Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Across the barn, the horse let out a loud whinny followed by some heavy, wet plopping. There was no mistaking it. JB dropped his head back and laughed, his entire body shaking with the joyous sound. In that moment, everything in him felt lighter, freer, and Cole was simply entranced.
“I know it’s not romantic, but that is the best sound I’ve heard all day.”
Cole chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, I get it. I take that sound means Bandit is on the mend now.”
“It’s a good step forward.” JB stole a quick kiss, then pushed to his feet. He walked over to Bandit, who greeted him with a shiver. Yeah, he understood, and he was glad JB’s horse was feeling better now. The man needed something going in his favor right now.
JB turned back and smiled. “Sorry about that interruption.” He walked over to Cole, who also stood, and JB picked up his lost hat.
Cole grabbed the untouched thermos and held it tightly in both hands in front of him, not that it could hide the hard-on still pressed against his pants. “No. It’s okay. Probably for the best.”
“Really?” JB lifted an eyebrow at him, and Cole had to look away.
“Yeah, things were in danger of getting out of control and since this is all new…and…well,” he fumbled at the end, not quite sure what he was trying to say other than he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to have his brains fucked out in a stable. Except for the fact that his dick was arguing that it was a brilliant idea.
JB took a step closer and placed his hand on Cole’s shoulder, squeezing until Cole relaxed under his touch. “Slow is fine. We’re not in a race to some finish line. We’re just enjoying things as they come.”
Cole lifted his eyes to JB’s face, expecting to see laughter and teasing there, but the man looked completely serious. “You sure?”
“Completely. I like hanging out with you, and yeah, your mouth melts my goddamn brain.”
A grin spread across his lips and Cole turned, bumping JB. “I bet you say that to all the wannabe cowboys you kiss in the barn.”
JB surprised him by wrapping his arm around his waist as they walked toward the house. “I’m not gonna lie. I have kissed a couple of cowboys in this stable.” He paused and looked at Cole, his smile softening into something Cole couldn’t quite define. “But you’re the first guy who just sat and talked with me. That was better than all those other stolen kisses.”
That was damn nice to hear. He’d never thought this was only about getting off, but it was still nice to have proof that JB thought of him as more than a warm body.
“You wanna go hang out and watch some TV? I can text Danny to return to the stable after he finishes his episode.”
“Sounds great to me.”
Cole watched as JB quickly tapped out a message to Danny before tucking his phone away. He dropped his hat on his head and smirked. “Ready?”
“Jeremy Brett?”
JB cocked his head at him and smirked. “Didn’t that guy play Sherlock Holmes in that old PBS series?”
“Elementary, my dear Watson.”
“Nope. I’m Holmes. You’re Watson.”
“Does this mean I’m right?”
“Nope, but you can call me whatever you want as long as you keep kissing me like that.”
Cole smiled to himself. That did seem like a very nice arrangement. He certainly had no complaints about it.
Chapter Eighteen
Cole propped his feet up on the lip of the forty-two-foot outboard boat and crossed his ankles. He held the fishing rod and slowly jerked and reeled the line. Sunlight warmed his exposed legs in the swim trunks he’d borrowed from JB. The lake stretched out around them, fish popping up at the surface of the water and birds crying overhead. He glanced at JB, who sat beside him. They’d set up folding chairs near the back of the boat with a cooler on the other side of JB.
“You’re lucky to live on a lake like this. You have your own personal playground.”
“I once caught a ten-pound bass out here.” JB handed Cole a cold beer from the cooler. He looked like he was dressed for the beach in colorful swim shorts and a yellow tank top. “I was only eight and I whooped so loud, my mom heard me at the house.”
“Did you stuff and mount it?”
JB chuckled. “So. Many. Jokes.”
Cole grinned.
“We had an old-fashioned fish fry. It was the first time I contributed to the food, and I felt twelve feet tall.” JB’s laughter rang out across the lake. “I came out here every day for two weeks trying to do it again, and all I caught was a two-pounder. Still, it was exciting to catch a fish at all. So many times, I caught nothing.”
Cole imagined he’d been a precocious kid, all spindly legs and blond hair, out here trying his hardest to land another big fish. “My dad used to take me fishing, but we mostly went after catfish. I’ll never forget meeting a man who was missing three fingers from noodling.”