The Stolen Suitor (7 page)

“That ol’ Josey, he’s eyein’ those berry bushes.” This was from Charlie, who was riding just behind Jeremy, the pair of them smack in the middle of the procession. “Iffin he starts to move his head to the right a’tall, ya give a little tug on the reins to let ’im know ya won’t put up with his nonsense.”

What? You mean I have to control a crazed, berry-eating horse my first time out?
That was expecting too much, surely.

Sure enough, the brown horse—the very
tall
brown horse—turned his head to the right, eyeing the bushes. Jeremy tugged on the reins. The horse ignored him.

“Go on, give a quick hard pull,” Charlie said, sounding a little annoyed.

Jeremy gave what, in his definition, was a quick hard pull. The horse shook its head as if to say Jeremy clearly didn’t know what he was doing and he wasn’t the boss of this fine example of an equine. A moment later the horse was eyeing the bushes again.

Gee, this is fun
.

He’d only taken this class to spend time with Chris, coughing up the fee from his hard-won savings. It seemed to be working too. Chris had come right up to him today and said hello! It was embarrassing how good that made him feel. But then Jeremy hadn’t wanted to be too obvious, so he hadn’t pushed his way close to Chris at the corral fence during the lesson, or in the horse line. Chris was somewhere behind him, but Jeremy was too nervous of his position on the horse’s back to turn and look.

Please, God, let us stop soon. Let me survive that long at least.

“Hey, Jeremy! Look!” Eric was right in front of him. He laid his reins over his lap and then put both arms up, clasping his hands behind his head in an exaggerated relaxed pose.

“Keep them reins in yer hands!” Charlie snapped.

Eric, hands still behind his head, turned his shoulders and head to look at Charlie, raising one eyebrow. He looked like a muscle-bound gym rat doing a waist twist. “My horse is just followin’ the one in front of it. Couldn’t get any easier if it was on wheels and a pulley.”

“Son, ya ever heard the sayin’ ‘famous last words’? That horse bolts, ya won’t have a prayer of hangin’ on. Plus, it’s disrespectful to the damn horse. It ain’t no unicycle. Now pick up them reins unless yer itchin’ to walk back to the barn.”

Eric turned around and picked up the reins. Jeremy was surprised that he actually seemed chastened. Maybe he should ask Charlie for some pointers on Eric-wrangling.

Then he thought: that was a thing that could happen? The horse could bolt? His palms instantly started to sweat.

“So, um, how much farther to the rest stop?” Jeremy asked, his voice a little squeaky.

“The ‘rest stop’? It’s a spot by the river, not a highway exit,” Charlie teased. “’N’ it’s not much further. Yer s’posed to be enjoying yourself, Cowpoke.”

“Oh, I am! Fun!”
So. Much. Fun.

Josey stretched out his neck toward another berry bush.

JOSHUA,
who was leading the ride, finally called a halt. They were, indeed, at a river. Jeremy guessed it was the one for which the Muddy River Ranch was named, though it didn’t look muddy at the moment. It was clear as glass, the water running lazily, not disturbing the fine rocks at the bottom. He could see trout dart by and immediately itched for his fishing pole.

He stood on the bank while Charlie, Ben, and Joshua set up refreshments. He contemplated the ache high up between his thighs where they’d been spread out over the horse’s back—that much pain and not even for something
good
, like sex! The ground felt oddly solid too, as he and gravity got reacquainted. Now that he was off the damned horse, he could appreciate how beautiful this place was.

On the other side of the river was a rich green meadow with purple and white flowers. Tall evergreens of various types vied with the occasional oak and maple, and all of them densely arrayed, like a curious crowd at a crime scene, around the meadow. Over and above it all were green mountains and a deep blue sky without a cloud.

Even though he wasn’t looking, Jeremy was very aware of where Chris was at all times. When Jeremy had first gotten off his horse, Chris was talking to the older couple taking the class. Now, when Jeremy looked down the river to his right, he could sense Chris moving closer in his peripheral vision. He looked back out over the water, his nerves kicking in.

Playing it cool is one thing, but you play it too cool and you’ll never talk to the guy
.

And he wanted to. He wanted very much to talk to Chris again. And it had nothing to do with his ma’s schemes.

Jeremy tucked his hair behind his ears and moved his shoulders back. He was thin, and he knew his shoulder blades could really stick out when he slouched. That was especially the case in the tight T-shirt he had on. He normally wore shirts a few sizes too big, but that wasn’t going to seduce anybody. He’d had to hunt in his closet for this heather blue T-shirt his mother had picked up on sale a few years ago. He’d never worn it because it fit tighter than he liked and really showed his body. But that was the point today. He took a fortifying breath and looked to his right. Chris was standing a bit farther down the riverbank, gazing at the scenery.

“Hey,” Jeremy said. They were too far apart to chat, so he wandered a little closer.

“Hey.” Chris sounded so casual, he might have been talking to a stray dog. He squatted, picked up some pebbles on the riverbank, and let them run through his fingers. With his white T-shirt, red bandanna, and dark hair, he looked so good it hurt.

Jeremy tried to think of something to say about the view.
I can’t imagine having all this on land I own
was the first thing that came to mind, but that only called attention to how little he had. “When I see places like this, I almost wish I could stay in Montana,” he said instead, realizing only after he said it how true it was.

“Yeah?” Chris looked at him curiously, stood, and took a few steps closer. “I was just thinking something along those lines. I was thinking that, as much as I liked Denver, it just didn’t feel like this.”

“How was it different?” Jeremy asked, taking another step toward Chris.

Chris appeared to think about it, looking out over the river. It was midday now and warm. They were both sweaty, but there was a light breeze along the river, and it ruffled those straight-up bangs Chris wore.

The wind, Jeremy thought suddenly, was able to touch Chris but he was not. It was like an old Indian legend or something, about a young man who makes a deal with Mother Earth to be the wind so he can touch his beloved….

“I don’t know,” Chris said. “It’s like… there’s grass and trees everywhere, but the texture is different. See how long and thick and green it is, sort of soft?” Chris gestured along the river bank where the wild green turf snuggled right up close to the water. “In Denver the grass looks different, feels different. I guess because of the altitude. It’s sparser, pricklier, and not as vibrant maybe. Smells different here too.”

The words triggered ideas in Jeremy’s mind, things he hadn’t thought about before. “That makes sense. Like you said, there’s altitude, and rainfall, and what day the first frost hits, and how much snow, and all sorts of things that go into making the plant life exactly how it is.” He smiled. “Do you suppose that’s true of people too?”

Chris gave him a bemused look. “You’re pretty thoughtful for such a young’un.”

Jeremy huffed and crossed his arms. “I’m twenty years old.”

“Guess I’ll always think of you as much younger since you were a freshman when I was a senior.”

“Wouldn’t have thought you even know who I was back then.” Jeremy shrugged.

“I did.” Chris’s smiled faded, and Jeremy figured it wasn’t a compliment. Eric was a year ahead of Chris, so likely it was
Crassen
that had caught his attention, and not in a good way. Even back in high school, Eric had hung out with the partying crowd.

“So how do you like the class so far?” Jeremy asked to change the subject.

“Yeah, it’s great,” Chris said a little flatly. “What about you?”

“I think it’s smashing,” Jeremy lied, trying to sound sophisticated. Not that it wasn’t a good class. Joshua and Ben were great teachers. But Jeremy wasn’t loving the horse part of it. Which was pretty much the entire point.

“Smashing?” Chris’s smile returned. “You must be the only person in the state of Montana to use that word.”

Jeremy felt his cheeks heat up and had to fight an urge to let his hair fall into his face.

“It’s all right,” Chris said quickly. “I think it’s cute.”

Jeremy frowned at the water.
Cute
? Newborn porcupines and deer-dogs besties on YouTube were cute. Hot men like Gary Prince deserved better adjectives. “I read a lot,” Jeremy muttered. “I pick up weird words sometimes.” He dared a look at Chris.

Chris blinked at him, as if trying to figure something out. He cleared his throat. “So what I was going to say about the grass thing… is that it’s not that the grass and trees and the air and all that are
better
here. Just… they’re home. You know?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy wondered if he’d feel that after he left. Some internal ache for a specific smell or a certain texture, like the way the grass felt against his arms when he lay in it, that he’d never be able to satisfy somewhere else. The thought was depressing, really. “Did you do much outdoors in Denver? You must have been busy with college and everything.” He was suddenly eager to ask Chris about college.

But before Chris could answer, Ben’s voice rang out. “Hey, y’all! Come on and grab a plate! We’ve got ham, turkey, or veggie sandwiches with fresh bread Joshua made himself.”

Jeremy and Chris turned to look.

Joshua was unloading wrapped sandwiches onto a blanket, and he gave Ben a raised eyebrow. “Yes, you heard it from me. Joshua Braintree is really hot in the….” Ben paused dramatically. “…kitchen.”

Everyone laughed.

That guy should be on stage
, Jeremy thought. And then he remembered that Ben
had
been on stage, or on camera at least. Best not to think about Ben doing gay porn. He had a feeling Joshua would be able to sense it a mile away and wouldn’t take too kindly to people drooling over his partner.

Jeremy had never dared look for Ben’s videos online. Not that he hadn’t watched his share of gay porn on the Internet, but looking at Ben seemed like an invasion of privacy or something. Actually, it would have made him feel pathetic. He and Ben were in the same class in high school, and Ben was off having wild sexual adventures
on film
in Vegas while Jeremy was still a virgin.

Chris and Jeremy went and got sandwiches and chips on a plate, and then Chris made his way back to where they’d been standing on the river bank. Jeremy followed, his stomach doing flips. Chris sat in the grass, and when Jeremy sat next to him, he didn’t seem to mind.

This was good, right? If Chris wanted to get away from him, he could easily have sat with someone else. A tight coil of excitement clenched low in Jeremy’s belly. He snuck a look at Chris. He looked at ease, sitting in the grass on the riverbank, his legs out in front of him. His white T-shirt set off the tan on his arms and face, and that red bandanna around his neck was sweaty now and made him look like a real cowboy.

Jeremy always had preferred men with dark hair. They seemed darker… dirtier. Jeremy swallowed.

Some people, like his ma, thought Chris was prissy. But Jeremy liked that Chris thought for himself. He wore what he liked, and he didn’t fuss about what other people did or didn’t do. Jeremy himself always tried so hard to blend in, so he admired that kind of courage. Plus, Chris looked good. He looked… classy, like he was worth something. Even if Jeremy had the money to buy nice clothes, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have that look.

What would it be like to kiss Chris? Was that a thing that could happen? It was one thing to say he’d try to do what his mother wanted—seduce Chris Ramsey. That wasn’t real. But sitting here with Chris, talking with him, that was real, and it made his toes curl inside his shoes, his heart thump loudly in his ears, and his appetite vanish like a ghost when someone turns on the light.

Chris took a big bite of the sandwich, then licked his lips for the crumbs.

Jeremy went light-headed.

It would take a hurricane to distract his attention from Chris, but a hurricane was exactly what was on offer. Ben decided to give them all a show while they ate. He had a rope and he stood in the middle of the clearing, wielding that thing. There was a loop on the end of it, and he swung it over his head with easy turns of his wrist. The way that rope moved and danced, you could have sworn it was alive. Ben appeared to put no effort into it at all. It was mesmerizing.

Everyone watched, not hooting and hollering, but quiet as mice with their eyes fixed on a preening cat. Except—Jeremy gave a shocked little laugh—for Joshua. He was squatting on the grass near the food, elbows on his knees, and his hat cocked back. He watched Ben move with half-lidded eyes that were purely molten. They were so full of heat, they made Jeremy’s blood, which had already been southbound thanks to Chris, cross the border in a sudden rush in sympathy.

He was not going to think about what Joshua and Ben got up to in their bedroom. No, he was not.

“Your brother… is he really interested in this cowboy stuff?”

Jeremy snorted. “Eric? No.” Then he noticed what had sparked the question.

Eric was standing up as close to Ben as he could get without getting whapped by the rope. He had a half-eaten sandwich in one hand and was watching Ben with his mouth open in what could only be called awe.

Christ, Jeremy had never seen Eric that alert and focused on anything.

Which was weird. Because Eric and his friends, especially Henry Atkins, did nothing but make fun of the “cow crowd.” They called them shit-shovelers, pig-pokers, 4-H nerds, and anything else their little brains could come up with. Well, maybe more Henry than Eric, but Eric had been right in there.