Wilder, Winona - Loving Tyler [Coming Out 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove)

Coming Out 3

WINONA WILDER

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

“Another
lonely
night?”

Tyler
tossed his leather bag over his shoulder before lugging his Western saddle against his side. “Fuck you, Randy.” The old-timer only mocked him, but he wasn’t in the mood. Jet had left town with his new boy toy, not even giving
Tyler
the time of day. What more did he expect? If he didn’t give a piece of himself, he wouldn’t get much in return.

“Ah, don’t be snippy, boy. Head on over to the Red Rooster. I’m sure you’ll pick up a cute young thing.”

Tyler
scowled, ignoring the old man. The Mapleton rodeo was wrapping up, which meant it was time for him to move on. He’d miss his friends and their families which had settled around the periphery of the rodeo grounds in various tents and trailers. But stability to a cowboy traveling the circuit was like oil and water. They just didn’t work together. He planned to pack up and hit the open road, to find the next paying event, and to drown his misery in mind-numbing alcohol as soon as he stopped for the night.

He hoisted his saddle up and dropped it into the bed of his pickup truck with a clatter of metal and leather. His spurs rang as he did a perimeter check of his vehicle. Ever since his tires were slashed two years ago, he made safety a priority. It was bad enough he had no set address, but even on the road he had to watch his back. He supposed he’d never know what a life of comfort and security felt like.

Tyler
cranked his radio and shifted until he was comfortable in his seat, and then he put the truck into gear. The long, straight highways cutting through the prairies could drive a man mad with boredom when he didn’t have a travel companion.
Tyler
rarely took a passenger, so that must be a declaration to his sanity. There had been a few good men during his travels. He’d hooked up with Jet on more than one occasion, but those instances were just sex—but weren’t they all.
Tyler
didn’t do relationships. He preferred to live a fast life, allowing each day to carry him along with little thought. The rodeo was his perfect outlet.
Just hold on, focus on your balance, and let loose.
Every time he got in the ring, he was transported to another realm, a place far from reality where he found peace for eight seconds. He needed the rush, needed it like a drug.

As he drove along, he shuffled through his papers, looking for the location of his next event. He was heading to Yorkville for one of the larger rodeos of the season. A lot rode on an event of this magnitude. He could earn enough to pay his way in gas, motels, and food for nearly a year if he placed well. Since he never took sponsors, not liking the responsibility, he was on his own, relying only on his God-given ability in the ring.

His cell phone rang.
Tyler
dug in his breast pocket for the gadget while driving with one hand. The stretch of highway was mostly deserted, no one foolish enough to venture so far out into nowhere. “Yeah.”

“Mr. Tyler James?”

“That’s me. The one and only.” He tucked the phone under his chin to reach for the radio, flicking on his favorite station. The familiar country and western twang filled the truck cab, giving him a sense of peace. He’d need it for the long drive ahead of him.

“I’ve talked with you before about a sponsorship. I thought maybe there was a miscommunication because I didn’t hear back from any of my messages.”

“I ain’t interested in any sponsorship.”

“I think you should at least consider my offer, Mr. James. We represent a very prestigious company. Ever hear of Cavendish Tack and Saddles?” Of course he had. They were just the biggest name, known by every man who called himself a cowboy. He still wasn’t interested. There was no way he’d be some poster boy for a brand name. He was a free agent, riding the circuit for not only the love of it, but because it gave him freedom. A sponsorship equaled responsibility and commitment.

“Why would you be interested in me anyway? I don’t exactly represent a wholesome image. I’ve seen your advertisements with the husband, wife, and two-point-five children in their Sunday finest. Find someone else.”
Tyler
clicked his phone shut. The guy on the other line would probably see it as rude, but he had no one to impress.

Tyler
dug in his back pocket and pulled out his smokes. He lit up and took a heavy drag. The smoke escaped through the open window. This was the life—the open road, nothing but prairie for as far as the eye could see. Out here he had no one to impress. He didn’t have to fit society’s mold.

Another hour of driving and he pulled into Yorkville. Cars and trucks were parked all the way out at the town limits, along the sides of the road. Rodeos always drew in a crowd, especially the larger, televised events. He drove down the road at a snail’s pace, being cautious of the children playing. Riders’ families and spectators from out of town were setting up tents and barbeques. Some larger trailers lined the outlying fields. It would be a madhouse trying to get to the registration desk to pick up his cards.

He double-parked next to a horse trailer he recognized. They wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon with things just starting.
Tyler
moved his saddle from the truck bed to the passenger seat and locked the doors. Wherever a crowd gathered, theft ran rampant, and the boogeyman often came out to play. It was the reason he kept a Colt under the driver’s seat of his truck ever since he started traveling on his own. He’d never be anyone’s victim again. He tossed his leather saddlebag over his shoulder before beginning the long walk up the road to the arena. The sun was high, but the large oaks lining the streets provided shelter from the heat.

“
Tyler
!” Men waved and called out his name as he walked along. Other drifters traveling with the circuit were kind of like family. He’d made some good friends over the years, but at the end of the day they went home to their real families and Tyler was back on road. He was okay with it, but he just made sure never to get too close to anyone. It would save everyone disappointment in the end.

He dipped his Stetson to the people who recognized him. The grounds were bustling, and a crowd was gathered around the registration desk. He could barely hear himself think.
Tyler
didn’t have the patience to wait at the end of the line and shouldn’t have to with his well-earned reputation. He threaded through the men to the table at the front and leaned over. “Tyler James.”

Bobby looked up from the ledger he was busily scratching in. He instantly recognized him. “
Tyler
! You want your usual number?”

“Lucky 444, as always.”

The older man reached under the table where he’d stashed the number just for
Tyler
. He leaned over and slapped it on
Tyler
’s chest. “First event’s in four hours.” Then he went back to serving the other men before there was a mutiny.

Four hours to burn.
After today’s event, he’d have to find lodgings. Hotels would probably be full. He never thought ahead to book himself a room, just went day to day. If he ran across one of his old flames, maybe they’d share a room and have a little fun to boot. So far, he hadn’t noticed anyone of interest.

He leaned over the split rail fence, watching some of the staff warm up the horses in one of the holding paddocks. The big black stallion was exceptionally feisty. He’d probably send some men to the local hospital before the week was through.
Tyler
just wanted the chance to tame the beast, to prove to himself he had what it took. “Mr. Tyler James?”

Tyler
turned his head to see who addressed him. The guy was tall, with dark hair and sinfully black eyes. He turned full around and leaned both elbows back on the fence as he appreciated the man in front of him. “That’s me. Who’s looking?”

The stranger didn’t fit the surroundings. He was dressed in a sleek black suit, his short hair softly gelled back. “My name’s Marcus Vinetti. I was sent by Cavendish Tack and Saddles to talk to you about a proposition.”

His shoulders slumped. The Italian stallion was only after him for business, a vulture to fresh meat. He instantly lost all interest in the man and returned his attention to the horses. “Sorry, already told them I’m not interested.”

“Could I at least speak to you over lunch or dinner? I won’t take much of your time, and there’s no obligation.”

Tyler
released an irritated breath. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to get a free meal. The man was nice to look at, so it wouldn’t be all bad. All he had to do was refuse the offer at the end of dinner, and he’d be on his way.

* * * *

Marcus had fought his boss tooth and nail not to be assigned this account. He rarely left his office in the city and now had to travel way out to the boondocks to entice some hick to let them represent him. He had to fight for parking, deal with unsupervised children running wild, and inhale the stench of manure, and get his suit dusty from just standing on the rodeo grounds. He wasn’t happy…until he saw his target.

Tyler James had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen on a man. The sun reflected off the golden flecks, and the moss-green color stood out against his tanned skin. His hair was a tousled chestnut brown. Marcus could see what his boss wanted in this young stud. He’d look amazing on billboards and posters riding on one of the Cavendish saddles. His track record of recent wins in the ring made him even more appealing to the company, and the fact he hadn’t been scooped up by the competition had been a miracle.

“No promises?”

“Absolutely not.” At least if he got him alone, he could work his marketing magic and try to convince the cowboy to sign on with Cavendish. If he managed to land this account, he’d be looking at a five-figure bonus. He was already close to making partner in the rapidly growing firm.

Tyler
ran his hand through his hair. He’d been holding a Stetson in his hand and put it on his head when he pushed off from the fence. “Good. Now do me a favor and save the business talk until dinner. I have an event in a few hours, and I don’t want my mind turning to mush.”

“No problem.” He walked alongside the cowboy, trying to keep professional and not blow this chance.

“So, you came all the way up here from the city to speak with me? Seems a little risky to make such a long trip when I made it clear I don’t do sponsors.”

“We like to think positive. Besides, I’ve never been to a rodeo, so the trip won’t be a complete waste. Might be interesting.”

Tyler
stopped and turned to face him. “Never been to a rodeo? Good Lord, where have you been all your life?” He reached out and pinched the lapel of his jacket. “This won’t do at all. Didn’t you bring any real clothes with you?”

“Real clothes?” He briefly scanned the grounds. It seemed casual wear—blue jeans and wifebeaters—were the norm. “No, I hadn’t expected to stay long.”

Tyler
cocked his head. “Just thought I’d up and jump at the chance to be sponsored? You may be cute, but I’m not a complete sucker.”

Cute?
It was an odd way for a man to talk to another man. It was probably the way country folk talked, but it still made him stop in his tracks.
Tyler
continued on a few strides before he realized Marcus was no longer beside him.

Tyler
turned back. “You comin’?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Marcus continued to walk alongside the other man, taking in the sights around him. Bales of hay were used as temporary road blocks and also used by spectators as additional seating. The sounds of animals, children, and an assortment of practice bells sounded around them. This was so different than the urban jungle he was used to. “So what do you do here?”

“Just about everything. I’m starting out light, doing some barrel racing. The next couple days I’ll be riding the horses and I have one event with the bulls. Not too crazy about them.”
Tyler
chuckled and nudged him with an elbow. “Where’d I be without my looks, eh? You wouldn’t want to sponsor a cowboy with a wrecked face.”

“Right.”