Chapter 2

Timothy “Tank” Rogers sat on the porch of his ranch house, looking over his own little kingdom—and that was how he thought of it. After eight years in service to his country, he had returned home with a bum leg that still ached sometimes, to a father who was so ill he could barely stand.

Tank had nursed his dad, but all he could do was keep him comfortable those last days. Cancer was a bitch from hell. He grieved by spending the next two years working his ass off to stave off foreclosure and put the ranch back in shape. Now his place was prosperous. One thing Tank had learned in the service was that he couldn’t do it alone, and with the help of good neighbors, he had seen himself and his people through the darkest of times.

He sipped his tea, ice cubes tinkling in the glass, condensation dripping onto his shirt. Tank paid it no mind. There were still things to do, but he needed a break to rest his aching leg.

Tank sat forward as an old but familiar car turned into his drive. “Chip,” he said when his neighbor’s youngest son got out. Tank would know him anywhere. Chip was cute, and Tank always had an eye out for cute. He was also way off-limits: too young, his neighbor’s boy, and Chip was straight and dating one of the girls in town. Not that Tank would ever allow himself to get serious about the kid anyway. His daddy always told him not to shit where he ate, and Chip Justice was way too close to home. Still, he wasn’t dead, and there was no harm in looking.

“Hey, Tank.” Chip closed the car door and ambled up toward the porch.

“You want some tea?” He was about to get up when Chip sat down.

“No, thanks. Besides, I know where it is if I need any.” He smiled that bright, open grin he always had. Chip was a ray of sunshine in what could otherwise be a dark and harsh world. Tank hoped the world let him stay that way. “Mama wanted me to stop by on my way home from work.” He never slowed down. In addition to the ranch, Chip used to work at a store in town, but now he assisted John Hasper, one of the local vets, during the summer.

“First, why don’t you tell me why you keep looking down at your shoes?”

The smile slid away, and the sparkle in those eyes flashed out in a second. “Someone brought in some dogs they found out north of town. They were in bad shape. Three of the young ones died while I held them. I’ve seen animals die before, and I know it happens, but they were just puppies. The vet said that the fleas had almost drained them dry.”

“You helped save the others, right?” Tank asked, and Chip nodded. “Then think on that. The other dogs are here and have a chance because of you.”

“Yeah,” Chip breathed. “But all of them need homes, and they ain’t ranch dogs. They’re small. The mama isn’t much more than ten pounds, and the pups were tiny. But they’re all cute little things.”

“And your mother isn’t going to let you bring home any more dogs.” Tank knew that for sure. The Justice ranch already had a menagerie of Chip’s foundlings. “You tell Doc that I’ll take the dogs if they need homes.” Hell, he needed some company around the house, and dogs were a lot easier to get along with than people. “Now, what did your mama want?”

“Next week, Alan and George are coming back for a visit. Mama is in a real dither because she wants the visit to go well, but Alan called to say that they’re bringing a friend with them. The house is going to be really full, and Mama doesn’t want to put this Collin out in the bunkhouse with the men.”

Tank sipped from his glass. “Why not?”

“For one thing, he’s a guest, and for another, he’s a viscount, the son of one of Alan and George’s neighbors, and Mama wants to make a good impression. Mama wanted me to ask you if Collin could stay here with you. She said to tell you she would be doing the cooking.” Chip sat back in his chair.

Tank had to admit that was an enticement. Chip’s mother was an amazing cook, and the thought of home-cooked meals was almost enough to get him to agree. But Tank was used to being alone, and he didn’t need someone else in his house.

“I know it’s a lot to ask. I told Mama that I could move the furniture around and make room for Collin in the office or something. But you know her.”

Tank found himself nodding. “Your mama is a kind lady, and she helps out everyone. So if she needs me to put up this Viscount Collin while he’s here, then you tell her yes. Anything to get me some of her biscuits and gravy.” If she was going to be cooking, he might as well put in for some of his favorites. Maureen Justice was one of those people who asked very little and gave a lot to others, so even though the thought of having someone in his house for a few weeks made him want to scratch his skin off, he smiled and agreed.

“I’ll be sure to tell her, and thank you.” Chip smiled again. “For taking the dogs, and for letting this viscount guy stay here.”

“Have you met him?” Tank asked.

“I think I might have when I visited Alan and George last summer. I spent a lot of my time out in the stables with the horses and the folks who worked there.”

Tank clapped Chip on the shoulder. “Of course you did. Anyone would. Who needs fancy people who hide behind bowing, scraping, titles, and ‘yes, my lord’?”

Chip shrugged. “It wasn’t like that. George is a duke and he has an estate and stuff, but he’s a great guy and he doesn’t act that way or expect his people to bow and scrape. The people who work for him have various ways of addressing him, mainly because they respect him, and I think they feel the same way about Alan. I thought like you did and was kind of intimidated, but it’s a respect sort of thing. I know you understand that.”

“Does this viscount expect us to use his title?”

“Nope. George says that we are to call him Collin. His father’s an earl who Alan says is a real piece of work.” Chip jumped to his feet. “I got to go or Mama is going to start to wonder where I am, and there are still chores to get done.”

Tank finished his tea and stood as well, working the stiffness out of his leg. “There’s always work on a ranch.”

“George made it clear to Mama that Collin will be here to help out. Alan says he knows we have working ranches, and he is supposed to be good with horses.”

“We can always use help.” Tank took off his hat to let the breeze reach his hairless head. He wasn’t sure how this Collin fellow was going to fare after a day of real ranch work, but he figured they’d all find out.

“That’s it, girl,” Tank said softly as he stroked her nose. “You’re going to be fine. Just give yourself a break.” He sat on a bale of hay, stroking the rat terrier mama, her two remaining pups playing in the box around her. Sheba was cute and seemed taken with him, but the poor thing was jumpy, like she expected some predator to come up and devour her at any minute. “I’m here, and I ain’t going to let nothing happen to you.” He’d brought her out to the barn so she wouldn’t be alone, but now he wondered if that was a good idea.

Sheba began to bark, sharply and as loud as her little body could muster. She stood rigid, a pup on each side.

“Tank?”

“It’s Chip,” Tank told the silly girl, who began wagging her tail as soon as she saw him.

Chip hurried over and lifted Sheba in his hands, holding her to his chest. “What’s all that noise for?” he asked her, petting gently. Tank lifted and caressed each of the still-tiny pups. “Alan, George, and Collin are arriving today. I expect them in an hour or so.”

“Your mama texted,” Tank said. “Let’s get these guys in the house. I thought she’d be calmer if I stayed close, but it isn’t working.”

“She needs predictability,” Chip said. “They got these dog beds at the clinic. I’ll bring you one. That way she can have her own space.” He rocked slowly, and Sheba seemed much happier.

Tank led the way to the house, where Chip set down Sheba and Tank set down Liza and Danny. Tank was still trying to find homes for them, but for now, his little doggie family seemed happy. “I came by to make sure you were ready for guests. And before you say anything, Mama insisted. She wants to make sure that Collin isn’t too much of a problem for you.”

“Everything is fine. I cleaned and put fresh sheets on the bed and everything.” He wasn’t sure how he felt that Maureen thought she needed to check up on him, though Tank wasn’t exactly the “hosting a houseguest” type. “Should I have gotten mints to put on his pillow?”

Chip patted his shoulder. “No, and I’m sorry about all this. I offered to give up my room and stay in the bunkhouse.”

Tank looked around the house he had grown up in, the one that his grandfather had built for an entire family rather than just for him. He had three unused bedrooms in the place, so if Collin wanted, he could take his pick. “This is fine.” He ran a critical eye over his living room and wondered what Viscount What’s-His-Name would think of his old, mismatched furniture.

Sheba ran in, leaped up on the sofa, and got comfortable, blinking her big eyes at him, the definition of cuteness.

“Well, thank you again for doing this. Mom says that dinner will be in two hours, and we’ll see you then.” Chip said goodbye and hurried out.

Tank got out the broom, vacuum, and duster and started cleaning the house all over again.

Tank clung to the bouquet of flowers he’d brought for Maureen as he got out of his truck and walked slowly up to the front door. He knocked, and Alan opened it and pulled him into a hug. “It’s good to see you, man.” He thumped Tank on the back and stepped away. “Come on in. Everyone is in the kitchen talking.” He waited and closed the door, motioning Tank through.

The scent from the kitchen pulled him forward. Tank stepped in and stopped. George sat at the table with a cup of tea. He stood, and they shook hands. Tank had met him briefly before, but they hadn’t had a chance to talk much.

The man next to him stood.

“Collin, this is Timothy,” Alan said.

“But everyone calls me Tank.” His voice sounded different to him, and he hoped to hell it didn’t crack like a teenager’s. He’d been calm under fire multiple times, but Collin left him unsure of what to say. He was handsome and almost regal. “You’re the Viscount Something-or-Other?”

“Yes. I have a title, but just call me Collin, okay?” He seemed really subdued, and his voice was quiet. Tank leaned closer to hear him. “I’m a friend of George and Alan’s.” He smiled beautifully, and all Tank could do was nod. He straightened up and shook the offered hand.

“It’s good to meet you,” Tank said, forcing his control back into place. He had been trained to handle any situation, and the fact that the ground under his feet seemed to have turned to quicksand from awe and sheer attraction to the sexy redhead had him falling back onto old protocols: stay cool, think, and be on guard. In this case, he decided to redirect and give the flowers he’d brought to Maureen.

“Did you grow these?” she asked before sniffing them.

“I did. Mama always had a flower garden, so last year I found where hers had been and planted one of my own.” It might have seemed like a waste of time and effort to some people, but for Tank it made it seem like his own mama was a little closer to him, even if he would never tell anyone that, even on threat of death. Showing weakness only let others get close enough to hurt you.

“They’re beautiful.” She kissed Tank on the cheek before going to put them in water. She did that sometimes, and Tank never knew what to do with it. He simply smiled a little and tried not to blush. “Sit down and get off your feet. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

Tank pulled out a chair and sat, listening as the others talked about the trip and what a pain travel was. “Do you tell people you’re a duke?” Chip asked. “I bet you can get better seats and stuff.”

Alan snickered. “There was that British Airways gate attendant who wasn’t very cooperative at Heathrow.” He bumped George’s shoulder like he was sharing a big secret, and the upright, proper-posture duke beamed back at him like Alan hung the moon.

“Let’s not get into that,” George said.

Alan leaned forward, making it clear he was going to tell the story regardless of what George thought. “You’d have thought she was the queen herself. People were lined up everywhere and they needed help, and all she did was talk to one of the maintenance guys. George gets out of the queue and walks up to the counter. She pauses her conversation to glare at George. He pulled out his wallet and showed her his identification. She sneered and then saw the crest and the title and paled. I thought she was going to pass out.”

“What did you do?” Chip asked. “Did you tell her off?”

“I didn’t say a word,” George said.

Alan snickered. “No, he didn’t. But she about wet herself and snapped to. George waited his turn in the queue, and by the time we got up to the front of the line, we had the best seats on the plane.”

“You got an upgrade?”

“No. I had already paid for premium seats, but we got changed to better ones, and she was able to put us together.”

“Did Collin get to sit with you?”

Collin shook his head. “I had a seat in the regular cabin. It was all that was available.”

Maureen set a glass of iced tea in front of him, and Tank sipped it, grateful for something to do. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, so he let the others do the talking and mostly listened and kept glancing at Collin.

The man intrigued him, but that didn’t really matter. Collin could have made a huge deal about where he’d been seated, but he downplayed it, like anyone else. He was here for two weeks, and that was all. Collin was also a guest of the Justices. On top of that, Tank didn’t need anyone complicating his life, no matter that the sight of the guy made his blood run hotter. He had already had more of that than he needed for as long as he lived.

Maureen brought dinner to the table: a beef roast, potatoes, fresh vegetables, and to top it off, one of her fresh berry pies. The entire room filled with a home-cooked scent that Tank hadn’t experienced in a long time. He’d never been much of a cook, though he was getting better at it now that he had to. His dad had been amazing in the kitchen, and so had his mom.

Tank turned toward where Maureen was getting the second pie, and he could remember his parents bringing dinner to the table while he watched and waited, his belly rumbling just the way it did now.

“Thank you,” Tank said to Maureen when she passed him a plate. His instinct was to tuck right in, but he watched as the others waited for everyone to be served. Then, once Maureen sat down, he began to eat.

“Have you been on your ranch for long?” Collin asked from next to him.

“All my life,” Tank answered. “My grandparents started the place, and they left it to my father, who left it to me.” Look at him being social.

“Like my home. It was built by the third earl, and the family has lived there since.” Collin smiled as he talked about it.

“How many earls have there been?” he asked, more to give Collin something to talk about than anything. He had a nice voice.

“My father is the eighth Earl of Doddington. I’ll be the ninth, and after that I’m not sure who will follow me.”

“I thought you were a viscount or something. You won’t stay that?”

Collin set down his fork. “The viscount title is a secondary one. Before I was born, my father was the Viscount Haferton and Earl of Doddington. Now he’s still the earl, and I’m the viscount. When he dies, I’ll be both until I have a son, which my father is pressuring me to do.”

Chip leaned over the table. “But… how are you going to do that?” He glanced at Alan and then at George in confusion.

“Well, I won’t put some woman, especially one my father might think is suitable, through that kind of lie. I haven’t figured out how exactly I’m going to have a child, but I will.” The determination in Collin’s voice set something ablaze in Tank that he tried to douse, but he could feel his cheeks heating. Collin must be gay! The idea gave Tank a feeling he dared not name as hope. “I have to keep the line going, but I won’t hurt anyone in the process.”

Tank lifted his gaze to Collin. “That’s a very cowboy attitude.” The others nodded, and Tank went back to his dinner, trying not to show the excitement that had his belly fluttering. Still, just because Collin was gay didn’t mean he would be interested in Tank. It was better and safer to keep his feelings to himself.