The Stolen Suitor (11 page)

“You can’t have that with a man?” Jeremy turned his head to study Chris’s face.

“Not in my experience.”

“What about Joshua and Ben? They seem to manage it. Bet they could adopt if they wanted to.”

Chris felt a surge of longing—and doubt. He was torn about Joshua and Ben. Being around them was like it must be seeing a plane fly for the first time. It was amazing and marvelous, but you kept expecting it to crash and burn. “No offense against Ben,” Chris said. “But I wonder how long he’ll be satisfied to have just one man? Joshua is already jealous of other guys.”

“Says who?” Jeremy asked in surprise.

“He’s jealous of your brother. Haven’t you noticed?”

Jeremy huffed. “Well, he shouldn’t be. Eric is completely gone on—” He stopped himself, looking guilty. “Anyway, Eric has no interest whatsoever in gay sex.”

Chris recast his line before answering. “I dunno. I get the feeling Ben Rivers could talk a bear into a party dress. And with Eric’s looks, I don’t blame Joshua for being worried about it.”

“Joshua’s got nothin’ to worry about,” Jeremy repeated insistently. “Anyone can see Ben is crazy about him. Anyway, that’s not the point. Point is, a guy could have a home, and a family too, with another man. If he wanted to.”

Chris shrugged. “I know it’s been done.”

Logically, he knew there were male couples that stuck together, got married. Gay marriage wasn’t legal in Montana, but it was in plenty of other states. But Seb had really broken his confidence in gay monogamy.
Maybe
, Chris thought,
more than he should have.

“Is it that you feel sorry because of John?” Jeremy pushed. “Because… it’s none of my business, but I don’t think that’d be fair to either of you. Marrying for a reason like that. If you weren’t really crazy in love.”

Chris had not been entirely in control of himself since Jeremy showed up at the river, maybe not even since the first time Jeremy showed up at the Merc, asking for that goddamn cream. His thoughts, feelings, and convictions bounced around like a goddamn Ping-Pong ball. At the moment, all that volatility led to a surge of raw anger. “Fair? What the hell do you know about it? You don’t know anything about me. Or Trix!”

Jeremy turned pale and his eyes dropped. “Right,” Jeremy said quietly. “Sorry.”

JEREMY
felt something nibbling at the lure, testing it. He pulled it away and cast the line somewhere else. He wasn’t in the mood to catch a fish right now.

He pictured himself lying flat on the bottom of the riverbed, staring up at the sky as the clear water rushed over him. That’s what he felt like, like everything was under water, like he was removed from all of it—the day, the fishing, the river and trees, but mostly from Chris.

He should never have let himself want Chris so much. He’d known from the start Chris was dating Trix. He was an idiot to be upset about it now, to say something about it and piss Chris off. But he’d hoped…. The way Chris looked at him sometimes, like there was a current between them, the way they flirted…. He’d hoped Chris would come to his senses, admit he liked guys, would choose to be with Jeremy instead.

Choose Jeremy Crassen, nobody and owner of nothing, over Trix Stubben? You’re fucking delusional.

Jeremy pulled his line away from another invisible nibbler. Of course, now that he didn’t want to catch a fish, his lure turned magical, capable of drawing every finned creature in three counties. He reeled it in and cast it again.

He felt sick—his stomach, his heart—and he wanted badly to leave. But if he stormed away like an angry teenage girl, Chris would know how much he’d been hurt. Jeremy had learned the hard way—never let them see you sweat.

His hair escaped the shell of his ear and fell into his face. He left it.

“I’m sorry,” Chris said after a bit. “I didn’t mean to get angry. You have every right to your opinion.”

Jeremy didn’t answer.

“I have my reasons for thinking the way I do, about gay men and long-term commitment. It’s not like I never had a relationship. I went with a lot of guys in Denver.”

Jeremy said nothing.

“Anyway, you’ve told me you’re dying to leave Clyde’s Corner. So why do you care if I eventually settle down with Trix Stubben? It’s not gonna happen tomorrow.”

“I don’t care,” Jeremy said quickly.

Chris gave a disbelieving huff. His voice gentled further, soft as the water rushing by. “I think you do care. And… I like that you care.”

There was a solid jerk on Jeremy’s line. Damn it. He reeled in a lovely bass. Had to be at least five pounds. His mother had a way with cooking fish, and it was free food. But looking at the thing gasping and wriggling on the line, he suddenly couldn’t kill it. Enough dreams were dying on the river that day. He grasped the bass behind the head and gently took the hook out. He let it go, and it flashed downstream as fast as it could. He rubbed his hands on his waders underwater to clean them off.

“Why’d you do that?” Chris asked, from very nearby.

Jeremy straightened to find Chris standing right beside him, as close as he could get without touching. His line was reeled in and his lure hung from the top of his pole, sparkling in the sun.

A flush of heat filled Jeremy—need and despair and lust all rolled into one.

“I don’t want it,” Jeremy said, about the fish.

“You don’t want it?” Chris echoed, deliberately misunderstanding. His eyes were full of all the rabid, pent-up desire Jeremy felt. His gaze fell to Jeremy’s lips. “Well,
I
want it,” Chris said in a low, soft voice. “I really want it.”

Jeremy’s heart started to race and his groin pulsed with life, just from the look on Chris’s face.

“I told you, Trix isn’t over John. There’s nothing… physical like that between us, not yet. Okay?”

Jeremy nodded, unable to speak.

“Do you want this?” Chris asked seriously, the desire on his face leaving no doubt what “this” was.

Jeremy nodded again, harder.

“Good.” Chris leaned forward, slowly, and placed his mouth on Jeremy’s. It was as if the entire river started to boil around him.

Chris Ramsey was kissing him
.

Jeremy nearly let his fishing rod fall into the water. But he had a thread of sense left and managed to keep hold of it, even though both arms wanted to wrap around Chris’s neck. He managed one at least, bringing it around Chris’s shoulders to draw him closer, to make sure Chris didn’t stop. He heard himself make an embarrassing whimper.

They were of a similar height, and Chris’s sun-warmed chest crushed his. The tops of their waders squeaked as they pushed against each other, which should have been funny, but wasn’t because Chris’s tongue was against his mouth, and it was the very best thing Jeremy had ever felt.

He moaned and sucked on Chris’s tongue greedily because it was there and he couldn’t help it. Chris made a desperate sound in his throat and pulled Jeremy tighter, sliding his hand inside Jeremy’s waders to grasp and squeeze his denim-clad ass. Jeremy was so hard he thought he might punch a hole right through the denim and the heavy rubber.

He felt Chris’s equally interested erection move against his through all the layers and instantly his thighs wanted to spread so he could bring Chris closer, rub harder.

But he was still holding that goddamn fishing pole!

His own greediness made him laugh, and then Chris was laughing too, into Jeremy’s mouth.

Chris pulled his lips away. “Maybe we should take this on shore before we drown,” Chris said. “Not that it wouldn’t be worth it.”

Jeremy looked beyond Chris, toward the bend in the river, and abruptly pushed Chris away.

Chris stumbled and very nearly went into the water butt-first. Only by planting his own fishing pole in the riverbed was he able to get his balance. “What the hell was that for?” Chris sputtered.

Jeremy didn’t answer, only waded out of the water onto the bank and started to undo his waders.

He heard Chris fall silent as he saw the problem.

Henry Atkins strolled toward them from the bend in the river. He was wearing waders and carrying a tackle box and fishing pole.

Jeremy was fairly certain Henry hadn’t seen them. He himself had seen Henry just as Henry came into view around the bend, and he’d been looking down. It was confirmed by the blank disinterest on Henry’s face.

“Hey, Jeremy,” Henry said as he dropped his tackle box.

“Hey, Henry.”

Jeremy had known Henry for years. Not that they were buddies by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, Henry had inspired some of the best villains in Jeremy’s stories.

“Never seen you here,” Henry commented. He looked over at Chris and gave a nod of acknowledgment.

Chris continued to fish, his face red. Hopefully Henry would mistake it for sunburn. It was easy to get burned with the reflection off the water.

“Someone mentioned it was a good spot,” Jeremy said. “Thought I’d give it a try.” He untied his lure and put it in his box.

“Ya didn’t catch anythin’?” Henry said, with a mocking smirk.

“Nah. It’s fine. I just needed to get out of the house for a bit. Good luck.” He finished packing up and started to leave.

“Wait,” Henry said.

Jeremy paused with a feeling of dread. Did Henry see them after all? Was he going to say something horrible?

But Henry’s low words took him by surprise. “You takin’ that ridin’ class with Eric?”

Jeremy turned. “Um… yeah.”

Henry shuffled his feet awkwardly, his cheeks getting pink. It was weird enough to cause Jeremy to really look at him, even though his head was in the clouds from that kiss and the abrupt termination thereof.

Henry Atkins had been around as long as Jeremy could remember. He wasn’t ugly—large, bulky with extra weight, yes, but he had thick black hair, a nice beard, and piercing blue eyes. If you liked that sort of thing. However, he was the type of guy who liked to pick on others. Henry didn’t often give Jeremy too hard a time because of his friendship with Eric, but he’d compared Jeremy to a “shaggy dog” more than once and made offhand jibes at his shyness. He was a person Jeremy avoided whenever possible.

Still, he’d always had the impression Henry carried some secret pain, like he’d swallowed a spiked ball and had to lash out to forget how bad it hurt. Jeremy felt a little sorry for him, but that didn’t make Henry any more fun to be around. He didn’t look mean right now, though.

“How do Joshua and Ben seem?”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy said warily.

Henry shrugged. “They doin’ okay? You like the class?”

Jeremy blinked. “They’re fucking awesome, yeah. And they
seem
as happy as two pigs in mud.”

“Good. Good.” Henry swung his arms nervously.

Everyone in town knew it was Henry who’d outed Ben as a porn star. Maybe, Jeremy thought, looking at him now, Henry was sorry. And wouldn’t that be like a mild day in hell?

“I thought about takin’ the class with Eric,” Henry said. “But I wasn’t sure I’d be…. ya know….”

“Welcome at Muddy River Ranch? Probably not, Henry. Anyway, since when are you interested in horses?”

“I dunno. It was just somethin’ to do. Been bored what with Eric workin’ so much. Well… guess I’ll get to fishin’ now.”

“Oookay, then.”

Jeremy’s eyes were wide, and he heard
The
Twilight Zone
theme song in his head as he walked back to the bridge. But in only a few steps, thoughts of Henry’s pod-person behavior fell away and he was back to thinking about Chris and that kiss. He snuck one last look behind him before he rounded the bend, but Chris was fishing and didn’t look his way.

It wasn’t until Jeremy was nearly at the car, his feet barely touching the ground as he replayed that moment over and over, that it struck him.

Henry Atkins had almost seen Chris kissing him. If Jeremy hadn’t pushed Chris away, the story would have been all over town by tonight. There wasn’t a bigger mouth in all of Clyde’s Corner than Henry’s.

His first instinct had been to protect Chris. And given that same moment in time to do over, he’d make the same choice again and again. He would never “out” Chris. He couldn’t do it. Which meant his ma was not going to be happy.

As for Eric, his brother was on his own with Trix.

Jeremy should have felt conflicted about that, but he didn’t. It felt like a load was taken off his shoulders, like somebody saying to Atlas:
You look like you need a break. Lemme take that for a spell.

He put his tackle box in the truck, whistling and dreaming about when he’d get to kiss Chris Ramsey again.

CHRIS
hung out at the river for an hour after Jeremy left, just to make sure Henry didn’t think he and Jeremy had come together. He waded in deeper so he could calm down all the bits that had gotten very, very excited kissing Jeremy Crassen.

He hadn’t meant to do that. But he’d done it. And it hadn’t exactly come out of the blue. No, he’d been wanting to kiss Jeremy for days.

Now that he had, not a single thing was any clearer. The way he’d felt kissing Jeremy, holding him, even wearing waders and hanging on to a fishing pole—that feeling was crazy big. It was like grabbing a live wire, like the relief of rain on the hottest day of the year. He’d assumed Jeremy wasn’t very experienced, having lived in Clyde’s Corner his whole life, and being generally shy. The kiss seemed to prove that. But Jeremy was passionate. He’d trembled and moaned like he was dying, and pressed solid hardness against Chris seconds into the kiss. Strike match—
whoosh
!

Flammable. Jeremy Crassen was flammable. And Chris had never wanted to burn up so badly.

He waded a little deeper into the water.

Henry had moved off a good ways downstream, far enough that they didn’t have to talk, for which Chris was grateful. He didn’t particularly dislike Henry, but right now he had other things on his mind.

Shit. Thank God Jeremy had seen Henry before Henry saw them making out.

Shit. If Henry had seen them, he probably would have told people. And what would Trix think of that? What would the town think? It wasn’t that he particularly was ashamed or wanted to hide what he was. Or he wouldn’t, if he wasn’t planning to marry Trix. But since he was planning to, he didn’t need the town to know his business. If they knew he also liked—
preferred
—men, they’d be all weird with Trix, maybe feel sorry for her being his wife. That wasn’t fair to her.