Chance of the Heart (2 page)

He plopped gracelessly in his desk chair and stared blankly at the screen. He’d been told he didn’t have to worry about the account he was working on now as it’d be passed on since it was one of their larger clients.
“Wrap up the Michaels, ChumDum, and Liezel accounts in your final weeks. We appreciate your hard work.”

Hadn’t that been a kick to the balls. Fuck, he didn’t want to have to take his sister up on the ridiculous offer she’d made when he’d mentioned the original rumors of layoffs. He couldn’t even fathom going back to his father’s ranch, his father’s church in Hope Springs. Hah!
Hopeless Springs more like it.
He’d not been back in at least six years and didn’t imagine his father was any sorrier than he was for it.

His phone rang again. Fucking Carson. Again. He snatched it up. “What?”

“You’re in a fine mood, lover,” Carson said drily.

“I’m at work.” Curt and to the point. He caught the disapproving glare Tanya was giving him from her desk across the room. But what could she do? Write him up? Fire him? Not like he was ever one to abuse the no-cell-phone policy. Fuck it.

“I was trying to lease an apartment at Centre Point.” How he would afford the nicer apartments across town, Bradley had no idea.

“And…”

“They’re the same leasing company as The Arms.”

“Again… And…”

“I need off your lease.”

Bradley sputtered. “Dude, you broke up with
me
. You said I could have these last two months. Can you not crash with your new guy a little longer? This is not exactly a good time.”

“Look, Brad. I know this sucks. But we’re trying to get a place and this is what we want. It’s a douche move—”

“No shit!”

“But… we can’t wait. His lease is up at the end of the month. They said you could just sign off this month and they’d use the deposit…”

“Now you want my half of the deposit too?” Bradley laughed, knowing he was about to become hysterical.

“Bradley…”

“No. You know what? Fuck it. Take the damn thing. Come tell me where I need to sign. Small price to pay to be finished with you. Finally.” He didn’t mean it. Yes, it’d be nice to be finished with the cheating bastard, but he really could use his half of the fourteen hundred dollar deposit now that he’d be out of work. And where he’d stay, he had no idea. Looks like—
No! No, you will not go back.

“The manager said she’d fax you what you needed.” After getting the fax number and giving Carson a good old
fuck off
, he ended the call.
Best day ever.

He shot off a text to his best friend Emma, requesting a night out. He’d definitely need to forget this day, even if just for a few hours. He waited for her affirmative response, then put his phone away after Tanya cleared her throat for the third time.

The best part of living in a college town was the number of bars with lots of pretty, cheap liquor. He’d definitely be taking advantage of that tonight. And maybe a hot piece of college ass. It’d definitely been long enough since he’d had some of that.

This,
this
was why Chance hated when shit was uncertain. His damn fool self always lost his mind a little. Thinking things he shouldn’t, going places he shouldn’t.

Oh yeah, he’d taken David’s advice. He’d gone to Abernathy. He’d even worn a polo with his jeans instead of his usual flannel. He’d always thought the baby blue brought out the color of his eyes. The way the short sleeves stretched over his biceps, the tight fit over his chest showing off the few assets he was confident in. Not that he put much thought into his looks. Why should he? He didn’t have anyone to impress. So why had it been important when he’d put the shirt on tonight?

He didn’t listen about the boots, though. He thought his newest snakeskins looked good enough. And he most definitely didn’t think, when David suggested he hit one of the bars on The Strip in Abernathy—obviously a street lined with bars to make life easy for the inebriated bar-hopping college kids—that he’d come to this particular bar.

He didn’t know
why
he’d ended up in Bar None. There were honky-tonks and pubs, a couple of hole-in-the-walls, a juke joint. Instead, after a couple drinks at the steakhouse where he’d had dinner with an old buddy, he ended up in a gay bar. Granted, Bar None was known for having a mixed crowd, the straight girls probably thinking they were safe from getting hit on and the straight boys knowing that just as well as Chance, who wasn’t even a regular.

But he hadn’t had eyes for a single girl since he’d been drawn like a moth to a flame to the dive bar with its rainbow flags and neon lights. He certainly wasn’t the biggest fan of the all diva line-up of tunes playing on the speakers, from Taylor Swift to some disco from the ‘70s.

He had no clue
why
he was there.
I hate when things are uncertain.

He sipped on his third beer. Regardless of the reasons why he should or shouldn’t be there, he’d been posted up on a bar stool for about thirty minutes, thinking their dollar beers were as good as any. And the girls
were
pretty. At least he knew he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew at
this
bar.

If he was honest with himself, this wasn’t his first time being drawn into the bar. After his twenty-first birthday, he’d gone out once or twice with friends, only to end up at Bar None after they’d all petered out on him for the night. He did the same thing then as tonight, sitting on the edge, watching all the carefree people enjoying their weekend night, not knowing what exactly he was looking for, what answers he needed. He had sex with a woman, enjoyed it, even if it wasn’t that often. He wasn’t gay. Maybe he just envied the worldliness of the people he saw in this particular bar. There wasn’t any macho posturing like the places he’d ended up with when he was out with the other hands from Red Creek.

Maybe he was just fucked up. He groaned and thumped his forehead with the long neck of his beer bottle.

“You doin’ okay there, cowboy?” the bartender asked. He’d been awful friendly since Chance had come in. He didn’t know why. It’s not like he was special to look at, and he sure couldn’t tell if the guy was hitting on him. He hadn’t even known Caitlin was until she’d flat out asked him to go to his junior prom with him.

“Oh, yeah. I’m good,” he said, probably barely heard above the music. The bartender took his empty bottle from him and offered a fresh one. He took it, not meeting the man’s gaze. He should really hightail it out and call the night a bust. You had to actually be looking for something to enjoy a night like this anyway. And he wasn’t gonna find the kind of company he’d been encouraged to find in this place.

A gust of wind blew through as the front door opened and damn if Chance’s stomach didn’t tie up in knots when he saw who entered. He tried to convince himself he’d been stirred to life by the sexy blonde pixie of a girl with her tight black skirt and low-cut top. His brain couldn’t even compute that it might actually be the tall, blond man behind her who cut a damn nice figure in a suit that probably cost more than the paycheck Chance had cashed at the bank that afternoon.

Tall with broad shoulders, shoulders Chance knew you usually only got from doing work like his on the ranch. The man walked with an easy confidence, even if his face was a bit pinched, but that could be the lighting. He couldn’t make the man’s features out that clearly. His lady friend was laughing, though, sidling up to the other side of the bar, catching Chance’s eyes briefly before he averted them.

What the hell is going on?
But something was familiar about the man. That had to be why he’d caught Chance’s attention. Had they crossed paths before?

“You doing okay, baby doll?” Another of the bartenders appeared in Chance’s line of sight. This guy was probably what you’d call a pretty boy, all long limbs, thin body, and high cheeks. He had a teasing glint to his black-lined eyes. Chance didn’t get to say more than a word before the man leaned over the counter, running a finger up and down Chance’s forearm.

Chance froze. Well, the guy couldn’t be more forward if he kissed him right there. “You’re new. I know all the regulars. You here with anyone, honey?” Was he purring?
Fuck.

“He’s with me, Terry,” a sexy baritone rumbled from a man who sat down in the barstool beside Chance. Chance’s eyes must have gone wide because the man who’d come to his rescue smiled widely, winking.

Holy shit.
It was the guy he’d just been staring at, the one who was now undoing him just being a foot away from him. The man looked like a Western version of James Dean with gold skin and blond hair in a dapper style. Like a cowboy who’d been thrust into a fancy suit, a rebel who’d been tamed and given a cause.

“Of course he is, Bradley,” the flirty bartender said, pouting. Chance gave the bartender an apologetic shrug, still not sure why he was going along with it.

Wait.

“Bradley?” he asked, snapping his head in the direction of his Knight in Shining Armani. “Bradley Heart?”

The man reared back a little, blinking in surprise, then that sinful smile stretched across his face in recognition. Chance was trying not to shit himself. “Chance fucking Becket!” Bradley patted Chance’s back heavily. “Terry, my man, get my friend here another of whatever he’s having.” He never took his eyes off Chance. In fact they seemed to be almost eating him up as they raked up and down.

“And I’m Emma Drake,” the blonde in the tight skirt piped up from the other side of Bradley. Chance tried to break himself away from Bradley’s gaze long enough to shake Emma’s hand. She mumbled an
Of course
that would have made him defensive had his body not immediately started shivering when Bradley squeezed his shoulder in a more than friendly gesture before removing it.

“Chance Becket,” he said, turning his attention to where Terry the bartender placed down a beer for him. “Uh, long time no see, Bradley.” And
why
did he have to see Bradley? He’d once loved watching Bradley on their local circuit. Bradley’d been a decorated barrel racer before he’d left for college, never to be heard from again. Chance had been obsessed, followed the older kid’s progress for years, tried to talk to him at church a million times.

He’d had these first ungodly thoughts all because of Bradley. Bradley the golden God atop his mighty Quarter Horse, shirtless while he practiced with Chance’s older brother Keith during summer break. He’d thought the feelings had gone away once he’d gotten with Caitlin, though he’d known his mind did wander to Bradley every once in a while. Then he’d been gone soon after Chance and Caitlin started dating, and life had gotten on the same path that was every kid’s path where they came from and he’d…

Felt lost. And in Bradley’s gaze now, he felt like someone was finding him and it was crazy and made no fucking sense. He wasn’t gay!

“Okay boys, I see I’m not needed here. I’m off,” Emma said. Bradley seemed surprised, turning to his friend.

“Really? It’s still early,” Bradley said.

“Well, third wheel seems fun and all. But we’ve been here forever and I’m tired so I’m out. Besides, you took the best looking guy.” She nudged her head in Chance’s direction. She bussed a kiss on Bradley’s cheek then was out.

Wait. Did she think they were…

“Um, what just happened?” he asked lamely. Bradley chuckled then turned on his stool until he bumped legs with Chance. His brain told him to pull away, but for some reason… that part of him that’d always wanted to ride the trails alone with Bradley Heart, not knowing what that meant until… well… right now, wouldn’t let him move.

“She was being a good wing man,” Bradley said, grinning crookedly. “Well I’ll be damned, Chance Becket. This is the best news I’ve had all day.”

What news?
He studied Bradley’s face. He was definitely older, had lost the little bit of the pudginess he’d had in his face as a youth, though it’d never been much. He seemed taller, too. But something Chance definitely didn’t miss was that Bradley seemed sad, his brown eyes flirting, but a little duller than the shine they’d held when they were kids. Chance imagined that happened to everyone as they got older, but it seemed cruel for someone who shone as brightly as Bradley to have been dulled.

Okay. Now’s when you shake his hand, say it was good to see him, and get the fuck out.
This felt like another one of his bad ‘uncertain’ decisions in the making and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure it out.

Bradley placed some cash down on the bar and nodded in the direction of a set of stairs in the back of the club.
Don’t. Don’t follow him.

Chance followed.
Damned idjit. What are you doing?
But his body was being pulled along, like there was a magnet drawing him wherever Bradley led. If he’d been a moth to a flame with Bar None, he was even more hopeless now that he was with this man.

When they got upstairs, it was a little darker, a little quieter, but not seedy. Just random groups of people in more intimate seating areas. Booths and bistro tables littered the floor around a few pool tables. A juke box played, but you didn’t have to scream to be heard over it. Bradley led him to an open booth in the very back.

He sat down, thinking maybe they’d just shoot the shit. It was good to see an old friend. This old friend particularly, even if he shouldn’t think it. Bradley took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing thick forearms that looked like he still worked with horses every day.

“This is a surprise.” Bradley’s voice pulled Chance out of his confusing reverie.

“You could say that again,” Chance said.

“How ya been, Becket?”

This was good. Chance could do this. “Good. Good. Just working. Still out at my folks’ place now.”

“You foreman yet?”

“Oh, naw. I took a few classes at Hinkley Community College, but just enough to try to help with the books. Mostly I do Daddy’s work in the office now. More like deputy foreman.”

“Old Jed still running the show with your daddy?”

“Yes. He’s still healthy as a horse. Won’t be putting me in charge for years.”
Thank God.
He had grown more and more wary of the idea of being in charge over the years. He knew it’d happen eventually. His brother had bought his own spread, so Red Creek would be Chance’s one day. Just like Caitlin would be his wife one day.
One day, one day, one day.