gotten the immediate discharge he'd wanted. It had been four days since the explosion, and Manny had supervised the cleanup. Ty had nearly been sick when he'd first returned and seen the devastation of his beautiful kitchen. But since that day, Manny, Juan, and the rest of the crew must have worked every evening after the ranch duties to haul out the trash. They'd purchased a refrigerator and microwave, and replaced a couple of the cabinet fronts. The range, counter tops, and floor would be replaced in the morning. Soon all would be right in his world.

"Come here," Cass said, pulling Ty down to his side. "I need you, need to feel your skin against mine. Hold me, babe."

Their mouths joined in a passionate battle, lips fused, tongues searching, hearts racing with the pleasure and relief of being together. Ty undressed quickly and moved to help Cass remove his boxers and tee-shirt. Then he climbed back on the bed to stretch out next to his lover.

"I don't want to hurt you," Tyler whispered.

"Nothing was broken, and I'm already much better. I don't want to wait anymore," Cass replied. "Get the lube and a condom. You can ride me, babe. Then you can tell the doctor I stayed on my back for two more days, as ordered."

"Sneaky, bastard," Ty smiled, reaching for the requested items. His heart pounded hard against his ribcage, knowing this was it, the step he'd been waiting to take with his lover.

He wrapped his arm around the taut stomach muscles, gently increasing the pressure, testing to see if he was causing pain.

"It doesn't hurt, Ty, honest," Cass said, and pulled the other man's arm, so that Ty half rolled onto Cass.

Ty took Cass's face between his hands and kissed him gently. "I almost lost you."

"I'm right here, honey. Not going anywhere." Then his hands were moving over Ty's skin, creating a slow burn, and left his pulse was beating everywhere, just for the touch of this man. His blood thrummed in his ears as Cass kissed him and stole his breath.

He began to return the touches, feeling the heat that poured off Cass's skin in waves. He touched and tasted, reassuring himself with every lick and bite, that his cowboy was safe and whole. And home.

Moving slowly, every cell in his body tingled with awareness, as if his lover's name was whispering through his bloodstream, becoming permanently etched on the very fiber of his being.

"Straddle my chest, up nice and high. I want to taste you while I get you ready."

Ty spread his knees around Cass's shoulders and leaned forward on the headboard. His lover pressed a well-lubed finger against his hole at the same time he wrapped his lips around the tip of his cock.

Breath left Ty in a huff with the double sensation. As before, Cass took his time, inserting one finger until Ty relaxed enough to take two, then three. His lover's mouth did nothing much more than tease his cock, tongue flicking against the broad tip, mouthing the cap. It was enough to nearly drive Ty out of his mind.

"Enough, I'm ready. I don't want to wait; I want you inside me, Cass." He slid back and rolled the condom on his lover's dick and lubed him generously. Ty crawled over Cass, his knees spread far apart.

Cass watched him with an unmistakable heat in his eyes. "Okay, babe, help me line you up. Then you control how slow we go." Cass slid a hand up Ty's back, then gently along his side, down to a thigh and then returned to trace the same path over again.

Everything Cass had done so far, touching him, filling him, had made Ty burn with need. He took a deep breath, ready to feel his lover inside of him, so ready to consummate their love. The thought nearly startled him off his knees. _Their love_. Of course it was love. He'd not actually told Cass how he felt. Not when he was conscious any way.

More sure than ever that this was what he wanted, Tyler pushed down, not hesitating as he pressed the broad cap through his puckered hole and lowered himself quickly.

Hands immediately tightened on him, locking him in place, preventing him from moving any further. Half a second later, he realized why. He felt the burn, then a searing pain that made his dick limp. He hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

"Fuck, Tyler. Are you trying to kill yourself?" Cass hissed through teeth apparently just as tight.

"Oh God," Ty said. "I...it hurts...I..."

Even as he said it, Cass's hands were caressing his skin, soothing him, and the burn began to fade.

*

"So tight, oh honey, of course it hurts," Cass murmured hoarsely. "I'm sorry, babe. I meant for you to go slow. Breathe for me, nice deep breaths." He didn't move, didn't dare let Ty move until his body had adjusted to the invasion. He reached to touch Ty's cock, slow, lazy strokes, that led lower to his balls. Ty's body was still tight with the shock of him, but he could feel it gradually relax, slowly loosening up, trusting him.

He was filled with wonder that this man who had been through so much, who gave so much, was here with him, giving the most private part of himself. Ty dropped his head forward, and Cass saw the faint sheen of sweat, and felt sick that he'd caused his lover distress. Then Tyler's hips started to move and he knew that the pleasure had started to chase away the pain.

"Oh, Cass," Tyler said when Cass shifted his hips, moving inside him. Then Ty started to move, a slow, short rise, then down. "Oh, damn, that feels...good...damn..." Tyler said and started rocking, sliding up until Cass nearly slipped out of him, and pushing back down with increasing force. He'd found a rhythm and was sending them both racing toward the edge. Cass stroked Ty's cock with one hand, while using the other on his lover's hips to change the angle of entry. Each long thrust swiped against the younger man's gland. He felt Tyler's orgasm when it came in his stiffening body and the tight clamp of his ass. Ty threw back his head howled, "Caaaaassss."

Cass needed no further encouragement. In fact, he couldn't have lasted a moment longer even if he wanted to. A chain reaction of mini spasm-like explosions seemed to travel from his balls to the base of his spine, all the way to his brain, leaving him seeing spots before his eyes. Afraid he might pass out, Cass focused on breathing, even while he rocked his hips against Tyler's ass, as they shuddered their way back to planet Earth, together.

Without a word, Tyler rose, letting Cass's spent dick slide from his body. He watched as Ty took care of the condom, then came back to lie next to him, stroking a gentle hand across Cass's belly.

Cass felt paralyzed, afraid to speak, knowing it hadn't been good for Tyler. _What if he leaves? What if he never wants to see me again? I am such a fucking idiot for not waiting until I could do it right. God, I hurt him._

"Cass," Tyler said, his fingers stroking over Cass's chest.

He couldn't answer, couldn't speak, as the terrible words sounded in his head. _Oh God, here it comes. I don't think I'm strong enough to take it if he leaves._

Ty rolled up on his side, crooked an elbow, and propped his head on his hand. "Look, at me, Cass. I need to tell you something."

I'm gonna be sick, Cass thought.

"God, Cass, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Tyler asked, voice suddenly full of concern.

Cass made a noise that he'd intended to be a snort, but sounded suspiciously like a sob. He shook his head, but that was all he could do, there was no speaking around the lump in his throat.

"Cass, honey, look at me," Tyler implored.

_Did he just call me honey?_ Cautiously he raised his eyes to meet that wonderfully steady crystal blue gaze of his lover.

Ty touched him, a gentle caress along the temple with a single finger until he cupped Cass's jaw in one big hand and wouldn't allow him to look away.

"The other night, I said let's not worry about the words. I thought I knew what you were going to say, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that." He leaned in and brushed a gentle kiss across Cass's lips.

"I didn't know...after the explosion, there were things I didn't know. At first, I thought you were Gibby under the...and when I... well, when I looked in your eyes, I thought I should know you, but I didn't. Not then. But I never stopped trusting you. I knew when you told me that Tony was the one, not Jed. I mean, I already thought Tony was the one to watch, and not just because of the shotgun. Something wasn't right about what he was saying to Jed, but I couldn't remember their story. Hell, I couldn't remember _my_ story—"

Cass started to laugh, which hurt, but in a good way. He reached up and put his hand over Tyler's. He suddenly felt very much better about what Ty wanted to tell him. If he ever got around to saying the words.

"I'm babbling, aren't I?" Tyler asked, shaking his head, obviously not expecting an answer. He took a deep breath. "All right, bottom line here. Someone tried to kill us and came too damn close for my comfort. Every time I think of you in the hospital, I think about how close I came to losing everything. I would have lost you without ever giving us a chance to say what we were feeling. I love you, cowboy."

Tears filled Cass's eyes for the second time in under five minutes. "I love you, too, Tyler."

Then he pulled his man down beside him and wrapped in his lover's arms, Cass slept.

****

Tyler helped Cass walk to the living room, although they both realized it was a thinly veiled excuse to keep touching. He knew Cass was a little sore, but not incapable of walking. He stacked pillows at one end of the couch and helped his cowboy lean back. Then he sat at the other end of the couch and put Cass's feet in his lap.

"You're not trying to do too much, are you?" Ty asked, mildly concerned.

"Nope. The doctor said to sit up for at least fifteen minutes, three times a day. Thanks for helping me look at the kitchen. It makes it better to actually see it, rather than worrying and wondering," he said quietly.

"Yeah. Tomorrow some flooring people are going to be here to put in the new wood floor. I hope you don't mind, I told them just to match the old one. It wasn't...salvageable," he said softly, and closed his eyes to hide the vision of blood. Not Tony's, he didn't mourn that prick. No, the blood that gave him nightmares was Holden's.

As if following his thoughts, Cass said, "I wonder what he's going to do? He'll never be able to stay on as sheriff. Not if he can't walk."

"They won't know for sure if he'll recover the use of his legs until the swelling goes down, but I think you're right. He'll never be able to work in law enforcement again."

"Poor bastard. Still it was lucky Andrew had returned to check on the cattle. The EMT said Andrew saved Holden's life," Cass said. "Although, I doubt he'll be thanking him for that any time soon."

"Cass, I know a thing or two about recovering from life-altering injuries. Maybe we could bring Holden back here to stay for a while...once he's healed well enough, I mean. It might help. Especially if you have some work he can do for you. Maybe he can run background checks on any future ranch hands," Ty added, trying to lighten the request.

"That's a good idea, but I need to know something first, Ty."

"What's that?"

"What about you? Near as I can remember, considering all that's happened...I offered you a job and a place to stay. I don't think you answered me yet," Cass said.

Tyler saw beyond the smile and knew his answer was very important. He took his time, wanting to answer in a way that let Cass know just how seriously he was taking the question. "I could give you the obvious answer, Cass, and tell you I have nowhere else to go."

It looked as if Cass was holding his breath, so he hurried on. "The truth is, there is nowhere else I want to be. When I suggested Holden stay here for a while, it was because I was thinking of this as our home. Not yours. Ours. So maybe I better ask you a question, instead.

"What if I'm not looking for a job and a place to stay? I can find that in Bullhead or Kingman, or anywhere. You've stolen my heart, cowboy. I'm looking for forever. Will you share your home with me? Can we build a future together?" Tyler asked and then it was his turn to wait.

His lover shifted his feet to the floor and pulled Ty's hand until his head came to rest against the cowboy's chest. He could hear the rapid beat of his heart, feel the heat of his skin.

Cass pressed his mouth against the top of Tyler's head, and whispered the best three words he could have said. "I'm all in."

~~The End~~

## About the Author

Raised in California, Laura likes it hot, which explains why she ended up in Arizona via such diverse places as Japan, Maine, and Florida, and many more places in between. After retiring from the US Navy, she found a niche working for land management agencies, including the National Park Service and the Bureau of Land Management. Though she has held many jobs around the world, her favorite was working and living in Grand Canyon National Park. Working (and eating) in New Orleans was a close second. You will find many of her books are set against the rich backdrops provided by coastal Louisiana and northern Arizona.

When asked how she started writing, Laura tells of waking on Boxing Day a few years ago, with a woman named Elena MacFarland yammering in her dreams, demanding her story be told. Despite never attempting to write fiction before that morning, Laura ignored all of the holiday visitors and the Highland Destiny series was born. She doesn't believe it was a coincidence that the great grandmother who died when Laura was just a baby was named Elena MacFarland. Destiny does play a hand.

Laura became a full-time writer in 2012, and now she spends her time writing, watching her Arizona Diamondbacks, and working on her very own version of the Willow Springs Ranch in northwestern Arizona. She is a multi-published author of erotic romance, mystery, and urban fantasy and her books can be found at all major online retailers.

Connect with Laura at:

Twitter: @LauraHarner

Facebook: facebook.com/lauraharner

Or even better...check out the website at: LauraHarner.com

## Also Available

Hold Tight, Willow Spring Ranch: II

Sheriff Holden Titus had organized his fresh start down to the last detail. Except for the part about the bomb that blew his plans all to hell. Now he's running out of time, without a job, without a home, and struggling to get back on his feet. Literally.

Despite the impolite rejection, Drew knows he didn't have the wrong impression months ago when he asked the sheriff to dance, but he never expected to have Holden's life in his hands. Literally.

Thanks to some meddlesome matchmaking, the two men are now temporary housemates at the Willow Springs Ranch and Drew is determined to help Holden heal, both physically and emotionally. Even if it means he has to drag the other man kicking and screaming to physical therapy...and out of the closet. In fact, that might be kind of fun.

The problem is, Holden doesn't consider himself in the closet...but not all secrets are created equal.

~~*~~

Taking Chance, Willow Springs Ranch III

Officer Chance Carter is pretty sure he'd still enjoy being on either end of a good ass reaming--just not the one from his supervisor that lands him on an involuntary extended vacation. Another holiday season with nothing to do except visit an old friend.

Former hospital corpsman Bryan Mitchell doesn't feel less than honorable, but that's what his discharge paperwork states. Now he is down and out in Kingman, Arizona until the charity of a stranger lands him a temporary job for the holidays.

When two federal employees go missing during a highly controversial wild horse roundup, the two Willow Springs Ranch newcomers are drafted to help in the search, but if rumors of a local anti-government militia are true, Chance and Bryan may be in serious trouble--and from something far more dangerous than their mutual attraction.

~~*~~

Hanging Chad, Willow Springs Ranch IV

For Chad Ollom, landing on the Willow Springs Ranch after his teaching career crashed and burned last year was a lesson in irony, considering he'd sworn off all things related to horses and cowboys after a near fatal fall as a child. Now with a new mission in life, Chad plans to bring critically ill children to the ranch for a special celebration.

Aging rodeo cowboy Jesse Duran lives life eight seconds at a time, and whether it's broncos or men, it's always been get on and get off before anyone gets hurt. When he's required to take a break from the circuit and ends up on the WSR, the enticing ass of a stand-offish teacher turned contractor might just be enough challenge to keep him entertained for a week or two.

As attraction flares, personal boundaries start to crumble, and the lines between seducer and seduced begin to blur. When the series of on-going attacks against the WSR moves from sabotage to arson, Jesse steps up to help, but when Chad is forced to return to his past to face charges of abuse, the men of the WSR want to know if Jesse will stick or leave Chad hanging.

