Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance (2 page)

Rough fingers brushed over his perineum before applying slight pressure. Chance jerked so hard his back popped, the friction sizzling up and down his dick and the outside rubbing of his prostate robbing him of air, body clenching and tightening until Chance thought his balls were going to crawl up inside his body.

“Only close?” The stranger spoke against the sensitive skin under Chance’s ear, and then latched on hard with his lips and teeth while driving the tip of a thumbnail into the weeping slit of Chance’s cock again. The combination one-two assault sent a frisson of searing heat exploding out from the base of his spine to every nerve ending in Chance’s body. He yelled before he could stop himself, clamped his jaws shut and bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood as he thrust into the strangling grip on his cock. His balls tucked impossibly tighter and jettisoned waves of ecstasy to his cock and out the head in thick white RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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ropes on the stranger’s hand and Chance’s shirt. His head dropped forward, neck too weak to hold it up just then as the other man stepped quietly back and the hand on his cock disappeared.

Chance took a few stuttering breaths before he realised the man was gone. What the hell? He assumed the stranger had stepped back to give him a minute to put his pecker back in his pants, or maybe the man was going to wash his hands. He tucked and zipped hurriedly, embarrassed and turned on, eager to take this party somewhere quieter. Except the mystery man who’d said he wanted Chance must have suddenly had other ideas. When he looked up, all Chance could see of the person he thought was the stranger was part of a long and densely muscled shoulder and arm pulling the door to the bar shut on the way out.

Chance stood rooted to the dirty floor, trying to process what had just happened.
One
minute I’m covered in warm male flesh that made me feel like pure perfection was all over me, the next
minute I’m left standing with my dick dangling in the breeze and spunk splattered everywhere.

Seriously, what the hell?
Confused and feeling worse than when he walked in the bar, Chance straightened his spine and walked out wearing his dignity and the scent of his own seed.

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“I’m sorry, Mr Wilson. You just don’t have the experience that I’m looking for right now, but I do appreciate you taking the time to come out for an interview. You have a lot of potential…” Chance let the sentence peter off as the wannabe cowboy refused the proffered handshake and stalked out of the office, muttering things Chance didn’t hear for the most part—other than ‘pretentious asshole’. After that, he stopped listening before he did something to the green city boy they’d both regret.

Jesus, when had people stopped being civilised to each other? A rush of heat washed over Chance when he thought about just how uncivilised he’d been Saturday night, coming like a randy teenager in full view of everyone in the bar. Embarrassment threatened to ride over him until he was coated in pink proof of the emotion, but Chance pushed it back.

Wasn’t like he’d ever be stepping foot in that bar again. What had started out as one of the hottest experiences in his sexual history had ended up leaving him feeling confused and angry, something he definitely did not enjoy, best orgasm ever or not.

Here it was, Monday, and he was still letting the whole thing get to him. Frustrated with himself, Chance pushed away from his desk, grabbed the next file—Max Jenkins—and walked to the office door.

Two men sat in the living room waiting to be interviewed. Chance hoped like hell both men would be qualified for ranch hand positions—he’d been so busy himself that he hadn’t had time to do more than place ‘help wanted’ ads in a few papers. He’d downloaded and printed off some generic job application online, feeling a bit stupid for doing so, but nowadays a person couldn’t be too careful. He’d want a background check run on anyone he hired.

Considering his luck so far, he might just be better off throwing in the towel and hiring the last two men applying whether they were qualified or not. Maybe he could train them—

he sure wasn’t impressed with what had passed through his office already. Not one of the applicants yet was familiar with ranching or rough stock.

And artificial insemination? He didn’t even want to go there again. Times were tight, and Chance understood the need for employment, but he also understood that he had to RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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have some knowledgeable employees to make his ranch profitable.

“Max Jenkins,” Chance called out, glancing at the backs of the two men. One was slender and wiry, much shorter than the owner of the broad sexy back on the opposite end of the couch. His cock took notice of the width of those strong shoulders, causing him to lower the file until he was holding it in front of his groin. Not a good way to start off an interview with a potential employee. However, it was the smaller man who stood and turned a weathered face to Chance. A quick inventory told him this man had logged a lot of time out in the sun, fine lines spread out around his eyes and creasing his cheeks. The image gave Chance a bit of hope that this man, at least, had some experience that would be an asset to the Galloway Ranch.

As the man approached, he grinned at Chance and shook his head. “Seems that young city boy was a might tee’d off at ya when he left. Max, nice to meet ya, Mr Galloway.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Chance’s lips. “Yeah, young and green, never spent a day working on a ranch in his life, and I’m a pretentious asshole for pointing that out.” He offered his hand to Max as the smaller man let loose a rusty laugh. This time his handshake was accepted and gripped in a surprisingly strong hold.

“So, Max, why don’t you tell me about your experience?” Chance gestured to his office.

Max went in and Chance followed closing the door behind them for privacy to conduct the interview.

Rory sat on the couch, white-knuckling the brim of his hat as the city boy stormed out, cursing Chance Galloway the entire time. Man, if that idiot ruined Rory’s chances at this job, he’d…he didn’t know what he’d do. Forcing himself to let up on his unconscious attempt to strangle his Stetson, Rory carefully kept his head averted from Galloway’s sight when the man stepped out to call the next guy in line.

After sitting for an hour and talking to Max, Rory was sure the wiry little man would be hired. He’d been let go when the owner of the ranch he’d worked on for most his life had died suddenly and his kids had sold the ranch not long after their daddy was in the ground.

Max knew his way around a ranch, that was for sure—but so did Rory.

The fact that he was about the same age as the fit-throwing applicant who was RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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interviewed before Max would not work in Rory’s favour. He’d argue for this job if he had to, though, because he had more than one reason to want to work here now. He twitched as laughter rang out from the office—someone was having a helluva time in there.

And why was that bothering him? He didn’t think he’d be able to laugh and joke with Chance Galloway just yet—he was still recovering from the jolt that shot through him when Galloway had stepped out from the office to call in the first guy in line. It wasn’t just that the man was hot as hell with his salted black hair and chestnut brown eyes, and a body that was firmly packed and stacked in all the right places. It was also the fact that fate had a wicked sense of humour.

The office door opened, and this time Rory dared a peek over his shoulder. Chance and Max were all smiling and joining each other’s fan club. Rory’s frown deepened as he realised what an idiot he was being. What was wrong with him, anyway? Max had obviously been hired, and was being congratulated and all that warm fuzzy stuff. He turned away as Max started walking through the living room, waiting until the man was close to the couch before standing with his back to Chance.

Smiling, Rory clasped hands with Max. “Way to go, Max, congratulations.” Max’s grin was so wide it almost looked painful.

“Thanks, Rory. Told Mr Galloway…I mean, Chance, that you seemed to be the only other man out here who knew his way around working a ranch.” Max slapped Rory on the back, ending with a push that didn’t even tempt Rory’s feet into moving. “Go on, now, you’re up.”

Rory nodded and wondered why his feet suddenly felt like they were stuck in mud. He wasn’t an insecure man, and he knew he was more than qualified for any position on this ranch. If he had to wheedle his way into a job, that was what he’d damn well do. He did, however, slap his Stetson on low and hope that it, along with keeping his head tilted down, might buy him some time before Chance made any snap judgments.

He couldn’t put off raising his head—well, he didn’t have to raise it too far, or he’d be looking down at his potential employer—forever. Stepping up to Galloway and tipping his chin up, Rory offered his hand.

“Rory Calhoun, Mr Galloway.” Rory watched Chance’s eyes widen and then narrow to unhappy-looking slits
. Hells bells, he’s gonna be all bent over my age, among other things.
The idea ticked Rory off, but he only smiled politely instead. “Should we step into your office, Mr RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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Galloway?” Anger was replaced with amusement once Rory realised the man was looking kind of shell-shocked.

“Do I know you, Mr Calhoun?” Those molten brown eyes were narrowed as

Galloway’s gaze seemed to jump all over Rory, trying to answer the question themselves.

“No, sir, I believe you do not.”
At all, but if you really want the opportunity, I’m game.
Rory stopped that train of thought before it left the station—and him with a hard on he wouldn’t be able to hide. That was definitely not the kind of first impression he wanted to make.

Galloway gave Rory a slow nod, still looking a little suspicious and displeased.

Irritation with the man’s attitude burned at the base of Rory’s spine before settling in his gut.

He wasn’t going to lose this job just because Mr Chance Galloway had a hang up about age.

What was that called anyways? Age-something? Ageism? He’d better know that word because he was pretty certain he’d have to toss it out there.

“Please step into my office, Mr Calhoun.” The tone of the man’s voice made Rory feel like something to be scraped off of his prospective boss’ shoe. He didn’t like it one bit. Spine stiffening until Rory thought it just might snap, he held his head up high as he walked past Galloway and into the office.

“Have a seat, please, while I look over your information.” Galloway flipped open the folder and started reading, eyebrows winging up in surprise and grunting softly.

Rory removed his hat before sitting, then had to picture a naked woman to keep his cock from springing to full mast. The man across from him was entirely too sexy, and that grunt had Rory thinking… Grandma in a bikini—an image seared into his memory like the worst sort of nightmare, from when he’d visited the grandfolks in Florida—caused a meltdown of the grey matter in his head, but it did the job and knocked his libido down to his ankles.

This time when Galloway met his eyes, Rory was ready for the jolt of electricity that he felt arc between them—and he had no doubt that the other man felt it, even though he didn’t like it. Rory wasn’t going to do a thing to help the man out—he’d keep his expression flat and a chorus of Grandma-Grandma-Grandma ringing in his ears.

“You worked at the Mossy Glenn ranch in Montana for eight years, Mr Calhoun? You seem awfully young to have been working that long.” The skepticism in the man’s voice had Rory itching to poke at him. The implication he was lying threatened to override his common sense, something he could not allow to happen.

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“Rory, please, Mr Galloway. And yes, I did.”
Here it comes…

“Yet I can’t call for a reference? Why is that?” Rory was tempted to tell Galloway that if it was possible he should let just a little more disbelief drip from his tongue, but he knew he’d be acting as immature as the older man thought him to be. Taking a deep breath, Rory dropped his defenses just enough to answer.

“That would be because my father, Ian Calhoun, wouldn’t give me one. You can confirm that he is the owner of the Mossy G with a few clicks of a mouse.” Rory twirled his Stetson around and around on his fingers, not giving thought to how much of a tell the action was. “I listed a number for my sister, who still lives and works on the ranch. She can give you a reference and again, it’s a simple enough matter to confirm.”

The darting of Galloway’s eyes to the spinning Stetson had Rory stilling the felt hat immediately. The older man’s eyes stayed on that hat where it rested high on Rory’s thigh.

Queen Elizabeth shot into his mind, dancing a jig.

“Would you…can you tell me what happened to end your employment at the Mossy Glenn?” Chance’s voice sounded distracted as he continued staring at what Rory hoped was his hat, but was beginning to suspect otherwise.

Rory didn’t let the tone fool him. He could almost see the curiosity rising off Galloway.

“No, sir. I can only tell you that it was personal, having nothing to with my job performance.

Again, you can check with Annabelle on that. She won’t tell you the why, either, though.”

Galloway finally met his gaze, considering. He tipped his head to the side, baring a corded neck that made Rory’s mouth water. Giving up on the dancing Queen, he crossed an ankle over his knee and let his hat slide against his groin. Galloway’s eyes narrowed but Rory refused to crack. Stoic, he could do, mostly.

“So what happens, Mr—Rory,”—Galloway caught himself before Rory had his mouth open more than half an inch—“when your dad decides to drop whatever it is that pissed him off?”

Stoicism collapsed under the weight of bitter laughter. “Oh, no, no, Mr Galloway. I can assure you that isn’t going to happen, not at all. And before you ask about the ranch, it’s already been deeded to my sister upon his death. If she tries to sell it to me or let me step one foot on the property, it will be sold to the current foreman, and let me tell you, that man purely hates my guts.” Rory clamped his mouth shut, shocked he’d said so much. Galloway, however, just continued to study him closely. Rory tried not to fidget but felt exposed after RORY’S LAST CHANCE