A Wild Ride (8 page)

“Sure,” Dante said. He hoped that once Ryan saw what he wanted to see, he’d go home and leave Dante in peace. Figuring the best way to do that was a demonstration, Dante climbed onto the bucking machine. “When I say so, press the green button right there,” Dante said, pointing, and then he got his hands in position. “Okay,” Dante said. The machine began to move and Dante moved and shifted his body along with it, arm in the air, hips and butt rolling along with the movement of the mechanical bull beneath him. Just like when he rode the real thing, his mind and body quickly came into harmony and everything flowed away in a rush of adrenaline. “Turn up the difficulty,” Dante cried, and the bucking motion became more severe and intense. “God, yes!” Dante cried out and continued moving, the ride jumping in intensity. “More!”

Ryan must have turned up the machine to the highest setting, because it bucked and spun back and forth at a whiplash speed. The next thing Dante knew, he was flying through the air and then landed and rolled on the padding. “Jesus,” Ryan said as he hurried over. “Are you all right?” Dante felt Ryan’s hands on his chest and arms. He pulled away and then stood up, a bit dizzy but unhurt.

“I’m fine. That happens all the time.” Dante picked up his hat and looked at the now still machine.

“You said you wanted more, so I turned it all the way up,” Ryan said, and Dante paused when he heard what sounded like genuine concern.

“That I did, and what a ride.” Dante stepped back toward the machine. “Would you do it again?” he asked, already climbing onto the bull. “This time, start it on the highest setting.” Dante got into position. “Yee fucking hah,” he cried, and the mechanical bull bucked like it was jumping out of the gate. Dante rode and rode until he was once again thrown onto the padding. It was only a matter of a few seconds, but the ride seemed to go on forever, the way it always did in competition.

“Dante, you fool,” Ryan said once Dante had stopped rolling. “You didn’t have to be a show-off.” Dante’s head spun and he felt a bit woozy, the way he sometimes did when he flipped off a bull and got tossed around in the air a few times. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Dante moaned and lay where he’d fallen on the padding. Soon Ryan had his head cradled. “Say something—are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dante said and then began to get up, but his head didn’t want to cooperate and the rafters above him began to move and sway. He closed his eyes, settled into Ryan’s warmth, and felt the swirling stop. “Guess I got a little dizzy.”

“You didn’t hurt yourself?” Ryan whispered.

“No. Sometimes after a ride, with all the spinning and bucking, the head doesn’t stop as fast as the rest of me.” Dante sat up, grateful when everything around him remained still. “Do you want to give it a try?” Dante asked, turning to Ryan. “I’ll put it on the easiest setting if you want to see what it’s like.”

Ryan paled slightly. “No, thanks. I think I’ll content myself to watch.”

“Come on,” Dante said, standing up and extending his hand to Ryan. “Take off your coat and tie and give it a try.”

Ryan actually looked like he was considering it. “How about next time? I’ll be sure to wear some suitable clothes and you can give me my first lesson in riding bulls.”

Dante swallowed. “Next time?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to come out to meet with your grandfather a few more times, and for the next meeting I’ll make sure I’m wearing more suitable clothes.” Ryan dusted himself off, and Dante groaned inwardly. He’d been hoping that once this meeting was over, he could go back to normal and try to put the urges that kept surfacing where Ryan was concerned back in their boxes. “Is there anything else you wanted to show me?” Ryan asked with a smile Dante bet was meant to be disarming.

“Don’t think so,” Dante answered, walking toward the door and then waiting for Ryan. He had a pretty good idea what Ryan had meant and he wasn’t going for it. “I need to get back to check on Gramps.” That was as good an excuse as any, even though he knew that Gramps would still be sitting in his chair, most likely either still asleep or just waking from his nap. If he had gotten up, it would be to get himself a beer and then try to drink it before Dante got back, so he wouldn’t find out. He led the way back to the porch, and sure enough, he saw Gramps twist around to place something behind his chair. Dante pretended not to see as he and Ryan climbed the porch stairs.

“Hy, I’d like to meet with you this week to review the papers you have and discuss the rest,” Ryan said. He wasn’t sure what he should say about Hy’s plans for the ranch and decided it was best to keep quiet. If Hy wanted Dante to know about his plans, it was his place to say something, not Ryan’s. “Is Wednesday evening okay for you?”

Hy looked to Dante and then back at Ryan.

“That would be fine,” Hy said, and Ryan shook Gramps’s hand before turning to Dante.

“I’ll see you later, Dante,” Ryan said, and Dante stiffened as his heartbeat picked up and his mouth became dry. Part of him was relieved to see Ryan leaving, and the other part wanted to figure out how to talk to him and tell him to stay.

“Okay,” Dante said, forcing his voice to remain level. Ryan walked away, and after a few seconds Dante saw him turn around and look right at him, eyes smoldering with suppressed heat. Dante forced himself to turn away, fussing with the cushions on one of the chairs until he heard the car door close. Then he turned around and watched as Ryan’s vehicle headed down the drive. He didn’t look away until the taillights disappeared from sight.

“What’s going on between you two?” Gramps asked as Dante reached behind Gramps’s chair, retrieving the beer bottle and then handing it indulgently to his grandfather.

“You know you shouldn’t have this,” he said even as he gave it to him.

“You didn’t answer my question. You were as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs the entire time he was here.”

“It’s nothing, Gramps,” Dante said, wishing he had one of those beers, something to hold to keep his hands busy.

“I may be old, but I’m not blind,” Gramps said. “There was definitely something going on, and it wasn’t like you just met after the rodeo. There were sparks flying between you two, so maybe you really hate one another, but I doubt that, because you both came back from your little tour in one piece.” Gramps took a sip from the bottle, his hand shaking, and Dante watched and made sure he got the bottle set back down. He’d cleaned up more than one broken bottle or glass in the past few weeks and he knew there would probably be more, but it was a small price to pay to have Gramps with him. “You know,” Gramps said, leaning back and closing his eyes, “you may think that because I’m old I don’t see things clearly, but I do.”

“What are you talking about?” Dante asked as a knot formed in his gut.

Gramps shifted slightly in the chair and opened his eyes, the last lingering light of the sun shining in them. “I’ve always been proud of you, no matter what. You take care of this place and me. You always make sure when you’re gone that I’m not alone. Don’t think I don’t notice, because I do. Just like I noticed the fact that you haven’t brought a filly around since high school.”

“Gramps, I…,” Dante began.

“I know you were prob’ly trying to protect me and wanted me to be happy, but there’s nothing you need to hide.” Gramps shifted and looked down the drive. “And there’s nothing you need to be ashamed of. You’re my grandson and I love you, and it don’t make any difference to me if you like bulls or cows. I just want you to be happy.” Gramps slowly lifted the beer bottle to his lips, and Dante sat still in near complete shock. He really hadn’t expected rejection from his grandfather, but acceptance and Gramps’s obvious peace with it were more than he could ever have hoped. “You were never one to talk much about your feelings. You get that from me, and maybe I should have talked to you about this a long time ago.”

“Gramps,” Dante said.

“No, boy, you gotta let me say my piece. You’re my family and you got the best parts of all of us. You’re stubborn and pigheaded, but that’s what it takes to survive out here. In that way, you’re just like me and your mama.”

Dante swallowed. Gramps rarely talked much about Dante’s mother, and even less about his father. Dante remembered them, but he was only twelve when they’d died in an accident, so the memories he had were more like snapshots and short movie clips rather than sharp memories. He tried to remember both of them, but over time the memories had faded. One thing was plain enough; Gramps hadn’t liked Dante’s father and still blamed him for Dante’s mother’s death. “Maybe I raised you wrong after your folks died…,” Gramps said, sounding hurt. “I never had a son of my own, and I tried to raise you the way I thought a son should be raised, the way my daddy raised me. But….”

“Gramps,” Dante said again. He really didn’t want to talk about all this. But he couldn’t deny his grandfather anything, even if it made him as squirmy as the earthworms he used to dig to go fishing.

“Dante, if I taught you shame, then I was wrong,” Gramps said, and Dante looked up toward the porch ceiling overhead. “’Cause I don’t care who you like as long as they make you happy.”

“I know that, Gramps,” Dante said, taking a deep breath. Tears threatened to gather at the corners of his eyes, but he willed them away. There was no need for that kind of shit.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Gramps snapped as he stood up, and the pain in his voice cut Dante like a knife. But pain was something he could bear, he’d done it often enough, so Dante did the same thing he did when he was hurting after falling off a bull and needed to put on a show for the crowd: he ignored it and went on.

“Guess I didn’t think I had to,” Dante said. He’d never talked about it with Gramps because he never talked about being gay with anyone. Dante had long ago accepted who he was and he didn’t give a horse’s patoot what anyone else thought about it.

“Oh,” Gramps said and then went quiet.

“Come on,” Dante said quietly, leading Gramps toward the door. “I don’t talk about it with anyone, but I don’t hide it either, except maybe on the circuit, but I think some of the guys know and they don’t say nothing….”

Dante’s grandfather stopped as they approached the door. “I’m not one of the guys,” he said firmly.

“No,” Dante said, squeezing his grandfather’s arm. That was as close as he could come to try to express the vortex of conflicting feelings swirling around inside him right now. “You’re not,” Dante added, and Gramps glanced at him and then nodded slowly before pulling the door open.

“Are you coming in?” Gramps asked.

Dante shook his head. “In a while.” Dante couldn’t have slept right now if he’d tried. “I put your nighttime pills in the case beside your bed.” His grandfather huffed the way he usually did when Dante reminded him about his medication. But this time he patted Dante’s shoulder in a display of understanding and then went inside, the screen door banging closed behind him. Dante’s boots thumped on the wooden porch floor as he walked to the corner. He leaned on the railing as he looked out over the Texas prairie.

No, he wasn’t ashamed. He was Dante Rivers. He rode bulls. He was fearless. He almost single-handedly took care of the family ranch and his grandfather. He was strong and he didn’t need the help of anyone. Dante had been doing everything for so long he didn’t know any different. He turned, stomping off the porch and across the yard to the barn. The early November night was still warm but with a hint of freshness in the air, like the weather was about to change. He considered leaving the horses out for the night, but decided against it. He turned on the lights and one by one brought the horses in and got them settled. He was hoping for rain, like everyone else for a hundred miles, and from the scent in the air, they might get some.

Old Gerty put up a bit of a fuss, initially refusing to walk through the doorway as he led her into the barn. She’d been on the ranch as long as Dante could remember. “Stubborn horse,” Dante muttered. “I bet you miss Violet, don’t you?” The horse raised and lowered her head like she was answering. “She’ll be by in the morning.” Dante talked to the horse as he led her to her stall. Violet looked after the horses and checked on Gramps when Dante was out of town. He didn’t know what he’d do without her, and frankly, he didn’t want to find out.

Dante closed the stall door and listened as the horses shifted in their stalls. Dante gave each of them fresh water and hay before sitting on a bale and enjoying the quiet and tranquility for a few minutes.
I won’t touch you until you ask me.
Dante shuddered as Ryan’s words played in his mind. “Damn it,” Dante swore as he leaned back and willed his mind to clear. The last thing he needed was to be thinking about Ryan, but he couldn’t fucking help it. “Why can’t I stop this?” he asked Gerty as she stuck her head out to see who he was talking to. Dante’s stomach ached and his balls drew close to his body just thinking about Ryan. It had been the same way for two fucking weeks.

He’d tried jerking off, and it always began the same way, with him on top of Ryan, taking charge like he did with everything in his life. But no matter what he did, it always ended with his eyes closed, Ryan over him, his scent and feel around him as Dante pleaded softly for Ryan to take him. When he let the fantasy play out, Dante came in blinding flashes. He thought about trying again. He was so fucking horny he could hardly stand it. Dante closed his eyes and saw Ryan standing in front of him with his shirt off, his sculpted, hairy chest rising slightly with each breath. Dante’s breath hitched in his chest and he squirmed as his jeans got way too fucking tight.
“That’s it,”
Ryan said as he prowled closer.
“I know what you want and need.”
Dante shuddered and his dick throbbed hard in his pants. He reached for his belt, opened it, and then tugged the button of his jeans.
“I’ll take care of you.”
Ryan leaned forward and kissed him. Dante could feel it, an exact replay of the kiss in the hotel that had stolen his breath.

Dante dug himself out as his fantasy shifted. He closed his eyes and all he could feel were Ryan’s full lips around his cock. He couldn’t see, but he could fucking
feel
them tighten, gripping his cock hard as he sucked. Dante turned on the bale, leaning back until he was splayed across it, rough ends digging into his shirt and skin. He stroked, imagining it was Ryan, and when the fantasy Ryan took him deep and slipped a finger inside him, he heard,
“You’ll have all of me soon,”
and Dante could take no more and came all over himself. He breathed hard, releasing the residual tension from his body and letting his hands fall until they brushed the concrete. Then he breathed and didn’t allow himself to think about what he’d just done.