The Broken H (3 page)

Shane snorted. “Hell, the man would probably try to marry her off to me just to get her out of his hair. He doesn’t really care what the kid does as long as she doesn’t bother him.”

Gray looked him in the eye. “Seriously, chief, you should do something about it. It
is
stalking.”

Shane blinked, dumbfounded. All thoughts of Sherry Ann flew from his mind; Gray hadn’t called him “chief” in years. God, he’d missed that! As always, if it had come from anyone else, Shane would have been pissed as hell, but Gray didn’t mean it as an insult; he never had. It was a term of respect from a four-year-old Gray and, later, a term of endearment. The boy had walked right up to Shane, those green eyes peering up at him in awe, and asked, “Are you a war chief or a peace chief? Can I be a brave? Will you teach me how?”

“What’s the matter?” Gray’s head cocked a little.

Shane broke away from his reverie. “Nothing.”

They shared an awkward moment, both staring at the other, then Gray’s eyes twinkled. “You know, speaking of marriage, why haven’t you found a nice girl and settled down?”

Shane chuckled, relieved to not only have the silence broken, but to have Gray teasing him. “Why haven’t you? Heck, kill two birds with one stone. You could solve my problem and get yourself a girl by asking Sherry Ann out. She’s much closer to your age than mine.”

Gray leaned forward, eyes suddenly serious. “Yeah, but I think we both know she’s not my type…on account of the fact that she doesn’t have a dick. Or had you forgotten?”

Chapter Three

It was just after midnight by the time Gray made it to his parents’ place. After finding out that his dad would be undergoing a double bypass in the morning, Gray had called his office to let everyone know where they could reach him. Then he’d gone to the house he’d rented outside in town, changed out of his uniform into jeans and a black t-shirt, packed some clothes and headed out to the ranch. His mother had decided to stay at the hospital. So here he was, pulling through the front gate under the wrought iron arch that read, “The Broken H.”

The dirt and gravel drive was long and wound around to the back of the main ranch house, past the gleaming white columns in front that were lit with up lights; however, the porch light was off. Gray pulled around back, noting that the back porch light was off as well. Damn, he’d loved this place as a kid. Too bad this didn’t feel like home anymore. He hadn’t been comfortable here since that day by the stock tank twelve years ago. The day his world had changed.

Gray snorted and parked his truck. It was a long time ago. He hardly ever thought about it nowadays. Okay, that was a lie; he thought about that day every time he saw Shane, every time he went fishing—which he never did anymore—or whenever the Broken H was mentioned. It really was time to get over it. After all, Shane hadn’t blinked an eye when Gray reminded him that he was gay. He thought that was promising. Maybe he and Shane could build some semblance of the friendship they had had back then. Maybe Shane had grown to accept Gray’s sexual orientation. He hoped so.

Gray grabbed his duffle bag from the passenger side of his truck and shut the door. Even though the lights were off at the big house, the front porch light was on at Shane’s three-bedroom cottage, where the foreman traditionally lived. Should he go there, let Shane know that he was here? Damn, he wanted to…and that irritated the piss out of him. Why did Shane still matter so much to him? Why was seeing if they could at least be friends again such a big deal? Shane had made his feelings pretty apparent long ago, but what about today? They’d actually gotten along today.

“Well, fuck!” Gray slung his bag over his shoulder and headed to the foreman’s cottage. Maybe if he got it over with and Shane told him to fuck off, he could then get his head out of the clouds. Or maybe he was just an idiot!

He stepped up on the porch and knocked at the door. What a far cry from when he was a kid: he’d have just walked in back then.

“It’s open!” Shane’s bellow was muffled.

Gray turned the knob and entered the living room. It looked just the same as he remembered: same hardwood floor, same wood paneling on the walls, same old brown leather furniture. The mantle above the stone fireplace had a few new pictures, but other than that, nothing much appeared to have changed. Gray had always liked this room with all the wood; it always felt homey, lived in, rustic and manly. It was a comfortable room.

He noticed Shane had almost filled up the bookshelves by the fireplace. The man had always loved to read, but rarely did so back when Gray had lived on the Broken H. There had always been so much to do. More than once, Shane had set aside a book to take him riding, or fishing, or hunting or whatever Gray had wanted to do.

“Grayson? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Where are you?”

“Kitchen.”

Gray dropped his duffle by the couch and crossed the room to the open dining room and on into the kitchen. He looked around, observing that the kitchen appliances and cabinets had been updated—stainless steel and dark oak—then his gaze landed on Shane—or rather Shane’s ass.

His fantasy man was on his knees and one hand. His other hand reached between the refrigerator and a cabinet. His face was turned away from Gray and his long hair cascaded over a shoulder to puddle on the floor. Other than a pair of red plaid sleep pants, he wore nothing else. A long line of tan, sleekly muscled back provided a showcase above that nice plaid-encased ass. Even the man’s damned feet were sexy!

Gray bit back a groan and moved closer so he could be seen.

Shane’s handsome face was mashed up against the cabinet. His big brown eyes met Gray’s and his eyebrows were pinched together in concentration.

“What are you doing?”

Shane sighed loudly. “I swear by God and all that is holy it’s a fucking conspiracy! Rubber bands are out to get me!”

He said it with such conviction that Gray burst out laughing. He peered down into the three-inch space between the fridge and the cabinet. A little more than a finger’s width from Shane’s outstretched hand was the recalcitrant rubber band. “Uh, chief? I really hate to ask, but did you consider maybe getting a broom or something with a long handle—”

Shane groaned and got up. “Smart ass!” He went to the pantry, long hair covering his sinewy back and falling just above that magnificent ass, and pulled a broom out, then pointed a finger at Gray, “Don’t you dare laugh! It’s been a long day; my brain is tired.” He fished out the offending conspirator and replaced the broom, then leaned against the cabinet and began to braid his hair. “Have you been to the big house yet?”

“Nope. I saw your light on and thought I’d let you know I was here so you didn’t shoot me for trespassing.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “I was expecting you. Remind me tomorrow to look in your dad’s office for some more rubber bands. This is my last one; the damned thing escaped by flying right out of my hand.” He finished the braid and wrapped the band around it once, twice, three times, then was done.

Gray stared; he couldn’t help it. And to make matters worse, he was getting hard.

To say that Shane had a beautiful body was an understatement. The man was gorgeous. He was about as tall as Gray—six foot or so—but where Gray was more heavily muscled, Shane had the body of an athlete or, as Gray used to think, an Indian warrior. His chest would look so right with a bear claw painted on it, or with a bone breastplate worn over it…

Shane caught his gaze. An eyebrow lifted. Then in a soft, husky voice he said, “Come here.”

Gray blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Shane crossed his arms over his chest, and continued to lean against the cabinet. His face was unreadable. “I said, come here.”

Gray moved slowly. His feet felt like they weighed a ton. What did Shane want? When he got about two feet away, Shane pushed away from the cabinet and closed the space between them. Gray could have sworn he felt butterflies in his stomach.

He was afraid to breathe, afraid Shane would move away—afraid that he wouldn’t. What was he to do? He stood there watching, waiting, and swallowed down the lump in his throat. Gray had long since memorized every inch of the face before him, those high cheek bones, the long straight nose and the thick black lashes covering those beautiful brown eyes, but damned if his cock didn’t harden completely at seeing them this close. Shane’s dark eyes gazed back for several seconds. Then his sensual lips turned up so slightly that if Gray hadn’t been staring at his mouth, he’d have missed it.

Shane reached behind Gray’s neck, pulled him forward…and kissed him.

Gray’s brain shorted out. The butterflies in his gut started doing donuts and popping wheelies and all he could do was stand there…frozen. What the hell was happening? Shane didn’t like him that way. Hell, more to the point, Shane wasn’t gay. He’d discovered that the hard way when Shane had rejected him all those years ago.

But now the older man smiled against his lips and moved back slightly. His thumb rubbed back and forth on Gray’s neck. “You always did think too much. Just stop it and open your mouth.”

“I—”

Shane’s lips slanted over his; his tongue pushed deeply inside. He tenderly traced Gray’s teeth and mouth with his tongue, caressing and exploring all at once.

Gray forgot how to breathe, he might have even whimpered when Shane’s other hand came to his waist, tugging him flush against that lean body; he could feel Shane’s erection against his own.

He lost it, it was his dream come to life—not just any dream, but one he had had all too frequently throughout the years—and a wet one at that. Until Shane came to his senses and ceased the delicious embrace, he was going to enjoy it. A little voice in the back of his head whispered,
Bad idea, Gray. Think about the consequences,
but he didn’t care. He’d probably never get the chance again.

Tightly wrapping his arms around Shane, he caressed that strong, smooth back, even as his tongue returned the attention it received. He tried to go slow, savor it, remember every detail, but damned if Shane didn’t derail him. Hands wandered up under his shirt, caressed his back, then moved around to his chest, plucking at his erect nipples. A tingle ran up Gray’s spine, making him shiver in delight.

Finally, Shane broke their kiss, flipping Gray’s shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. A finger ran down Gray’s torso, starting between his smooth pecs and ending at his navel. Shane dipped that meandering digit inside the hollow, then followed the trail of hair, starting below his navel, until he hit the top of the low waistband of Gray’s jeans.

Gray watched Shane watch him, those brown eyes practically scorching his body as they followed the line down. Then, before Gray even realized what he was about, Shane bent over and traced the same path with his tongue.

He couldn’t breathe, his breath hitched in his throat and refused to leave. Was this really happening? “Shane…”

“Relax.” Shane rose and kissed him again, this time charting a moist course and nipping along his neck and shoulder, leaving goose bumps in his wake. When he got to Gray’s collarbone, he reached down and unfastened Gray’s jeans.

Oh, God!
Gray’s balls pulled tighter, his cock jerking in anticipation. When that tanned, callused hand slipped inside and found his prick, his hips pushed forward, practically begging. Shane squeezed and rubbed through the thin cotton of his boxers. His prick started to leak. Shane moaned and squeezed again as his mouth surrounded Gray’s nipple.

“Fuck!” He pulled Shane closer, cradling his head against his chest with one hand, stroking his back with the other. If he was only going to get to do this once, he was going to seize the opportunity and finally play with that glorious and silken black mane. He snatched the end of Shane’s braid, pulled the band off and unraveled it. How many times had he dreamed of combing his fingers through it? Lifting several strands, he let them fall again.

Shane sighed softly and moved his mouth down Gray’s chest. When he reached Gray’s dick, he hooked his thumbs through the waistband of the jeans and pushed them and Gray’s boxers down in one quick motion.

Gray’s prick bobbed free, standing straight up, feeling unbelievably sensitive in the cool air. He was so fucking hard he ached. He wanted Shane’s mouth, his hands, something…anything on his cock. “Holy shit!”

Shane’s tongue flicked over the tip, then engulfed his dick in the moist heat of his mouth. Gray groaned, fingers tightening in the thick black hair. Shane groaned too, then stood up, making Gray cry out at the loss of those beautiful lips.

“Bedroom, Grayson.” Shane leaned forward and brushed a quick kiss against him. “Now.”

Gray’s mind protested, telling him to make a break for it, to get out while he could before he did something they’d both probably regret. His cock had other ideas, it told him to keep his mouth shut and get his ass in the bedroom. Naturally, his cock won the argument.

He sat down on the end of Shane’s big mahogany four-poster and yanked off his sneakers, then his socks. By the time he was completely nude, Shane was with him again. The other man walked right up to him, standing between his spread legs. Those warm brown eyes looked up and down.

“Very nice.” Shane leaned forward, resting his hands on Gray’s shoulders and flicked his tongue across Gray’s lips.

He melted, opened right up and let Shane in. His hands encircled the other man’s taut waist, fingers inching the waistband down. The kissing was great, but he was dying to get a hold of Shane’s cock. He leaned back, separating their mouths, to untie the drawstring and pulled the pants the rest of the way off.
Oh, God, yes!

Shane’s prick came free. For some strange reason Gray had always thought Shane would be uncut, but he was glad to see that he was wrong; he liked the look of a circumcised prick much better. It was long, had a deep red tint to it as well as a really pronounced vein down its length. The head was nice and thick. His mouth watered just staring at it. Wondering about how Shane would taste was one of the things that had driven him crazy for years. Now he enveloped the base of that fat prick with his hand, moved it forward, and closed his lips around it.