Heart of a Cowboy (4 page)

“You could say that.” The bullshit in the room had doubled since Bo came around, and since his job today was cleaning up the shit…

“We don’t take kindly to your kind ’round here,” Bo muttered.

“Fuck off.” Derek uttered the words almost hoping for a fight. A good scrapping would be welcomed.

“Hey—hey—hey! There’s no reason to start anything. We’re all friends here.” Ishwar did his best to make peace, but it was already too late.

Bo clenched his fists before screaming a war cry. He ran to Derek and pushed him down to the ground. The punches came fast and furious, to the head, to his stomach, and to his neck. Derek gave as good as he got, but the cowboy had the upper hand.

Ishwar got between them, pulling Bo off Derek’s body. Derek sat up, wiping blood from his nose with his sleeve. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, his heartbeat raced, but he had blinders on to everything else in the room. More than anything he wanted to beat the shit out of that man and he didn’t care if he got hurt in the process. What gave him the right to be so condescending toward gay men? It was people like him who ruined any chance for happiness or joy in Derek’s life.

He had been force-fed that holier-than-thou shit most his life, but damn it, he had a right to dress and act how he wanted.

“Jesus, Derek. You okay?” Ishwar looked honestly concerned.

Derek nodded. Anger and bile climbed his raw throat. His arm was scraped and when he wiped his nose, blood dripped in a fine rivulet down his forearm.

“Shit, that looks bad. You’re bleeding all over the place. You better get that arm looked at. You need to go up to the big house and see Mrs. Millie or Angela while I have a chat with Bo. They’ll take care of you.”

Derek grabbed a rag that had been thrown on a wooden bench to stop the nosebleed. He stiffly passed both men, too pissed off to speak, his hands cupping his nose and doing little to stop the bleeding.

Chapter Four

Angela was familiar with hard-headed men. Jesse was one of the worst, but she didn’t know what to make of Derek. She handed him more tissue to replace the bloody rag he’d brought in from the barn. “Tilt your head back and make sure you put pressure on it. That should help stop the bleeding.”

“Thanks,” he said, his blue eyes looking up at the hammered copper ceiling tiles in the kitchen.

“No problem. I am beginning to wonder if trouble finds you or if you are trouble.”

Derek’s breath released in a huff. He shook his head side to side. “You and me both. I’ve been in more fights growing up. Sometimes it feels like it’s me against the world.”

“What started it this time?”

“Bo has a chip on his shoulder.”

“And you thought you’d knock it off?”

“It’s not my fault.” Derek shrugged.

“You can’t control him, but you can take responsibility for your actions.”

“I’m not the asshole here. He was going off about gays and—” Derek looked away refusing to meet her eyes, but the pain emanating from him was powerful.

“And you took it as a direct insult.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“That’s because he was talking about me.” He removed the crumpled and bloodied tissues from his nose and wiped his upper lip. “Thanks. I think the bleeding’s stopped now.”

He looked battered and bruised, but not just physically. His shoulders were slumped, suggesting he was mentally worn out. Angela’s heart ached for him. She wished she could help him and heal his wounded spirit, but some things she couldn’t do. He’d have to want to help himself first. His left eye was reddened and swelling. Angela reached out, touching his otherwise unblemished cheek, and he recoiled from her touch, wincing. “I think you’re going to end up with a black eye. Hmm, let me get you some ice for that.”

She padded across the kitchen floor in her socks and got a plastic bag to fill with crushed ice. She got a clean dish towel to wrap it in and to take away some of the extreme cold.

“Look, I appreciate all you’ve done for me and I’m sorry for trying to steal your purse, but I didn’t sign on to be some charity project. I can’t change who I am.”

She filled the Ziploc baggy with ice from the icemaker on the side of the stainless steel fridge. The loud rumbling filled the air as the ice fell. “I am not asking you to change who you are, but accept it. When you look in the mirror, what do you see?”

He huffed. “A prostitute, a criminal, nothing I want to be.”

“You can change all of that. That’s in the past and isn’t what makes you special. Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?”

She took his silence as approval to continue.

“You might be a man on the outside, but I’ll always see a scared little boy in your eyes. You deserved a normal childhood, and a family, but you always had to be tough to survive. You deserve to be happy in life. If being gay makes you happy, then I really hope you’ll find a partner who loves you. I think when you were prostituting yourself, you were looking for that love but never found it.” She handed the bag of ice to him, which he placed just under his eye. “You don’t have to give yourself to anyone who doesn’t appreciate you and value what you have to offer.”

A lump rose in his throat before he swallowed. His dark eyelashes lowered, shadowing the emotion hidden in his eyes. His tone was resentful. “Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth.”

“I can’t change the past, but we can still change the future.”

“Maybe coming here was a bad idea. Maybe I should just go.”

“Don’t say that. We need you here.”

“Why? You got more than enough help to muck the stalls and feed the horses.”

“If it’s because of Bo, I’ll talk to him and straighten him out, but Christmas will be here in two more days.”

“So, we could really use your help. We always have a dinner for the Boys and Girls Club every year where Santa and his helpers hand out toys to needy families. Well, what do you say?”

He sighed deeply. “Okay, but I won’t be dressing up in some silly Santa outfit.”

“Don’t be silly, Jesse will be Santa. You’ll look great as an elf.”

He frowned, but there was a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m happy fate led us to you even if we did meet under some pretty weird circumstances. Can I count on you to stick around until Christmas?” she asked, and she was almost surprised when he leaned in and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding on like he actually enjoyed the embrace.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll stick around, but I’m not wearing any pointed green shoes.”

* * * *

“Derek?” Ishwar cupped Derek’s face in his hand, and it was all Derek could do to not melt into him.

“What?” An immediate and urgent heat swept through his body. The gorgeous Indian probably had no idea what he did to him on a cellular level.

“Did Bo do this to you?” Ishwar’s teeth were clenched. “Why would he hurt you like that?”

Oh, he was just staring at the bruises.
“I guess he didn’t think I was pretty in pink.”

Ishwar’s brow raised high. Disbelief lined his face. “That fight was over a shirt?”

“You could say that.”

“So it was all Bo’s fault?” He frowned intently at Derek’s injuries. “This reminds me of a story my grandfather used to share with me. An old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life. He said, ‘A fight is going on inside of me. It’s a terrible fight between two wolves. One is evil, and he is everything that makes me feel that way. He is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, inferiority, false pride, and so much more. The other wolf is good. He is joy, peace, love, faith, and all things that make me a better man. The same fight is going on inside of you and every other person too.’ The boy thought about this for a minute and then asked his grandfather, ‘Which wolf is winning?’ The old chief replied, ‘The one you feed.’”

“I don’t get it.”

Ishwar exhaled deeply, looking like his patience was being tested by Derek. “You have a choice in life. You can feed the wolf inside of you that does good, or the one that will do evil.”

“I never had a choice. Even when I try to be good, people expect the worst of me.”

“Derek, I want to help you, but unless you are honest with me, I can’t do that.”

God, he wants me to be honest with him when I can barely be honest with myself.
He struggled to find the right words, and nothing seemed adequate. Nothing felt right. “Tell you? I’d much rather show you.”

Derek leaned in until his lips brushed against Ishwar’s. It wasn’t the best kiss he ever gave to another man, but it was something he had wanted to do the moment he saw the Indian, and if he got kicked off the ranch he would never get this chance again.

It was sweet, sensual, and even without the gentle probing tongue, the kiss held a secret yearning for more under the surface. Ishwar stiffened immediately. His lips didn’t respond to the gentle pressure of Derek’s.

“I’m sorry.” Derek backed up, rejection recoiling in his stomach like a rattlesnake. He was a fool to have tried to push the boundaries of their friendship. “It just sort of happened. It won’t happen again.”

Now everything was going to be fucking awkward and weird between them.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I just didn’t expect it—hell—do that again.” Ishwar pulled him back into his embrace. His arms crushed Derek’s body against his. It was pure bliss, skin against skin in some places. The only thing separating them was a thin layer of clothing.

Derek wanted to make this special, give Ishwar a part of himself, and he wanted to take as much as he gave. Derek was hungry for more, eager to taste a passion. He tested the other man’s lips with his tongue, and Ishwar opened his moist cavity willingly. Ishwar’s soft, supple lips toyed with him. Just as Derek was totally into him, he pulled away, dragging the edge of his lip between his teeth. Derek never wanted it to end. The kiss had a drugging effect on him, slow and lingering; his body felt almost lethargic.

Ishwar tilted his head to one side, pushing his tongue deeper into Derek’s moist mouth, then retreating. Derek touched Ishwar’s chest, massaging the nipple through the shirt. He grinded against Ishwar’s pelvis, feeling the other man’s dick hardening in his pants. It alleviated some of his guilt. This attraction wasn’t one-sided, and he was more than ready for some hardcore sex. It had been so long since he felt this kind of need with another man. He undulated his pelvis, dry humping the man, rubbing against his penis and his hips at a feverish pitch. Derek hadn’t done this kind of thing since junior high school, when he was too young for real sex. He was so damn horny tonight.

It felt too damn good to stop. His balls tightened. His cock lengthened and hardened, still curved downward in his shorts.

“Derek. It’s too soon. I shouldn’t take advantage of you like this.”

“Don’t you like me?”

“I do, and I feel this attraction between us. I want it to grow, but I want you to understand that I value what you are giving me. I want to know you before I know your body. We can be friends without the physical side of it first.”

“But the physical side is so much better than just being friends,” Derek grumbled.

“You need to value yourself and what you are giving me.” Ishwar pressed a kiss to Derek’s forehead and turned to leave. “When the time is right, it will be worth the wait.”

“Yes?” He paused at the door.

Not a single man he ever slept with would have been half the gentleman that Ishwar was being now. Damn, he wished the man was just a little less ethical, and yet something inside of him respected him for that. “Thanks for being my friend.”

“No problem. I like being your friend.” Ishwar smiled before exiting the room, and closed the door softly behind him.

Something welled up in Derek’s throat, and because he couldn’t say it to his face, Derek said the words to the door. It was the first time he had admitted more than lust for another man. “I like you too.”

* * * *

“You ready to ride?” Ishwar leaned over the horse stall to ask him the question.

“I thought I was slave labor, not here for pleasure but for real work. I just finished feeding the horses and was going to take a quick break.” Derek was dog tired. He was ready to finally take a break after mucking out ten stalls. He leaned on his rake to look at Ishwar.

“Well, get your riding gear together. I have to check out the north forty and can use some company.” Ishwar tipped his hat and smiled.

“Okay.” Derek couldn’t repress the grin. He was elated to be changing his schedule and finally riding a horse instead of shoveling after the back end. Riding on the back of a horse, he anticipated, would be immensely more pleasurable than shoveling manure. Piling feed into wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow to feed the horses was a better workout than any gym he’d ever been to. A fine layer of sweat adhered to his skin, and he was looking forward to getting outside where the cool morning breeze would feel good against his skin. “Which horse should I be using?”

“Any of the horses on the north side of the barn are free for anyone who needs a good horse. I like the gelding Geronimo.”

“Which one is that?”

“You’ve seen him before. He’s black with a white star on his forehead, and he’s already saddled and ready to go in the back of the barn. I was just going to give him a good brush down before we go. You know where the tack is, right?”

“I thought the tack was the horse cleaning stuff. Are you talking about the saddles and stuff?”

“Excuse me. I took it for granted that you know as much as I do, but let me start from the beginning. Have you saddled a horse before?” Ishwar’s brows furrowed over his dark brooding eyes. “Or maybe a better question would be have you ridden a horse before, greenhorn?”

“No. Is that a problem?”

Ishwar exhaled, blowing the breath out in a hiss between his teeth. “No, but I don’t have time to babysit. Looks like you’ll be riding with me today.”

* * * *

The gentle swaying of the horse was easy to get used to. It was not turning the man in front of him so close around to kiss him or more that was difficult. Ishwar’s deep masculine scent surrounded him. His cologne smelled of sandalwood, and there seemed to be another scent reminding Derek of nature and what it felt to be deep in a forest surrounded by nature’s glory. He had his arms wrapped around Ishwar’s waist, but the man didn’t seem tense in the least. His muscles were relaxed, and his strong, lean fingers held the reins gently.