Chapter Twenty-One

JORDAN PICKED up carry-out from a Chili’s, because it was the first sign he recognized. He wasn’t in the mood to be adventurous with the local fare, although he would have done it if Russ had been up for that date. If he were honest, he hadn’t even thought about them not having been on a real date yet, but obviously Russ had.

Jordan worried his lip as he cut off the engine and climbed out of the truck. The B STAR was his escape from reality—his island in the storm, detached from everything else—but was that fair to Russ? The ranch was Russ’s life. Russ had said he understood, but was Jordan playing house while Russ had actually been serious?

“Jesus, Jordan, get a grip,” he mumbled to himself. “It was supposed to be one date. The guy didn’t ask you to marry him.”

Grabbing the to-go bags, he slammed the truck door and headed for their room.

“Hey, baby,” Russ called sleepily from the bed as Jordan came through the door.

“I bring sustenance,” Jordan announced, arranging the foam containers on the tiny round table as Russ clicked on the lamp by the bed.

“My hero,” Russ said again.

Surprisingly hungry for having done next to nothing all day, Jordan polished off anything Russ didn’t, even though Jordan hadn’t stinted on ordering food. He’d had a bit of a moment in the restaurant when he’d handed over his card—flashback from that first day after leaving home and his mortification at the gas station. But the sale went through, much to his relief.

The card was for his private bank account, and he’d hardly used it since coming to the ranch, so he shouldn’t have worried, but this whole being aware of every penny he spent was going to take some getting used to. In his old life, a few thousand dollars was barely a month’s spending money, with more to fall back on if he overspent. Now it was all he had until he figured out what to do with himself. The thought was just a bit terrifying.

How fucking helpless was that? He couldn’t even order food without getting nervous. He’d never realized just how dependent on his parents he was until all the little things he had to think about now started adding up. Those things had always just been taken care of before, without his ever needing to know how. The real world was creeping closer, and he wouldn’t be able to put it off forever.

After they finished eating, Russ helped him gather up the empty containers and tuck them back in the bags. When the table was clear and the bags set by the tiny trash can, Russ stepped in close and kissed him. Russ’s tongue tasted of garlic and barbecue sauce, and Jordan returned the kiss eagerly.

“Since I bought you dinner, does that mean you have to put out?” Jordan asked between kisses.

Russ grinned. “Have to? No. Want to? Always.”

“Even though you’re exhausted and have to get up early and do it all over again tomorrow?” Jordan asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Darlin’, I’d have to be dead to say no to you,” he said, tugging at Jordan’s belt. “Now, I may not last more than one round, but I promise I’ll make that round count.”

“We’d better get a move on, then,” Jordan teased. He pushed Russ away and started working off his boots. When he tugged his shirt over his head, he found Russ just standing there, watching. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the show,” Russ answered with a grin.

Jordan frowned even though he preened on the inside. “Stop watching and start getting naked. If I’ve only got a limited time before you pass out, every second counts.”

Russ’s lopsided grin widened. “Yes, sir.”

Since all Russ had put back on after his shower was his T-shirt and a pair of boxers, he was gloriously naked a lot sooner than Jordan, and it was a sight Jordan never got tired of. Lean and tanned, every inch of him was hard from work. Brown nipples peeked out of a scattering of dark chest hair, begging to be tasted and touched.

Russ had looked at Jordan like he was crazy the one time he’d asked about a place where he might get waxed, but even Russ was vain enough to trim with an electric shaver every once in a while. Jordan knew this for a fact since he’d offered to help the last time—which had led to quite an enjoyable evening romp afterward.

“Now who’s slowing down the process?” Russ asked with a grin.

“Just getting a good look myself… taking it all in.”

“Well, come a little closer and I’ll make sure you take it all in.”

Jordan groaned at Russ’s truly awful joke, but his cock waved eagerly as he closed the distance between them. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, because your jokes are terrible,” Jordan teased as he wrapped his arms around Russ’s slim waist and tugged their bodies together.

“Who’s joking?” Russ shot back as he ground his cock against Jordan’s.

Banter was wasting precious time, so Jordan sealed their mouths together rather than answer. Russ steered them toward the bed as Jordan kissed and fondled every inch of Russ he could reach. Russ was clean and fresh from his shower, making Jordan uncomfortably aware he hadn’t had one since that morning. Luckily, he hadn’t actually done much other than sit in the car and keep the horses still and calm while Russ had done most of the work. Plus, Russ actually seemed to like it when Jordan was a little mussed up and dirty, which was a bit of a change from the overly primped, producted, powdered, and manscaped men Jordan had hooked up with before.

With a growl, Russ gave Jordan a little shove onto the bed.

“Oof,” Jordan said, when the mattress didn’t give as much as he’d expected. With a grimace, he rolled up and rubbed a hand over his ass.

The springs squeaked when Russ knelt on the bed and crawled over him. Russ bent down, pushed Jordan’s hand aside, and kissed one asscheek, then the other.

“Sorry, baby. Forgot the mattress was a bit on the Flintstones side. Let me kiss it and make it better.”

Russ nudged and Jordan happily rolled over. Words weren’t necessary after that, even if Jordan had been capable of anything beyond “fuck,” “yeah,” “God,” or slurred gibberish. Russ’s mouth and tongue were absolute magic, a fact Jordan had become well-acquainted with over the last few weeks—add in just that little hint of stubble burn on sensitive skin and Jordan was in heaven. Going to bed with an older, more experienced man definitely had its perks. Though Russ had had a long day and probably shouldn’t be doing all the work, Jordan couldn’t seem to get the words to that effect to come out of his mouth.

The best he could come up with was “God, Russ, just fuck me already, before I lose it and leave you hanging.”

Not the most romantic or generous of utterances, but it did the trick. Jordan heard a rustle and then the tearing of condom and lube packets before Russ filled his needy hole in one long smooth glide.

Jordan reared up, placed one palm on the slab of wood mounted to the wall in lieu of a headboard, gripped Russ’s hip with the other, and began to move. Obviously getting the hint that this wasn’t going to be a slow, gentle fuck, Russ pulled out and slammed back in while Jordan thrust his ass back, meeting every stroke. Russ rode him hard, grunting and swearing as drops of his sweat dripped onto Jordan’s back. Jordan hadn’t been kidding that he was ready to lose it, so it wasn’t long before his balls drew up, he arched his back, and yelled, shooting his load all over the sheets. Russ grunted behind him, slammed into him a few more times, and froze. Russ’s grip on Jordan’s hip was hard enough to leave marks, but Jordan only sighed happily as Russ pressed lazy kisses to his shoulders and the back of his neck between panted breaths.

With a groan, Russ pulled out and flopped onto the mattress. After removing and getting rid of the condom, Russ closed his eyes, but Jordan gave him a little shake.

“Not yet, sleepyhead. Come on. I’m not sleeping in the wet spot.”

He dragged a half-conscious Russ over to the second bed in the room. He stripped off the shiny, hideous comforter and pilled polyester blanket underneath and tucked Russ between the sheets before crawling in after him.

THE CLOCK on the nightstand between the beds told him it was barely eleven when he woke from his little postsex nap. Russ was still out cold, but he was a quintessential morning person, so Jordan was used to that by now.

With a soft smile, he braced his fist against his temple, propped himself on an elbow, and gazed fondly at the sleeping man beside him. Obviously, he didn’t know much about boyfriends and all that stuff, but Russ had to be one of the better ones. Russ could be surly and short-tempered, but it was only because he cared so much. Jordan had spent his entire life being taught how to hide his feelings behind coolness and detachment, so that kind of passion took some getting used to, but damned if it wasn’t a beautiful thing to behold. His parents would consider Russ loud and common—low. But Jordan loved it. In fact, he couldn’t imagine surviving the last few weeks without Russ.

He was in a crappy, damp, musty hotel room, permeated by the faint smell of old cigarettes. The air conditioner sounded like a jet airplane. The sheets were cheap and scratchy. He was surrounded by some of the worst pastel “hotel art” he’d ever seen. He was lying on a mattress that would probably separate a few disks in his spine by morning—and he wouldn’t even go there about the bathroom… but he was happy as a clam.

I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life, just like this.

He froze. His breath stilled in his chest, and his eyes went round.

Holy shit.

He was happy—like really happy—happier than he could remember being since he was a little kid. He might have been wandering around for weeks, afraid to make any kind of decision about the rest of his life, but today, today he’d done something good, something he could be proud of.

He didn’t have a job, a home, or most of his family, but he had Russ… and Phyllis, and Jon and Ernesto—all really good people who cared about him—right now.

Struggling to breathe around the constriction in his throat as thoughts and feelings took shape inside him, he sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, staring blindly into the mostly darkened hotel room.

Maybe life didn’t have to be some grand future plan with degrees, letters after his name, and a career his father could be proud of. Even after the crushing blow his father dealt, Jordan had still been so intimidated by “What To Do with His Life” that he’d run away from even the thought of it every chance he got. He’d still been playing by his father’s rules in his head, looking at his future like his father expected—a career, an office in a big building, and a fancy condo or house in a trendy neighborhood to go to on evenings and weekends. But he’d had it right earlier, the ranch was life for Russ… and for Phyllis, Jon, and Ernesto, and a lot of other people. That was their home and their career, and Jordan didn’t think any less of them for choosing it. In fact, he admired them for it. So why couldn’t he live a life like that too? It might not be a six-figure salary with his name engraved on a brass plate, but it was a life, a good one, one he’d been happier in than anywhere else.

He took in a long breath and blew it out, trying to calm his racing heart.

Don’t get too far ahead of yourself.

No one had actually asked him to stay on permanently at the ranch, not even Russ. Jordan had made it pretty clear that he was only there temporarily. But he could talk to Phyllis about that, couldn’t he? He’d helped enough with the paperwork to know they couldn’t support another paid full-timer, but he could work around that. He was pretty good at the schmoozing and fundraising stuff. He knew a lot of rich, influential families he could contact to find more donors, and he could always take a desk job in the meantime. Two years of law school should be enough to get a job as a legal assistant or clerk or something. Though he shuddered to think about climbing behind a desk again, he could deal with it in the short term if it meant he could stay.

Swallowing his nerves, he tried to think of practicalities—like Russ had said, the things he could control rather than the things he couldn’t. Everything he’d been running from didn’t seem so scary anymore when he felt like he was running toward something instead of away. The half-formed thoughts he’d been pushing to the side weren’t quite so overwhelming when he looked at them in light of being able to stay with Russ and his newfound friends.

If they’ll have me.

Thrusting his nerves aside, he concentrated on the basics. As soon as he could get away again after they got back, he’d take a trip to Dallas to sell his car. He couldn’t afford the insurance on it anymore anyway. He’d get a cheap sedan of some sort to tide him over. He’d also pawn his Rolex and his jewelry. That, with the money left over from the car, should be enough to make a comfortable cushion until he found a paying job. He could always move the rest of the way into Russ’s room if Phyllis needed the extra space when they did the whole B and B thing. It wasn’t as if he spent much time in his own room anyway.

Russ had said this boyfriend thing would last until Jordan left. He might not have anticipated that being never, but things were going pretty well between them, weren’t they?

And if Russ doesn’t want you on a more permanent basis? If he’s only willing to put up with your crazy neurotic drama because he knows it’s not forever?

Jordan shook his head and stretched out beside his still-sleeping boyfriend.

Fuck off, he said to his father’s voice.

He couldn’t let it stop him. Russ and Phyllis and everyone else had been patiently waiting for him to make a plan. He couldn’t disappoint them forever.

This was it. This was the plan. He’d been hiding from it for weeks, and now he had it. It might not be the best plan ever, and he’d sort of fallen into it. A lot depended on the kindness and generosity of others, but he was willing to work hard to repay that generosity. Working with horses was something he loved and something he was good at. Everyone said so. He could do this.

HIS ALREADY shaky confidence waned a bit as the hours passed on their trip back the next day. Jordan couldn’t talk to Russ about it, not yet. He needed to see Phyl first. The ranch was hers, even if Russ was her right-hand man. Whether he stayed or not had to be up to her and had to be on his own merit.

He replayed what he was going to say to her, and to Russ afterward, so many times in his head, he barely heard a word of the audiobook he’d chosen.

“You okay?” Russ asked a couple of hours into their trip.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Jordan squeezed his thigh. “I’ll let you know.”

“Okay.” Russ gave him a side-eye, but turned his attention back to the road and continued on in silence.

By the time they arrived at the ranch, Jordan was too tired to even think, let alone have his big talk with Phyl. They’d left a little later in the morning than the day before, plus, with loading the horses and stopping every so often to check on them, it took a lot longer to get home than the drive out. It was close to quitting time when they pulled in, but Jon and Ernie stayed on to help them unload and get the new horses situated in their stalls. They’d be kept completely separate from the others until Dr. Watney could take a look at them, and after that, the four might be allowed into one of the fenced corrals so they could start introducing them to the herd.

Jon and Ernie hung around for a bit to chat about Bailey’s place and the trip, but it soon became obvious that neither Jordan nor Russ were up for much sparkling conversation, and the men headed home. As soon as Jordan and Russ’s plates were clean, Phyl shooed them out of the kitchen.

“Go rest up. Read a book if you’re not quite ready to go to sleep, though you look like you’re pretty much dead on your feet.”

“Thanks, Phyl,” Russ murmured, flashing her a tired smile.

“It amazes me how exhausting sitting on my ass all day can be. I mean, I didn’t even do anything, and I can’t keep my eyes open,” Jordan complained on the way up the stairs.

“It was all that thinkin’ you were doin’. Can be hard on a fella if he’s not used to it.”

At the top of the stairs, Jordan stopped and stared. Russ’s grin was broad as he playfully bumped his shoulder against Jordan’s on his way past. Glaring, Jordan huffed and followed him into the bedroom.

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to make you eat those words,” Jordan said before flopping face-first onto their mattress. The sheets were still mussed from the day before, and they smelled like Russ and home. He groaned and snuggled deeper.

“No, you don’t. Being tired is no excuse for wearing your boots to bed… which reminds me, we really should get you a decent pair of cowboy boots.”

Jordan flopped onto his back and started untying his bootlaces. “Yeah? Think I’d look sexy in a pair like yours?”

Russ’s grin was tired but full of warmth. “Baby, you’d look sexy in about anything, or nothing… and you know it.”

After kicking off his boots, Jordan shimmied out of his jeans without sitting up. A quick tug and his T-shirt went to join his jeans and socks on the floor.

“There’s a hamper in the corner, you know,” Russ grumbled without much force behind it.

“I’ll get it in the morning. I promise,” Jordan said around a yawn.

“Good.” Russ yawned too. “’Cause there’s no maid service, and I sure as hell ain’t picking up after you.”

Russ flopped onto the mattress next to him, and Jordan snuggled close. Phyllis didn’t exactly set the thermostat to a chilly seventy-two degrees in the Texas heat, like Jordan was used to back home, but he was willing to accept a little stickiness in exchange for skin-on-skin contact. Thankfully, Russ didn’t seem to mind, and they usually drifted apart sometime in the night anyway.

Usually it took Jordan forever to fall asleep, while Russ just dropped off like flipping a switch. That night Jordan barely remembered closing his eyes before Russ jostled the bed, climbing out just before dawn like he always did.