Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Wylde
“If you glare at me any harder, your face is going to crack.” I knew I was poking the bear, giving Thorin shit when he’d already gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, but I was reckless that way.
“I don’t need snark out of you this morning.”
“So, what do you need?”
“For us to finish our assignment so we can get the cabin in order, or have you forgotten that we’re welcoming a guest in the morning?”
“If we make the cabin too perfect, we fuck up the fantasy,” I pointed out, or at least tried to.
I could tell it didn’t land with the lightheartedness I’d intended when he narrowed his eyes and stood, lifting one of the heavy beams we needed, forcing me to hurry and pick up my end before he decided to drag it into position all on his own.
“We are not welcoming a guest while it looks like two unruly bachelors live here. We should have finished setting it up as soon as Derek gave us the assignment.”
“Thor, I hate to break it to you, but two unruly, uber competitive bachelors do temporarily live here and I am more than ninety-five percent positive that’s one of the reasons we were chosen to carry out this fantasy in the first place.
Because it wouldn’t be acting for us,” I reasoned.
“We got everything we needed moved in. The fact that it isn’t all organized or put away adds to the level of realism. ”
Wow, this was a switch; he was usually the reasonable one, and I was more the act first, beg forgiveness later type.
Snorting, he just grunted and finished setting the beam where we needed it to go.
Interpreting the impressive array of noises Thorin used in place of words had been a lifelong challenge.
Grunts were as much concessions as they were sarcasm and amusement.
Silence that followed grunts, however, usually meant victory.
“See, you know I’m right,” I said, wagging my eyebrows at him.
Yes, I was poking again, or at least prodding, but I was hoping for confirmation and a chance to tell him about the idea I had for when Payne arrived tomorrow.
Payne Pettigrew. Our soon-to-be sub’s name rolled easily off my tongue when I’d tested it out.
Cartoonist, cosplayer, he longed to slip into different characters while he cooked, cleaned and took care of the house for us, and he’d specifically requested Dominants who understood the nuances of improv and roleplaying and would happily play along.
“Just grab the other beam,” Thor grumbled.
Oh yeah, he knew.
Silence followed, several heartbeats long while Thor huffed and muttered beneath his breath.
I smelled victory but knew better than to gloat too soon.
“At the very least, help me get the kitchen in order,” Thor muttered as we moved the second beam.
There was a cool breeze blowing off the pond, so I took my shirt off and draped it over the top of the UTV before hurrying to help him carry the bench swing over.
“Surprised you bother to put a shirt on in the morning,” he muttered as we moved it. “Since it never stays on you long.”
“Just because you want to change the subject doesn’t mean you have to pick on my clothes.”
“I’m not picking on them,” he replied. “If anything, I’m defending them. It’s hardly fair for you to take them out of the closet and then discard them the moment you step out into the sun.”
“It was hardly the moment I stepped outside,” I replied. “We’ve been out here at least twenty minutes.”
“Wow, twenty whole minutes; that might be a record.”
“Alright, what’s got your tail in a twist?” I asked. “I thought you were, well, I won’t say ecstatic about taking part in this little fantasy, but you seemed to be fully on board.”
“Because I am, though it’s a hell of a request, someone wanting to come in as a mail-order manservant,” he admitted. “It’s been a while since anyone’s offered to cook for me.”
He winked when he said it, and I’d have flipped him off in return if I hadn’t had that swing in my hands.
“You want me to cook for you?” I asked, snickering at the horrified look that crossed his face when he realized he’d walked himself into a potential trap. “Okay, how about I try meatloaf again? I promise I’ll cook the rice before I mix it in this time.”
“No.”
“Okay, then what about the green-chili enchiladas? Those were decent.”
He shuddered in revulsion, lips wrinkling as his nose scrunched up.
“Wylde, when a recipe calls for green chilis, it is not meant to be taken as encouragement to go out and buy whatever uber-hot green chili you happened to find,” he replied as we placed the swing where it wouldn’t be in the way as we set up the support beams.
“That was a complete misunderstanding,” I said, waving at the air between us as he reached for a wrench. “Could have happened to anyone.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Chuckling, I just shrugged. “In all fairness, serranos and jalapenos are green.”
“Please don’t ever mention serranos and enchiladas in the same conversation again.”
“Fine, forget the enchiladas. How about I just whip us up a batch of burgers?” I asked, deliberately needling him now.
I knew I was a disaster in the kitchen; I couldn’t even cook over a campfire and was a downright menace when I tried to grill, even while using tin foil to ensure that the meat didn’t end up crumbling and landing on the coals instead of our plates.
The fact that he knew it too and had been the victim of some of those culinary misadventures, meant that my teasing threats about cooking carried much more weight.
“And craft a repeat of the worst food poisoning I’ve ever had in my life?
” he replied. “No thanks, I’ll pass. If you never try to cook again, it will be too soon.
Just accept it, Wylde, cooking is not your strong point.
Luckily, we have two weeks of home-cooked meals to look forward to according to the background information we were given. ”
“I’m good with getting two weeks to play house with you.”
“How is it getting to ‘play house’ when we already live together?”
Tsking, I just smirked over at him. “There you go killing my fun again.”
“Consider it lucky I don’t back over it with a bulldozer,” he threatened. “I already told you I wasn’t in the mood this morning.”
“And why is that?” I asked as we screwed together the support pieces of the bench swing we were building.
“I’ve got four words for you. See if you can figure out why I might be upset about them.” He paused and waited until our gazes locked before he added, “Bull and Barrel Bash.”
Busted.
Shit.
“It’s just a flyer,” I muttered.
“With a registration form on the back.”
“Probably makes it easier for folks.”
“That you filled out,” he snapped, glaring across the wood at me.
“Okay, but I haven’t sent it in yet.”
“You filled out the check for the registration,” he remarked.
Yeah, he had me there. Weaseling out of this wasn’t going to work. When he scowled at me with disappointment in his eyes and that stern gaze that always sent shivers through me, I knew he was truly unhappy.
“Just tell me why,” Thorin asked.
“It’s just a local thing,” I explained. “It’s not like I’m planning on hitting the circuit or anything.”
“Yet.”
“Your word, not mine.”
“So, what are your words?” he asked. “Are you getting bored here already?”
“Haven’t been here long enough to be bored,” I replied.
“And I’ve enjoyed sitting in for practice sessions with the service subs as they polish their bootblacking skills.
Some of them are well on their way to truly making an art form out of it.
I’m looking forward to seeing Payne in action with his kit.
Been making sure to get my boots extra dusty too, just so he’ll have to work to get them polished. ”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed your leather collection growing,” he replied. “You know what else I noticed?”
“What?”
“Your crafty way of trying to change the subject.”
And busted again.
Might as well try for three. “It said in the file that our guest loves animals and hopes to visit the petting zoo as well as enjoy both outdoor play and indoor game and movie nights.”
“So basically, he wants a whole domestic living, slice-of-life kind of vibe, with loads of praise and attention,” Thorin declared. “Sounds almost like a vacation for us, when you really think about it.”
“It says that most of his comic strips feature animals and that some are truly risqué and a big hit within the kink community. I’d love to see what he thinks of the goats, especially Clancy.
One errant crow and that poor goat will faint dead away and probably wind up immortalized in one of Payne’s comic strips.
We should take him down to meet them and the rest of the critters once he settles in.
That way we’re ticking off an experience right from the jump. ”
“Okay, we’ll go with that and then play it by ear from there,” he said. “And I’d still like to know what the deal is with the Bull and Barrel Bash.”
That was Thorin. Stubborn. Tenacious. I’d known him more than half of my life; I knew better than to try and slip things past him.
We had this weird sort of together thing going on that sort of worked, and sort of didn’t, depending on what day it was and which of us you asked.
We scened together. We scened separately.
But we never had sex with anyone else unless the other was there.
We’d always worked better with a third in the mix, but finding one who fits both of our needs had never been easy.
We’d only had two who’d worked out long term and that last one had nearly destroyed our relationship.
Several bolts, a few more screws, and the chains to connect the swing to the base were all attached before I worked out how to answer his question.
“It’s just for fun,” I said. “To see if I’ve still got it.”
“Why? You have nothing to prove.”
“It’s not about proving anything. Just finding out one way or another.”
“And again, I ask why?” he pressed. “Because to me, saying you want to find out ‘one way or another’ means you’re giving consideration to the possibilities that open up if you can.”
Intense, that was the only way to describe the way he was studying me, his storm-gray eyes threatening a hurricane if I didn’t diffuse the situation quickly.
Too bad I’d never been good at diffusing anything when it came to him.
Most days, I was too busy winding him up so he would break into his sexy Dom voice and go all growly on me.
“It’s nothing, Thor, seriously. You are reading way too much into it,” I finally said.
“Am I?”
“Yeah, you truly are. If I were fully committed to doing it, I’d have mailed everything in by now. I’m still on the fence, and even if I wasn’t, I have no intention of doing anything beyond that one event,” I grumbled. “Haven’t you ever considered getting back on a bull again?”
A rueful chuckle was his only response at first, along with a crooked finger to get me to come over to the side he was working on and hold the end up while he finished tightening the bolts that secured the washer to the wood.
“I doubt any doctor will let me,” he replied. “I’m shocked they’re letting you.”
“It’s conditional.”
“And what would those conditions be?”
“That if I get wrecked again, I’m done,” I replied. “No ifs, ands, or buts. So yeah, I’m thinking about one more ride while I’m still being allowed to. I’m seriously not thinking any further ahead than that.”
With the final turn of the wrench, we had one swing down and one more to go.
With their concrete anchors, the swings wouldn’t go anywhere, even in the worst storms, and they were built big enough to fit three comfortably, though I could picture a few of the Littles dragging a blanket into one and curling up for a nap.
“Seeing you get carted off the way you did sealed the deal for me,” he admitted. “I expected it to be worse. Blew up every contact I still had trying to see if they knew how you were doing.”
“I know,” I replied. “A couple of them mentioned it when they came to visit me.”
“Yeah, well, if I ever needed an excuse not to climb up on the back of seventeen-hundred pounds of raw fury again, that was it. I’d rather wrangle errant subs and help them find more constructive ways to expend their energy.”
“And that’s fair,” I said. “But it doesn’t sit right with me that I went out on my back.”
“Do you think I don’t feel the same? Because I do, and I hate it,” he replied. “But even if they said go for it, I wouldn’t want to. Not with how great the cost was last time.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t hold things together with Cory.”
“You’ve said that, and I’ve forgiven you, so let’s just agree to never mention his name again and move on.”
“That’s probably for the best,” I replied as we checked to make sure the swing swung correctly. “I didn’t know you watched my last ride.”
“I watched all your rides, a few of them in person. Just wasn’t ready to talk to you at the time.”
“I’m glad you changed your mind,” I replied, “or I never would have landed here.”
“I know; that’s why I reached out. Figured it was time we mended fences, since neither of us had been particularly easy to be around since we’d been apart,” he replied. “Jonathan’s words, not mine.”
Chuckling, I had to admit that was a fair assessment of my attitude while he and I had been on the outs.
If anyone knew the difference, it was Jonathan.
The veteran bull rider had ridden with us for months after his ancient truck finally gave up the ghost. But being back together again didn’t feel complete.
There were still shadows of the past floating between us, keeping us from fully connecting again.
The funny thing about this fantasy was that we’d been asked to fulfill something that was a direct reflection of the way we’d once pictured our future.
On a ranch somewhere, Thorin and I living life together with our devoted boy, who thrived on praise and got off on being stripped down in the living room and tossed on the couch so we could explore his body.
Were the next two weeks going to be a blessing or a curse?
While it was a bit too late to back out now, I wondered if Derick had considered that when he’d selected us for this?
He was reputed as having this uncanny way of figuring out what people needed.
If we’d somehow landed on his radar as being in need of an intervention, then these next two weeks could truly be eye opening.
Bridge the gap or break us?
I guess we’d have to wait and see.