Uncommon Cowboys: Vol 1 PRINT

Excerpt From: Straight Cowboy

He knew just how it would feel sliding in, the tight heat clamping around him so his eyes would shut. He’d dig his fingers into the man beneath him, buried so deep in Matt James, a shade of heaven as blinding as the noon day sun overhead.

Joshua Ryan’s eyes saucered at the forbidden thought and he nearly choked on his coffee, which was bitter and grainy in his tin cup, leaving a residue that his Grandmother Ruth could probably have read like tea leaves.

He rubbed his forehead, thinking maybe he was having a weird flashback to his summer job last year. It was just that he hadn’t had sex with anyone since then, it wasn’t that he was craving being with another man. Despite the stint as the ‘straight cowboy’ in gay amateur porn he’d done to make some quick cash, he wasn’t gay and no one knew, thank fuck, that he’d ever done them. They’d just shot his body and the back of his head during a few orgy scenes.

Who knew him well enough to identify him just from that?

“Josh, man… What’s with him?” Tupper nudged him so that Josh put his cards down. He hadn’t wanted to play poker with the hands of the Triple M, but when he and his guest had found them already ensconced at the watering hole, he figured it was best to be friendly while they had some lunch and gave their horses a break. “City boy too good to hang out with us?”

He looked over at Matt, a solitary figure leaning against a pine tree at the edge of the campsite, arms crossed as he looked down the ridge toward the waving tall grass in the prairie below. Matt was slender, about four inches shorter than Josh with glossy brown hair. His eyes were a chocolate almost the same colour as his pupils.

Josh dragged his gaze away from Matt and raised his eyebrows at Tupper, a man in his mid-forties with reddened green eyes and salt and pepper short hair who was in charge of the hands riding fences on the border between their land and the national park.

He debated for a second but then decided to just be honest. Matt hadn’t seemed the type of guy who was into bullshit. “He’s deaf, Tupper.”

Tupper blinked and more of his hands glanced over at Matt.

Matt’s expression hadn’t changed but there was a subtle tension to his posture now that Josh picked up on.

“Deaf? What the fuck is he doing out here then?” Tupper asked.

“He’s up here to photograph and write about the lost horses of Chaos Valley,” Josh said.

“Huh, those mustangs are a damned nuisance. Should shoot them all,” Tupper growled. “But I say again, why is he here? I mean, if he can’t hear anything…”

That wasn’t completely true since Matt had tersely informed Josh the morning they set out on their trail ride that he had an implant, but Josh wasn’t familiar enough with the technology to know how much Matt might pick up.

“He’s got me,” Josh said flatly.

A couple of the hands snickered and Josh threw in his cards, having had enough.

“So you’re his hearing loss dog or something, Josh? Geez, you boys down at Western Trail Rides must be hard up.”

“I’ll see you guys,” Josh muttered. He shoved his blond hair back off his forehead and replaced his dusty cowboy hat, thinking Tupper was right about one thing—Josh was hard up. He’d barely slept last night, restless in his bedroll. It made for one cranky cowboy come morning. Shit, when he finished this trip, he was going to visit Diana this time. She’d made it clear she was available.

* * * *

“What?” Josh stared at the weaving fingers, at the slap of palm impacting palm as Matt spoke in emphatic sign. “Wait. Would you wait?” P

anting, colour high in his cheeks, Matt’s hands fell. He crossed his arms.

“You’re as bad as my kid brother sometimes, you know that?” Josh asked. “I didn’t get half of what you said to me. I can’t read sign that fast.”

Matt held his gaze, unblinking.

“Do you get that?” Josh repeated, first aloud and then in sign. He figured the second was unnecessary, since Matt obviously read lips, but he wanted to be bill-board clear. “Slow down, please.”

He gave Matt a moment to think it over and also to cool his temper while he checked Chrysanthemum’s saddle as his mare looked back toward him, a dark intelligent eye watching his movements. The saddle felt right under his hands, so he turned back to face his guest.

Matt’s hands slowed down, almost insultingly slow, but Josh waited him out, catching Matt’s words this time.

“I want to get moving. I don’t pay you to socialize with your friends.”

His friends. Uh huh. Josh was damned if he’d explain himself, would admit that he didn’t care for Tupper and his men anymore than Matt. Instead, he signed back a reply, equally slow so that a satiric light finally entered Matt’s dark eyes. “Okay, we leave.”

Excerpt From: Shifter Cowboy

Gravel and dirt sprayed Cody Marshall where he was lying curled up in the middle of an unpaved road. He put a hand instinctively over his eyes, shielding them from the stab of headlights.

“What the…” The creak of a truck door, boots crunching on gravel…A slight figure blocked out the headlights and Cody looked up at a man with brown hair in his eyes. He knelt next to Cody, reaching out to gently grip his arm. “Are you hurt? Can I help you?”

Oh, shit. Cody’s cheeks heated as he realised two things: one, he was lying in plain sight recovering and second, he was completely naked.

“’M fine,” he mumbled. Blood. He could smell it on himself.

“No, you’re not.” Soft eyes held his, their colour reminding Cody of a string of tiger’s eye, clear brown with strands of amber. “Look, I’m going to help you to your feet. Are you okay to try that? If you’re hurting anywhere, let me know—”

“I’m not.” Crap, just his luck he’d get some do-gooder on a little used road in the middle of fucking nowhere on a Friday night. The man looked young and attractive enough, so why wasn’t he doing the traditional thing and partying like most of the cowboys who lived in the area?

“Okay then.” Strength. Warmth. The stranger exuded it as he helped Cody to his feet. The front of the truck loomed suddenly closer as Cody wavered but before he could fall, he was snatched close to a hard, protective body. He felt the crispness of denim against his bare thighs and the cotton of a T-shirt brushing his sensitive nipples. He caught his breath, his hands fisting as powerful sexual hunger beat in his blood.

No. He shook his head, desperately holding onto his control. It was tough when he could see the waning moon through a clump of trees, when he could smell lime aftershave and feel the caring in the stranger’s touch.

Nothing got to Cody like someone touching him with tenderness.

“Fucking let me go!” He shoved the man away from him, unable to handle it.

Shocked velvety eyes widened. “Hey, mister, I’m trying to help you!”

Cody dropped his gaze away from the other man’s. What Cody needed was to feel in control again. He took a deep breath, pushing back his long black hair with a shaking hand. “What’s your name?” he demanded, pretending his nerves weren’t shooting sparks like a downed power line.

The stranger tilted his head, as if considering Cody. Cody hunched his shoulders, wanting to attack, wanting to ghost back into the trees while a third impulse licked up his thigh. Want. Not the pale human thing, but want like the satisfying crunch of bone under his teeth. He wanted to wrap himself around that slender body, him nude, the other man dressed, it didn’t matter. He wanted to spread the stranger out on top of the truck, bury himself inside him while looking into those yellow-brown eyes.

Panting, Cody fought the need, curling his arms around himself.

“I’m Adrian Le Roy,” the man finally answered gently, as if he had some sense of the wildness crashing through Cody. “I’m new here.”

Cody thrust his hand out. “Howdy.”

Adrian blinked and then his lips curved into a rueful smile. He took Cody’s scratched and dirt-encrusted hand. “Howdy,” he said in that deep voice that tightened the muscles in Cody’s lower body like strings on a guitar. He had a slight southern accent that Cody couldn’t help but find sexy, the slow drawl adding an old-fashioned courtliness to his words. “May I ask your name?”

Excerpt From: Shy Cowboy

Cass Drake looked through the sheaf of diet material as he used his hip to shut the driver’s door of his truck. Shit, he really wanted some roasted potatoes with dinner tonight but he bet he couldn’t despite how hard he’d worked all day. Caring for the horses and doing chores around the Yellow Trail Ranch sure burned off the cals, though.

His diet advisor had told him again that he didn’t have a weight problem. She’d said he seemed healthy to her, with a thickly muscled body that weighed more than most folks but Cass thought she was just being nice. He remembered the humiliation of his first and only date. That had been two years ago and he hadn’t gone out with anyone since.

“Hey, Chubby,” Marty Drayton drawled. “Where you been, on a hot date?” The other cowboy laughed, as if it was obvious that six foot five Cass with his massive frame wouldn’t appeal to anyone.

Cass gritted his teeth but let it pass. Marty was an asshole but just one of many who had teased Cass over the years. High school had been hell because Cass was so shy, so aware of how he was different. Only being a valued and intimidating linebacker had kept the teasing from becoming more serious.

“I thought you were camping in the foothills this week,” Cass said. A tough springtime chore was searching for the cattle that had wandered off the ranchland during the winter. They tended to seek the bordering national park beyond the town of White Deer, Montana

Marty gave an exaggerated shiver. “April, man, too damn cold for me. I volunteered you and the new guy to go up and look for strays and the ramrod thought it was a great idea.”

The new guy.

Tom Black. The reason behind Cass’ latest attempt to diet. He flushed, dropping his head so Marty wouldn’t see this sign of weakness and ride him about it. So far he’d been able to keep his painful crush on Tom to himself. Cass planned to keep it that way.

He stepped onto the porch where Marty was loitering. The bench outside the bunkhouse was the only place the hands were permitted to smoke. Summertime grassfires were a danger and the boss wouldn’t tolerate carelessness. Marty had lit up. Relaxed, he’d set his boots resting on the opposite bench.

“Is Tom inside?” Cass asked.

“Your sweetie is in the horse barn with that baby mustang.”

“Cut out that shit!” Cass wanted to smack the other man but he remembered his father telling him over and over again, you’re bigger than most folks, Cass, so go easy, be gentle. You don’t know your own strength.

Marty’s brown eyes were sharp, and Cass told himself not to give himself away. Tom would probably laugh off Marty’s words, but then Tom wasn’t crushed on him.

“Not going over to Adrian and Cody’s for dinner?” Marty referred to Cass’ new friends, a veterinarian and his hired hand. Both were as passionate as Cass about helping preserve the small herd of wild horses that had returned to the foothills.

Cass shook his head.

“Oh. Guess it’s not on your diet, huh?”

“My diet?” But even as he tried to shrug it off, Cass knew there were no secrets in a bunkhouse.

“Kind of obvious.” Marty nodded to the bag with a diet slogan on it and Cass had to agree. Well, fuck it.