Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Cole shrugged. “You’ve barely spoken to me all day. I don’t think I know anything for certain anymore.”
And yet Ned had no doubt Cole would keep the revelation about Ned’s cowardice to himself. “Thank you for stepping in with Zeb. Even though it all ended the way it did,” he mumbled as they resumed their walk, diving into a narrow alley, which led toward light. They were only inches apart, yet the distance felt like a cold ocean deep enough to swallow any notion of tenderness.
They emerged in the very middle of town, into the glow of Red Lily’s lanterns. But instead of turning toward the cathouse, Cole went across the street, toward the pale facade of a large saloon lit with large glass lamps. The air here smelled of beef, and the music of a piano spun several couples into a dance close to a bay window at the front.
Cole entered through the batwing doors, as if he’d never left. He didn’t even look over his shoulder when he spoke to Ned.
“I’ll find out who was involved in the killing. Tom will appreciate it.”
Chapter 22
The room they rented on the upper floor of the Hamburg saloon reminded Ned of a magic lantern show. The single lamp above cast dark shadows on the maroon wallpaper, and the ceiling had cracks running along the smooth white plaster like fragments of a ripped spider web. The air inside was dense like in a tent packed with people until Cole approached the single window and opened it. He then drew the bright blue curtains back together to give them privacy.
His weight made the floorboards creak when he padded toward the large rectangular mirror standing in the corner, as if looks were what mattered most in a town with a population so lacking when it came to the fairer sex. The miners would not care.
Ned watched him from the metal-framed bed they’d share tonight, and as the silence between them stretched, so did his inadequacy, growing immense until it hit the ceiling and couldn’t become any larger without release.
Ned kept pulling on his thumb while stealing glances at Cole’s ass in the black canvas pants. Something was off, like the sweetest peach that has nevertheless lain too long in the sun and could only attract flies. But thinking of peaches made Ned’s mind drift to Cole’s buttocks again. He’d kneaded them many times. Firm, yet with a bit of softness, the round globes fit so perfectly in his hands.
Ned pulled on the leg of his pants to relieve the pressure against his hardening prick. Would Cole be willing to give Ned what he’d expected from him that morning? Would it bring him pleasure to be poked from behind? Would he have made that face Ned loved, with a lax mouth and delicious flush spilling onto his neck? Ned bit his lip, confused about the unexpected arousal. The act that now preoccupied his mind came with more baggage than a luggage compartment in a train on the cross-continental railroad.
“Are you still angry about things not working out the way you wanted this morning?” Ned finally choked out. “I’m not a woman, you know.”
Cole’s lips pressed together, but he didn’t move right away, instead meeting Ned’s gaze in the reflection. “I’m not angry about that. I was never angry about that. It was you who ran off on me.”
Ned cracked his knuckles, suddenly regretting he’d gotten back to this in the first place. “You wanna get a drink? They might have something nice here.” And spending the evening at a table would certainly be more comfortable than this conversation.
Cole pushed his hands through his hair and faced him, chewing on his lips for a couple of seconds before he spoke. “Is it really so strange that I want to fuck my man?”
Ned averted his gaze and focused on his own knuckles. Had they become more freckled or just more tanned?
“Maybe men are just built differently. Can we forget about it?”
Cole swallowed and pushed hair into his face so it swept against his cheeks, before putting on his hat to keep the strands in place. “I have to find out what exactly happened to Scotch.”
It spoke volumes about the state of their relationship if this was relief. Ned wanted to ask about the star-shaped scar again, because Cole had concealed it for a reason, but chose not to aggravate matters further.
“I told you what happened. If you want revenge, wait a few days. Best served cold.” He knew something about that. He’d been biding his time and was strangely fine with it. Not just because he got to spend more time with Cole before the inevitable turmoil descended on them, but there was pleasure to watching Zeb and Tom go about their lives, all the while knowing he’d be their downfall. Like a spotted buzzard hiding among vultures, he watched them, pretending to be a part of their flock until the time was right. No matter how much he adapted, he would always remain the buzzard, and he was glad of it.