8. Briar

Briar slept the whole weekend,swimming in and out of fever dreams that he could barely remember by the time he hauled himself out of bed Monday morning.All he was left with were legs that felt like limp noodles and an amorphous sense of longing.No matter how much he tried to distract himself with a cheerful stream of chatter, he couldn"t shake the feeling.

By the time they headed out to their first ranch call of the day, Nate had begun to give him increasingly worried side-eye.

"You should've stayed home today," Nate said as they turned down the last winding country road.

"And miss my chance to stick my hand up the wrong end of a bull?" Briar asked dryly."It's the most action I'll see all year."

Nate rolled his eyes, but he knew better than to argue.All he said was, "Let me know if you start feeling sick."

"Scouts honor," Briar promised, holding up three fingers in a salute.

The Triple M was their first stop.The cattle ranch was nestled at the base of the Strawberry Mountains, with a green carpet of freshly planted pasture spreading as far as the eye could see.It was one of Nate's favorite places to visit.The ranch threw a lot of work toward Tucker, Nate"s horse-trainer boyfriend, but he"d also grown up with most of the cowboys on the payroll.

They laughed and joked like old friends as they wrangled a cranky, prolapsed bull into a treatment pen.

The cowboys pinned the bull by the neck while Briar and Nate fixed a set of figure-eight ties around his legs.Sedation was a last resort with ruminating animals, but one kick was powerful enough to break their ribs,so Briar had become an expert at quick-release knots. He flitted between the cowboys like a bumblebee, ducking under their arms and securing two half-hitches around the bull's meaty torso.

The air was crisp and warm, a heady mix of clean air, lumber, and livestock, but Briar couldn"t appreciate it.The churned-up dirt clogged his throat, and the bright spring sun made his eyes water.Filth already liberally streaked his clothes. He should just swallow his gag reflex and buy some work clothes like Nate, but that would be admitting defeat.

Besides, he'd never fill out a pair of wranglers like the cowboys all around him.Their jeans were practically painted in grime, but that didn't stop him from covertly appreciating the way their muscles flexed beneath the denim.

They were all breathing hard, their faces bathed in sweat as the bull fought the ropes.

A hoof the size of a Buick stomped a hairsbreadth away from Briar's foot.

"Careful, little guy." A cowboy with blond curls yanked him back by the collar, dazzling him with a quick grin before turning and setting his shoulder against the bull's neck.

"You gonna let him get away with that?" Calvin Craig asked incredulously.He wasn"t much bigger than Briar, but attitude and whipcord strength gave him the illusion of inches.Nate said that Cal had been a bull rider once—because that was apparently a thing guys did out here when they were bored.

Briar shrugged. "Size doesn't matter when you've got my skills."

"Hooo, boy!"Aiden hooted and clapped him on the shoulder."Don't threaten me with a good time!"

Briar winced. Aiden wasn't a six-four monster like Derek, but it still felt like one solid whack would pop Briar"s head off and send it shooting across the pen.Cowboys were just built different.

"I mean, I don't swing that way," Aiden continued, grunting as the bull fought his restraint, "but I could show you how a real man handles things."

"You'd have to find me one first," Briar retorted before he could stop himself.

So far, the crew at the Triple M had seemed accepting.They"d have to be, at least on a surface level, ever since their boss decided to shack up with Derek"s brother West.But he was never certain how far he should push it.They were friendly, but they weren"t his people.Not even the few same-sex couples around town.Brotherhood in the gay fraternity wasn't enough to earn Briar more than a passing nod.It wasn't his sexuality. It was a culture thing.Briar would always be an outsider, and so he"d always be on his own.

Unbidden, Derek"s rough features sprang to mind.The man was imposing. Frightening.He set Briar's nerves on edge and left him feeling shaky and uncertain.But strangely, Briar had never felt safer than he did sitting at his kitchen counter, slurping soup beneath Derek"s watchful gaze.Derek was so calm, so capable, and even though he always looked as if he were seconds away from snapping a neck, he"d gone out of his way to be kind.

It had felt shockingly good to be taken care of, even for a short while.Just one taste and Briar was addicted.He"d do almost anything to feel it again.

The cowboy with the blond curls was still carrying on.Clearly, he found himself hilarious.

"Just one ride in my pickup is all it takes…if you know what I mean." He threw Briar a campy wink.

"Ignore him," Nate called, hidden behind the business-end of the bull."Aiden"s a wild dog. Never learned when to stop yipping."

"One good whack with a rolled-up newspaper should do the trick," Cal said, swatting Aiden on the back of the head with his own hat.

Aiden yelped. "I'll show you where to stick that hat!"

Cal just laughed.

"Okay, I"m finished up back here," Nate announced, stripping off his elbow-length gloves and wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm."Good job, everyone."

"You look like you need a drink," Cal said sympathetically.

"Or a cigarette," Aiden cracked.

Cal ignored the interruption, still focused on Nate as he helped pack the surgical kit."Most of us are headed to the Trophy Club after work for Aiden"s birthday," he said."You should join us. Bring Tucker.I want to talk to him about this year's roundup."

Nate grimaced. "We'll see. You know how Tuck is."

"B-b-but…it's my birthday," Aiden gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded.He whirled on Briar and demanded, "You'll be there, at least.Won't you?"

"Uh—" Briar"s eyes darted around the group."I'm not sure I'm the type of customer a redneck dive like that wants."

"Ah, bullshit." Cal was smiling as if he understood exactly how Briar felt, but that couldn"t be possible.Calvin Craig was the poster boy of confidence.If he"d ever felt like an outsider, he seemed to have gotten over it long ago.But it meant something that he"d make the effort to try to put Briar at ease.

"Look," Cal said, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and rocking back on his heels, "I traveled all over the country back when I was riding pro.Been a lot of places. If there's one thing I know, it's that dives are the same all over.They don't care what you look like or where you come from.They just want you to drink hard, mind your business, and pay your tab."

"Yeah, c'mon, city boy." Aiden slung an arm around Briar's shoulders, nearly knocking him off his feet."We'll give you a real taste of country life.Good music, cold beer, and hot chicks."

"What more could I ask for?" Briar asked dryly.But he was tempted. He hadn't felt a sense of camaraderie in so long.Even if the night was a total bust, it sounded better than microwaving dinner in his lonely apartment.

"Do you dance?" Aiden asked.

Briar"s face lit up. "I love it," he said excitedly.

Nate frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but Cal jabbed him in the ribs with a hard elbow.

"Give him a chance," Cal murmured under his breath.

At least, that"s what Briar thought hesaid.He was too distracted by Aiden"s Cheshire catgrin.

"Son, you ain't never seen dancing like this," Aiden drawled. "Guaranteed."

* * *

As soon ashe walked through the swinging doors of the Trophy Club, Briar knew exactly what Nate had wanted to tell him.

Out on the dance floor, dusty floorboards creaked beneath the weight of dozens of shuffling boots.Men and women of all shapes and sizes stood in rows, bodies stiff, moving together in synchronized steps they"d somehow all memorized.

Briar stopped in his tracks and stared in horror.

"This is not dancing," he said.

"They're moving to the music, aren't they?" Cal gave him a gentle shove from behind to clear the doorway.

Briar could hardly tear his eyes from the spectacle of dozens of bowlegs two-stepping to Achy Breaky Heart, but the rest of the tavern seemed unremarkable. The atmosphere was dim, punctuated by the glow of neon beer signs and the occasional flash of a jukebox.The bar was made of dark wood, aged by time and spilled drinks, and the walls were layered with old posters of country music legends.Leather and decades-old smoke filled his nostrils, mingling with the sharper notes of stale beer and Old Spice.It was a far cry from the stench of perfume and sweat in Briar"s old clubs.

Nobody looked twice at him when he trailed after the rest of the group.He'd half-expected the music to screech to a halt and everyone to turn and stare at him, like a scene from an old spaghetti western.

A crowd from the Triple M already took up most of the space at the bar. West Owens was there, looking nothing like his older brother.He stood beside the owner of the Triple M, Michael Whittaker. Ease and love and contentment oozed from their body language,simultaneously embarrassing Briar and yet making it impossible to look away.

Cal sidled up behind Eli Jackson, a tall, muscular man with serious eyes.But it wasn"t until he slipped his arms around Eli"s waist that something inside Briar finally began to unknot.

Maybe...maybe these were his people after all.

"Hey, hot stuff," Cal murmured into the base of his partner's neck.

Briar didn"t know Eli well; he"d only interacted with him in his official capacity as town sheriff.But he seemed like a different person when he smiled down at his lover.His expression softened, body instinctively orienting toward Cal like he was the most important person in the room.The only person in the room. It felt almost intrusive to watch, like Briar was peeping on something private.

"You're late," Eli murmured, covering Cal's hand on his stomach with his own.

"Found a stray out front," Cal said, jerking his head toward Briar."Had to lure him inside."

"We don't bite," said Celia, a woman with leathery skin and a wide, infectious smile."Well, they don"t. Because they"re pansies.And I only do it on request."

"You made it!" Aiden"s shout interrupted them.He broke away from the dance floor and came bounding over like a half-grown puppy.A golden retriever, maybe. All sunshine and wagging tail.He reached down on the other side of the bar and helped himself to a couple beer bottles from the open ice chest, shouting, "Dave!Two more on the tab!"

He knocked the caps off on the edge of the bar and handed one to Briar.

"Thanks," Briar said, taking a cautious sip and then wiping the condensation from his fingers.It wasn't a brand he'd ever tried before, but the frothy bitterness was surprisingly pleasant.

Conversation flowed around him, mostly over his head, both literally and figuratively.He nodded cluelessly to the talk about livestock and fishing and trips to Pendleton.No one seemed to care that he was a skinny, flamboyant kid who had no idea what they were talking about.He was trying, and that seemed like enough for them.

He was saved from a conversation about fences—seriously, fences?—when Michael Jackson's Smooth Criminal started up in the juke box.

Aiden grabbed him and began to steer him toward the dance floor.

"C'mon, city boy, let's see what you can do," he said cheerfully.

"Whatever I might be able to do, I promise it isn't this," Briar blurted, horrified.

The movement of the dancers was so precise it looked choreographed.The men were surprisingly nimble even in their boots and denim, moving better than he"d thought straight guys could move.Everyone seemed like they'd been updated with the same two-steppin' expansion pack since birth.

"It ain't hard," Aiden promised, tugging him into the swiftly moving throng.

"Famous last words," Briar muttered, and then, when he trampled on a woman's foot, he cried desperately, "I don't even know how to dance to this song the normal way!"

But Aiden already had his arm around the curvy part of a woman's waist.He wasn't listening.

Briarfloundered, tripping over his own feet like a newborn deer, bumping into people on every side.The line surged with seemingly no warning, slamming him into dancers until his body began to feelbruised.He searched desperately for a way out of theundertow.

That was when he spottedDerek.