Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance (3 page)

Bailey Bradford

15

his lunatic breakdown. Now if he lost the job, he wouldn’t be able to use the ageism defense.

Galloway leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin as he stared at Rory. For his part, Rory felt like he was dissected by the dark, driven gaze, and it unsettled him in a way that nothing else in recent memory had. He kept his jaw locked tight and did his best to appear sane after his rambling outburst.

“All right, Rory. You’re hired, though I will be checking with your sister, you understand.” Galloway rose and Rory followed quickly, trying to hide his surprise. He’d expected a tougher battle for the job, though inside, he felt like he’d been thoroughly stomped by a bull.
Amazing the pain family can cause
.

“Thank you, Mr Galloway,” Rory murmured as he took the older man’s hand for a quick shake. He buried the thought that he was certain Galloway hadn’t made Max’s job conditional on a reference check. “I won’t let you down.”

Galloway gave a sharp nod, still watching him with an intensity that belied his disinterested attitude. “You can put your things in the bunkhouse—right now it’s just Max and you. Hopefully I’ll be able to add a couple more hands in a few months.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you again, Mr Galloway.” Rory turned and headed out of the house, willing himself not to babble in gratitude and make himself look like an even bigger fool.

RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

16

Chance flopped back into his desk chair, comforted by the creaking noise the leather made at the impact. His eyes were drawn back to Rory’s file before he could stop himself.

He’d been prepared to find some reason not to hire the man, stupid as it may have been, because he was first and foremost too damned attractive.

Despite being young and having the face of an angel—he even had pale blond curls that framed his gorgeous face, for Christ’s sake, and eyes so deep a blue they almost appeared black—he appealed to Chance on a level that frightened him with its intensity. He’d had to hide his hard on behind his desk until he could get some small manner of control. Rory had given him that with his pain-filled laughter when asked about the reason his own father had fired him.

Fired—hell, disowned was what it was, and Chance had a sneaking suspicion he knew why. Didn’t believe it was wishful thinking, either. When the younger man had let his hat slip down to his lap, Chance had actually gone from having a sneaking suspicion to a damned good idea of why. He would have laughed if it had happened to someone else—as was usually the case, it wasn’t funny when it happened to oneself.

Now he had in his employ one sexy man who, if he’d been fifteen years older—or at least ten, Chance could have handled ten—Chance would have…done nothing. He needed help on the ranch more than he needed to get laid, no matter how much his prick thought otherwise.

That particular part of his anatomy had sat up and taken notice of the blond man like no one before, with the exception of the stranger at the bar Saturday night.

“Must be it—damned stranger with the magic hands turned me into a horny old man.”

Not that Chance really thought forty was ancient or anything, but in a world that worshipped youth and beauty, it was hard not to feel old and worn down. Which was a good reason to keep the younger man at a distance. He wouldn’t feel any sympathy for the…Rory.

Hadn’t been anyone to pick Chance up when he’d been toppled by life, and he’d made it.

Not without an issue or two, but who didn’t have at least a couple?

And all this self-examination was a stalling technique and he knew it. He would not RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

17

allow himself to feel guilty for doing this to Rory only and not Max as well. Chance trusted his gut, and he was certain that Max was legit. When it came to the younger of his employees, however, there were just too many feelings swirling around in Chance’s head and body for him to believe his judgement sound towards Rory.

Chance picked up his cell phone then dialled the number listed for one Annabelle Calhoun and was treated to hellacious music on the other end as he waited for her to answer.

Who had ever thought that bit of technology was a good idea?

“Hello,” a rough voice barked across the line. Chance bit back a snicker of surprise and hoped like Hades that wasn’t Rory’s sister on the phone. If so…eesh.

“I’m calling for Annabelle Calhoun. May I speak to her, please?”

“Who is this? What do you want with Annabelle?” Chance had a sneaking suspicion the angry man on the phone was Rory’s dad, and as much as he was tempted to tell the man why he was calling, because he was sure Ian Calhoun would tell Rory’s story in a vitriolic outburst, Chance had enough integrity to hold himself back.

“Is she available?” Chance kept his voice reasonable and calm. He wanted the reference check on Rory—the cursing coming across the line proving he was irritating Calhoun senior with his perseverance was just a bonus.

“I’ll just call back at another time.”
Like when you’re better adjusted to your psych meds.

Chance disconnected the call and turned his phone off for a bit. He was pretty sure he’d have some fun messages to listen to later.

Right now, he needed to head over to the bunkhouse and give his employees the detailed worklist he’d made up, as well as discuss salary with Rory.

Odd that the man hadn’t even asked about it, and Chance had to acknowledge that he’d been too busy trying to suffocate his attraction to the younger man to even think about salaries. He would have to get his brain out of his balls and act like the boss instead of an old horndog. Chance just prayed he was up to the challenge.

Chance’s stomach sunk down to his kneecaps when he discovered Max alone in the bunkhouse.

“Hey, boss, what can I do for you?” Max’s grin was infectious, reaching out to Chance RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

18

and inviting him to share in a laugh at the world in general. How could the man be so cheery? It wasn’t natural.

“I came to give you and Rory the worklist, answer questions about it if y’all had any.

Also realised I needed to discuss something with Rory we completely forgot about in his interview. Do you know where he is?” Chance didn’t want to ask—he did not want to be alone with the all-too-appealing man if possible.

“He got a phone call a few minutes ago. Couldn’t help but overhearing a man’s voice yelling at him. You know how loud those cell phones can be.” Max eyed him in a way that made Chance wonder just what the smaller man was seeing.

“Yeah, they can be very…um. I guess I can leave the list with you and you can fill Rory in on it. I’ll just catch up with him on the other thing another time. Or he may be back by the time we’re done. If you want, I can wait while you look the list over. Just in case you have any questions.” Chance sneaked a peek out the door and still didn’t see Rory anywhere.

Maybe he’d gone out behind the barn. He turned back to find Max studying him intently.

“He’s probably done and checking out the place. Said he was gonna do that right ‘fore his phone rang, if ya want to go see,” Max suggested.

“No. I doubt he’d want anyone overhearing…whatever is going on in that call if it’s not over.” Guilt tickled Chance’s brain—had he inadvertently sicced Calhoun senior on Rory?

The idea made him feel like a jackass. Of course he had. The kick he’d got out of provoking Ian Calhoun had flung back around and caught Rory upside the head.

“Shit. Okay, Max, here’s the list. You’ve both had enough experience for it to be self-explanatory anyway. If either of you do have questions, just come up to the house. Any time you need anything, don’t hesitate.”

Chance had barely placed the paper in Max’s hand before he was turning and striding out the door, trying to keep a little dignity by walking fast rather than running. He stopped and listened, hoping to catch the sound of Rory’s voice but heard nothing other than the occasional cow or horse. Going on instinct, Chance headed to the barn, rounding the corner when he reached it. He spotted Rory slumped against the wall.

“Holding up the barn?” God, when had he got so lame? Chance knew without a doubt he was never going to get laid again with lines like that escaping out of his mouth. Rory’s profile was every bit as fine as the man looked head-on. His full mouth tipped up in a slight smile, at least on the half Chance could see.

RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

19

“Look, Rory…”
What? I’m sorry your old man’s an ass? Sorry I tried to check your references
but not Max’s? Sorry I’m an ass?

“Annabelle will be calling you as soon as she can get away from Ian, probably tomorrow or the next day. She texted me after she got her phone back from him. Good thing he doesn’t know how to delete numbers and such, huh?” Rory kept his gaze down, staring at, Chance would bet, nothing other than what was playing out behind his eyes.

He walked closer to the younger man, unable to keep his distance in the face of Rory’s pain. Chance wouldn’t, however, let himself reach out for Rory. That’s what he thought, at least, and was therefore the more startled of the two when he brought a hand to rest on Rory’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry. Please let your sister know that the references are unnecessary.” Rory’s dark blue eyes met Chance’s and there was no way either man could deny the heat that passed between them. Chance pulled his hand back, tucking it down deep into his front jeans pocket to keep it from slipping away from him again.

Still those indigo-coloured eyes stayed on his. This close, Chance couldn’t help but notice the blue had small flecks of amber close to the pupil. It was a stark contrast that fascinated him to the point of distraction, almost like little flames dancing in the midnight depths of the younger man’s eyes.

Chance couldn’t make himself move away as Rory brought up a hand and stroked a finger up the line of his neck, stopping right below his ear. Chance shuddered at the touch, feeling it through every nerve ending in his body. Rory dropped his hand back to his side and looked away, giving Chance his profile once again.

“She’s gonna call you anyway, Mr Galloway. Might as well get what you need. That everything, sir?” Rory’s tone never deviated from polite, but damned if it didn’t piss Chance off because of it. And sir? Was that really necessary? Probably. Chance’s brain kicked in and stomped his pride back down. It wasn’t like he’d been anything other than a dick to Rory.

“No, Rory, that’s not everything. It’s Chance, not Mr Galloway or sir.” Chance let out a frustrated sigh as Rory continued gazing at God only knew what. There was no way mesquite brush was that interesting, though he did manage a slight nod of acknowledgement at Chance’s words.

“There’s also the matter of your… God damn it. Okay. I’m an ass and I’m sorry and we need to discuss your salary, all right?” As apologies went, it wasn’t his best, and it was made RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

20

out of frustration, sure, but also sincere regret. Chance wasn’t normally such an asshole and he knew it.

What set him off with this man was something he wasn’t ready to delve into yet, so he was afraid he might have to get used to making apologies.

Rory kept his eyes locked in front of him as he nodded once again.

“All right, Chance. As for the salary, I’m sure you’ll be a fair man, yeah? So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to…”

It was then that Chance let his mad go, watching the younger man’s jaw twitch as he stopped talking. Whatever had happened with that phone call, it had hurt Rory and he wanted, or needed, to be alone to cope with it with some dignity.

“Still need to discuss it, butlater. Whenever you’ve got time.” Chance bit his tongue to stop from offering to listen to whatever was troubling Rory. It’d be best if he didn’t know. He headed back to the bunkhouse and asked Max to keep an eye on Rory and lend him an ear if he thought it was needed. That handled, Chance went to the ranch house, resigning himself to listening to the voice mails he’d undoubtedly received from an irate Ian Calhoun.

RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

21

Rory watched out of the corner of his eye as Chance walked away. He was sure the man had been on the verge of saying something else but reconsidered at the last moment and fled instead to prevent any words slipping from his lips he might later regret.

Or maybe Chance wouldn’t regret anything he said. Rory didn’t really know the man, but in his opinion, Chance Galloway seemed to be a tightly wound man who was going to snap in half if he didn’t find a way to blow off some steam. Rory’d be more than happy to help Chance with that, but seeing as how Rory was so young and too damn close to being pretty—which played a part in why he made sure his body was every bit as masculine as it could be—with those two Chance-declared evil traits, he’d have better luck trying to nail the head of the right-wing coalition. Though, come to think of it, what with everything that had been in the news lately, that might not be such a tough nut to crack.

And now he was coming up with his own lame jokes. Whatever Chance had must have been contagious. Rory snorted at that and pushed up off the barn, batting away the hurts and insults his father had pelted him with. He would have hung up but that never worked before—man would have just called back and left voicemails. Easy enough to delete, but Rory had never been able to do so without listening to them first. Glutton for punishment or hope springing eternal? Neither choice made him happy.

What did lighten his mood a bit was the way Chance hadn’t been able to look away when their eyes met and that wicked heat had flared between them. Rory had expected it, but Chance hadn’t worked it out. He would soon enough—Rory had ensured it rather foolishly when he’d given in to temptation and stroked the path up the side of Chance’s neck his fingertips tracing over the purple love-bite under the man’s ear.