Cowboys 03 - My Cowboy Homecoming (17 page)

“You look like a real cowboy.” Lucho said. He wheeled himself alongside me because I was carrying tack for Pio—a saddle and pad and a bucket of grooming supplies.

“Today I feel like one.” I could still see that little calf, tongue lolling, eyes wide, waiting for me and Malloy to get her started, to nourish her and take care of her. My heart was still full to bursting with emotion I couldn’t name.

Christ. Next thing I knew I’d be snapping pictures of her and showing them to strangers . . .

“What’d you think of pulling your first calf?”

“That was amazing. I’m not sure how I’d feel about doing it by myself though.”

“You do what you have to. Malloy is usually there and he knows what he’s doing.” Lucho shrugged. “But I had to pull a calf by myself last year. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“I loved it. I don’t want to get attached, though, you know? But seeing her born, was . . . That was special. Now I’m conflicted.”

“Going to go vegan on us?”

“Probably not.” I laughed. “Yeah. No.
Unapologetic carnivore, here.
” But it was still cool.

“Malloy and Crispin are taking the J-Bar in some new directions. Crispin’s looking to get certified for organic shit and I don’t know what else. Pretty soon we’ll all be making goat cheese.”

“I heard ostriches.”

“Crispin’s threatened us with ostriches. I don’t think even Malloy, who is stupid for Crispin, would go for that. Although ostrich meat is supposed to be good for you.”

“I’ve eaten all kinds of things because I had to, but when I can get what I really want, I always go for beef. A thick, juicy steak, medium with a nice char on the outside. Salt and pepper. None of that fancy shit.”

“Me too.” We got to the small pen where Pio was munching on some scrubby grass. I put the saddle down on the rail just as Lucho asked, “You still taking me out for that steak dinner you promised tomorrow?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

Lucho’s expression tightened. “Aw, man. What happened? Something with your ma?”

“It’s not that.” I got down on my haunches, so Lucho and I were face to face. “I made her that promise to go see my dad tomorrow morning, remember?”

“Yeah.” Lucho picked at the knee of his jeans where there was a loose thread, threatening to become a hole. “And you can’t make it back in time?”

He looked so disappointed it crushed me. “It’s more like I wondered if you’d want to go with me. I got a motel room for tonight and everything, but we’d have to leave here this afternoon.”

He brightened right up. “Did you talk this over with Malloy?”

I nodded. “I asked if we could go around four. He said it’s okay as long as I’m back first thing Sunday. So if you’d like to go with me—”

“Yeah. Sure I would.”

“Good. I’ll clean up here before we leave. I’ve got my overnight bag in the truck.”

“All right.”

“There’s one hitch. I’ll need to get up early tomorrow. We won’t be able to sleep in.”

“Too bad.” Lucho’s eyes met mine. “’Cause I need as much time in a bed with you as I can get.”

“Likewise.” My cheeks burned as I stood up. “Think Pio’ll let me saddle him again today?”

“Put the lead on him and take things slow. Be calm.”

I grabbed a lead off the fence and glanced around before I leaned over and dropped a kiss on Lucho’s lips. To piss him off I tried out a new nickname. “I’ll be back, pumpkin.”

“Fuck off.” He pushed me away.

“So ‘pumpkin’s’ a no?”

“I’ll show you what no really means if you call me pumpkin again.” Lucho smacked my ass lightly with the flat of his hand.

“We don’t want that.” I danced away from another smack. “But I’ll keep working on that nickname.”

“Tell it to Pio.”

“How about ‘cupcake’?”

“No.”

I walked backward, away from him, grinning because he was getting so hot under the collar. “‘Sugarlips’?”

“No.” He ground out the word.

“‘Sweetcheeks’?”

He turned his wheelchair and rolled into the shade of a piñon tree.

“So ‘sweetcheeks’ is a maybe?”

“No,” he said succinctly.

I laughed and went through the gate to greet Pio.

The way Pio accepted my presence in the small pen now, the way he almost greeted me, told me our friendship was coming on. He and I had gotten to the point where he’d let me put a rope halter on him, but his faith in me was still a little too tentative. That was fine. He was touchy, but he walked along with me and I took that as a win. I plopped my saddle in the middle of the pen so he could give it another inspection. I’d put it on him the day before, so today, he barely gave it a sniff. I brushed my hands over him to soothe him but also to make sure he was clean before I laid the pad on his back. When I swung the saddle up and over, he danced a little, but a few soft words and some gentle rubs got him grounded again.

“Seems like a different horse, doesn’t he?” Lucho asked.

“He’s filling out some.” That was obvious—especially when I was cinching him up. I didn’t tighten it all the way. Didn’t want to scare him too much. Got his flank cinch taken care of. Let him get used to the feel of the saddle for a bit.

“I meant his temperament.”

“Well, sure.” I took the lead while smoothing my hand over his neck. His skin rippled, but he didn’t try to buck the saddle off. “He’s not shit-scared anymore.”

“That’s all you, army.”

“Me?” I glanced over.

“When I was sick, you had the same calming effect on me. I trusted that you’d get me to the hospital. I felt safe with you. You don’t let people down.”

I smiled into Pio’s withers, unable to express the pride I felt when he said that.

When I’d had men under my command I worked damn hard to reassure them that they could trust me with their lives. After leaving the army I’d been uncertain and a little lost—as if the man I’d tried so hard to be came off with the uniform, somehow.

Nice to know that maybe I was still me. Maybe I could still be a guy people believed in.

“I’m solid,” I said, my voice nearly cracking with emotion. “I like to think I’m a man both you and Pio can depend on.”

His voice was velvet and honey when he answered, “I like to think so too.”

I waited for him to say more, but apparently he’d said all he had to say. I caught him staring off into the distant hills. Maybe he’d said more than he intended. I thought about pursuing it, but Pio was waiting on me, and work was why I was there.

I’d been handling Pio a lot. He knew he didn’t have anything to fear from me by now. I glanced at Lucho, frowning. “So I just . . .”

“You’ve never started a horse, have you?”

“It’s that obvious?”

“Not as obvious as I thought it would be.”

“You got any helpful suggestions?”

“You got him used to you. You got him calm. You got him saddled. Now try standing up in the stirrup. Let him get used to your weight again. Take it slow. Get down if he bolts.”

So I went to do just that. And maybe I wouldn’t have if Lucho wasn’t watching me, and maybe I was more scared than I let show. I last-minute tightened the cinches to play for time. Pio had to know I was nervous. He could probably smell it on me. I was surprised he trusted me enough to let me put my weight on him but I was grateful all the same when I was finally sitting in the saddle, on the back of a horse that seemed pretty magnanimous about the whole thing.

I only had the halter and lead, and for the first time, it occurred to me that if Pio wanted to buck—if he wanted to take off and run—I didn’t have a real good way to stop him.

“Let him get used to your weight. Put some tension on the lead, and see if he’ll turn. Ask him with your legs.”

“Yeah. Um . . .” I had to tune Lucho out and keep my focus all for Pio.

When I was pretty sure he wasn’t just going to buck me off outright, I put tension on the lead to pull his nose to one side and he moved in that direction. I discovered if I leaned he’d move. He didn’t like it when I took the rope over his head, but that was the only way I could get him to turn in the other direction. He shook his head in irritation, but didn’t try to unseat me.

I let him go, indicating by a lean and a light tap on his flank that I wanted him to move, and he took off at a slow walk. We circled the pen that way, at a sedate pace a couple times.

He was suspicious but eventually I got him to turn around and do that little walk in the opposite direction again, twice.

After that, I let the rope go slack and he stopped, waiting and wary, for my next move. I carefully swung my leg back over and slid off him.

“Good boy.” I patted him, rubbing all the spots I knew he liked on his neck, his ears and withers. I let myself breathe again, great gulps of air, which turned to laughter. “Good boy, Pio. Good.”

He seemed as proud of himself as I was of both of us, so I let him gambol around with the saddle on. He’d earned the right to a little fun.

Lucho watched from the sidelines. “I’m a little angry that he let you do that.”

“Sorry.”

“He practically worships you. Maybe you’re the first person who’s ever been good to him.”

“I’m trustworthy.” I grinned at Lucho. “Like you said.”

“Are you?” Lucho asked.

“Up to a point.”

“And what point would that be?” He was kidding—we both were—but it seemed like I should be honest about a few things too, especially since he was going to spend time with me alone.

I stopped smiling. “You probably shouldn’t startle me while I’m half-asleep. And stay away from me if I’m having a nightmare.”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” I gave Pio a last pat and left the pen so he could walk around with the saddle some more. “Don’t try to wake me up—especially if you think I might be having a flashback. Sometimes I tune out. That hasn’t happened when I’m driving . . . but I can’t promise that it won’t.”

“Jesus.” He blinked up at me. “And you’re not seeing a doctor or anything?”

“I just moved here. It takes time to set things up.”

“I heard about that. You could be old and gray before you get an appointment at the VA.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” I watched him take all that in. “Second thoughts?”

“Nah.” He shifted unhappily. “Well . . . Maybe.”

“You can change your mind anytime, up to and including when we get there. I could get you a second room.” I had second thoughts of my own. What if he decided I wasn’t worth the trouble? How would I handle that? “What is it we think we’re doing here anyway? We’ve got a couple weeks’ worth of coming on to each other. We work together. Your family hates mine. If—”

“We’ve got more than those things, or I wouldn’t consider going anywhere with you,” Lucho said gravely. “Because yes, to all you said. And yes, maybe it scares me. We hardly know each other and your dad’s an asshole.”

“So why, then?” I needed to hear the words. “Why would you want to go to Tucson with me?”

He looked at me for a long time. Actually it was as if he was looking right through me. Like he could peer inside me and see what was happening in my heart. Pio picked up on my anxiety and started to dance in place. Automatically, I called him over to the railing and brushed my hands over his face, under his chin and down his neck to settle him.

“
Chk-chk-chk
. There you go, Pio. Nothing’s wrong.”

“There it is.” Lucho’s mouth curved into a small smile. “That’s why I’d go to Tucson with you. That’s why I’d go just about anywhere with you.”

I looked at Lucho, clueless. “Huh?”

He leaned back in his chair, watching me. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday if you’re nice.”

Later that day, I came out of the bunkhouse’s bathroom to whistles and catcalls.

“Oo-wee. Ain’t you something?” Petey gave me a nod from the door to the kitchen. “You clean up good. To what do we owe the honor of seeing you in your fancy duds.”

“Tripp and Lucho are going out to dinner in the big city.” Stu lifted his coffee mug in salute. “On a
date
.”

I took a hasty look around, hoping Fausto wasn’t there to hear their teasing. “Who all knows that?”

“Just us. The coast is clear.” Petey winked. “Fausto is out at some high school thing with his friends.”

I nodded, relieved. Not like I wanted to hide anything, but I didn’t know where Lucho stood on telling his family who he was seeing. “Is Lucho still watching television?”

“Last I saw he was in his room, putting on some smell-good, probably because he didn’t want to be outshone by your radiance.”

“Knock it off.” My face heated up.

“I never had a gay son.” Stu gave an overly dramatic sniff. “But if I did, I’d want him to go to the city for dinner with a boy just like you.”

Petey slapped his back. “And don’t forget all that sex they’ll have afterwards.”

“Oh, yeah.” Stu nodded. “If only my fictitious gay son could get as lucky as Lucho is gonna get tonight. That’s all a man could ask for.”

What did I do to deserve old-time cowboys giving me a hard time like that? It lent an air of unreality to a situation that already, if I was going to be honest about it, seemed unreal to me.

I’d dressed in black jeans and a blue western-style shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons and fancy silver collar-tips. Waitresses always told me it brought out the color of my eyes. I think that’s just because they figure I’ll tip more if they flirt. Hell. I probably did tip more just because they seemed friendly.

My boots weren’t new, but they were polished. I took my duffel with me when I went to see if Lucho was ready.

I wasn’t prepared for the sight of him when he opened his bedroom door. He was using his crutches, had one foot still covered in the protective boot. On the other he wore a black cowboy boot with tooled leather roses and fancy stitching. Those boots were the only thing about him that said “cowboy.” He wore black dress slacks with a fancy belt, a burgundy shirt, and a goddamn tie.

With him dressed like that I worried he’d think I didn’t care enough to make myself presentable. A wave of discomfort stole over me. Add that to the fact that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been on a date—if I’d ever even actually
been
on a date—and I’ll bet I lost all the color from my face.

“Am I dressed all right?” I asked. “Should I change? I didn’t bring dress pants or a tie, because—”

“You look good enough to eat.” A lazy smile curved Lucho’s lips. “You smell good too. You’re just fine, army. Relax.”

“You look good.” I bobbed my head. “I mean. You always look good, but that shirt—” Was I actually going to say the color brought out the cherry-cola color in his eyes?
Christ.

“What?” he asked.

“Never mind. Shall we?”

“Would you like to take my truck?” Lucho asked. “I know you had some trouble with yours. Mine’s gassed up and ready to go.”

“God, yeah. Are you sure?” What a relief. “Slade arranged for someone to drive my dad’s truck over and take the rental back but I don’t trust it. I’ll pay for gas.”

“Nah. This way I’ll feel like I’m contributing.” Lucho put on a black Stetson with a fancy silver buckle on the band.

“Look at you, Rico Suave.”

“Shut up.” His cheeks darkened.

“You look awesome. I take it that’s not a good nickname either?”

He fought off a smile as he crutched his way past me without speaking.

“I got an accessible room so we can take your wheelchair. I’ll put it in your truck. Where’s your bag?”

“In the wheelchair on the porch.” He shot his wide, white grin at me. “See how I do?”

“Smart boy.” I glanced into his room. Two twin beds. One side was obviously Lucho’s and the other looked to have been hit by a rogue tornado.

“Smart enough to take you away from all this.” I followed behind him, admiring his ass.

“Yes, indeed. Fausto’s a teenage boy. He’s got
Mami
to clean up for him at home. He’ll learn.”

I couldn’t stop smiling, even when we were forced to walk past a line of leering cowboys.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, y’all,” Petey called out.

“Don’t worry. Ain’t nothing he wouldn’t do.” Stu jibed. “He’s a man-slut. Well. With the ladies.”

“Ladies are probably something I wouldn’t do.” I reminded them.

“Ah. Yeah, right?” Stu took off his hat and scratched his head. These guys were straight out of the funny papers.

“Knock it off,” Lucho called back. “You’re embarrassing my date.”

“Sorry,” said Stu. He didn’t look sorry.

“’Night now.” Petey waved to us as I helped Lucho down the porch steps and into his Silverado. I stowed his wheelchair and bag in the back of the cab before climbing into the driver’s seat. “Nice.”

“Thanks.”

“Ready to go?”

He smiled. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

We made it onto the highway by four thirty.

First thing Lucho did was turn on the radio. His presets seemed mostly to be country and western and brass-heavy Banda music. Whenever a ballad played, he sang along and his voice was as beautiful as I remembered from hearing him sing that first day at the J-Bar. I’d been drawn to him then. Now I was crazy about him.

Now, his music felt like foreplay.

He’d just finished singing a Rascal Flatts tune when we passed the place I’d gotten stuck with my Ma.

“That’s where my car broke down.”

“Yeah? God, there’s nothing for miles in every direction. Did you have a cell signal?”

“Yes.”

“That was lucky.” He started drumming his fingers on the dash. “I once ran out of gas out here and I had to hitch a ride with this old guy in a minivan who kept rubbing his dick when he thought I wasn’t looking.”

“That’s messed up.”

“Tell me about it.” Lucho shifted his legs, adjusting his seat so he had more room.

“You comfortable?” I glanced over. “I didn’t think about how you’d do on the drive. Tell me if you need to put that foot up and I’ll pull over and shift things around.”

“It’s fine. No worries.”

“I told the restaurant we needed an accessible table when I made reservations.”

“You did not.”

“I did.” I grinned at him. “I reconnoitered some. Found us a good steakhouse and called ahead.”

“Who are you trying to impress? I’m a sure thing.”

“Are you?”

“I suppose there’s a way you could still blow this thing.”

“Thanks a lot,” I nudged his arm playfully. “How?”

“Well. If you were going to unzip your skin and turn into a tentacle monster, that’d be a deal breaker right there.”

“Oh, you wish.” I said. “I wouldn’t do that until at least our third date.”

Lucho started singing again. I thought if that was all we had—the camaraderie we shared and the occasional successful grope in the barn—it was more than I’d ever expected. And yet there I was driving Lucho to Tucson, where I’d rented a hotel and made arrangements for a nice dinner.

“You ever wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t got my foot stomped?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think you benefitted from the fact I couldn’t kick your ass when we met.”

“Maybe.” I smiled. “D’you know I found a picture of you in my dad’s office?”

He turned to me. “You’re shitting me.”

“It was a clipping from the paper. You standing in front of your
abuelo
’s place after it burned down.”

His jaw clenched. I could see the muscles bunching beneath his skin. “I remember.”

“It’s going to be between us forever, isn’t it? I can’t make amends. I can’t go back and fix it.”

“You’re not your dad.”

I nearly smiled when I heard him say it. My words—words I’d said so often coming back at me with the kind of conviction I’d almost given up ever hearing from him.

I slid my hand over and he took it, lacing our fingers together. “I’m not.”

“I guess maybe it will always be there, but I’m not going to hold you personally responsible.”

“To be fair, I could have told someone after that first fire in Las Cruces.” I could have told the police what we’d done the night I’d gone with him—what his friends had done to me after.

But I never had told, and now it was far too late. And that . . .
that
would be lodged inside me like a rock, irritating my gut, for the rest of my life.

“How old were you again? Fourteen?”

“Yeah.”

“And that one was an accident.”

“Yeah.” A few miles passed under the wheels before I had the courage to speak again. “But my dad liked it.”

He gave my hand a squeeze.

“And after . . . My dad didn’t like how I behaved. There was more after. I never told anyone that either.” But if I had, my dad and his friends would have gone to jail back then and maybe Lucho’s grandfather would be okay. “If I had, then maybe—”

“What did he do?” I glanced at Lucho and discovered him watching me, eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me I gotta hate that bastard for something I don’t even know about yet.”

I took a deep breath. “It isn’t important anymore. I just wish I could have saved your family from the pain you suffered, is all.”

Lucho leaned over and pressed his lips to my cheek. “I wish someone could have saved you from pain, too. It is what it is. Look at you, holding my hand like a middle-schooler.”

“Pot, kettle?”

“So where you taking me?”

“I got a room at the Omni. There’s a steakhouse on the grounds, and before you ask—”

“They got chocolate cake?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“I checked. That’s why God made the Internet.”

“You did all that?”

“I did.”

“To take me out?”

“Mostly to take you in . . . but, yeah.” I admitted. Lucho was silent while we drove farther into the west. The sun was dropping lower in the sky, lengthening the shadows cast by Arizona’s saguaros. We passed some particularly moth-eaten specimens before Tucson loomed on the horizon. It made me wonder if people take potshots at them from the highway.

I found the resort and parked. Lucho waited for me in the truck while I registered for our room, a standard king, with a breakfast buffet deal I wasn’t sure we’d be up to eating. I took the keys out to Lucho, found a place to park, and then I helped Lucho into his chair and he took our duffels, and it seemed to me we were both awfully quiet—both looking anywhere but at each other, nervous like naughty little kids while I unlocked the room.

Lucho wheeled in ahead of me and tossed the bags onto the floor.

“I’ll just go get Slade’s boxes. I’ll be back in a second.”

He stood and caught my arm. “The hell you will.”

The door shut and locked behind me as he pushed me back against it. He laid such a fierce, bruising kiss on me I gripped the door handle to stay upright. “Hey.”

“Ah. God, yeah.”

He swallowed my surprise and sagged against me, body to body, cock to cock. Fiery heat flooded through me.

“C’mere,
papi
.” He exhaled against my lips. “Do we got time to take this to bed before dinner?”

“Yes.” I let him strip my shirt off but tried to kiss him throughout the process and it wasn’t working. I wanted this. Wanted him. “Yes. Ah, Christ, yes.
Luis
.”

He hesitated. “What did you call me?”

Uh, oh.
My head dropped back against the door with a thud. “Luis is your name, isn’t it? And you’ve shot down everything else. Luis is the anti-nickname.”

“I dunno.” He looked like he was thinking it over.

Too bad. I’d already made up my mind. “I looked your name up on the web. Did you know it means famous warrior?” I wrapped both hands around the back of his neck and let my thumbs graze his jaw. My hands fit perfectly. They were made to hold him. “
Luis
is strong and commanding.
Luis
demands respect. In bed, you’re going to be Luis for me, aren’t you?”

“Uh . . . yeah.” His pupils bloomed, dark and shiny. “And what are you going to be for me?”

“Anything.” I nipped his chin. “I’ll be any fucking thing you want,
Luis
.”