Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Landon needed to get home for a few. Sister said the plumbing in the back half of the house was horked, some boys had broke out three windows and needed beating, and she wanted to go shopping with Cotton’s woman.
Cotton and Em coming in meant trying to get a pig and cleaning like a madman, not to mention buying beers.
Still, he really wanted to travel with the rest of the riders, the ropers.
The safety men.
Adam Taggart. Lord, that man rocked his world.
They’d spent some time together, fucking, playing around. They didn’t talk too much, not really. They just played.
In fact, Adam could be a grumpy bastard.
He worried a bit, that Adam didn’t like him—that Adam thought he was a pain in the ass, then Adam would touch him, cup his jaw, and that thought would disappear. Hell, those eye lines would crinkle up and Adam’s smile would reach his hazel eyes, and that was all Landon could think about.
He wandered out behind the chutes, whistling softly. He’d managed to travel with the Taggarts for another week, helping out, and he’d roped good enough to buy gas, even if he didn’t send money home. The horses came right up to him, pushing into his hands.
“Howdy, y’all. How be you?” He stroked noses and scratched ears. Horses he understood.
He had carrots in his pockets, and he went one by one, murmuring to them, making sure all was well.
The Taggarts owned the best horses he’d ever seen.
Really. He went from the big-boned mare to the leaner gelding, then he headed for the bucking broncs.
He’d visit the roping horses next. They all deserved a treat for working so hard.
“Should have known I’d find you back here, Nutbutter.” Cotton grinned at him, teeth wide in the freckled face. “You roping or riding today?”
“I’m an alternate.” If someone else came up hurt, he’d ride.
“Jason’s riding, I think. I am for sure. You want a beer?”
“Sure.” He’d sit and jaw with Cotton a bit. “Sister wants to go into town with your woman.”
“Emmy’d love that. We’re planning the wedding—she’s fixin’ to ask Laurel to stand up with her.”
“Is that why y’all are coming to visit?” How cool was that?
“Nah. Well, maybe her. I want to go riding, do some fishing.” Someone was spending a lot of time with a lot of women. Landon understood. Sometimes, growing up, Laurel had made him right crazy.
“Surely. I got that old airboat working. We’ll take it out.”
Cotton hooted, clapping him on the back. Cotton was a speed junkie. Liked to go fast and do silly things.
A couple of kids came up, asking to have their hats signed, and they both did it, grinning at each other like newborn fools. It was still the coolest thing, to sign shit. He never figured for it, and the first couple times he’d thought it was because he was with another rider.
Then someone had asked him by name when he was alone. Dieu. That had made him grin.
His Maw-Maw would be tickled as a pig in shit.
“Come on, Nutbutter.” Cotton clapped him on the back. “I need chili cheese fries. I’ll buy.”
“Oo-eee!” That sounded like heaven—cheese and meat and taters. And beer. Boll had said something about beer.
“I hear a Cajun love call.” Adam’s youngest brother came over. “You seen Adam?”
“No, sir. Not since breakfast.”
“Breakfast, huh?” Chrissy waggled his brows. “That’s got to be some sort of record.”
“More eggs and biscuits than anyone ever?” He wasn’t as dumb as advertised. Really. Still, Boll didn’t need to hear about his bedroom gymnastics.
“For someone your size, sure.” Chrissy laughed, whistling as he wandered off.
“Lord have mercy. You ready, Boll?”
Cotton grinned at him. “Uh-huh. How the hell do you tell them apart? They look the same.”
“I just can.” Adam was Adam, balls to bones. Adam was his.
“Well, good on you. Must be a twin thing.” They headed over to the food trucks, the smell of frying onions and salty potatoes so strong.
“I been hanging out with him a lot.” And Adam’d been hanging out with Mr. Sam and Coke and the clown. Mr. Beau, too. And Jason. There was something wrong with Jason Scott, and it wasn’t the man’s head.
Landon didn’t ask again, though. He just watched and listened. Sooner or later he’d know what was what, and help if he could. If he couldn’t, he’d bring Sister to Jason. She had a line to the good Lord and healing in her touch.
Lots of folks outside Cajun country didn’t believe in the traiteur, but Landon had seen people with cancer heal under Laurel’s touch.
He worried on it some, because shit, what if she took it into her and God didn’t take it, but Maw-Maw said that was madness there, and bad, and Landon wasn’t a bad man, no sir.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Cotton asked, handing him an order of fries. He’d been wool-gathering a while.
“Just thinking, is all.” He grinned, cheeks heating. “It don’t come natural to me, you know.”
“Uh-huh. Been thinking a lot lately?”
“Been trying to. Stupid brain.” He winked over. “How ’bout you?”
“Em thinks for me these days, man.” Cotton gave him this delirious grin. Silly cowboy.
“You lucky bastard. She’s smart like a…” Was smart like a snake an insult for a girl? “…whip.”
“She is. Thank God, ’cause you know this old boy ain’t so bright.”
Landon laughed, but then Adam caught his eye, crossing over the parking lot, looking like Christmas morning, he was so fine. Long and lean, comfortable in his skin, that mocking little smile always right there—the whole package made his mouth dry.
Adam noticed him and Cotton, nodding and heading over, and his heart set to thumping.
Cotton waved, smiled. “Tag! How goes it, sir?”
“Good, Cotton, good. How’s your girl?” Adam and Cotton shook hands, but Adam kept stealing glances at Landon.
“Right as rain, doing that whole bride thing.” Cotton rolled his eyes. “Crazy shit, this big wedding garbage.”
“She’d love to hear you say that, Boll.”
Cotton elbowed Landon in the ribs. “I’ve said it to her face. She laughed and bought me a beer.”
“No shit. You might oughta keep her, then. Laurel likes her a lot.”
“I know!”
Adam glanced at Cotton now. “You’ve met this one’s sister?”
“Miss Laurel? Yessir. She’s gonna stand up with my girl and all. She’s a hoot.”
“Huh.” Landon wasn’t sure what that meant, but Adam seemed…a little grumpy.
“Been to see the horses this morning. They lookin’ right as rain.” He’d like to see him some cowboy, too, make sure that body was right, as well.
“Yeah? Been meaning to ask if you think Shylock is favoring a leg.”
“I didn’t see that, but I’ll come for a peek right quick.” He grabbed one last chunk of tater and nodded to Cotton. “I’ll pull rope for you, iff’n you want.”
“I’d appreciate it, Nutbutter. See you later.” Cotton waved a cheese fry at him.
Adam put a hand under his elbow, steering him not toward the pens and stalls, but toward the big trailer he’d gotten to know real well.
He went, curious as all get out as to what Adam wanted.
They got inside, and he half expected Adam to start yelling.
That tanned face was like a thundercloud. Adam kissed him instead, hard and deep.
Oh, hello. Someone was wanting him something spicy. Landon hooted and pushed right back, wanting Adam Taggart like air.
Adam lifted him, pushing him against the wall of the tiny trailer, his head almost touching the ceiling. Damn, but the man was strong.
“Oh, cher. Please. Need you so.” The heavy mustache burned his lips, his cock battering against his fly.
“Want you.” Adam mumbled the words against his mouth, teeth stinging Landon’s lower lip.
He nodded, hips rolling at the little burn. Adam pressed all along his body, holding him too still. It was making him crazy.
“Adam. Cher.” Please. Please.
“Yeah.” Those hard hands started working, tugging at his clothes.
His skin was stinging, Adam’s nails and calluses dragging on him and making him twist. Adam was like a storm washing over him, like a heavy rain that you went out and danced in.
Adam spun him, mouth on his shoulder, cock pressing against his ass. Demanding cowboy. The man could be a damned greedy lover, but Landon didn’t mind a bit. That hard dick made him moan.
“Hot little fucker. Can’t stop looking at you.”
“Good. I want you looking.” Really, was he supposed to be pissed off that Adam wanted him?
“You’re too fucking young for me.” Adam’s fingers slid inside him, slick somehow.
“And you’re so fucking old. I want you. You.” Idiot man.
“I know. Jesus.” Adam pulled back for a few seconds, the sound of a condom wrapper loud.
Landon pushed his ass back and out, the offer crystal clear. He was Adam’s, and Adam was his. Adam took his offer right off, too, pressing against him, cock pushing in.
“Yeah. Yeah, cher. I got a need.” And that heavy cock could answer it. He knew it, to the bone.
“Me, too. Damn you.” Adam gave it to him, pushing in deep, hips slapping his ass.
“Too late. Whole family’s damned. Harder.”
“Oh, God.” When he pushed back, Adam moaned, and his name slipped out, sounding like a prayer.
Fuck, yes. He rode hard, meeting each and every thrust, his bones rattling. It was like all the best things about riding a bull or a bronc with none of the pain. Better, because it was Adam.
Adam snarled, hips jamming up toward him, fucking him good and hard. The man had some issues, for sure, but Landon wasn’t complaining, no sir. He liked it hard, him.
Even more, he wanted to give Adam what the man needed.
Leaning down, Adam bit at the back of his neck.
“Cher!” He jerked, bearing down on Adam, squeezing tight.
“That’s it. Show me how you like it.”
Adam made him crazy, made him want to stamp and howl like a loon. Instead he held it together, pushing back, riding his own cowboy with all he had.
They moved together like they were meant to, rocking and rolling, Adam controlling the pace. The man was a fucking machine, driving him like he was an errant steer in the arena. He panted, trying to keep his balance, his body on fire. This was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.
Forever.