Special Delivery — A Wrecked Holiday Novel

October 30, 2020 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: East Meets Western #2
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: November 24, 2020
Pages: 192

And baby makes three?
It’s fall in Vermont. The holidays are coming, the leaves are turning brilliant colors, and Skyler and Beckett are expecting a baby! They’re picking out furniture and paint colors for the nursery. They’re looking at ultrasounds and choosing names.
But nothing is ever simple for these two, and something they’re not expecting throws a wrench--or a great big crowbar--into Beck’s carefully planned paternity leave and Sky’s nursery decorations. But is it a disaster, a blessing, or both?
As with all deliveries, they’re at the mercy of fate and mother nature. They’ll be adding to their family—but they’ll be doing it in the most chaotic way possible.

Buy the Book: Amazon~~Smashwords

Also in this series:
Cover for Cowboy for Sale, featuring a man in a cowboy hat wearing a checkered shirt.

 

Chapter One

 

“Thank you, ma’am. Yes, ma’am. No, sir, I’m retired. Nice to meet you, sir. Hey, kiddo, I like your hat.”

Skyler had spent ten days doing publicity to support his annual Vermont invitational bull riding event that happened every spring. It was a big hit with the locals, and it drew folks from all over the country too, which made him popular in Burlington. He’d been shaking hands and signing shit like hats and programs, nodding, making goofy faces at babies, and pretending he was jealous that all the young guys were still riding.

Thank goodness for Danny, last spring’s champ, and one of those younger riders. Danny was great at pulling people in, had three times his energy, and was eager to please.

With Danny’s help, he’d secured sponsors and spread around a lot of good energy. But now he was sore, tired, and grumpy and ready to get home to his man and his critters. Flying, even in first class, was less than fun, and he had a husband waiting for him.

He finished his tomato juice and watched the orange and yellow trees. Pretty pretty.

The seat next to him was empty, which he appreciated, and he just wanted to rest until they landed. He knew Beckett was ready for him to get home too. They had to start doing the dance of his next exhibition.

This one would be number three, for chrissake. Number three in the spring, and Lord willing and the creek didn’t rise, there’d be three of them too.

Lord help him. Miss Angie had caught pregnant straightaway; one time with the turkey baster, and she was ready to go. Beckett had done good homework. Whatever service he’d found hooked them right up—he’d just made a donation in a cup, and now their little one was cooking. They would be busy as all get out come the event.

“Sir, can you put your seat back up, please?” The stewardess was a pretty girl, all big black eyes and warm smile.

“Surely.” He put the deal up, and then they were landing in short order. Lord have mercy, he was ready for this. As soon as they hit the ground, he turned his phone on.

It led to a bunch of texts.

Miss you.

Did you make your flight?

Are you home yet? I want to get my arms around you. That one was followed by a string of eggplants.

Please. Home btw. Yay.

Hey, husband. Where are you?

Pulling up to the gate. Be heading your way soon. Sky leaned a little hard on his cane when he stood, but he got his bag down without toppling over, or losing his hat, which was a win.

Beck caught sight of him before he made it off the escalator, and hurried his way. “Oh, my God! It’s Skyler Paulson! Can I get an autograph?”

“You got a buck?” He winked at Beck, one arm sliding around his lover’s back as he stepped off. It still felt bold as all get out to touch in public.

“I’m fresh out of bucks.” Beck caught him up, taking some of his weight off his hip and hugged him tight. “You good? Welcome home.”

“Thanks. Glad to be here.” They headed for baggage claim to wait. “How’s your week been?”

“Busy. I hated not coming with you, but…you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Important man.”

Beck let him lean a little bit more, handing off his phone. “Hey, did you see this yet? Angelica sent it a couple of hours ago. She had some weird cramping, and they sent her for an ultrasound.” Beckett’s hand tucked tighter around his waist. “She’s fine. The baby is fine. She had…Braxton Hicks…or something. Fakey contractions. No big deal. But isn’t our little Sky-ling perfect? The baby looks more like a baby and less like a blob this time.”

His husband sounded so damn proud.

“Is she okay? Does she need anything?” Sky’s heart raced at the thought of anything happening to either Angie or their wee one.

“She said she’s fine. She was a little worried, but she’s not anymore. I have a brief to get out, but maybe you could stop by with some of that ice cream she likes tomorrow and check in on her?”

“Sure.” God, no. He wanted to sleep. Still, no rest for the wicked.

Beck grinned at him, eyes twinkling. “And so it begins, huh? Pretty soon I’ll be on paternity leave.”

“You’ll be a man of leisure,” he teased back. He’d never even heard of paternity leave, but it worked for them, yessir.

“Leisurely not sleeping, you mean?” Beck kept both hands on the wheel but cut his eyes over to Sky. “I think it’s time to put the nursery together. Order some furniture and all that. Paint. Pick some names.”

“Okay. I’m good at putting shit together.” He liked the whole idea of painting that little room, making it all fun and somewhere a baby belonged.

“So for boys I’m thinking Ozzy, or Axl…or maybe Mick,” Beck grinned over at him. “Jimi? Elvis?”

“I will hurt you. No weird-assed names for my baby. Tanner, Dalton, Sterling, Stetson?”

“Stetson? Reel it in, cowboy.” Beck laughed. “I like Dalton, though.”

“Cheyenne if she’s a girl?” He liked Cheyenne. “Or Dallas. Denver is unisex…”

Beck raised an eyebrow. “What’s with the map names? You’re not even from any of those places.”

“What are your ideas, then? Lita? Madonna? Scary?”

“Ooh, Madonna.” For a horrifying second, he thought maybe Beck was serious. “Scarlett. Violet. Hazel…or if you’re not into colors maybe ice cream flavors. Vanilla, Raspberry…” Beckett was having way too much fun.

“Uh-huh. Brittany? Oakley? Shenandoah?”

“Shenandoah is kind of a mouthful, huh?” Beck snorted. “I’ll play along. Charlotte? Elizabeth? Sierra?”

“I like Elizabeth and Sierra both.” Actually, he thought they were beautiful. “Sierra Elizabeth. I like that.”

“Oh. Sierra Elizabeth Paulson-Adler. That’s nice.” Beck reached over and squeezed his hand.

“It is!” Oh, one down, one to go. “Dalton MacKenzie after Mackey?”

Beck nodded. “Yes. After Mackey. Perfect.”

“Wow.” He looked over at his Beck. “That was easy. I missed you all week, bad.”

Beck nodded as he pulled into the driveway. “Yeah. I was waiting on that until we got home.” Even in the dark, he could see all the bushes in front had been trimmed and the garden beds were mulched for winter. Someone had been keeping himself busy this week. “And now we’re home, so…” Beck parked the Jeep and shut it off, then pulled him closer by his shirt and kissed him hard.

The world stopped for a second, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Oh, thank fuck, that was perfect. He reached up and cupped Beckett’s jaw, giving in to the pressure of those hungry lips.

Beckett kissed him until he could only gulp air, before letting him go. “Okay. You’re home.” Beck took a deep, heavy breath, jumped out of the Jeep, and came around to his side. “Now I can breathe. It’s hard without you here.”

“I’m home. I’m tired, but so fucking happy.” Oh, the dog was losing his mind. Sky could hear him. He thought maybe he heard Walter too, meowing under the barking and howling.

“I’m not the only one who missed you. Bruiser’s had his nose to that window for days, and Walter’s been sulking.” Beck scooped Sky right out of his seat and into his arms. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, lover. Tell me I don’t have to leave again forever.” He rubbed their noses together, laughing at his weird codependence. Still, since they’d decided to have a baby, he found himself ready to nail his shoes to the floor.

“Never, ever.” That was a lie and they both knew it, but it felt good to believe it right now. Beck carried him to the front door and set him down. “I’ll get your suitcase. Don’t let the furballs knock you over.”

He braced himself and opened the door, Bruiser hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Oh, my puppy. Has Walter been mean to you, you giant beast?”

Bruiser howled and moaned, telling him all about it, and all the while Walter was staring at him, tail twitching. Uh-oh.

“Bruiser! Down, boy. Inside, go on.” Beck stepped around him and shooed the dog inside, then dropped his suitcase in the foyer. “Hey, Walt. Look who’s home.” Beck ran a hand over Walter’s back and up the length of the cat’s furry tail. “You want a beer? Should I order pizza?”

“Yes, and God, yes.” He toed his boots off, putting them beside the door. “I brought you a present from Vegas.”

“A present?” Beck pulled out his phone and Sky knew the pizza would be on its way shortly. His husband loved the whole ordering by app thing. “You mean other than the gift of finally having you here where I can touch you?”

“Yep, although that’s pretty cool.” He dug out the two bags. The first was a crazy mobile from one of the Cirque stores for the baby—the whole thing made from goofy little polka-dotted monsters. The second was another Venetian mask for the dining room. He’d been buying them for Beck for ages.

Beck’s eyes lit up as he turned the mask over in his hands. “Oh, look at this one! A devil. Those horns…I love it, Sky.” Beck kissed him and ducked into the dining room. “Where should we put it? I’ll hang it tomorrow.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you like it. I thought it went well with the winged one from last year.”

“Yes. That’s where we’ll put it.” Beck held it up on the wall near the winged mask. “Here.”

Walter howled at them from the doorway like he was possessed.

“Uh-oh.”

“Do you not want it there, Walt?” He needed the kitty treats. Stat.

Walter glowered at him, still as stone except for a jerky twitch of his tail.

“There’s a can of tuna on the counter,” Beck whispered, angling his head toward the kitchen.

“You are a gentleman and a scholar.” He went and popped the can open. “Come here, sexy one.”

Walter hesitated, but only for a second before waltzing into the kitchen with his head held high and his tail flagging. Bruiser followed, but Sky knew all he wanted was kisses. Walter required bribery.

He hand-fed his best bud with tuna, whispering to him about how he’d missed him most of all. Christ, he was owned.

Walter purred and devoured the offering, stopping every so often to trill at him and rub against his fingers. Beck distracted Bruiser with love and a chew toy, keeping the big fluff-ball out of their way.

“Walter won’t admit it, but while you were gone…he slept with the dog again.” Beck whispered the last bit. “On your side of the bed. Just like last time.”

“Oh, he’s my good buddy, you know. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” Walter had been there from the time he’d separated off from Beck, hopping right into his truck like he belonged there.

“Come get off that hip.” Beck waited for him to wash the tuna off his fingers, handed him a beer, and led him to the sofa. “Now that all the animals have said hello, you think we can make out until the pizza gets here?”

Someone had missed him bad. “This is a marvelous fucking idea.”

He took a drag of his beer, then pulled Beckett in for a hard kiss.

Beckett set his beer down with a loud thud on the table and held him with both hands. One of them caught him by the nape and the other gripped his shoulder as if making sure he were real. His husband’s kiss was reassuring, but he could feel the rough need around the edges, the heat barely under control. He smiled against Beckett’s lips, and found the heavy, denim-covered cock, rubbing nice and hard.

Damn, it was good to be wanted, to be desired. Craved, even.

“Sky.” Beck had never been shy about what he wanted. Beck groaned and shifted, spreading to give Sky more access. Sky nodded, working open Beck’s fly so he could fish out that sweet cock.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Beck dropped a hand low, trying to reach his fly but couldn’t quite, so those hot fingers teased along his waistband instead.

“All day?” He stroked, base to tip, fingertip working the head. “I couldn’t wait to get back to you.”

Beck nodded, eyes starting to glaze over. “All week. But today, once I knew you were on that plane…” Beck pulled him into another kiss and rocked up into his fingers.

Someone wasn’t going to have to sleep alone tonight, and he was getting laid too.

He dove into the kiss, humming into Beckett’s mouth.

Beck shifted again stretching out and pulling Sky down on top of him, panting softly. Both hands worked his fly open. They’d never quite outgrown the appeal of rubbing off together. “This okay…on the hip?”

“Uh-huh. ’S okay. Want you.” He got them lined up, just right. “Good?”

“So good.” Beck’s hands landed on his ass as he bucked up off the couch. “You…missed me, huh?”

“Every friggin’ second.” That was clear, right? “Every breath.”

“Yeah.” Beck nodded, breathing hard and hauling on his ass. The couch was creaking ominously, which would have been funny if they hadn’t been so fucking focused.

They didn’t have time to linger, either. That pizza was coming, and they didn’t need to answer the door covered in spunk.

Beck shoved one hand between them and tightened it around both of their cocks, sweetening the friction. “Ready, baby?” Beck squeezed, giving him something to work against.

“Fuck!” He arched hard, driving them harder, pre-come slicking the way. “Beck. Beck, right there.”

“Good, yeah? I’ve got you.” Beck looked up at him, deep brown eyes holding his. “Close.”

“Yes. Love you.” More than anything on earth. He dove back into the kiss, both of them working together to get off.

“Mm. Mmm!” Most of Beck’s shout was muffled by his lips, and Beck broke the kiss long enough to get a breath as wet heat spread between them. He followed right behind, only needing a stroke or two more.

He blinked at his lover, swaying a little, heart pounding hard. “Wow.”

Beck chuckled and gave him a drunk-looking smile. “Always wow with you.”

“No shit on that.” He nibbled Beckett’s bottom lip, as lazy as he could be.

“Love you, Stud.” Beck kissed him, then rolled him suddenly, dropping him gently on the couch. “Let me clean up for the pizza guy. You relax.” Beck had his shirt off before he’d even left the room.

Damn, he loved how Beck moved, like it was still easy. He envied that a little, but he liked watching it more. It was good to be home.

 

Title: Special Delivery
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B08MZ7GMFW

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Cowboy Protection

November 2, 2022 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne & BA Tortuga
Series: Merry Everything Series #2
Genre: , , , , , ,
Release Date: 11/22/22
Pages: 256

Maverick “Mackey” Keyes keeps the rodeo cowboys safe on his watch and he knows how to make his bullfighting team walk the line. He might be starting to feel his years, but he’s a pro, and he’s not afraid of anything that might happen on the arena floor.

Sidney Scott knows how to go with the flow, so when his dream job passes him by, he grabs the chance to work the bull riding circuit as a TV producer. He’s going to do the job right, traveling with the show, even if he hears some rumbling from the riders.

Mackey and Sid butt heads more than once, but when it really counts, they manage to get on the same page. When Mackey is injured, Sid steps up to help, and things take a far more personal turn. They might have been able to ignore the growing attraction between them at work, but a long road trip over the Christmas holiday and time away from the other cowboys lets them find something together that neither of them expect, but both of them need.

Cowboy Protection is an opposites attract, rodeo romance featuring a bullfighter and a corporate suit, with a side of holiday magic.

Buy the Book: Amazon~~Barnes & Noble~~iBooks~~Publisher~~Kobo~~Smashwords~~Universal eBook Links

Also in this series:

 

Chapter 1 

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy! I was staring at your truck.” Maverick Keyes leaned against his wheel well and grinned as Grainger and Hayden tumbled out of their shiny new Dodge, the twins all arms and legs and goofy grins. “Lord have mercy, y’all. You two have a good July break?” 

“Yes, sir!” Grainger said, giving him a wide grin. “Me and Hayden are ready to work, though. Momma was fixin’ to toss our happy asses out the damn door.” 

“She sent you some chow chow, says to say thank you for raising us, Mackey.” 

“Shee-it. I’m just trying to get you boys killed.” He’d been worried about taking them on if he was honest, which he was, if only to himself. Twenty was a wild time, and two twenties somehow worked out to the smarts of a single eighteen. Still, him and Tommy had talked on it, and the twins were strong, fearless, and focused on the dirt, so he’d hired them. Now they had a solid team, with Fabiano there to work as an alternate. It had only taken about a year. 

“Promises, promises.” Jack Boers wandered up, smacking one of the boys on the shoulder. “Lord have mercy, ain’t it fixin’ to come up a cloud?” 

Lord love a duck, Jack was a hot bastard with his silver hair and his deep eye lines. They’d knocked boots more than once, but Jack was a horndog that needed something Mackey wasn’t, so they’d decided ten some odd years ago to be the hand job type of friends. Still, he was the best buddy a man could have, and one hell of a safety man to boot. 

“It’s gonna pour, and my knees say it’s gonna be a gullywhomper.” He’d been enjoying the summer, but even in the south, September was whispering about autumn. “You seen Tommy?” 

“No, sir. I seen y’all and Ollie when I unloaded the horses. That’s it.” 

Mackey stuck his tongue out at Jack. “Grab your gear, boyos. Warm-up is in an hour. Don’t be late.” 

The twins saluted him and ran off, spending more energy than he had in his whole self. 

Mackey shook his head. “It’s hell getting old.” 

“No shit on that, cowboy. We having steaks after the show? I’m starving.” 

“Yessir.” First though, he needed to call Tommy and find out where the Aussie was. “You staying at the host hotel tonight?” 

“Shit yes. I love casino hotels. They suit me to the ground. I’ll see you in the arena, Mack-Daddy.” Jack patted his butt and wandered off. 

He grabbed his phone, punching the second number on his favorites, after Jack and before the twins’ momma, and waited for the son of a bitch to answer. 

“Oi, I’m coming. You’re such a mother hen.” 

“Uh-huh. You’re late.” He always told Tommy to be somewhere an hour before he was supposed to show. 

“Now, Mother. You and I both know I’m not. I’ll be there. I was having a lick of fun.” 

“Don’t.” He didn’t want to hear about whatever Tommy was doing or with who. That bastard just had to grin and twinkle those blue eyes and men and women alike opened their legs like they had a button. “Just come on.” 

“You want a cherry limeade? I’ll fix you up, Mother.” 

Oh lord have mercy, Tommy knew how to make him happy. “Make it a big one. Extra cherries.” 

“For you, mate, always.” 

Mackey hung up the phone without saying goodbye. Sorry son of a bitch. 

“Mackey, everything good?” 

God, but he hated that voice. Cody Roberts was the president of the league, voted in by the cowboys running shit, and his direct line to God, from what he understood. “Right as rain.” 

“Don’t talk about rain, buddy. It’s going to pour.” 

“Bulls don’t mind mud, and the arena’s covered. We’re good.” Only one he stressed was Jack, and his mare Princess was sure-footed as fuck. 

“Still, crowds don’t like it. They want sunshine.” 

Shit, they wanted wrecks, cowboy butts, and at least one great ride. The fans gave no shits about the other. “Yes, sir.” 

“Your team all present?” 

“Yes, sir. All checked in.” Mostly. In theory. 

“Good man. Have a good show. You ready for your TV spot?” 

“Yup.” Not even a bit. He’d just ramble on about how Sparkle Night always turned right and make faces at Danny behind the lens. “You putting Stock on live?” 

He made sure not to smile a bit. Stockard Manning was the clown, was in contract negotiations, and was possibly the meanest motherfucker on earth. They got along like a house afire. 

Stock and live TV? Not so much. 

“Fuck you, Mackey.” Cody did chuckle though. “Get to work, bud.” 

“Always working, sir.” 

Always. And his body knew it. Still, he had his team, new sneakers, good pain pills, and a cherry limeade on the way. 

It was fixin’ to be a good day.

Title: Cowboy Protection
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0BG3DZCHC

Honeymoon in the Cards

January 6, 2024 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Sapphic #2
Genre: , , , , , ,
Release Date: December 19, 2023

A Summit Springs shared-world Novel.

Honeymoon in the Cards is an FF (lesbian) romance featuring opposites attract and second chance romance between a Texas-born tarot card reader and a New York City ad executive, set in the fictional small town of Summit Springs, CO.

When Marissa wins a holiday honeymoon package at a ski resort in small town Colorado, she knows she has to call them and back out of the trip. She's not getting married, after all, since her girlfriend turned down her proposal.

When the ski resort's marketing manager convinces her to come anyway to save his job, though, she can't turn down a well-deserved vacation, even if it means pretending to be engaged for the photo opportunities. What she really doesn't expect is for the other party of the fake engagement to be someone she used to know.

Rebekka shows up in Summit Springs to help her brother out, so it comes as a shock when she has to pretend to be engaged to her old college girlfriend, Marissa. They couldn't be more opposite. Mari is by the book, high dollar, and kind of high maintenance. Bekka is a tarot reading earth goddess type who's a little scatterbrained. Can the two of them learn that they've both matured and changed into people who can really care for each other, or will their relationship end when the fake honeymoon is over?

Buy the Book: Amazon~~Barnes & Noble~~iBooks~~Publisher~~Kobo~~Smashwords~~Universal eBook Links

Also in this series:

Chapter 1 

Marissa listened to the phone ring, still not sure exactly what she was going to say when someone answered. It wasn’t every day one had to cancel a honeymoon, especially not a free one. 

She supposed that the lesson here was not to put the cart before the horse. After three years though, she’d thought it was reasonable to propose. She’d picked out a ring, made dinner reservations, she’d even hired a limo to take them to a hotel after Josie said yes. 

But Josie didn’t say yes. 

How long was this phone going to ring? Shouldn’t she have gone through to voicemail or something by now? 

Finally, a chirpy voice answered. “Pines Peak Resort, how can I direct your call?” 

“Oh. Well, I won a honeymoon package and I need to talk to—” She looked at the business card stapled to the folder full of brochures and information. “To Bryan Harker about it.” 

“Oh, of course. I’ll get him for you. Just a sec!” 

God, was anyone really that happy? 

She wasn’t. 

Even the hold music was cheerful. How annoying was that? 

She was just about ready to drop her cell phone down the garbage disposal when someone finally answered. 

“Marketing.” 

“Bryan Harker, please?” 

“Yep. Hang on.” 

Oh god. She was being put on hold again. 

She was going to bite something. Hard. Hopefully hard enough that her cheating bitch of an ex felt it. 

“This is Bryan. Can I help you?” 

“Yes. Hi, Bryan. This is Marissa Martin. I won a honeymoon package at your resort. We are supposed to come next weekend.” 

“Hello, Ms. Martin. Or I supposed it’s Mrs. Martin by now? Congratulations. We’re looking forward to rolling out the red carpet for you and your wife.” 

Fuck. She was going to throw up. Her cheeks heated and the knot in her stomach started doing somersaults. She needed to get off the phone. “I’m uh—unfortunately I—we—” She forced herself to take a breath. 

Suck it up and get it over with Mari. 

“We didn’t get married. We’re not coming. It’s off. Everything is off.” 

“I—What?” That was utter shock. Just complete blankness, and if it didn’t suck so hard, it would be funny as hell. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Thanks for everything. Just send me a bill for…whatever you need to. It’s fine. It’s all fine.” She sounded like an idiot, which, obviously, she was. 

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry about all of that but…you have to come.” 

What? “Excuse me?” 

“I mean…don’t you still need a vacation? We’d love to have you. There might be a few…logistical matters, but I’m sure we can work something out.” 

Had this guy lost his mind? 

“You heard me, right? I’m not taking a vacation with the bitch who didn’t marry me. Excuse my French.” Did she need to spell out how Josie had just flatly explained that she was in love with someone else? Mari wasn’t going away with that bitch. She didn’t intend on seeing her ever again. She was already packing her shit to go…somewhere. She’d figure that out tomorrow. 

“I—Okay. Okay, but… Shit. My job is on the line here. Surely there’s something we can do.” 

Do? What the hell were they supposed to do? 

“Well you can’t make her not have cheated on me, right? I’m sorry, but I’m not coming.” 

“I…wait. I know. I’ve got it.” Bryan paused, and she was about to say no again when he started taking a hundred miles an hour. “Yes. Come anyway. Just you, okay? Come have a wonderful resort vacation on us like you planned. You can ski, you can relax in the hot tub, all your meals are paid for. Free wine. Spa treatments. All I ask is that you let me take a few pictures like we’d talked about when you won the trip. Some promotional photos, that kind of thing. That’s all. You can do that, right? Just some PR?” 

She wanted to say no, but he kind of had her at free wine. She needed to get out of New York, clear her head, figure out what her next move should be. Why not do it at a fucking spa resort and get pampered while she was at it? She could handle a few pictures. No problem. 

She took a deep breath. “This will keep you from losing your job?” It made no sense, but whatever. 

“Yes. Yes, please say yes.” He couldn’t fake that sort of desperation. 

“Okay. Yes. I’ll come.” 

“Next weekend, as planned?” 

“Next weekend. Friday. Like the paperwork says.” 

“Perfect. You rock. I’ll have a car pick you up at the airport. You’ve saved me. Thank you.” 

And then there was a click. 

She stared at her phone where it sat on her desk, completely baffled by that entire conversation. She didn’t understand. But then, she didn’t understand a lot of things. Like how you sleep with someone for three years while you’re in love with someone else. 

Well, fuck Josie. She was going to soak in a hot tub, drink free wine, get a facial and take some hot woman back to her hotel room. A different one every night. That would show that cheating bitch. 

Sure, she should have maybe planned things a little better. Like, maybe proposed earlier. But she’d assumed…well she’d assumed wrong. But she hadn’t expected to win the damn “Honeymoon in Heaven” contest anyway. 

Lesson learned. No more honeymoons. 

She’d take a few days in heaven though. She could use them. She pulled out her phone to let her bestie know. <I called and talked to the Summit Springs people and decided to go alone. Don’t make it weird. I need some time by myself.> 

Ginny answered back in less than a second. <WHAT OMG IM CALLING!> 

Then the Macarena started playing. 

“Hey, Macarena!” She smiled at the FaceTime call. “I said don’t make it weird.” 

“I’m not. Are you okay? Are you going to do something stupid? Can I come?” 

“I’m mad and heartbroken and completely fine. What are you wearing? Are you going out? Do you have a date?” She wasn’t fine, but she wasn’t in the mood to deal either. 

“I am. She’s a stud—a chef. I’m wearing something warm but cute. Low cut, but with a scarf.” 

Ginny was hot and only kind of knew it. What she thought was cute, most people would drool over. “You look amazing. I love your hair. Go make yourself her favorite dish.” 

“I intend to. I need that Christmas Eve girlfriend, girlfriend.” She gasped. “Oh, god. That was tacky.” 

“So tacky.” But she giggled her head off. She missed Ginny. They hadn’t lived in the same place at the same time since college, but they’d always kept in touch. “Girlfriend.” 

“I love you, honey. Call any time except for after nine tonight. I hope to be busy.” 

“Nighty, you. Who needs sleep? Love you.” She gave Ginny a wave and they both hung up. 

Seriously, who needed sleep? She hadn’t slept well in a week. A nice soak in a hot tub should help, right? She went to pour herself a glass of wine and think about what to pack.

Title: Honeymoon in the Cards
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0CPJWP3YK
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-96-3

The Trouble with Cowboys

January 6, 2024 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: The Sin Deep Series #2
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: February 6, 2024

When Kacey Lowe shows up at his friend Sam’s place in New York, it’s because he has nowhere else to go. He’s lost his shot as a bullrider, and he’s beat up as anything to boot. He doesn’t want to impose on Sam, and he and his buddy tend to get into trouble together anyway. That’s how he ends up at River’s place.

River McIntyre doesn’t really understand Kacey, but he wants to help the tough little cowboy with whatever demons he’s wrestling. He’s not sure he can, and he’s not sure Kacey can be everything he needs, but he sees past Kacey’s pain and insecurities, and knows they could have something special together if they can just figure it out.

The trouble with cowboys, River finds out, is that they might be speaking a different language than a city man like him. But if they can meet in the middle somewhere, it will be worth all the effort.

The Trouble with Cowboys is set in The Cowboy and the Dom universe and features a hurt-comfort, opposites attract, D/s romance in New York City.

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Chapter 1 

 

“Come on, man. Answer your fucking phone.” 

Kacey Lowe tried hard to know certain shit—one, where his boots were, two, where his phone was, and three, where he was going to be able to sleep in a world that had little to no use for a broke-dick bullrider. He had two out of three. 

Now Kacey needed a couch to surf. 

Sam O’Reilly would let him stay, have a little fun, and not ask too many questions about the bruises, why he was in New York, and what the hell he was going to do next. 

“’lo?” O’Reilly sounded drunk. “Who’s this?” 

“Kacey. How you been?” He could handle drunk. 

“Fine as frog hair. Where the hell are you?” 

“Um… Times Square, I think. I’m pretty sure.” The place was so lit up it felt like daytime. 

“Like in the city?” 

“Well, I am totally in a city. The New York one.” The last ride was a flower delivery dude. He’d been cool, and they’d shared a spliff. 

“What? When? Why? How?” 

That was a lot of questions in a row. Sam hadn’t changed a bit. “In New York. Now. Because of life and things, and really fucking slow?” 

“Wait. Hang on.” The music in the background faded away, and Sam got back on the line with more questions. “Okay. Did you get hurt? How did you get here? Where are you staying?” 

He couldn’t answer the first two questions without opening a can of worms. “I was sorta hoping you’d have a couch I could use for a day or two while I’m visiting.” 

Or until he got his bell unrung. 

Sam O’Reilly had been his mentor on the arena floor when he was a junior, and the man had been fun to hang with the few times they’d been together on the circuit. 

“Yeah, of course. Not many of us with couches up here, huh?” He heard street noises as Sam put him on speaker. “I’m texting you the address. We’re not home… uh… I’ll just see if I can convince Mister—Thomas—to make it an early night.” 

“Is it a bad time? I can wait ’til tomorrow, dude.” He could walk around for hours, no problem. He had enough cash to eat for damn near a year, if he was careful, and he would do near anything to win a bet, so… 

“Right. Just stay on the street tonight, and I’ll see you after breakfast.” Sam snorted. “Get your ass over there. Tell the doorman you’re a friend of mine, and he’ll let you wait in the lobby. We’ll be there in a little bit.” 

“You sure, man? I know this is a surprise.” 

“Shut up. See you in an hour, give or take.” 

Oh, thank God. Kacey sucked in a deep breath. “Thanks, man. Just a day or two.” 

“Yeah, while you’re in town.” 

Okay. He had himself a place to stay. If he remembered right, Sam liked a bar so he might get to have some fun too, while he figured out what to do next. He looked at the text—he could walk forty blocks in an hour, right? 

If not, he’d text and say he was running late. He was good at that. 

He set his GPS and started beating feet. 

Lord have mercy this place was wild. Maybe a guy could have some fun here… 

He found the address and slowed down as he moved up the block. The building was big. And tall. Really fucking tall. There was a big white awning held up by gold posts and a dude in a jacket and hat hanging out near the front door and watching him as he got closer. 

“Move on,” the guy said in a deep voice as he slowed down even more. 

“I got me an invitation from a friend.” He wasn’t going nowhere. “Sam O’Reilly. You know him?” 

“Mhm.” The guy nodded. “You’re friends?” 

He arched one eyebrow, trying hard not to be a bitch. “Yessir. We rode together in Texas, couple times in Vegas.” 

“Understood. What’s your name?” 

“Kacey Lowe.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Lowe. Mr. O’Reilly isn’t at home. You can wait inside if it’s cold out here for you.” 

“That would rock. Thank you. It’s damn chilly.” He held out one hand to shake, but the dude stopped before grabbing his fingers. 

Oh. Right. 

They were a little tore up from the last fight, and that one finger was…wonky. 

“You’re definitely a friend of Sam’s.” They clasped hands gently, the door guy shaking his head. 

“Yessir. Since I was a teenager, you know? He’s wild as anything.” And a great drinking buddy. “I’m looking forward to hanging with him.” 

“Mm. Wild.” The guy waved an arm and the doors slid open. “There’s a pot of coffee behind the desk.” 

“Thank you, sir. I do appreciate it.” He headed in and grabbed a cup of coffee, heavy on the sugar and creamer. 

Calories were good. They kept a man warm. 

He hadn’t gotten one sip down before Sam came through the door, followed by a tall, handsome, very… hot…uh. Had he mentioned tall? 

“Kacey.” Sam came right to him with a smile. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“Sam.” Damn, Sam looked so good. Healthy. Strong. Almost like a grown-up. Weird. “I missed your skanky ass, man.” 

“Hey now, I’ve cleaned it up a little since you saw me last.” Sam gave him a hug, and he was proud of himself for not wincing. “You look good.” 

“You appear to have been in a fight,” Mr. Handsome said. Was that a growl? 

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Kacey, this is Thomas.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand. Again. “And I swear, I haven’t been in a fight.” 

He’d been in a few dozen. 

Thomas took his hand, but not to shake it. He looked at it critically, turned it palm-side up and back again, then sighed. “You need to get some ice on that. I think I might have a splint for the finger. Come on upstairs.” 

“Dude, seriously? What the hell happened?” Sam grinned at him. “Tell me it was fun, at least?” 

“I wish I could, cowboy.” 

Thomas led them to the elevator, and when the big, shiny doors opened, they all got on. Thomas was… not really staring but looking him over. It was weird, but it wasn’t creepy. 

Sam nodded to him and rested a hand on his arm. “I’ll make us coffee.” 

Oh god, don’t leave me with him. “I’ll help.” 

“It’s no pr—” 

“I’ll so help.” Helping, helping, la la la. 

“Let him help.” Why did it feel like Thomas could see right into his soul? God, that was unnerving. 

“So… this is your… roommate?” He didn’t read like a roommate. More like a grumpy fuckbuddy. Possibly a sugar daddy. 

Dude. 

Dude. 

Did Sam have a sugar daddy? He had a decent belly, but he was a little un-twinkly and sparkly. In Vegas, boys like that had glitter. 

Thomas laughed as they stepped off the elevator but didn’t answer the question. “I thought you said he was a good friend, Sam?” 

“He is. He’s a rodeo buddy. He was a junior rider that I mentored.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Thomas here, he’s my lover. My guy. My… person, huh? If you’re not cool with that…” 

“Dude. I know you’re into dick. I just didn’t know you were into…” Big growly dudes with biker boots and a fancy apartment. “Permanent guys.” 

“Yes, he’s permanently into my dick.” Thomas was still chuckling as he opened the apartment door. 

“Kinky,” he whispered. 

Sam started chuckling, the sound started soft and built. 

And built. 

And built. 

Thomas leaned close to Sam and kissed his forehead. “I’m not touching that.” 

Sam led him toward an open kitchen, and Thomas went the other way down a long hall. 

“Lord, he’s a biggun. Pretty, though.” That seemed the most polite. 

“He’s amazing. I’ve never been happier.” Sam started making coffee. “What the fuck happened to you? And don’t say nothing, because I’m neither blind nor stupid.” 

“Did you just say ‘nor’?” 

“Neither… nor…” Sam shot him a look. “I asked you a question.” 

“It’s a long story, but the short version is, got dumped, got outed, lost my sponsors, got reminded that I ain’t supposed to be in Texas.” Hell of a short version. 

Sam puffed out a breath and went back to making coffee. “I’ve heard that story before. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Just been traveling. Seeing stuff. Wandering. I looked you up—sorry about your brother, by the way.” 

Sam nodded, took a deep breath. “Thanks. It was tough, but we caught the son of a bitch.” 

“That’s good. I hope he got what he deserved.” 

“Neosporin, band-aids, ice pack, Tylenol, and one finger splint.” Thomas appeared and set everything down on the counter one by one, then held out a hand palm-up. “Will you let me see?” 

Oh, how decent was that? Pretty damned, if you asked him. He held up one of his hands. They hurt pretty good, and that one finger needed something to encourage it not to fall off. 

He wasn’t a damn roper, after all. 

“Hm. I’ll be careful.” For the next few minutes, Thomas gently cleaned his hands up with damp cotton balls and covered the one bad cut with the cream and a band-aid. Thomas’s hands were warm, and those fingers moved over his skin like… like he cared. 

And the man never growled once. 

Okay, weird. Again. “Thanks. Seriously. I’ll slam the finger in the splint, if it grosses you out.” 

It grossed him out some, but it was easier to just do it, right? 

“Pfft.” Thomas shook his head. “I have a brother who has broken this finger three times, and several others more than once. Fists and walls don’t mix well.” There was a blinding light, and he was dizzy for a few seconds, and when he could see again, Thomas was wrapping tape around the splint to keep it in place. 

“Whiskey?” Sam asked, and he groaned. 

“Fuck me yes.” All the whiskey. 

“Rock on.” 

“You didn’t faint, and you didn’t lose your balance. You’re like my Sam.” He wasn’t sure how to read Thomas’s smile, but the man rested his hand on the counter and gave it a gentle pat. It was weirdly… what? Parental? Something. “All good.” 

“Thanks, man. I appreciate this. I’ll be on my way in a day or two. I just wanted to get a face-to-face with Sam-I-Am.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, shook his head. “I swear to God, Kacey. You carry trouble like a landed bass.” 

“I sure do try, yessir.” 

Thomas took Sam by the chin and kissed him. “I’ll leave you two to talk, sweetheart. Good night.” 

“See you in a bit, Mister.” Sam poured two coffees, calm as all get out. “Are the hands the worst of it?” 

“Nah.” No, the worst of it was in his soul, and what could he do about that now? He’d thought Mitch and him, they’d had something workable. Something nice, even, but when they’d been caught, Mitch had said he wasn’t willing. He’d never forced no one to do anything. Not ever. 

But that didn’t matter, and that wasn’t something he was ever gonna talk about. That secret belonged to him. 

Sam gave him a knowing smile, which didn’t hurt so bad, coming from him. “I didn’t reckon. The core shots are the ones that are the worst. Come on. Let’s sit and bullshit a minute.” 

Core shots. He hated that Sam seemed to know something he didn’t want to tell. 

“That I can do. I’m full of bullshit.” His laugh didn’t make that funny like it should have. 

“We all are. Sometimes, we find the thing that we need to empty us out.” 

That was damn near deep, and he didn’t believe it for a second. “Whatcha doing with yourself these days, buddy?” 

Sam shrugged, cheeks pinking. “Believe it or not, I got my damn PhD. I teach. I write books…” 

“Cool, man. That’s… wild.” Kacey felt himself shrink inside. Sam O’Reilly had retired, become a professor, wrote books. He wasn’t broke dick, but he had a couple thousand bucks, his boots, his phone, and a single silver buckle. Fuck, he needed to find another place to go. 

“Totally is. How’d you end up here?” 

Kacey curated what he wanted to tell Sam, and he finally settled on, “I was in Columbus, and the guys were heading west, so I came over. I was on a bus, googling, and happened on your name. Thought if I came here, I’d look your happy ass up.” 

Sam took a slow sip of his coffee, then looked at him. “Why not go home?” When he didn’t answer, Sam added, “Rough weather?” 

“Yeah. My folks—” He waved one hand, because he didn’t know what say. He watched the coffee wave in his cup, back and forth, and finally words just fell out of his lips. “I fucked up, Sam. Bad. There ain’t no coming home from that.” 

Sam set his cup down. “Shit, Kace. Are you in trouble? We know people…” 

He shook his head, even as he desperately wanted to nod. “No. No, I ain’t here to fuck your life. I just need a day or two to rest, yeah? Then I’ll go traveling again.” 

“I’m telling you we can help. You rest, get your head right, but you think about it.” 

“Thanks for answering your phone.” He needed a friend, a minute to breathe. 

“Thanks for trusting me, man. Drink your coffee and breathe. You’re safe here.” Sam winked at him. “Thomas is way more badass than he looks.” 

“Is he a teacher too?” Kacey was betting on librarian more than teacher. 

“No, no. He’s the head curator for the Metropolitan Museum.” Sam sounded proud. 

“Damn.” Sam had just left his whole world behind like dust. “Good on y’all.” 

He didn’t even know what the hell he was going to do to make money. He needed to google canned rodeos. 

Mechanical bull competitions. 

Daredevil shows. 

“You’ll figure it out. I was lost when I got here, and I couldn’t go back home. This is home now.” 

“I’m tickled shitless for you. You got work tomorrow?” You want to go find some trouble with an old friend? 

“I’m not teaching. I can skip a day of writing to hang, sure.” Sam tilted his head, lips twitching. “After all, it is Friday…” 

“Yeah? No shit? Surely we can find ourselves something to do.”

Title: The Trouble with Cowboys
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0CSW7DS8F

Deviations: Discipline

April 11, 2017 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen
Series: Deviations #3
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: December 30, 2019 (Third Edition)
Pages: 312

Tobias and Noah explore their relationships more deeply than ever, not just through their own Dominance and submission, but by engaging with their friends. As Noah helps Tobias through the loss of someone dear, he finds Tobias helping him too, leading Noah through some intense sexual games, breaking down the last of his fears, and helping Noah face the biggest one of all: the cage.

Meanwhile, Tobias's ex-lover, Phantom, becomes close friends with Noah and they discover and try to resist the simmering sexual tension between them. Their playful teasing turns to real support when Phantom reaches the breaking point due to a lack of consistent Master in his life; something Phan desperately needs.

While Bradford decided he has to stand in as that Master for a while, Tobias and Noah go to Paris, where they see the sights, go to a sexy club, and re-negotiate their contract. Returning from Paris to their own lives brings them all sorts of new difficulties, from deciding whether they should live together, to trying to figure out just where Phantom belongs in their ever-changing relationship.

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EXCERPT FROM DISCIPLINE

Tobias cursed as he came across yet another torn up intersection. Traffic was a mess all through the downtown core, and his frustration level was rising with every one-way street he had to navigate. He was going in a circle, he just knew it, and Lincoln Avenue was always just out of reach.

The trouble, he decided, wasn't so much the damn construction as the sheer idiocy of the drivers who simply wouldn't get out of his way and let him get home. "It's not even close to rush hour," he muttered, talking out loud in uncharacteristic frustration and trying to ease around yet another truck offloading dirt or equipment or something. He hit the gas and then the brakes as a woman in a PT Cruiser cut him off and gave him the finger.

"And you would think," he added, "that with all this crap going on... I could at least lose this fucking erection." An incredibly persistent one at that, one that had been with him to varying degrees since he'd woken up from a morning dream about Noah and new leather wrist cuffs that had complex and intriguing chains dangling from them. He'd been hard off and on since then, and his body was definitely settling on full hardness at the moment.

He took another breath and looked around at the traffic as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his irritation growing. "But no. Not today. Today, I'm cursed with an iron dick, a schedule that's opened up, a submissive at work, and endless traffic. God damn it!" He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel and a miracle happened: the road in front of his car emptied.

So he hit the gas and took off, heading for home. The sudden siren and flashing lights in his rearview mirror made him glance down at the speedometer in dismay. "Ah, shit." With a sigh he pulled over and undid his seatbelt.

A chest in uniform appeared at the driver's side window. A knuckle tapped on the glass, and Tobias rolled down the window, stifling another sigh. The cop had one hand on his gun. As if Tobias could make a bid for freedom in this traffic.

"License and registration, please," a voice requested in an official tone, and Tobias dutifully reached for the glove compartment. "Wait a minute." The cop rested an arm on the door and ducked to see better into the car. "Do you have any idea how fast you were going, sir?"

"Jesus Christ," Tobias groaned, his head falling back on the seat. "Yes. Too fast. Would you like to know why, Noah?"

"That's 'Officer Dolan,' sir, and, yes. Yes, I would." Noah grinned widely.

Tobias rolled his eyes. "Well, you see, Officer Dolan, I have a smart-mouthed lover whom I can't get out of my head." He pointed to his lap. "I was in rather a rush to call him. Or at least think about him in private."

Title: Discipline
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0839N7PBF
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-19-2

 

Discipline is available in AUDIO!
Purchase it at Audible, iTunes & Amazon!

 

Submission est disponible en FRANÇAIS !
Achetez-le directement auprès de  Juno Publishing,
ou sur Amazon, 7switch, ou Kobo!

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Diamonds in the Rough

August 27, 2024 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: On the Ranch Series #3
Genre: , , , , , , ,
Release Date: August 6, 2024

When Asher Allen heads west to become the nanny to a family in New Mexico for the summer, he’s expecting three kids who’ve lost their parents. He’s expecting to have to step in and save the day so their uncle, the cowboy who took them in, can get back to work on the family ranch. What he doesn’t expect is to fall so hard for New Mexico. And for his new boss.

Sebastian Martindale is about to give up and make a run for it when Ash arrives. His niece hates him, he never gets enough sleep, and he can’t juggle three small kids and the mountain of work that needs to get done. Despite his total exhaustion he’s skeptical when his mom hires a nanny, but once Ash shows up, Bastian isn’t sure how he’d managed without the man.

Together, Bastian and Ash have to navigate the children's grief, the first day of school, helping the kids understand they have a home right where they are, and falling for each other at the same time. Can they work it all out and polish up the diamonds in the rough they find?

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Chapter 1 

Holy fuck. This place looks like a hotel. 

Asher Allen drove past the rustic sign that read “Diamond M Ranch” and up the long driveway toward the main house. The closer he got, the bigger the house seemed, until he started to wonder if he was in the right place. 

Two floors, a thousand windows, a picture postcard view… 

Toto, we are not in Kansas anymore. 

What the hell had he gotten himself into? It had been a long trip from New York, and he was not at all ready for… whatever this place was. He took a couple of pictures with his phone and texted them to his best friend Max. 

<Made it. This is home for the next three months. Or it’s a cult. I guess we’ll see.> 

Two stories of white plaster. Huge balconies. Three trucks in the driveway. Great big windows. 

It was wild and absolutely not kid-friendly and— 

A little naked red-headed boy went running across the second-story balcony, followed by a screaming man holding a second naked little boy. 

Wow. 

Guess I’m in the right place after all. 

He popped the trunk and pulled out his suitcase, got his backpack from the back seat, stuffed his phone in his pocket, and headed for the front steps. He hauled everything onto the first-floor porch and knocked on the door. 

Then he rang the doorbell. 

And then knocked again. 

Asher decided the guy wasn’t coming to the door if he was busy chasing naked children around upstairs, so he let himself in. 

“Hello?” he called out. “It’s Ash. Asher Allen. The nanny?” 

A young girl with hair as black as night—Samantha, if he remembered correctly—peered at him from the top of the stairs. “Are you here to take us back to Connecticut?” 

She was adorable, with big eyes, and her long hair was pulled back in a hairband. “No, I’m sorry. I’m here to help you get settled in New Mexico though. Are you Samantha?” 

“Uh-huh. Uncle Bastian is going to dunk my brothers in the tub. If he can catch Will. Walt is slower.” 

“Maybe I can help.” He left his things at the bottom of the stairs and made his way up. “Is there a trick to catching him that I should know? I bet you know all the tricks.” 

“I do. He likes to play freeze dance.” 

“Who are you talking to, girl? Is someone here?” The voice was stressed, full of a near-desperate edge. 

“Asher Allen, your nanny.” He climbed the rest of the stairs to meet his employer. The guy had such a great name. Sebastian. How dignified was that? 

“Oh. Shit. I—” A cowboy in jeans, boots, and a soaking wet T-shirt stood there with two dripping little boys in his arms. “Hey. Bastian Martindale. I assume you been talking to my mama, Stella?” 

Bastian. Okay, then. “I think so, yes. She was working with my agency. What can I do?” 

“I—” The man blinked for a second. “I don’t know. What can you do?” 

“Let him take us back to Connecticut,” the little girl snapped. 

“Sam. You’re not going anywhere.” 

Ash had his eyes and ears open. He knew very few details about what had happened, but he knew the family was grieving. This had to be so hard for these kids, especially Samantha, at her age. 

Bastian was carrying both boys now. It seemed like that game of freeze dance wasn’t going to be necessary, but he filed it away for next time. 

With boys, there was always a next time. 

“Bath time?” 

“The water is run in the big tub. You’d think they’d like it, but they fight every inch.” 

“No!” one screamed. 

As the other went, “No baf!” 

He reached out and took one of the boys from Bastian. “What’s your name?” 

“I’m Will.” 

“Oh, you’re the fast one. I’ve heard about you. I love a bath. You sure you don’t want one? I can totally go enjoy the warm water and the toys and all instead.” 

Walt frowned at him, suspicious, but Will lit up. “Toyses? I play!” 

“I don’t know, you said no bath, but if you’ve changed your mind, that’s cool. You can have some bath toys.” He looked at Samantha. “Help me out here; where am I going?” 

“Uncle Bastian’s room. He has the great big bathroom. Great big.” Samantha rolled her eyes. “Come on. I’ll show you.” 

She pointed an imperious finger, the other boy started struggling in the cowboy’s arms, and for a second, Ash could see utter exhaustion. 

“Okay, let’s go.” He went the way Samantha was pointing and set Will down in the tub, then turned to take—Walt? Was it Walt?—from Bastian. 

“I got this.” He gave Bastian a smile. “Samantha will show me where the boys’ room is so I can get them in pjs. You’re good. Go have a drink.” He started tossing everything he could find that would float into the bathtub to be used as toys. Plastic cups, washcloths, a mostly empty shampoo bottle. 

“Okay…” Bastian grabbed a towel on his way and headed out of the room with a sigh. 

“He’s not a dad. He’s not my dad.” Samantha sat on the closed commode. “Did you know my mom and dad?” 

“No, but I wish I had. He’s not trying to be your dad, Samantha; he’s just trying to give you a safe home. I think he’s new at this parenting stuff, you know?” 

The boys splashed and laughed, and he managed to get Walt shampooed without the kid even really noticing. One down… 

Will dumped a glass of water on his own head, cheering. “I do!” 

Oh, this little boy was fearless. 

“Wow, you’re good at that.” He quickly lathered up Will’s head. “Do it again!” 

“Again!” Will filled the cup and poured it over his head. “Again!” 

Walt began to cry. 

Oh, boy. 

“You want a turn, Walt?” He grabbed another cup and put it in Walt’s hands. “You can do it too.” He glanced over his shoulder at Samantha. He was going to make her feel so smart and useful she didn’t have time to miss Connecticut. “Are they always like this?” 

“They’re awful, but they’re mine, so I have to keep them.” She sighed, so dramatic. “There aren’t any fun kids here.” 

He kept his hands busy with the boys while he talked with her. Finish the bath, pop the boys in pjs—had they had dinner yet? “No? What about school? That should be starting soon, right?” 

“Yes!” Like it was a betrayal. “I’m running out of time!” 

“Running out of time for what?” He hit the drain on the bathtub and rinsed the boys off. “Towels?” 

“I’ll get them. For the summer. I don’t want to go to school here. I don’t like it here. I won’t go.” She handed him towels. “I’m going back to my old house, my old school.” 

“Oh, I see.” He understood. It wasn’t something he was going to argue with her about when he’d been here five minutes. Or really, ever. He’d just have to help her like it here. 

Assuming he figured out how to like it here. 

Gotta love a challenge. 

He took the towels and wrapped the boys in them. He picked Will up but offered Walt his hand. “Show me your room, Walt.” 

“Room! Room!” The little boy glanced at his sister, wide-eyed. “Sisser?” 

“You have the blue room. Will has the green room.” She rolled her eyes. “Not that it matters. They always end up together.” 

“Twins do. It’s a thing.” He sort of led and sort of followed Walt into a blue room and closed the door behind them, hoping that would at least slow Will down if he took off. “Pajamas…” He looked around and finally started opening dresser drawers. 

“Turtle ones.” Will pointed to the bed. “Turtle.” 

Walt went to the dresser and opened up another drawer, pulling out a pair of pajamas with moose all over them. “Dease ones.” 

“Okay. Perfect.” Turtles for Will, moose for Walt. “You guys look great.” He glanced at Samantha. “Have you all had dinner?” 

“No. Everything here is hot. Everything.” 

“Eggses! Eat all the eggses!” Will cheered, and Walt climbed up on the little bed, covering his head with the blankets. 

“Okay. You want eggs? I can make eggs, no problem. Walt? Are you coming?” He gave Walt’s little butt a pat. Scrambled eggs were a perfectly fine dinner for his first night in town. 

“Eggses. Eggses. Egg-a-ses!” Will cheered and marched to the top of the stairs, where Bastian met them. 

“No boys on the stairs alone, little dude.” Bastian met Samantha’s eyes. “You going to eat?” 

“Are you going to cook?” 

Those lips tightened, and Bastian shrugged one shoulder. “Starve, then. I don’t care. Stay up here with your brother.” 

“Fine.” Samantha crossed her arms. 

“Whoa, now. I can cook. No one needs to starve. Good rule about the stairs though. You got this one? Let me grab Walt.” He went back for the boy with his head still under the blanket and scooped him up. “Dinner, buddy.” 

Walt just snuggled right into him with a little hum, but that was it. No fight. Just a snuggle. 

Poor kid. That was a little boy who wanted his mommy. Will probably did too; he just seemed better at distracting himself. 

When he got to the stairs, everyone was already gone, probably on their way to the kitchen. That was quite a staring match between Bastian and Samantha. She was angry, and he was out of patience—or just plain energy—for it. He couldn’t blame either of them. This was impossibly hard, incredibly unfair, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. 

Well, Bastian could have refused to take the kids in, Ash supposed, but he hadn’t, and something about the guy’s vibe told Ash that he wouldn’t have even thought about that. Bastian seemed like a family guy—his mother had set all of this up, so they must be close too. 

The kitchen was tense when he walked in. Samantha was at the table with Will, and Bastian had his back turned to her, making something. Coffee? 

He walked over and stood beside Bastian. “I’m sorry that I just barged into your home like that, but it seemed like you could use a minute to yourself.” 

“Yeah. A minute. Thanks, man. I’ll get you set up with your rooms and everything here in a bit. I—Thanks for jumping in.” 

The kitchen door thumped open. “Boss? You need to sign off on all this sh—shtuff from the auction house.” 

The man who came stomping in was filthy, smelled bad, and had a voice like a foghorn. 

Walt immediately started wailing, while Will launched himself toward the big guy—who had obviously been rolling in manure. 

Samantha caught Will by his collar and pulled him back, which wasn’t ideal but got the job done. He bounced Walt on his hip and tried not to wrinkle his nose too obviously at the stench. “Oh, good catch, Samantha.” 

The temptation to tell the guy that they were all standing right there, and he needn’t shout was almost irresistible, but he managed for the sake of… something. Respect. Politeness. Just being too new to rock the boat yet. Something. He hadn’t been here an hour and all he’d seen was chaos. The house was serene and stately on the outside, and a whirlwind of emotion and noise and… stinky on the inside. 

“You know it. I took a tumble out there chasing that dinosaur chicken. Sammy, girl, you know your face is going to freeze that way?” 

“Oh for… those ostriches are going to be the death of me. Wylie, this is Allen. Asher Allen. He’s the guy Mama hired from back East.” 

“Well, Allen Asher Allen! Triple A! I’m pleased to meetcha. I need that stuff done for the auction before tomorrow, Boss. Don’t forget.” The big man winked at him. “Y’all need anything from town? Tacos? Beer? A pair of penguins from the zoo?” 

Soap? 

God, that almost came out of his mouth. 

“Penwings!” Will tried to make another run for Wylie, but Samantha was on it. 

“It’s good to meet you, Wylie.” 

Do not say “coyote”. 

Ash was going to get in trouble here. He could feel it. 

“We’ll have a beer later, huh? Everyone will want to meet you. Don’t forget that—” 

Bastian slapped one hand on the counter. “I said I’ll do it, man. Get your skanky ass out of here, or I’ll tell Anna you tracked shit through her kitchen!” 

Whoa. 

Ash flinched and reflexively took a couple of steps backward. Walt was practically inconsolable now, crying into his shoulder. Even Will was a little wide-eyed. 

Samantha huffed and shook her head like all the adults had gone crazy, and maybe they had. 

And who was Anna? He was sure he’d been told Bastian lived alone. 

Wylie, though, he just chuckled and shook his head. “I ain’t scairt. My old lady is a paragon of womanhood. I’ll bring tacos in a bit. See you later, Boss, Triple A, Sammy, lost boys.” 

Huh. Wylie said “ain’t” and used “paragon” correctly in the same breath. This place was wild. “It’s just two A’s actually…” He didn’t manage to get that out before Wylie closed the door. 

Everyone went still in the kitchen for a second, and then Walt started wailing again. “Okay… hey, buddy. It’s all good.” Hopefully. Bastian needed a drink and a nap. And maybe not to have children around, but here they were. “Can I make the kids some eggs?” 

“Of course. What do you need besides eggs? Cheese? Milk? The pots and pans are here.” He opened up a cabinet, and the stacks of pans gleamed. Nice. 

“Yes, all of those things. A mild cheese if you have one? Thank you.” He turned to Samantha. “Do you guys like toast with your eggs? You want them wrapped in a tortilla? Something else?” 

“No tortillas. Only my daddy ate tortillas.” 

Bastian took Walt from him. “Hush, pup. I got you. We’ll go see the puppies after you eat, if you’re nice.” 

Walt grabbed Bastian, leaned in and whispered, and Bastian nodded. “Sure, you can have a tortilla, pup.” 

Ash hid his grin and started scrambling eggs in a large bowl. “So, no spices, Samantha? What about the boys?” 

“Will is no spice. Walt is a New Mexican in his soul, aren’t you, pup? He likes to share chile with his tio, don’t you?” 

“Tio?” He found the cheese and milk, and a loaf of bread. 

“It’s Spanish for uncle. I’m their Tio Bastian.” 

“He’s Uncle Bastian,” Samantha insisted. 

“That works too. I’m easy.” And furious, but holding it in, Ash could see it. 

“What’s Spanish for nanny? Or… Manny?” He chuckled, pouring the eggs into the pan and listened to them sizzle. He popped in the toast for Samantha and pulled out tortillas for the boys. He’d like Will to learn to like a tortilla; it made eating so easy. 

“El niñero.” 

Oh, okay. That was actually really pleasant to the ear. 

“I speak French.” Samantha shook her head. “Not Spanish.” 

“You can speak both.” Bastian didn’t sound the slightest bit worried. 

“Moi aussi, Samantha. But we can learn Spanish, too. And German. And Italian also, if we want to.” 

He noticed then that Walt was quiet. Walt trusted Bastian. Good to know. Maybe Bastian was right about the boy being New Mexican in his soul. 

“Did I tell y’all there is a new foal in the barn? She’s a pretty thing. In a couple of days, we’ll go see her.” 

“You have a foal? How cool. I’ve never seen one except in pictures or TV. What about you Samantha?” 

“I guess I could see her. There’s nothing else to do around here.” 

“Nope. Just miles and miles of nature.” Bastian was trying not to explode—that was obvious—but the cracks were starting to show. 

“Moo cows, Sisser!” Will pronounced. “Kiki and doggies and—” He looked to Bastian. 

“Churro sheep and coyotes and llamas.” 

“Cowdodies! Aroo!” 

He smiled at that because it was so adorable. Bastian had been putting in the time with these kids, despite everything. He put the eggs on plates, wrapping two up with cheese inside tortillas, and set them down on the table for the boys, then put toast on Samantha’s plate. 

“Do you want cheese on your eggs, Samantha?” 

“Yes?” She looked so suspicious, so worried about her answer. 

“Great.” He added some cheese and folded the eggs around it so it would melt. “Here you go.” He leaned toward her and gave her a wink. “You’re allowed to like what you like.” 

“Yeah. I don’t like spicy food. I don’t like oats. I don’t like it here.” 

Bastian sat with Walt. “You want to sit on your seat, pup? Eat some good eggs?” 

Walt nodded and sat down to eat, tearing into the tortilla. Will had already finished half of his. 

“What can I make for you, Bastian? Or should we have some dinner after we put the kids down and… talk a little?” 

“I think you and I have to make a plan. I’ll need to show you your rooms and all that. How about planning to meet post getting the twins down?” 

“Sounds good. I’ve got this if you want to relax a little, or… go see what Wylie needed you for.” Helpful. He was there to look after the kids, but also to be a help to Bastian. That’s what Bastian’s mother had said. My boy needs help. 

“Perfect. I’m going to go send that information to the auction house, then we’ll see the puppies, okay y’all?” 

“Pees.” Walt nodded, offering Bastian a smile. 

This was a good start. Jumping in was somehow better than taking it slow and awkward introductions. He was here now, working already, helping where he could. 

The hardest part of this job wasn’t going to be two wild twin boys like he’d thought. It was going to be Samantha. 

And her tio.

Title: Diamonds in the Rough
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0D2YLD3B2

No Ghosts

March 10, 2020 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: The Cowboy and the Dom Series #3
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: March 10, 2020
Pages: 297

 

Razor's Edge: The Cowboy and the Dom Trilogy, Book Three

Months after James’s brutal murder, Sam gets an opportunity to help Thomas find closure. That means leaving New York City to travel to the O’Reilly’s Texas home, to meet Sam’s parents and get a taste of how and where the O’Reilly brothers grew up.

Their vacation is also an opportunity for Thomas and Sam to move beyond the past, drop their remaining baggage, and finally solidify their tumultuous relationship.

But that may be easier said than done given that Thomas has a secret he’s been keeping from Sam, and Sam is sick and tired of everyone in his life knowing what’s going on but him. It’s the worst time for their trust to break down, because their final confrontation with James’s killer looms, and if they’re going to walk away, they’ll have to do it together.

Note to our readers: Each of the three books in The Cowboy and the Dom Series has a fully realized, romantic ending. However, the overarching suspense element will leave readers on a cliffhanger after books one and two, to be fully resolved in book three (this book). Readers should begin the series with book one, First Rodeo.

Buy the Book: Amazon~~Barnes & Noble~~iBooks~~Publisher~~Kobo~~Smashwords~~Universal eBook Links

Also in this series:

EXCERPT

Chapter One

“No, Sam can’t be alone yet. Can you set up a conference call?” Thomas stared at the Scrabble board. “After three.”

“Three thirty?” Thomas’s assistant, Ally, was on the phone, being her usual organized self and covering for him while he was out of the office, looking after his lover.

“Yes, that’ll work. Put it on my calendar and email me the slide deck?”

“Sure thing, I’m doing that right now.” He could hear Ally typing. “Doctor Kinessey called about continuing his sponsorship for next year.”

While they were talking, Thomas pulled a handful of Scrabble tiles off his rack and placed them on the board, spelling out C-A-N-D-Y. Not great, but not terrible. He gave Sam a shrug and a smile and paced away from the board, one eye still on his lover, his sub.

“When did he call? Did Kathy call him—”

“Yesterday. She’s on it.”

“Oh, good. That’s promising.”

Sam tilted his head, playing Y-O-D-E-L-I-N-G. “You can go in, Mister. I swear.”

He shook his head and mouthed the word No to Sam.

“So how’s the cowboy?”

He stared at the board and sighed. “Jesus.”

“That bad?”

“What? No. No that wasn’t for you. He’s much better. I’m just getting my ass handed to me in Scrabble. Sorry.”

“Okay…that’s not sexy at all. So…ah. Amanda wants to know if you’re planning on making an appeal at the donor gala next month.”

“Yes. Tell her I’m interested, and I’ll try to get in to see her early next week.”

“She goes on vacation Wednesday.”

“Oh. Okay, well Monday, then.”

“You’re sure?”

He had to return to work someday. Sam would be coping by then. “Yes, Monday.”

“Okay, Boss. That’s all I got. Check in with me later?”

“All right. I’ll call you around four.” Thomas looked at his watch. He was pretty proud of himself. He was up, showered, shaved, he’d made breakfast, and even gotten dressed today. It was as if he were real.

“Kiss your cowboy!”

He snorted. “Thanks, Ally.” He hung up the phone. “You cheated.”

“I did not. I’m just brilliant.” Sam stuck his tongue out at him and rolled those pretty eyes. Once Sam’s stitches had come out, the boy shaved his head, and with the knit caps he wore constantly these days, Sam’s eyes seemed huge.

“I liked it better when you still had the concussion and you thought the Hs were Ls and the Vs were Ws.” He picked five tiles and stared at his new letters thoughtfully. “Ah.” He grinned. Maybe he could keep up after all. He played D-E-V-I-C-E off Sam’s D in “yodeling” and replaced the tiles in his rack. “Looks like I’m going back in on Monday.”

“I’m more than capable of managing. I’ve got this. I’ll even make you chili.” A-X-E-S and D-E-V-I-C-E-S? Thomas was about to pinch Sam.

“We’ll have to talk about some ground rules while I’m not home.” He turned Sam’s “axes” into T-A-X-E-S and also put down A-B-L-E off his T.

“Nicely done. What kind of ground rules? I’m just going to work, mostly. I’m still five hundred emails behind.” Sam played V-O-L-E.

“Well, for starters, no working out.” God, he had impossible tiles. He sighed and used the C in “candy” to make R-I-C-E. Pathetic.

“I’ll get soft in the middle, you know.”

“You can do some crunches when I get home. But no running at all.”

“No. Not yet. Maybe in a little while, but…no. Not yet.” Sam reached out for him.

He abandoned his letters, moved around the coffee table to sit closer to his boy, and took Sam’s hand in his. “Yes. That’s right. Not yet.”

“Mmm…hey.” Sam twined their fingers together, holding on to him.

“Hi.” Thomas gave his boy a smile. “It’ll be good, won’t it? Getting back to our routine.” If they could even call it that. Sam had only just moved in when he was attacked and hospitalized, so they hadn’t had a routine in place for more than a couple of weeks. But Sam had been happy before all this insanity, working on his book and making progress on his research projects. The focus had been good for his boy.

“You know it. I’m aching for a little normal. Just a little. Maybe a lot.”

“Aching, yes.” He’d been fine all week. His body had been just as focused on Sam’s recovery as his mind. But talking about normal suddenly made him want his lover back.

He reached for Sam and pulled his boy in for a kiss.

Sam’s hand was warm on Thomas’s cheek, his thumb moving lazily, stroking under his eye.

His boy smelled like Old Spice and tasted a little wild, just like his cowboy should. He slid a hand over Sam’s hip and tucked it under one firm ass cheek, giving it a squeeze. The grin he got was pure happiness, Sam leaning hard into his touch.

His boy’s energy lit him up and he grinned, catching those hazel eyes, loving the little extra green he saw there this time. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere, cowboy?”

“That’s the rumor. You found me wandering, I hear. All aimless and shit.” Sam licked the corner of his lips, the sensation featherlight, intriguing.

“Right, aimless. I remember now.” He huffed out a soft laugh. “Well, we can’t have that. I’m sure I’ve got something you can focus on.” He nudged Sam’s chin up with his own and inhaled against smooth skin, breathing his boy in.

“Mmm…” That satisfied sound settled deep in his balls. “Oh, that’s just right.”

“Mhm.” He licked and kissed his way past Sam’s throat, humming as he felt the boy swallow against his lips, and tested the bend near the boy’s shoulder with his teeth.

Sam moaned for him, moving sweet and slow against him, almost like he was dancing. It didn’t take anything at all to encourage Sam into his lap; then he had that perfect ass rocking into him.

“Yes.” That was what he was after. Heat spread up his spine, making him suck in a quick, deep breath. “That’s good, sweetheart.” He slipped his hands up under Sam’s T-shirt and explored the hot skin and hard muscles with knowing fingers.

Sam stared at him, letting him see all the hunger, the love. It could get addictive fast, that open desire.

A piece of him was so ready for a throwdown, but he took a breath and made that wait because his hands needed to feel Sam whole; to feel his lover’s strength, make sure it was real, make sure Sam could handle what was building in him.

He reached up and traced the edge of Sam’s cap. “Are you sure?”

“I am. I got this.” Sam kissed him hard enough that he forgot to breathe. “I need to feel us together, you know?”

He found a breath, thin though it was. “I do. I want you. God, so much.” He urged Sam off his lap and stood. “I have to have all of you.”

“Yes. Every bit.” Sam nodded and led him to the bedroom, hands sweating just a little. Thomas followed eagerly, captivated, recognizing the gesture for what it was. As they moved into the room, he tugged off his T-shirt and tossed it, going for another kiss, chasing down Sam’s lips.

Sam opened up, hands sliding down into his sweats, easing them over his ass.

Thomas kicked his jeans off, stepping past them and reaching for Sam’s T-shirt. He got hold of the fabric but stopped himself, eyes glancing up at the knit cap on Sam’s shaved head. He lifted the shirt off, careful not to bump anything that might still be sore, and dropped it.

“May I?” he asked, catching Sam’s eyes, fingers reaching for the hat, the only garment his lover was still wearing.

“I don’t want to turn you off, Mister.” There was a question in Sam’s expression, a test.

Thomas tilted his head, wondering why his lover couldn’t see how entirely unnecessary that was, but he gave Sam the only answer he had…and his heart with it. “I want all of you, sweetheart. I love all of you. Every bit. Always.”

“All right, then. Yeah.” Sam took the hat off, no more hesitation, trusting in his word.

He was continually in awe of the depth of Sam’s trust in him. He smiled, gave his boy a nod, and ran his fingers lightly from front to back, across Sam’s skull, examining the scars and what was left of the bruises, learning them a little and accepting them as part of who the boy was to him. “Thank you.”

He planned to reward that trust tonight for as long as they could stand it. He took a kiss, bumping against Sam as they shuffled toward the bed.

Sam snuggled in, pressing into him, shoulders to hips, holding nothing back.

“Mmm.” He got his arms around Sam. “You feel so good. I was missing you like this. I’m so ready to get lost in you, sweetheart. Inside you.” He shifted, trapping Sam’s cock against his hip and rocking them together.

Sam made the best sound—half moan and half happy yelp—and his eyelids went heavy. Thomas tugged Sam in tighter, giving him more friction, making his boy feel the pressure.

“Good, yes?” He could feel Sam moving…always moving, his boy. One more thing he’d missed. He was aching in earnest now, wanting Sam’s attention, his boy’s touch. He was patient, though. He’d get what he desired most. For now, he was enjoying watching Sam feel, watching his boy begin to dissolve.

“Oh, Mister. Good don’t begin to…” Sam’s words trailed off, a low moan taking their place as a deep flush climbed his chest.

Not even close, he knew. “My boy,” he said with a growl that started down deep. He moved to the bed, pulling Sam with him by the hand. “Come on, sweetheart, off your feet.”

Sam crawled up onto the bed, arms open to him, begging for him. His boy did need so well. It was a beautiful sight. It made him breathless, eroded what was left of his patience. He moved over Sam and into those arms, gliding his stiff prick along hot skin and kissing his boy until they were equally unable to breathe.

He made sure that tender, bruised head was cradled in the pillows, but that was where he let his worry stop. Sam’s body would tell him everything he should know.

With his eyes on his boy, he curled his fingers firmly around Sam’s cock and stroked, thumb dragging up the back and circling around the head, just to see it in Sam’s face. Just to see what he was doing reflected in his boy’s eyes.

Sam’s lips dropped open and one leg drew up, his knee bending to give him more access.

The knowledge that two weeks ago Thomas might have lost this, that he might not have had his boy in his bed again was present with him as he touched Sam, watched the boy move. It wasn’t distracting or even painful, not with the reality of Sam right in front of him, but it made him appreciate this first time together since the incident, made him more acutely aware of what they had, what they were together.

It made some of his other worries feel less significant, less pressing. That was their work. This was their world, and he was more than content in it.

He reached for his nightstand, craving his lover beyond words.

“Damn, you’re pretty.” Sam reached up, fingers stroking his nipple to hardness, pinching the barest bit, teasing him.

He hissed at the quick little jolt that sent across his chest, raising goose bumps and making him shiver. “Thank you.” He was going to accept those words, the same way his lover had accepted his own earlier. Simply. He was trying to be better about that.

He smoothed the rubber over his cock and offered his boy two slippery fingers and a little pressure. “Soon, boy. Need you soon.”

Sam pinched again before bearing down, taking his fingers in. Sam was silk inside, tight and heated, and Thomas groaned at the promise Sam’s body made.

He twisted his fingers as Sam took them in, slicking and teasing, stretching and making sure his boy relaxed. The last was hardly necessary, as Sam felt loose and ready. That made the corner of his mouth twitch in a knowing grin. His boy wanted everything he did.

He’d never known a man that had so little sexual experience and so much natural instinct, such deep desires. It suited him to be Sam’s first and only. It made him just that much more proud, and it was hot as hell. He groaned as that thought settled right into his groin, making his balls tight and his cock stretch. Fuck. “Sweetheart…”

“Mister. Please, love me, huh?” Sam spread wide, knees bent in a clear offer.

Damn, it didn’t get any hotter than that. “Love you.” He lined up, one fist around his cock to guide himself, and sank into his boy to the root with a long sigh. Sam rippled around him, the sensation driving another spike of heat up along his spine.

He stretched over Sam, instinct already driving him. Sam’s need was making him high, making it hard to think but easy just to let his body have what it wanted. Sam met his thrusts, gaze dragging over his body like his boy wanted to devour him.

“Fuck, Sam.” He leaned down and kissed his boy, hard and deep, thrusting in with his tongue even as his hips went wild. “Feel so good. Perfect.”

“Yes.” Sam nodded, biting his bottom lip, white teeth just digging in.

Sam’s prick pressed into his belly and he reached for it again, giving the boy just enough of a grip to feel it. That soft cast slapped against the sheets, Sam’s right hand fisting tight. “Oh, damn. Fuck. Want you so bad.”

He ducked his head and shifted his hips a bit, the steeper angle giving him a little more rub. “Fuck!”

Sam wrapped those strong legs around him, adding all that core strength to his, and shit, he was going to lose it. Sam rode him like no one else, frantic, hungry, pushing them both. He grunted and gave in, breathing hard, single-minded, taking everything Sam offered and returning it. He loved the way they worked together, no shame, no boundaries, just giving and getting everything they needed.

“Sam!” He had to let go of Sam’s cock to brace himself before he fell over; his boy was so strong, and he had to balance.

Sam bore down, squeezed hard around his cock, and Thomas barked out a sharp cry. Thomas trembled and gulped in air, thrusting uselessly, his cock choked by Sam’s body. To his own ears, his shout sounded hoarse as his climax roared through him, just a breath before he was ready, one second before he’d have lost control himself, his own pleasure summoned by his beautifully impatient boy.

“So-so fucking fine,” Sam breathed, right hand pulling at his needy cock, clumsy, harsh, awkward.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Jesus, his voice felt blown. He pushed Sam’s hand away and took over, strokes solid and steady, Sam’s cock gliding through his fist as he watched the pleasure roll over his boy’s face in waves.

“Mister!” Sam shuddered and shot for him, ass still clamped tight around his cock.

Thomas groaned as another jolt ran through him, making the blood roar in his ears and his vision blur. He blinked it clear, wanting to see his boy, wanting to watch. “You’re stunning, love.”

Sam panted for him, blinking up with a purely dazed expression.

Oh, that was adorable.

He leaned down, took a slightly breathless kiss, and smiled at Sam. “That was…you’re…fuck, I love you.” He had so much to say, but he didn’t seem to have words yet, so he hoped that summed it up well enough.

“Love.” Sam moaned for him, licking Thomas’s lips. “Wow, huh?”

He nodded. That about covered it. “Yes. Wow. Incredible.” He kissed Sam again. “The way you drive me out of my mind.”

Sam grinned at him. “Good. I’m so glad. I want to make you feel as good as you make me.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Without even trying.” He put a hand on Sam’s hip and shifted, dropped the rubber in the bin by the bed, and stretched out alongside his boy.

“Mmm…that is one of my favorite feelings on Earth.” Sam sounded utterly tickled.

He laughed in agreement. It felt good to have this back, the warmth, his boy so relaxed, nothing between them but skin.

“It feels much better than being crushed at Scrabble.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sam patted his leg, fingers trailing over his skin. “I missed making love with you, Mister.”

His chest tightened at Sam’s words. “Yes, so much. We needed this, sweetheart. I was craving you.” Mindful of the boy’s injuries, he pulled Sam to him, helping his lover settle in his arms. Sam didn’t hesitate for a second; he snuggled in with a satisfied sigh, resting hard against Thomas’s chest.

He held his boy close, grateful to have felt Sam’s strength, to know for sure that every bit of Sam was solid and whole. They still had other pieces of their relationship to visit, other aspects of their lives to bring back around to normal, but as far as new beginnings went, this was the perfect start.

 

Title: No Ghosts, The Cowboy and the Dom Book Three
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0851V13ZS
ISBN13: 978-1951011291

 

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Flying Blind

July 9, 2020 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: East Meets Western #3
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: July 28, 2020
Pages: 427

Flying Blind

An East Meets Western M/M Romance

Sometimes the best thing about living in New York is leaving it.

When January Bell takes a risk on a business trip to Denver and introduces himself to the hot as fire rodeo cowboy across the bar, he has no idea what he’s in for. Hawk is like nobody he’s ever met, and Jan finds he is intrigued enough to want more than just one night with the deceptively complex man.

Hawk Destry is working hard to wring every moment he can out of his bull riding career. He’s used to beating the eight second clock, but he is slowly losing his eyesight and he doesn’t have a lot of years left in the sport.

None of that seems to matter, though, when Hawk meets January, who treats him like he’s worth more off a bull than on one, and who’s willing to work just as hard to be with him.

The two men have to deal with distance and traveling, unexpected challenges when Hawk visits New York, family on both sides, and neither of them saw any of it coming. Eventually even Hawk’s dangerous job is thrown into sharp relief when tragedy strikes. How will January and Hawk find their way if they’re flying blind?

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Also in this series:
Cover for Cowboy for Sale, featuring a man in a cowboy hat wearing a checkered shirt.

 

Chapter One

Sometimes the best thing about living in New York City was leaving it.

“What can I get you?” The hotel bartender was burly and handsome, with deep-set dark eyes under a heavy brow and an easy smile framed by a carefully trimmed beard.

January smiled at the man and slid a credit card across the bar. “Do you have Glenlivet?”

“Yessir, twelve okay?”

“That’s fine. A double.”

The bartender picked up his card and glanced at it. “Running a tab, Mister Bell?”

“Yes, thank you, uh…”

He got a friendly smile. “Alex.”

January nodded. “Good to meet you, Alex.”

“What brings you to Denver?” Alex pulled the bottle down from a high shelf and set a glass on the bar in front of him. “Business? A wedding?”

He grinned and shook his head. It was a hotel bar and he was wearing one of his favorite suits. Either one of those things was a good bet. “Just a couple of business meetings.” He wasn’t going to say much more, he didn’t like to talk about his philanthropy. But his foundation was always searching for new opportunities and sometimes he had to travel to find them.

Alex poured him a generous double, put the cap on the bottle and left it within easy reach. Good call.

A pair of women waved to get Alex’s attention and the bartender inclined his head. “Excuse me. We’ll get busy here in a bit. Wave when you need me.”

“Will do. Thank you.” He swirled his whiskey and sniffed it, sighing as the rich, warm scent filled his nostrils, making his mouth water. The weather report was on the TV over the bar and he was surprised that despite the altitude, it wasn’t much cooler in Denver than it was back home. Even so, the Mile High City was much more pleasant than the Big Apple tonight.

January touched the glass to his lips, savoring the burn as that first jarring sip soaked into his tongue and slid down his throat, setting him tingling. They’d split up months ago, but this was only his second trip without Lucas and, although the bar was lively, he still felt lonely.

Or no.

Not so much lonely as alone.

He was bad at alone. He’d been both blessed and cursed with a strong, extroverted personality. He could talk to anyone, but he really did need someone to talk to, and his first glass of whiskey was always too quiet.

A raucous band pushed and bounced through the door—cowboy hats and jeans and an amazing array of sports tape and IcyHot and bruises.

“Yo, Alex!”

“Guys, Coors Light all around?”

“All but for Charlie here, man. He lost his fight with Railrunner.” One of the cowboys bellied up to the bar, damn near blinding him with a wild, excited shit-eating grin. “Let’s make him a virgin something frozen.”

Cowboys. One more reason to love Denver.

“You got it.” Alex set four silver cans on the bar. “One fakey Pina Colada, coming up.”

January glanced at the cowboy over his glass. “Somebody is on the good drugs, huh?” This cowboy seemed pretty beat up too.

“Got his ass trampled in the dirt, yessir. Made his ride, though.” God, that smile—part Dennis the Menace, part Mathew McConaughey.

Made his ride? Come on, Jan. You’re a smart guy. The pieces were floating around but he wasn’t putting them together. Injured cowboy, summertime, Denver.

Trampled. Did cowboys do MMA? January tilted his head, failing to get a look at the eyes shadowed by the man’s hat, though he caught the bright blond hair well enough.

“Railrunner, huh? Son of a bitch.” Alex peered over his shoulder at the group of men in hats as the blender whirred. “Is Charlie still on the roster for tomorrow? My girl got tickets for the show. I might have a little money on him.” Alex grinned at the cowboy sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Tickets.

“Sure he is, but you wasted your money. I’m in a solid third, and I’m taking the short-go and the event, you watch.” The guy didn’t seem to be worried in the least, or offended.

“It’s no fun to go after the easy money.” That was an obvious tease. “I guess I’ll see how you do tomorrow, won’t I?” Alex shut the blender off, poured the frozen mixture into a glass and set it on the bar. A couple of arms reached between January and the cowboy and pulled all the drinks off the bar, leaving one beer behind.

I’ll take rodeo for five-hundred, Alex. “Bulls?”

“Oh, these crazy bastards are bull riders. Good guys, great tippers, but rowdy? Wow.”

Wow was right. But they were just having fun, which was good by him. “I can’t say I’ve ever met a bull rider.”

“You want me to introduce you to Hawk there? He’s hilarious. He’s like talking to someone from a movie or something.”

He did like the accent. The shoulders too, if he was honest. And the cowboy’s ass, if he let himself go there.

And why not go there?

“Sure. I’d love that.” He’d talked to celebrities before, even straight ones.

“I’ll make the intros when he comes to grab his beer.” Alex nodded to him, like he did this every day, which January supposed he did.

“Cool. Thanks.” Well, that would never happen in New York. He sipped his drink, enjoying the warmth and watched the group of men out of the corner of his eye. So much testosterone standing in those boots. It was hot as hell.

Hawk did, in fact, come for his beer, nodding to Alex as his hand wrapped around it. “Charlie says you did good, man. Thanks.”

“No problem. Hey, you met Mr. Bell here? He’s in on business.”

“I haven’t.” Hawk turned to him, eyes hidden behind thick, little round glasses, and held out one square, scarred up hand. “Hawk Destry, pleased to meet you.”

It only took him a second to decide it wasn’t worth the risk of getting his ass kicked, so when he shook Hawk’s hand he was careful to keep it all business, despite the allure of that stubborn chin. “January Bell. Good to meet you too. Alex says you’re a bull rider?”

“That’s the rumor.” Hawk climbed up on the barstool next to him, the man laughing at himself. “Some days I do better than others.”

January grinned. “Didn’t you say you had this one in the bag?”

“I sure did, and I stand by that. Assuming I get a good draw, my bull rope doesn’t pop on me, and I keep riding like I have, I’m golden.” Hawk chuckled and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Good thing I tend to ride good late in the season, huh?”

He wasn’t sure how Hawk managed to pull off arrogance and self-awareness at the same time. It was fascinating. Maybe the smile kind of smoothed out the edges. Whatever it was, January liked it. “Your draw is what? The order you ride in?”

“The bull you ride. The order goes by ranking. Right now I’m sitting in third. We’ll see if I can’t improve it.”

He’d love to have this cowboy in the bag. “Are any of these guys ahead of you right now?” He knew he was wasting his time, but January dared to lean in a little anyway and took a sip of his whiskey.

He swore he saw Hawk’s nostrils flare, the man tuning into him. “Charlie is, but he’s hurting bad.” The words were a fascinating mixture of sympathy and complete lack of care. “Tell me about you, now. Here on business?”

“Yes. I’ve got a couple of meetings, then I head back to New York.” He tossed out a bone. “Just three nights.”

“New York, huh? I been there a couple times for events. It’s huge and shiny. Lots of folks.”

“It’s both of those things. I love it, though the hustle and the crowds can get a little much sometimes.” Thankfully he had a little sanctuary on the Upper West Side with a view of the park. He spoiled himself, he knew. Even his suite at the hotel was a splurge. “Did you like it when you visited?”

“Sure did. I like seeing new stuff. My job keeps me on the road a lot, so it’s a good thing.” Was Hawk checking him out? Surely not. They didn’t make gay cowboys, did they?

“I get away once a month or so. More in the summer if I can find an excuse. It’s hot in the city. I like the mountains, even if I don’t get there as often as I’d like. I have a great view from my suite though.” He turned on his stool and swept the hem of his suit jacket off his hip to give Hawk more to glance at, if in fact the cowboy was looking. “Do you drink scotch? This is a nice one.”

“Is it?” That smile flashed again. “Let me buy us a round, then. See if our tastes mesh.”

Oh ho. So cowboys do come in gay. Sweet.

January caught Hawk’s arm as the man reached for his wallet, trying again to get a peek at Hawk’s eyes. The glasses were adorably geeky, incongruous under the hat. “Let me, please.”

There was a sizzling moment where the air between them burned, and it was blistering, dangerous, and sexual as hell. “Sounds like a plan.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” He let go of Hawk’s arm and waved the bartender over. There was no reason to play games with the pull so strong and clear between them. “Alex? I’ll take the bottle, and I’d like to close out my tab please.”

Alex seemed a little confused but nodded and punched something into the register. “You got it.”

January dipped his fingers into his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a business card and a pen, and wrote his suite number on the back.

“Sign here, Mr. Bell. I hope everything is all right?”

“Just fine, thank you.” He wrote in a generous tip and signed his name, then lifted the half-full bottle of whiskey off the bar and handed the business card to Hawk. “I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

“Give me two shakes to finish my beer.” Hawk lifted the bottle and saluted him before he headed over to his friends, moving slow and giving him a chance to see.

“Making new friends with a sh-uit, Hawk?” Charlie was slurring a bit, but between the bruised jaw and the drugs that wasn’t surprising. “What is he, a sh-ponsor?”

Hawk looked back at him, winked, then turned back to the group, giving him a nice view at a tiny, perfectly framed ass. “He ain’t with the tour, man. I thought maybe he was a fan. Y’all going to get Charlie here up to his bed?”

He was definitely a fan. Just not of the rodeo.

He left Hawk to finish his beer and make whatever exit he needed to make and took his bottle of scotch upstairs to his top-floor suite, where he poured himself another shot of liquid courage. He didn’t feel guilty or awkward; those weren’t things he had time for. But it had been a while since he’d quite so obviously let his dick do the thinking.

It wasn’t long before a knock sounded on the door, shave and a haircut. Hell, even the knock was brash, bold. He set two glasses next to the bottle on the dresser and went to answer the door.

There was a cowboy at his door all right. Boots, hat, jeans, square shoulders, bravado and all. Something about the way Hawk was standing felt a little like a challenge.

“Hey. Come on in.”

“Thanks for the invite. I appreciate it.”

“It’s… good to be appreciated.” He’d heard a lot of pick-up lines, but that was a new one. He stepped aside to let Hawk enter, laughing gently as he closed and locked the door behind them. “Do you not get many invitations?”

“I’ve had a couple three. Just needed to make sure we understood what I came up for.” Suddenly Hawk was right there, solid as a rock, one hand on his hip.

“Scotch?” January teased.

Jesus. Hawk was giving off more heat than the sun. And with that touch on his hip, whatever electricity had passed between them at the bar was back, only this time without the restraint of public eyes on them, January could do what he’d wanted to do then. He reached for Hawk’s shirt and tugged it out of the well-worn wranglers, slipping a hand under the hem to rest on warm skin and the hardest set of abs he’d ever felt. “Damn, cowboy.”

“I live and die on core strength.” Hawk found one of his nipples through his dress shirt, thumb dragging over his skin.

Nothing like finding one of his hottest hot spots on the first try. January hissed and leaned into the touch, fingers going to work on Hawk’s shirt, buttons sliding open one by one from the bottom up. He inhaled deeply, the scent of hungry man making his balls ache. He reached up with both hands and touched the frame of Hawk’s glasses, raising an eyebrow. “May I?”

“Sure. Put them somewhere safe.” The stroking turned into a firm pinch.

His toes curled. That was fucking right. “Easy, I don’t want to drop them.” He took Hawk’s glasses, folded them carefully and set them behind him on the dresser, right next to the bottle of scotch. Didn’t get much safer than that. He bent a little, but he still couldn’t get a look at those eyes, hiding under the brim of Hawk’s hat.

He shrugged his jacket off catching it with one hand and tossing it over a chair.

“Where was I? Oh right. Here.” He fanned his fingers out across those abs again. “Living and dying.”

“Mmhmm.” Hawk put his hat, brim up, on the end table, exposing a short-cropped mass of white curls, and light blue eyes that were almost crystalline. Impressive. And lovely.

He pushed the shirt off Hawk’s shoulders and took a light, tentative kiss, wondering, asking. Not every man he’d known was into kissing a one-night stand. The answer was straightforward and direct—Hawk kissed him like he was storming a beach at Normandy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. It was so on.

He helped Hawk get the shirt off while they fought for tongue positions and with each other’s buttons and zippers. He got his fingers under Hawk’s waistband and cupped a smooth, hot ass cheek that was nearly as muscled as the cowboy’s abs. Fuck, that was hot. He worked out, but January felt like a marshmallow next to this guy.

Hawk was like a marble statue come to life—chiseled and hard, but still burning with his need. Burning he understood. He shouldered Hawk toward the bed. “Sit.” He gave Hawk a light shove to make his point and tugged the man’s jean’s over his hips.

“Let me get my boots, or I’ll be caught at the ankle.”

“Boots? Oh.” He stepped out of the way and watched as Hawk wrestled with the boots and the denim. Huh. He’d file that under things to know before fucking a cowboy.

He kicked off his own shoes while Hawk dealt with footwear drama and tossed his shirt aside with them.

Hawk stripped down, showing off a heavy cock, icy pubes, and a set of feathers inked over his collarbones.

“I hadn’t planned on bringing a stacked, sexy cowboy to my suite tonight, you know. I thought I’d be finishing another glass or two and watching a game on TV.” He kicked everything aside and stood at a short distance, letting Hawk have an eyeful too. Hawk seemed so young, naked and blue eyed and without that hat. He felt a little old.

“Mmm, that would be a waste. Look at you. I could eat your happy ass alive.”

He was a little more interested in Hawk’s happy ass, frankly. He moved forward, the proximity making him burn and his fingers long to touch. Hawk’s blond curls were baby soft as he ran his fingers through them and long enough to tug.

So he did. “How about my cock instead?”

“Oh, I do like a man that knows what he wants.” Those icy eyes flashed up at him. “You going to get it up again and fuck me like I need?”

Wow. Those eyes. And talk about knowing what you wanted. “Not to worry. I’m only offering you a taste, cowboy. We had an understanding, I think.”

“Only a taste, hmm? We’ll see about that. I’m pretty damn good at what I do.” Hawk cupped his balls, squeezing enough to bring him up on his toes.

Okay sure good whatever you want. He leaned into the touch. Something about this guy made him so ready to let go. But he had plans too.

“Humble. I’ve heard that about cowboys.”

“Meek. Mild. Salt of the earth.” Hawk understood how to unfasten another man’s slacks.

“Four for four.” He watched Hawk’s scarred fingers work, thinking they were surprisingly delicate for someone that spent most of their time with thousand-pound animals.

“You forgot hard as nails and twice as tough.”

He sucked in a breath as his cock and the air-conditioned room met. “Oh, now you’re talking about me.”

“Mmm, look at this fine bit of rope.” Hawk measured him, base to tip, then did it again, lips opening to take his tip in.

January sighed and reminded himself to be patient, but his fingers made a fist in the cowboy’s hair anyway, blond curls popping up between his knuckles. He knew without asking that Hawk would be more than ready for whatever he wanted to dish out, but he was still a gentleman despite all appearances at the moment.

First times and all, right?

Hawk cupped his balls, rolling them and making him gasp, even as Hawk’s mouth dropped down and down, the blistering suction surrounding his prick.

“Mmm.” All right, it seemed like Hawk did have something to brag about. January spread his feet wider and arched his hips forward, his eyes glued to that hungry mouth. Hawk went down on him like a Hoover, taking him in to the root and swallowing hard before moving back up to work his tip.

He closed his eyes to feel for a minute, enjoy Hawk’s heat. Hawk’s mouth was heaven, he could let the cowboy take him all the way like this for sure. Sometime, when he was with a lover he knew he’d see more than once, he would let himself indulge again. But he wanted Hawk. He wanted that strong, muscled body underneath him.

Soon. January shivered and groaned as Hawk swallowed, throat going tight around his prick. Maybe soon-ish.

In a minute.

First, he needed to enjoy what this cowboy could teach him about flying.

“Jesus.” He opened his eyes again. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll still feel me when you win tomorrow night.”

“Mmhmm…” The hum sent vibrations all the way through to his bones. Fuck, Hawk was too good at this.

Too Goddamn good, and he’d had a little scotch. “Enough.” The word came out softer than he’d intended, raspy in his dry throat. He tried again, with more conviction. “I said a taste, cowboy. That’s enough.”

He tugged on Hawk’s hair, and his cock popped out of Hawk’s lips. They both groaned at the loss, with Hawk swaying on the mattress.

“That’s it.” He did appreciate a man that enjoyed giving head. “Crawl on up there and let me see that ass.” It was a thing of beauty in blue jeans, and Hawk obviously knew it. January was looking forward to what the denim had been hiding.

Hawk crawled up to the head of the bed, pretty little ass swaying back and forth to tease the fuck out of him.

“Mm-mm.” He reached across the bed to give one round cheek a love-tap, then slid out of his trousers. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a perfect ass?”

“Oh, flattery will so get you laid.” Hawk knelt up tall, ass cheeks clenched tight.

“Proud of it, are you?” He knelt right behind Hawk, coaxing Hawk’s knees open a little wider with his own, and slid his hands along the line of Hawk’s hips until they met, stretching wide again across those killer abs.

“You know it.” He could feel the way those muscles worked to keep them both upright.

He pressed close to Hawk’s back, letting his cock nestle into the warm cleft of that fine ass, and tasted a scarred shoulder with his tongue. That earned him a soft moan, and Hawk rocked back, ass teasing the hell out of him.

“There’s a little black bag next to your hat on the nightstand. Can you reach it?” So, he hadn’t made plans, but he was prepared anyway. Nothing put a damper on a spontaneous tryst like stopping in the hotel gift shop for a rubber, or worse, discovering it was closed.

“You got it.” Hawk settled deeper, thighs parted as he balanced and reached. Oh. Oh, that was the promise of pure sex. He slipped a hand through that inviting gap and cupped Hawk’s balls. They were silky and heavy and filled his whole hand.

Even better, they were shaved, smooth as silk, making all sorts of promises, each one better than another. Something told him waxing wasn’t cowboy standard issue. So intriguing, this man. A tangle of stereotypes and contradictions that Hawk simply owned, without shame or apology. It was sexy as hell.

“Tada!” Hawk straightened up, chuckling as he did. “That’s a right obliques workout. I’ll have to remember that.”

“I know I won’t forget it any time soon,” he teased and unzipped the little pouch pulling out what he needed. “That was a truly memorable view.”

Hawk put his hands on the wall behind the bed and arched, showing off shamelessly.

He swallowed hard. “Damn, Hawk.” January slicked a couple of fingers and touched the cool lube to the cowboy’s beautifully presented hole.

“Guy’s got to know how to get what he needs.”

“You don’t have to beg me, cowboy. I’m all in.” He slipped one finger inside, twisting it and circling the rim before adding a second.

Tight. He could only imagine that heat around his cock, working him. Milking him.

And Hawk was definitely focused and clear about what he needed. Jan was looking forward to blowing the cowboy’s mind a little. “I’m so ready for you.”

“Bring it on.” Hawk was so fierce, so in control of what he wanted.

January moved in close and lined up, wondering for a second if it would be rude to remind the man to breathe. “We’ll start easy.” He hooked one hand around Hawk’s hip and used his body weight to start to push inside, groaning as he met the natural resistance of Hawk’s body.

He heard the soft, shaky exhale, the first hint of any vulnerability at all. The truth of it was beautiful though and it made him shiver, the chance to own a piece of the cowboy’s swagger, even for an hour, giving him a thrill.

“I’ve got you.” He bent over Hawk’s back and rocked forward, sinking deeper into that incredibly tight heat. “Breathe. It’s good.”

“Yeah. Fucking A it is.” Hawk leaned toward him, hips moving in a steady rhythm that threatened to steal his breath.

He worked with Hawk, picking up the cowboy’s rhythm and taking it deeper, stronger. The way it built up on its own was so sweet, made him ache just right.

“Oh honey, like that. Just like that.”

That was better. That sounded like need.

“Yeah.” January focused on Hawk, his own need slowly building. “You’re going to lose your mind before I’m done with you.”

“Promises, promises.” Hawk gripped him, squeezing hard enough to steal his breath.

“Fuck,” he managed to bite out, followed by a deep grunt. Hawk was way too fucking together. He reached under and caught the cowboy’s thick prick in one hand, gripping it tight.

January felt that response, all around his cock, and the soft grunt that he got from Hawk proved that he had the cowboy’s attention.

“Hot.” He stroked hard several times before letting go and taking hold of Hawk’s narrow hips with both hands instead. He picked up the pace and drove in deep, moving beyond Hawk’s direction and taking them where he wanted to be.

Hawk reached down with one hand, pumping himself hard. With the couple of brain cells not busy, January managed to be impressed with Hawk’s balance.

That was the end of rational. He hauled back on Hawk’s hips. The sound of their bodies coming together over and over filled the room along with their rough breathing. He was determined to hold out for Hawk, but that sweet ass clung to him, hot and tight, and it took all his concentration.

“Come on. Harder. So fucking close.” The words weren’t a plea; they were a demand.

“Pushy fucking cowboy.”

He set his jaw, stared down the back of Hawk’s damp, blond head and thrust hard enough to send both of them rocking toward the headboard.

That was it. That earned him a cry, but nothing coherent at all.

So there.

January took a breath and focused on Hawk, dishing out more of the same until Hawk gave up trying to counter him. The cowboy melted around him, the heat increasing as Hawk gave in.

It was hard to resist the draw of Hawk’s shining skin and tired muscle; he could lick the man all over. And he might, later. At the moment his body was screaming to let go, and it was all he could do to keep up his nearly savage pace.

Hawk’s shout echoed as he shot, every pulse of pleasure echoing around his prick.

“Yes!” Oh sweet fuck yes. He fought through the tight grip around his hungry prick and took the last of what he needed—a handful of quick, shallow thrusts—and followed the cowboy over with a long, relieved groan.

Hawk slumped toward the wall, panting hard under him. It felt good, knowing he gave Hawk what he needed.

He shivered as he pulled away to ditch the condom, then he got a little of that taste he wanted, dropping kisses across the cowboy’s back. “Lie down with me. Stay a while.” He’d never kicked anyone out. People left and he got that, but he liked it if they stayed.

“Yeah? I can do that.” Hawk exhaled, settling down, turning toward him.

Score. He was happy to hold that body for a while. He extended an arm, inviting Hawk to move in closer. “You good? Okay?”

“Better than. I may have lost a few brain cells with that orgasm.”

He huffed, a weak laugh about all he could manage. “Well, they’re happily somewhere with mine. That was great.” He inhaled as Hawk settled in, more intrigued by the cowboy’s scent than he should be. He was truthfully more intrigued by Hawk in general than he should be.

Cowboy. Seriously, he’d had the orgasm of the year with a rodeo cowboy in Denver.

“Nap? Stay as long as you want. The suite comes with a killer breakfast.” He wanted Hawk to stay, and not because it was more food than he could possibly eat alone.

“Does it come with a round two?”

Oh. Heck, yeah. He wanted that too. “Are you kidding? That’s hours from now. We’ll be on three by then at least, don’t you think? Four?”

“Oh, I do like how you think.” Hawk snuggled right in with a moan.

He circled his arm over Hawk’s shoulders. “I’m told I snore a little,” he teased, talking through a huge yawn.

“I’ve been rooming with cowboys for fifteen years, honey. You could be the Latvian chain saw drill team and I could rest.”

He laughed, or thought he did. He tried anyway. And January fell asleep with an arm full of studly, irresistible cowboy.

 

Title: Flying Blind
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B08CL2H4MR
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-34-5

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Making the Rules

September 9, 2022 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Triskelion Series #3
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: October 4, 2022

The rules keep changing as Saul and Troy and their good friends and lovers Geoff and Carter are figuring out how they all fit together in their evolving relationship. Subs Geoff and Troy test the limits of both their friendship and their Doms’ patience as they discover new things about each other, and Doms Carter and Saul wrestle with how to be the men their subs need and become lovers in their own right.

As they all push boundaries trying to decide how to move forward, Troy begins to feel like he’s constantly one step behind, and he’s having trouble keeping up with everyone else. He’s already unsure how much more change he can accept, so when a tragedy strikes, it threatens to completely overwhelm him.

Geoff, Carter, and Saul all come together to help Troy cope, and to figure out what he needs. But what they all soon discover is they have to understand what they each desire, and that making the rules is all about that balance.

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Chapter One 

 

Stuffed mushrooms were a pain in the ass. They smelled weird when they were cooking. They either went wet or dry when they sat. No matter what Troy did, they sucked. 

They sucked, and Carter loved them with the fiery burning passion of a thousand suns, so Troy made them. 

He made them for Carter’s birthday. For Geoff’s birthday. For Carter and Geoff’s anniversary. Now he was making them for New Year’s Eve. 

Again. 

It must be love. 

“Is the dishwasher done yet, honey?” Geoff came swooping into the kitchen and dragged a hand across Troy’s ass as he walked by. “Carter wants me to put the bar glasses out. He’s micromanaging. Consider yourself warned.” 

“Can’t you go suck him off or something?” he whispered, meeting Geoff’s eyes with a wink, making sure neither Carter nor Saul could hear. 

“Right? He won’t sit still. Saul is on it. He’s trying to tempt Carter into the hot tub.” That might work, get the Doms out of their hair. It wasn’t like either of them was really helping. 

Well, Saul had set the tables up and helped move the furniture around. And Carter…must have done something useful. 

“Oh, it is done, yay.” Geoff opened the dishwasher and started pulling out all the glassware and dishes they’d thrown in. A lot of that stuff sat from party to party, so it needed a refresh. “Do I smell mushrooms?” 

“You do. You know how Carter loves them.” He’d made Geoff his cheese ball and Saul sausage balls. He had Lit’l Smokies, pinwheels, French onion dip, queso. They were going to have a great party. 

“What are you going to wear?” He should have known that question was coming. Geoff had probably had his outfit picked out for a month. “You have Saul now. You’ll have to come out and play and be social instead of hiding in the kitchen this year, you know.” 

“When did we make that rule?” He not only had Master Saul, but Carter and Geoff as well. 

“Did you miss that meeting? It’s a rule.” Geoff closed the dishwasher. “You need to look like you’re going to a party, lover. End of subject. I want to see you dress up.” 

“I have jeans and a clean T-shirt?” He knew teasing was going to rile Geoff up, but it was probably worth it. 

Geoff clucked at him and shook his head. “Is that all you brought? I can’t believe Saul would allow that. Ugh.” Such a disgusted sound. Pretty damn funny. 

“My ugly Christmas sweater?” He grinned across the kitchen. 

Geoff’s eyes went wide. “Troy Finch! You are in deep trouble.” Geoff marched over and got right in his face, but his lover wasn’t angry, Geoff was flirting. “Naughty. I’m going to tell Saul. Unless you can convince me not to.” 

“No. No, anything but that!” He laughed softly, rubbing their noses together. “I could distract you.” 

It was Geoff’s fingers, tracing his ink, the tattoo artist knowing every single inch of him—that was distracting. 

“Boys.” Saul’s tone was indulgent but firm. “No distractions. Geoff, please take the bar glasses out before that little vein by Carter’s temple explodes? I’ve convinced him to start up the hot tub, but I promised I’d make sure you took care of that for him.” 

“Yes, sir. And thank you, sir.” Geoff winked at Troy and pulled a tray out of a cabinet to load up with glasses. 

“My pleasure, boy. You were right; he needs to relax.” Saul stepped right into the space Geoff had just left, keeping Troy pinned with the counter at his back and took a kiss. “Smells good. You’re working hard.” 

“Cooking is, apparently, my thing.” Cooking, yoga, and loving on people. It was a thing. 

“Carter says you and Geoff usually do all the cooking for New Year’s on your own. But in a couple of hours—” Saul hooked a finger in his belt and tugged on it. “—we’re going to take a shower and then you’re going to put on those jeans I like your ass in.” 

“Am I?” God, he loved this—playing, laughing, teasing. “Not the baggy ones?” 

“Save those for Carter.” Saul grinned and gave him one of those heavy kisses—the ones that made sure he knew who he belonged to. “See you after my soak, boy.” Saul grabbed a couple of bottles of water on the way out of the kitchen. 

“Love you, Master.” Turd. Leaving him to cook. He laughed softly, at himself, at the universe. 

“Okay, Saul gave me a smug little peck on the way out to the deck. What’s his deal? And what’s so funny?” Geoff came back from the living room with an empty tray and put it back where it came from. 

“Oh, he was leaving to soak while I slave away.” He winked and kissed Geoff’s cheek. “I was just happy.” 

“Rubbing it in, huh? We don’t want those two in our hair anyway, honey.” Geoff peeked into the oven. “Did I tell you that Saul and I talked about your ink? The one to match the rest of us?” 

Troy was the last of the four of them to get the circular tattoo of the four elements that Geoff had originally created for Carter. The one that represented their foursome. Carter’s was on his arm, Saul’s on his chest, and Geoff’s on his thigh. But Troy was covered in ink, nearly every inch, head-to-toe except a couple of private places. 

“He says your ass is out. He says only his marks get to go there.” 

“Oh. Oh, I just assumed—” Where else would it go? Maybe his master just wanted him to… he wasn’t sure. Weird. His ass was the best space. 

“He suggested right here.” Geoff touched the side of his neck below his ear. 

“Everyone would be able to see it, admire it.” He didn’t mind that idea at all. It would burn like a stone-cold bitch, but he’d survived that. A lot. 

“Sounds like a Saul move to me. I told him it would hurt. He kind of shrugged at me.” Geoff grinned at him. “He knows what he wants, huh?” 

“He does.” Troy knew what he wanted, and that was his Master, his lovers, his friends. Suddenly, he had been moved from right outside the circle where everyone was to smack dab in the center of it. 

“You think we’ll do a scene soon? I mean a real one, all four of us? I asked Carter, and he said he and Saul… would discuss it.” Geoff did a fair impression of Carter on that last bit. 

“I think so, yeah.” Saul had been talking about it—talking hard, to be honest. Saul seemed to think that he was a prude, somehow, which he really wasn’t. Of course, he liked the attention, the careful encouragement, the petting, so he soaked it in. 

“I’d love to feel his arm. I wonder how different it would be than Carter’s. Is that weird? Do you think about those things too?” Geoff was keeping busy while they talked, finding serving dishes and clearing room in the fridge for the food he was making. 

He didn’t know how to answer that. Had he fantasized over the last twenty years? Sure. Had he eventually stopped because it didn’t matter, since they were never going to want him like he wanted them? Absolutely. And then that brought up the certainty that without Saul, they wouldn’t want him now, and that was more than he wanted to worry about. “I do.” 

“Oh. What’s the matter, honey?” Geoff came right to him and rested a hand on his chest. “Does it worry you?” 

“No. I trust all y’all.” That wasn’t an issue, not at all. 

Geoff smiled that sunny smile for him. It was good that his lover didn’t seem at all anxious despite the company and the party coming. Geoff had seemed more relaxed lately in general. “Good. We trust you too.” He got a quick kiss. “You’d better check the oven.” 

“I’m on it. Are you going to soak with them?” He didn’t have time, not if he was going to make things perfect. 

“No, I’m helping you. I’m not leaving you to this insanity by yourself. You just tell me what you need me to do.” 

“How long ’til folks start showing up?” 

“We have…” Geoff looked at the clock over the sink. “Three hours. And Masters are going to want to get cleaned up. I know how Carter is before these things. He’ll want me to get him dressed.” 

That made him smile. “Maybe you should dress them both. Make sure Master Saul is all glossy.” 

He pulled out the mushrooms so they could cool and grabbed the puff pastry from the fridge. 

“As if he’d allow that. I’ve seen how he’s watching you today.” Geoff’s tone was suggestive. 

“You think?” Troy let himself feel that—the pride, the pleasure. “I’m used to hanging out in the kitchen for this party, you know.” 

“Not this party. Not anymore. We’ll all help; it will be fine. I’m looking forward to having you out there, showing you off a little.” Geoff drew a finger down his chest. “You’re mine too, now, you know.” 

“I do. I think, in a lot of ways, I was yours first.” His nipples went hard so fast his rings jumped. 

Geoff’s cheeks blushed dark, but the look on his lover’s face was so serious. “I think so too. I think… if we look at it the way we maybe should have all along, that we’ve had this for a long time. I just… couldn’t…” Geoff shrugged and leaned in close, pressing him against the refrigerator. “I can now.” 

He arched hard into Geoff’s lean strength, eyes going wide from the sudden cold at his back. Fuck, he loved them—all of them. 

Geoff took his hands, pinned them gently above his head and kissed him like he was loved back. It was hot, sure; everything about Geoff had a little sex brewing under it, but it was more too. Kind and honest. Giving more than Geoff took, even while clearly asking for his submission. 

That he could give, and he moaned, the sound buzzing in their kiss. His body responded eagerly, his belly and balls going tight. 

“Is anything gonna to burn while you blow me?” Geoff whispered against his lips. 

He groaned softly, his eyelids going so droopy as a rush of need hit him. “Everything’s out. We’re safe.” 

Geoff let his hands go, took another quick kiss before pressing down heavily on one shoulder. He had a little room but not much, so he had to slide down with his back braced against the chilly stainless steel fridge. “God, Troy. Look at you.” 

“Want you. Please, Geoff, I need you.” He nuzzled Geoff’s cock through his soft pants, open-mouthed. Geoff smelled so good—soap and musk and mint and him. 

“What are you two doing?” Carter’s voice was a deep, husky rumble. 

Geoff’s fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him right where he was. He couldn’t see his lover’s face, but Geoff’s tone was playful. “Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” 

He opened his mouth and exhaled against Geoff’s balls. 

“Troy is—oh. God.” Geoff rocked into him and back again. “Polishing my zipper, Sir.” 

He groaned softly and pressed his lips against the base of Geoff’s cock. He needed skin. He wanted that heavy cock. 

“Did you get Master Saul’s permission, boy?” Carter’s fingers were suddenly at Geoff’s fly, slowly lowering the zipper. 

“N…no, Sir.” Geoff tugged on his hair. 

Carter caught Geoff’s length in one hand as he freed it. “Naughty boys.” 

“Please, Sir.” 

“You want this, Troy?” 

“Yes, Master Carter. I need y’all.” He could suck them both, in fact. Together. 

“And to think, all I wanted was a beer.” Carter tapped his lips with Geoff’s prick, and when he opened up, Carter leaned into Geoff hips, pushing Geoff inside. 

Geoff gasped. “Troy! Sir!” 

Carter growled. “Don’t play around, boy. Make him come.” 

Troy could do that. In fact, he could more than do it. He was good at it. He wrapped his lips around the base of Geoff’s prick, swallowing over and over as he lashed the shaft with his tongue. 

Geoff wasn’t quiet—ever, but especially now. His lover shouted his name, and he heard at least a handful of curse words between the wild groans. Carter was talking low, and he knew it had to be filthy. The two of them had Geoff gulping air and standing on trembling legs in the blink of an eye. 

“Can’t—oh, fuck. Troy! Gonna…” 

“That’s eight, boy.” Carter’s voice was stern and rock steady. 

“Motherfucker.” 

“Nine.” 

Troy grabbed Geoff’s ass and pulled him in hard. Shut up, lover, or your ass will be on fire. 

Carter caught Geoff as his lover’s knees gave out. Geoff didn’t shut up, but what did come out as Geoff shot hot liquid down Troy’s throat was so unintelligible his Master wouldn’t be able to fault him for it. 

Troy groaned softly, easing up to give his lover all the pleasure, all the aftershocks he could. 

“Good boys. So good.” Carter’s voice was like a caress now, pouring down over him. Warm fingers curled under his chin, coaxing him to stand up. “Come and kiss me, boy.” 

He moaned softly, drawn to Carter. They all made him feel drunk with their attention. 

Carter’s kiss was intense, focused on him even as he held Geoff close, and Carter hummed to him as the kiss ended. “Mmm. You taste like my other boy.” 

“Your boy is amazing.” He licked his lips, tasting Carter and Geoff together. 

Carter cupped his chin and caught his eyes. “Now, go on out to your Master and tell him what you and Geoff were up to when I walked in. Explain that I am going to take a minute with Geoff, and I’ll be out with his beer shortly. Grab a coat; it’s cold out there.” 

“Yes, Sir.” He wasn’t worried. Master Saul would understand. He had faith. 

He slipped on his house shoes and a hoodie, then popped out on the snowy deck. “Master?” 

Saul picked his head up from where he’d been relaxing, lying back in the hot tub. It was damn cold out, but his Master had a damp little curl stuck to his forehead. “Boy? Is everything all right?” 

“Yes, Sir. Master Carter asked me to tell you I gave Geoff a blow job, and that he was bringing your beer soon.” God, his Master was beautiful. Genuinely beautiful. He was fucking lucky. 

“Ooh. Naughty. A blow job without permission? That’s living dangerously.” Saul grinned at him. “The two of them were wound up like tops. I’m sure Geoff feels much better now.” 

“Yes, Master.” He wrapped his arms around himself. Jesus, it was bitter out here. “Do you need anything but your beer?” 

Saul sat up. “You’re freezing, boy. Grab my robe from the warmer.” 

“I’m fine. I’ll head in.” He didn’t want to steal his Master’s warmth. “You’ll need it more than me.” 

Saul laughed. “It’s for me, boy. I’m taking you back inside.” 

“Oh!” His cheeks went bright red and hot. “Lord, Master, I’m sorry.” He hurried to grab Saul’s robe. 

He got Saul wrapped up and into shoes, and they hurried back together, both of them giggling by the time they got inside the house. 

“Okay, it’s cold as fuck when you’re not in that tub. Jesus.” Saul’s teeth were chattering. 

Carter clucked at them from the couch where he was sitting with a magazine and Geoff was bare-assed and draped over the arm. “Honestly, Saul.” 

“What can I do, Master?” What do you need? God, Geoff was pretty. 

Saul looked at Carter. “Don’t be such a grump, Old Man. Am I right, Troy?” Saul tugged him in and kissed him. “You should probably finish up in the kitchen, boy, so we can get our shower.” 

“If you weren’t a Dom, I’d take you over my knee, too, kid.” 

“I’m all set up, Master. It’s just assembling now.” He wrapped around his Master, offering his warmth and protecting Saul’s perfect ass. 

Carter snorted and shot him a look. “You’re not safe, boy.” 

“No, Sir.” He wasn’t worried. Saul had him. 

“Mmm. No. Not safe at all.” Saul laughed and blew Carter a kiss. “Come on, boy. These two look busy.” 

Saul led him up the stairs to the bedroom with its enormous bed for four. It was still technically Carter and Geoff’s room because he and Saul had their own place closer to downtown, but more and more, Saul had been suggesting they sleep here. They would definitely be staying tonight, and as tomorrow was a holiday and the diner was closed, he suspected they’d be staying tomorrow night too. 

As he followed his Master, he felt the world getting farther away, the constant noise and worries sliding from his consciousness and slipping away, leaving his focus on his heartbeat, his Master. 

“Undress and start the shower, please.” Saul picked up their duffel and tossed it on the bed. 

“Yes, Master.” He stripped off his filthy T-shirt as he kicked off his house shoes. “You never did get your beer.” 

Troy skinned out of his pants and briefs before starting the water running. 

“It’s all good. It was meant more as a distraction for Master Carter, and then he never actually got into the hot tub with me. I think he and Geoff are both happier right where they are.” Saul’s fingers brushed his sides and his Master kissed him between the shoulders. “We have more time this way.” 

He hummed, his happiness too big to hold in. Saul didn’t want his silence anyway. “That’s happy-making right there, Master.” 

“Mhm. I think so too.” Saul reached out and tested the water temp. “So tell me about this party. Carter hasn’t said much about what to expect.” 

“Everyone comes—there’s food, drink, music, dancing. The lights stay low. At midnight, there’s kissing. Sometimes people disappear into the shadows to make love.” This would be his first time, too, in a bunch of ways. 

Saul pulled him into the shower, under the spray, and smoothed the hot water through his hair. “Sounds like a perfect evening. Will you dance with me?” 

“I will. I haven’t danced in a long time, but I’d love to.” He arched under the spray, Saul’s hands fascinating him, making him want to just follow them wherever they led. 

“Me neither. It’ll be fun.” Saul started working shampoo into his hair. “What did you used to do at midnight? Did you kiss anyone?” 

“No, Sir. I spend this party in the kitchen.” He wasn’t whining. He hid at midnight because it hurt, to know that he was alone, that Arnie was gone, and he was just…a short-order cook. 

“Spent. You may have spent this party in the kitchen before, but not this year.” Saul rinsed the soap out of his hair, and Troy watched the suds splash onto that smooth chest and slide down over his Master’s navel. “This year, you’re with us. With me. We’re going to eat and drink and dance. And you’re going to have a line of people who love you to kiss at midnight.” 

“Yes, Sir.” He let the satisfaction show in his face and his voice. “I’m excited. I want to—I want to feel all the good parts.” 

“So many good parts.” Saul slid wet hands over his abs, through his curls at the base of his cock and lower to cradle his heavy balls in one hand. “It’s not midnight, but I’m going to kiss you anyway.” 

His eyes rolled, that pressure perfect, and he forced himself to focus, to relax and breathe. 

“Geoff got you a little wound up, did he, boy?” He didn’t get a chance to answer. Instead, he got that kiss, Saul’s other hand hooking tight behind his neck and holding him still. His Master’s tongue pressed past his lips and slid along his own, momentarily cutting off his air. One of his hands found Saul’s sweet ass, the firm cheek fitting in his palm perfectly. 

Saul wasn’t jealous, but his Master sure got fired up when Troy was with Geoff or Carter. He actually thought it was kind of a turn-on for Saul, getting to take him back, remind him who his Master was. It revved Saul up a little. Maybe more than a little. 

Saul broke off the kiss and looked at him, eyes bright and focused, fingers stroking him firmly. “Let’s get that edge off before the party, baby.” 

“Master.” Fuck, that felt so good. Saul knew every inch of his body, knew that he liked a firm touch, a lot of play at the tip. It was better than touching himself, because Saul always took him farther than he could take himself. 

Master or no, Saul slipped to his knees and took his ass in both hands, moving him slightly out of the flow so the water rained down his back. Saul took the head of his cock in, teasing his slit with a hungry tongue. 

Troy spread, his eyes rolling as he arched up, his hips rocking the barest bit. He could see stars like this, his world tightening to the places where his skin met Saul’s. 

“Mmm.” Saul let him move and took him in deeper, flat tongue rubbing up and down his shaft. Those hands kept a good grip on his ass, fingers sinking even more into muscle. 

He clenched and relaxed, the pressure of Saul’s fingers pushed him that much deeper. Troy groaned and spread a little wider, knowing that he had to look like a slut, and not caring a bit. 

Saul’s hands shifted and spread his cheeks so Saul’s fingers could find his entrance. They slid easily in the stream of water over his hole and beyond it, where Saul nudged and shifted his piercings. 

“God yes.” He braced himself, moving between mouth and hands, his eyes rolled back into his head. Luckiest bastard ever. 

That little bit of encouragement must have been what Saul had been waiting for. Saul hummed around him, angled just so, and was suddenly bottomless, letting him slide in as far as he could. A breath later, those fingers pushed right inside him, until he could feel Saul’s knuckles. 

“Master! Love!” His own need shocked the hell out of him, his voice echoing on the tiles. 

Saul swallowed and the hand holding his ass cheek let go and reached up to twist the fuck out of one stiff nipple. The sudden pain sent a searing shock straight to his balls. 

“Fuck!” he roared, shooting right down Saul’s throat. His balls ached with the power of his orgasm, and he shuddered with his need. 

Saul stayed right with him, meeting his energy at first and then gently coming down with him. Saul covered him with kisses and spoke softly, using words like beautiful, loved, treasured, and… “So fucking hot, baby.” 

Saul stood close, kissing along the line of his jaw. “Love you.” 

“Love you. God, you make me happy.” He leaned their foreheads together, not working terribly hard to gather his thoughts. “Wow.” 

Saul leaned back, fingers gliding over his skin. “Good. I want you to be happy and feeling good. You sound pretty damn good.” Saul took a light kiss. 

“Do you need me?” He never knew. Saul always surprised him. It kept him young and focused. 

“Always, but I think I want to keep my edge until after midnight.” Saul switched with him, ducking under the spray. 

He grabbed the soap and washed his Master, enjoying the slide of his hands over Saul’s skin. His Master obviously enjoyed all the attention, too, offering him appreciative hums and soft sighs. Saul was half-hard; he could easily tease that happy cock to fullness if his Master wanted him to. Keeping an edge for later probably meant some kind of late-night scene. 

Geoff was angling for that, too, he thought. The four of them together. So… new. 

“Towels please, boy.” Saul rinsed clean and shut the water off. “If you have any worries about tonight, you should tell me.” 

“What?” Did he look worried? Was he acting weird? 

He grabbed a towel and handed it over before getting one of his own. 

“It was just a question, boy.” Saul took the towel and started drying off, bare feet leaving wet prints on the bathmat. “You said you’re usually in the kitchen, I just wanted to make sure.” 

“It’s going to be weird, not feeling sad and alone. Is that strange? I won’t miss it. It’s just new.” And that made him sound like a loser, a little bit. 

Saul wrapped the towel around narrow hips. “Twenty years of habit is hard to break, I bet. And new can be scary. We’ll figure it out together. Moment by moment.” Saul took Troy’s towel and wrapped it around his hips for him. “Remember what Carter always says? Just be honest.” 

“Yes, Master. Honest I can do.” He thought so anyway. Sometimes, he hid his thoughts, but that was to protect all of them. 

He got a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good boy. I think I left my razor in the—” 

Saul opened the door to the bedroom, and Carter looked up from the book he was reading. Geoff was kneeling quietly by the bed, about as still as Troy had ever seen him. 

“It’s about time. Some of us need showers too.” Carter grinned at them and put the book down. “Did you use all the hot water?” 

“Every drop, boss.” Troy had to tease back, had to. 

“Butthead. You ought to beat him.” Carter winked at Saul. “I have a hairbrush and my phone. I’ll videotape it.” 

Saul snorted. “I’d rather have a video of you and Geoff in the shower.” 

“I’d do it, Sir,” Geoff said quietly from the floor. 

There was a second of stunned silence as Carter and Saul stared at each other. Troy could almost hear the whole conversation they were having with just that look. But Carter cracked up finally, and they all started to laugh like twelve-year-olds. 

“Y’all are giant dorks. Hell, all of us are.” Troy rolled his eyes and fetched Saul his razor. “Go make yourselves all pretty.” 

“Look who’s giving out orders.” His Master didn’t seem to care one bit. Saul plucked the razor from his fingers and headed back to the bathroom. 

“You ready for a party, boy?” Carter rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. In the last hour, every one of his men had touched him with love. 

“I am. I’m looking forward to it.” He leaned into the touch. “I made the mushrooms you love, boss.” 

“I could smell them. Thank you, boy. Doc will appreciate it too. If you’re very good, I’ll let you feed me one later.” 

He blinked at Carter, feeling his cheeks start to burn. “I’d like that.” 

Everything Carter and Geoff did made him just a little high, and he needed Saul to ground him, make things real. 

Carter gave him just the slightest hint of a knowing smile. “Good boy.” 

“Baby-faced and good as new.” Saul interrupted, coming out of the bathroom. His Master’s voice seemed loud in his ears. 

“It’s about damn time. Come on, boy.” Carter gestured to Geoff, who hopped to his feet. 

“Yes, Sir.” Geoff followed Carter, shooting Troy a wink on the way by. 

“You ready to dress me, boy?” Saul walked past him, in a totally different gear, and sat on the bed. “I brought leather.” 

“Yes, Master. God yes.”

Title: Making the Rules
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B09J18R5WK

Keeping Promises

February 20, 2026 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: Higher Elevation #3
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: March 23, 2021
Pages: 262

Keeping Promises

Jeremy M. Dunn III has the single dad thing down, so the last thing he wants to do is call his ex-husband to ask for help with their two kids. They didn’t part on good terms, and they’ve barely spoken since the divorce. But with a cast on his arm that goes up past his elbow, Jeremy has no choice. He needs a few days to figure out how to bathe their daughter, make school lunches and parent their son one-armed, and there isn’t anyone else he can ask for help.

Former rodeo cowboy West Belen was already on his way back to his kids, and to Trey (“the third”, his nickname for Jeremy). He made a promise to try again, and he means to keep it, so when he sees his chance to move back into his family’s life, he grabs it like the brass ring he knows it is. He’s determined to be more than an “every other weekend” dad to his children, and he doesn’t want to keep on living with regret about how he and Trey ended.

Jeremy still desires West, but he isn’t sure he can trust West to be responsible and available. West still thinks Trey is the hottest thing he’s ever seen, but he has no idea how to convince the man he’s ready to settle down. The two of them have never had trouble butting heads, but now they need to learn to work together to make a home for themselves and their kids where they both belong.

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Excerpt

 

Chapter One

“Kiddo. Kiddo, you awake?” Hank’s voice jolted West upright from where he’d been dozing in the old recliner he’d moved near the hospital bed they’d put in the sunroom so Hank could see out the window and watch the hummingbirds.

“Yessir. You hurtin’? I can get Gretchen.” The little hospice nurse was on it. She lived two houses down, too, so it took her no time to show up.

“No. No, I just wanted to talk to you.” The hand that had been whole and strong three weeks ago was a sack of bruised bones, and West took it so carefully.

“Anytime. Anytime at all.” Hank had been his best friend, his mentor, his adopted father for as long as he could remember, and time was getting short. They could both sleep when Hank was dead.

“You’re a good man.” Hank stared at him, gray eyes seeming to blaze with light, and West thought maybe that was what happened when the best of them was being called home.

“I try. I’m not feeling all the way on that, you know.”

Hank shook his head. “No. You’ve been dealt some shit, but you have managed it. All of it.”

What was he supposed to say to that? “Thank you.”

“If you could go back and change anything in your life, what would it be?”

He rolled his eyes at Hank. “I would have bet on me two years ago in the finals.”

Hank swatted his hand. “I’m serious, boy. Tell me. It ain’t like I’m telling.”

West took a deep breath. He knew the answer to this one. He’d known it for two years, two months, three weeks, and four days. “I would have told Trey no when he asked for a divorce. I would have stuck like a burr and kept my kids and my husband and damn the consequences.”

Hank bobbed his head at him like a big, dying bird. “I hear you. I couldn’t have had a family like y’all did. I never will now.”

Shit. He didn’t say anything to that because he didn’t have anything to say. Hell, he’d lost his whole life—his kids, his husband, his house. He was working a job that was Friday through Sunday, and those were the days he could see Lukas and Ava. He got to keep his truck, his child support payments, and the knowledge that his ex hated him enough to make sure he had to choose between rodeoing or his babies.

Shit, why did he even want Trey back?

He guessed because he loved the son of a bitch.

“So, go make it right.”

West looked up, just utterly confused. “What?”

They were divorced. That meant it was over.

“Go home and fix it. You have a chance. You survived that last bad wreck; you can do this.”

He rubbed the back of his head, that heavy scar back there. “Oh, Hank… Trey don’t want me no more. He hates everything about my life.”

“So change. If you want it—them—bad enough, do what you have to. Those babies need you, even if Jeremy Fancy Pants No Fun doesn’t.”

He started chuckling. Jeremy Fancy Pants No Fun. That was going down in history.

“Promise me, kiddo. Swear you’ll try. Don’t—don’t end up dying with your regrets.”

“Hank—”

“Goddamn it! I’m dying. You give me this. I’m never going to get to see those babies again. Promise me you’ll try.”

“I swear to God. I’ll try.” West felt his face try to crumple, because he didn’t want to figure out how to be a man without the person who taught him how to cowboy up. He kept it together, though, because it was their way. “I promise, Hank.”

“Good boy.” Hank sighed, that light fading as he closed his eyes. “Know that I love you, West Belen. You are my son, just like as if I’d borned you.”

“I love you, Hank. I got your back.” Even though this was a trip West couldn’t make with Hank right now, he was here ’til the bitter end.

“I never doubted that for a second. Just hold my hand a minute and pray for me.”

So West did. All the way until Hank wasn’t holding on anymore.

 

Chapter Two

“You did what?”

Jeremy shook his head and tried not to glare at the nurse fussing with his IV. “Remember I told you I was going to paint the kitchen?”

“Jeremy Dunn the Third versus a cane-back cafe chair.” Drew laughed. “Loser.”

“It has a wobbly front leg.” He’d managed to go thirty-two years without breaking a single fucking bone. He wasn’t pouting. He was not.

Drew snorted, and he could picture the exasperated look on his best friend’s face. “Then why were you standing on it, idiot?”

“Fuck you.”

His nurse gave him the side-eye. “Watch your language, please.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged at her.

“Where are the kids?”

“Annie has them. She’s had them a couple of times before.” He wasn’t sure what he’d have done if his neighbor hadn’t been home.

“She’s keeping them overnight?”

“I—maybe? I’ll be home later today, but it’s my right arm…” Four years of high school sports, rock climbing, and all of his idiotic shenanigans in college, running and mountain biking all over Boulder…and he shattered his elbow falling off a stupid fucking chair.

“Your right arm? Jer, how are you going to—I mean, maybe…” Drew sighed, and Jeremy’s stomach sank as he realized what Drew was going to say before he said it.

“No.” Nope. No way.

Drew sighed. “You have to—”

“I’m not fucking calling him.”

“Jer—”

“What?” He shouted. “Did I hear someone yell ‘shark’? Sorry, what? You have to go? Okay, man. Enjoy your honeymoon, get a great tan.”

“Don’t be an ass, Jeremy.” Drew shouted back over his babbling.

“Talk to you later! Bye!”

He hung up.

Yep. He hung up on his best friend for not quite suggesting that he call his ex-husband for help with their kids.

Because he knew Drew was right.

Jesus, he’d gone off the deep end.

He looked at his phone. It was great of Annie to take them for the night, but she wasn’t going to keep the kids long. She had a life and four hundred boyfriends and a day job.

West was their father after all, and it wasn’t like Jeremy had asked him for anything since the divorce. Nothing. Ever. Maybe West could come take them for a few days until he figured out how to scratch his butt with his nearly useless left hand.

He pulled up West’s number and frowned at the picture, feeling sick that he still thought that smiling vortex of chaos in a cowboy hat was handsome.

“Fuck.” He hit the number and dialed.

“Trey.” No hello, no what’s wrong, just that nickname that he hated.

“Hey.” He could hang up. Say he butt dialed West by mistake. The idea of asking his ex for a favor was making the bile rise in the back of his throat. But he tried to imagine giving four-year-old Ava a bath left-handed while trying to keep from jostling his right arm and decided he was going to have to suck it up. Fuck. “So…listen, have you got plans the next couple of days?”

“Why? What’s wrong? Are the kids okay?” West’s voice was sharp, clear, and focused. God, he remembered being the center of that focus.

“Yes, they’re fine. I’m… I’m in the ER.” He let that hang out there a second since West hadn’t asked if he was okay.

“I’ll be there in four hours. I was doing a signing in Raton.” West’s voice got quiet. “I got to bounce. Family emergency. Yeah. See you.” Then West was back. “What’s wrong?”

A signing. Still in the limelight. Some things never changed.

“I broke my elbow.” I got into a fight with a rabid dog… I was barreling down this crazy trail on my bike… I went rock climbing and man, it was a close one. “I…fell off a fucking chair.” He rolled his eyes. Drew was right; he was an idiot.

“That hurts like a motherfucker.” West didn’t laugh, but Jeremy knew that bastard was grinning. “Who has my babies?”

Asshole. West had broken every bone in his goddamn body. Twice. “Our children are with Annie, next door. I’ll text you her number if you want it. They’ll be fine with her for a while.”

“Okay, good. Do you need a ride home, or should I just come to the house?”

“Let me know when you get up here, and we’ll see if I’m home yet.” Annie had a key, but no way was West going to wander around his house and pack up the kids unsupervised. His lawn might get mowed, but the kids would be covered in mud, and there’d be no beer left.

“Fine. I’ll see you in a few.” And just like that, the line went dead. Infuriating asshole. Seriously, if Jeremy hadn’t needed him…

“Ow!” He dropped his phone.

“Sorry. I need to get your sling fitted.” The nurse picked his phone up and handed it to him.

“Thanks. Sure.” He nodded and sat up so she could reach, the simple move making him a little dizzy. He tried to text Annie’s details to West, but texting with one hand, and left-handed at that, was a pain in the ass and it took him forever.

“Jeremiah M. Dunn, the Third.” A doctor came in, grinning broadly and reading his full fucking given name off an iPad. “That’s quite a name.”

“It was my father’s.” Ha-ha. So funny. “Jeremy works.”

“Jeremy. Got it. How are you getting home today?”

Fuck.

Title: Keeping Promises
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B08Y5GY7GF
ISBN13: 978-1951011437

 

Keeping Promises is available in AUDIO, narrated by the amazing John Solo!

**************Buy Link***************

**************Buy Link***************