12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Jon was studiously checking his work email on his laptop when he heard a rumbling noise passing the main house. He looked out the window of his parents' office to see a white pickup pulling a one-horse trailer headed toward the barn. He remembered his parents discussing something about a barn stall when they'd come into the house for lunch.

He hurried to the kitchen, which was thankfully empty, looking out the window facing the barn. The truck door opened, and a very handsome figure stepped out. The view started with the boots, well-worn and saddle tan. Then the jeans, which encased mile-long legs and a very good-looking ass. The waist was slender, but the body flared into a broad back and nice shoulders, Jon noted as his gaze continued upward. There was a straw cowboy hat on the cowboy's head, tipped back so the guy could see, he assumed.

Jon saw his parents walk out of the barn, his mother warmly greeting their guest with a hearty handshake while Jon admired the way the muscles in the cowboy's back moved under the formfitting T-shirt. "Not a muscle head, but not a flabby weakling. Not bad. That ass is a work of art," Jon mumbled to himself as he continued to gawk. Jon saw Ham shake the man's hand, and the three of them stood together, appearing to be in a deep discussion.

"You know, you could go out there with them and then you wouldn't have to crane your neck so." Jon quickly turned to see Ursula carrying shopping bags. He must have been pretty damn engrossed in the sights to miss hearing her come into the room.

Jon laughed a bit. "You caught me. Do you know what's going on?" He started helping her unload the groceries to put away their contents.

"Your mother mentioned she'd found a stud to breed Jazzy and Rosie. Apparently, a friend of hers sent a video from the internet and your mother was excited to see him. She offered to drive to the owner's ranch, but the owner was nice enough to offer to bring the horse here so Ally could get a good look at him. That must be them." Ursula glanced toward the barn.

Jon was a bit concerned. His mother wasn't old… only fifty-four. She had changed her schedule, scaling back to work part-time for the city of Richmond, when needed, but offering to train her replacement in preparation for the inevitable event of Allison's retirement.

His mother hadn't told Jon why she'd decided to cut back, but he was hoping to hear a more detailed excuse over the weekend. He knew she still loved to ride, though she wasn't showing her horses any longer. He prayed it had nothing to do with her health.

"Ursula, why's she breeding those mares? I mean, I know after Bernie was put down, she decided not to compete any longer. Has she changed her mind?" he asked the woman, who had more intel than she ever let on.

Ursula gazed at him with a gentle smile. "I'd say those are questions for you to ask your mother, sweet boy. Now, get out of my kitchen. I believe your parents will ask the cowboy to stay for dinner, so I'm going to make steaks and potatoes. If you can work it into the conversation without the drool slipping out of your mouth, ask him how he likes his steak, will you?"

Jon laughed as she pushed him toward the back door. He grabbed a pair of muck boots and slipped them on his bare feet before he headed to the barn. Suddenly, he heard a laugh that made him stop in his tracks.

It can't be…

"So, y'all want me to get him out?"

Jon's spine tingled, and he wondered just how much of it was dumb luck or was it orchestrated between his meddling mother and the equally meddling Matt Collins and Timothy Moran?

Jon was certain the bull rider had been watching him when he visited Holloway for the long weekend when Cindy Whipple passed. He guessed Tim wasn't as na?ve as he led others to believe.

The interaction Jon had with Mickey Warren had been friendly, and there was mutual interest he was sure Matt or Tim picked up on, but Jon and the cowboy? There was chemistry, but it was only sexual in nature, he had believed. The two men walked vastly different paths in life, and Jon had believed they'd never diverge for any longer than one night.

Ursula's words from that morning circled his brain. " There are many ways to find something in common if you look hard enough, Jon. Always remember that ." If she was right, then it seemed as if Jon had been thrown a cosmic bone by Mickey Warren's arrival with a majestic steed.

John hurried down to the barn to hear Mickey's lyrical laugh. Jon's heart skipped several beats as he listened to his parents join the man in laughter at whatever joke Mickey had tossed out. He knew for a fact the cowboy was funny as hell, so it was no wonder the Wells' warmed to him. Hell, Jon had too, even without his own consent.

The stallion pawed at the padded floor of the trailer, so without interrupting the discussion, Jon walked to the back and opened the door, seeing the huge horse was antsy to get out of the confined space. "Hey, fella. Remember me?"

He placed his hand on Charlie's ass and eased up alongside him to untie the lead in the front. He brushed his hand over the beautiful creature's nose as he gently backed him out of the trailer without hesitation from the animal.

Jon walked him around the side of the trailer to stand next to Mickey. The stud horse, however, nudged the cowboy hat from his head causing the handsome man to quickly glance over his shoulder and offer a look of surprise. "What the fu—fudge?"

Jon stepped forward so Mickey could see the animal hadn't developed magical powers to release himself from the trailer to join the conversation. "Hello, Michael. I had no idea Mom had picked Charlie to stud her mares," Jon said, as calmly as possible. He didn't want to freak the guy out, but he definitely smelled a setup he was certain Mickey knew nothing about.

"Well, I haven't picked him yet. I'd like to see him work and maybe ride him," Allison said, leaving no room for argument.

"Mother, I rode him. He's an exemplary animal," Jon told her.

"Yes, and that's a bone I have to pick with you, Jonathon. I got an email from Ronni Turnberry recommending him as prime breeding stock, and she mentioned she'd met you the same weekend she first saw this stallion. You didn't bother to call about this horse, even though you know I'm always looking for a good stud to breed my mares. How the hell did you end up at the ranch that weekend?" His mother's scolding took him right back to his childhood. Jon laughed, unable to hold back. All credit to the Collins-Moran's; they knew how to work a lead.

"I'm confused, Jon," Mickey said.

"Oh, you know each other?" Allison observed.

"Mom, Matt Collins is a client of mine, as I'm sure you remember, but how do you know Ronni Turnberry? She's from Philly." His mother gave him a look that told him he was going first.

Jon rolled his eyes. "Michael cares for the horses at Matt's ranch, including this handsome brute. It's mostly a cattle operation, but Tim bought this stallion…" Jon went on to explain how he was acquainted with Charlie-the-stud, leaving out any details that breached attorney/client privilege. He saw his father looking Mickey up and down, and he gave Jon a wink and a smile, leaving Jon as confused as Mickey.

After Jon finished his explanation, his mother smiled. "Well, this is serendipity. Jon, show Mr. Warren where to put Charlie in the barn. We've already put hay and fresh water in the large stall at the end. He might like to stretch out from the cramped ride over here so leave the side door open so he can go out in the small paddock. When he's settled, come up to the house and have a glass of iced tea. Mr. Warren, we want you to feel at home. Jon, get his bag from the truck. He's spending the night."

Mickey protested, so Jon placed his hand on the man's back and smiled. "Give it up. She'll win every time. Think Jeri Collins and Audrey Langley rolled into one. Sweet, kind, fierce and manipulative. You'll never get a leg up."

Jon noted his parents studying him as he interacted with the cowboy, so he promptly removed his hand from Mickey's back and grinned. "I'll show you where to get Charlie settled. Oh, how do you like your steak?" he asked, remembering Ursula's request.

Mickey chuckled. "Well, I like my meat done well—oh, I mean medium. How about you? How do you like your meat, Jonny?" Jon knew the man was asking more than steak preferences, so he looked to see his parents were walking arm and arm toward the house.

Remembering what Ursula had told him regarding finding things in common, he smiled before he responded. "I like my meat hot and tender, Michael. I think we need to have a discussion before we go up to the house and I out myself to my parents by taking you on the dinner table."

"You… You're bi, right?" Mickey whispered, his eyes as big as saucers.

Jon chuckled as he led the stallion behind them. "No. I left bi behind a long time ago. I thought you picked it up when we were at the ranch. Remember, you kissed me, and I kissed you right back. We also shared a bed."

Mickey took off his cowboy hat, raking his hand through his bronze hair. "Damn. I kinda thought maybe you were just bein' nice to me because I was upset and when you woke up, you freaked out about it, and that's why you ran like the goddamn wind. I got no true gaydar whatsoever. How the hell did I not—?" He didn't finish the question. He turned to look at the horse and placed a hand on his neck, seemingly lost in thought.

"Listen, Michael, I'm sorry if I was a prick, which I know I was, and we really need to have a talk, if you're amenable. For the record, my parents don't know I'm gay, and Audrey's parents don't know about her either. They're pretty sure we're going to get married any day now, and the two of us aren't in any hurry to dissuade them from that notion. I'll talk to you about it later, okay?"

Mickey stared at him, not blinking.

"Please stay here tonight. I'll have Ursula make up the room across from mine if that's okay. Mom and Pop are at the other end of the hall, and we can take some time and actually talk. What do you say?" Jon batted his eyelashes like a teenage cheerleader.

Mickey sighed. "I'm so fuckin' mixed up, but yeah, I'd like to talk, Jonny."

They turned Charlie into the large stall, and Mickey laughed when the horse shook like a wet dog. After he was settled, they walked out of the barn. Mickey stopped and turned to Jon, worry on his face.

"Look, Matt already made me a reservation at a Holiday Inn. I wouldn't mind supper with y'all ‘cause your momma seems like a nice lady, and she knows her horseflesh. Plus, if she has questions about Charlie's lineage, I've got paperwork from Matt for her to look over. I think, though... Maybe I better stay at the motel. I don't wanna blow up your life, Jon. I know we've got nothin' we could talk about for more than ten minutes, so let's just leave it be."

Jon took a deep breath because he was going to say something he'd never said before in his life, and he was saying it to the most handsome man he'd ever met. "Please stay. I want to get to know you, Michael. Maybe at first glance it seems like we'd have nothing to talk about, but isn't that what getting to know someone is all about? I'm so damned attracted to you I haven't slept peacefully since the night I slept with you next to me when Cindy Whipple died."

Mickey shook his head. "I think that was because of the circumstances."

"I wish to fuck I hadn't been such a coward to run away before I gave us a chance to get acquainted. I'm also disappointed in myself for leaving before I got to know Rocky. Audrey keeps me updated, and I know she's attached to him, but I feel like I'm missing out on a lot. Can we maybe have a mulligan?" Jon asked.

Seeing the confusion on Mickey's face made him smile. "I'm guessing you don't play golf?"

The young man laughed. "Of course, I do. We hit the links on Thursday's just like the doctors in town. My handicap is a three." Mickey stood there in front of him with surprising confidence.

For a moment, Jon was shocked, but then he saw the slow smirk on the handsome face, and he laughed. "I'm gonna guess you're making fun of me, aren't you?"

"No more than you're makin' fun of me. What's a mulligan?"

"It means a do-over. Can we have a do-over? I behaved like a royal asshole when I was in Holloway, and I've regretted it ever since. Can you give me another chance?" Jon stared into those beautiful, shamrock-green eyes, feeling his heart pound.

Mickey walked to him and leaned forward, giving Jon a chance to breathe him in deeply. The man smelled like every good, masculine thing Jon had ever smelled—fresh grass, leather, sandalwood, and maybe heaven.

"Jonathon Wells, I'm not sure if we have enough in common to get us through more than one night, but I'd be willin' to explore it to the point we could get naked and see where that might take us. You game?" Mickey leaned down and licked the side of Jon's neck, sending a shiver through his body like he'd never felt before in his life.

"Ahh! Yessss!"

Hot air blew against the moisture on his neck and opened his eyes to see the smiling cowboy staring into his soul. God, the eyes were such a beautiful green and deep as an ocean. He felt his heart stutter as he watched the man grin at him. "I see we have another thing in common. You like big… horses," he teased as Jon felt a bump to the back of his head. He turned around to see his horse, Hercules, standing at the gate next to the stall where they'd put Charlie.

Jon laughed. "Michael, this is Hercules. Old man, this is my—hopefully—new friend, Michael Warren."

Mickey reached up and scratched the gelding's neck. "He's a handsome lad," The young cowboy lifted the horse's lips to examine his teeth.

"Ten or so? How long since you rode him?"

"How the hell did you know that?" Jon had heard people say they could tell a horse's age by looking into their mouths, but he'd never actually seen it done.

Mickey laughed. "I have to keep some mystery about me, counselor. Let's get up to the house. I'm hungry."

They walked out of the barn, intentionally bumping into each other like they were twelve or so. There were questions to ask and answer and plenty of things to discuss regarding whether they could find that promising common ground.

There was also the distance from Richmond to Holloway, and so many other things to consider. If Jon concentrated on all the negatives, he'd just get in the Mercedes and go home.

But then, on the other hand, there was the bright smile and quick wit of Michael Warren. There were the greenest eyes Jon Wells had ever gazed into, and there were things he wanted to discover about the man, including what he hid in those Wranglers. It had driven him batshit crazy, and Jon hoped to get up-close-and-in-person with the contents of the man's jeans—which also hugged that incredible ass so well. Jon was officially on the hunt when it came to Mickey Warren. He prayed he didn't make a fool of himself, but he decided he wasn't going to be afraid, and he damn well wasn't going to hold back.

"You've ridden that gorgeous horse, and you didn't even call me?" Allison scolded as they ate in the kitchen. Ursula had prepared steaks with sautéed mushrooms, baked potatoes, and broccoli in brown butter and shaved garlic. There had been a small salad, and Jon knew there was pie, because he'd smelled it baking when he'd come into the house to show Mickey to his room upstairs. Hell, the house had many bedrooms, but he put Mickey across from him because he wanted them to be able to have a sorely needed conversation. Jon had been fucked up for too long after his visit to the Circle C, and he couldn't get Mickey Warren off his mind. It was time to fish or cut bait.

"Mom, Michael was daring me to ride Charlie, thinking I was some sort of a greenhorn or something. He's a wonderful ride, trust me. It's like sitting in a glider." Jon continued to eat the magnificent meal Ursula had prepared before she left for the evening.

Allison turned to Mickey and smiled. "Why does he call you Michael? I thought you told me everyone calls you Mickey. I don't want to offend you."

"Oh, no, ma'am. You couldn't…"

Jon spoke up. "I call him Michael because that's his given name, and as far as I remember, he never gave me leave to address him as anything else. Anyway, why don't we clear the table and go to the barn. We can saddle Charlie, and Michael can ride him first. If the horse seems comfortable, then maybe you can take a spin?"

Mickey swallowed and gulped at the glass of beer next to his plate. "Miss Allison, I'm sure you're a fine horsewoman, but Charlie's sorta—"

Ham laughed, interrupting Mickey. "Did you tell him about your mother's trophies?" He then turned to Mickey and grinned. "Young man, I'm pretty sure aside from a bronc, Ally can hold her own on that stud. She holds her own with this stud, and I bet that horse ain't got nothin' on me."

Mickey cracked up, and Jon started laughing as well. His parents were pretty damn great. He only hoped they would remain so great when he told them he wasn't going to marry Audrey Langley because she was engaged to Lyla, her roommate.

Jon needed to finally come clean with them about what he wanted in the future, and it wasn't Audrey for a wife. He'd carried the lie far too long, and watching Mickey interacting with his parents, he had the feeling things might not be as bad as he assumed. Only time would tell…

A soft knock on his bedroom door brought a smile from Jon. He hesitated for an instant, deciding whether to lay his cards on the table and tell the young man he'd like a chance at maybe more than one night, or to gently explain to the young cowboy all the reasons why they were wrong for each other.

Although, as Jon thought about it, maybe he wasn't thinking straight. He remembered back to when they were all down at the barn, and he smiled. After his mother rode Charlie, she agreed he was a good fit for her mares.

Jon opened the door to find Mickey standing in front of him in a pair of sweats and a bare chest. His hair was wet, which Jon expected because the man had said he was going to shower, almost like an invitation. Of course, Jon felt they had too much air to clear, so he didn't join him, opting to use the other shower down the hallway.

"Come in," he invited as he took Mickey's warm hand, pulling him inside the room so he could close the door.

"Look, we were both played, okay? I talked to Tim, and he pushed Ronni into contactin' your mother. This ain't gotta have one thing to do with us, okay? Charlie can breed those mares tomorrow and Monday mornin' before I load him up to take him home. You, my friend, are welcome to leave here without one regret," Mickey explained to him.

It was time for a decision, one way or the other.