Chapter Two
The big mountain of muscle doth protest too loudly, even if it was presented as stomping away from the conversation.
Rory wasn’t really into the whole daddy thing, but it was sure fun as hell to rile people up.
His brother had cringed when he’d applied the label to Cash when the silver fox had headed in their direction, but Rory suspected Ivan’s reaction had nothing to do with disgust. The guy reminded him of a Viking with his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and thick thighs.
He wore his auburn hair in a fade with closely shorn sides and longer strands on top.
The Viking’s beard was a darker red, and Rory wanted to know what the rest of his body hair looked like.
He’d bet the hunk was furry in all the right places too.
Christ, the man was even sexier up close.
Amber eyes the color of expensive whiskey assessed him in a way that made Rory feel vulnerable.
He couldn’t have that and decided to regain the upper hand with outrageous flirting.
Ivan. His name, build, and dark scowl belonged to a conqueror as he’d said, but his soft voice belonged to someone gentler like a scholar.
Would his touch be rough and firm or soft and teasing?
A Viking-sexual such as he could hope for both.
Fascinated by the dichotomy, Rory was eager to follow the man who held his fate at the ranch in the palm of his enormous hand, but first he turned his attention to the dark-haired hottie who’d entered the kitchen in time to overhear Ivan shouting his displeasure about having Rory foisted on him to settle a debt between Cash and Nick.
Dark brown eyes had studied Rory with unabashed curiosity. “Who are you?”
“I’m the favor.”
Before they could get further into their introductions, Ivan stormed into the kitchen and barked orders for Rory to come on demand.
Hell, he’d been sporting a semi since his gaze snagged on Ivan the Ripped, so he probably wouldn’t require much stimulation to comply.
The dark-haired hottie in the kitchen introduced himself as Kieran once they were alone again and shook his hand.
“I’m Rory.”
“Don’t worry about Ivan. His bark is worse than his bite.”
Rory smiled for the first time since Nick had bid him to stay in the kitchen and let the grown-ups talk.
Maybe he hadn’t uttered those exact words, but his tone had implied it, and Rory would still be pissed if not for the opportunity to get to know Ivan better.
“Let’s hope not,” he said. “See you around, Kieran.”
Rory ambled in the direction Ivan had gone, not bothering to hasten his steps.
The sexy ginger would be hard to miss. He pushed open the front door and nearly walked into a gorgeous blond guy with green eyes.
Christ. Were they all gorgeous on the ranch?
This guy looked like a model with his square jaw and sharp cheekbones.
“Oh, hello,” the man said in a soft Southern drawl. “I was looking for Kieran.”
Rory noticed Ivan’s long strides had created an enormous gap between them, so he didn’t stop to introduce himself. “In the kitchen,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“Thank you.”
Rory lifted his hand to wave and continued his slow and steady gait.
Ivan headed into the original homestead, so he detoured to Nick’s car.
Rory wanted to grab his bag and guitar before his brother could speed off with his stuff or toss it onto the driveway in his haste to leave his little brother behind.
The bag felt awfully light for an indefinite stay, and he wished he’d asked more questions before he packed.
Nick had stormed into his condo that morning and demanded he pack a bag in thirty minutes, and Rory had been too rattled after the previous night’s close call to ask much.
He’d pulled down his Louis Vuitton weekender bag and shoved a week’s worth of clothes inside along with a shaving kit packed with personal hygiene products and his skin care and beard regimen.
Looking as pretty as he did wasn’t cheap or easy.
He’d added his laptop, recording equipment, and grabbed his prize possession—his granddaddy’s guitar.
He’d been meaning to relearn how to play it, and hanging out on a ranch seemed like the perfect setting.
Rory felt the attention of everyone gathered under the tent as he continued toward the smaller home.
He was used to the scrutiny and didn’t let it ruffle his feathers.
Rory would allow them to do a lot worse than stare if they shared whatever food was putting out the delicious aroma tickling his senses.
He briefly debated heading toward the tent to introduce himself and curry favor with the grill master but followed his dick instead of his stomach.
When he reached the old house, Rory wondered if he should knock first or open the door.
Ivan, though sexy, wasn’t the least bit hospitable or welcoming, so he let himself inside the residence.
His Viking stood in the center of a tidy if outdated but comfortable-looking living room.
The place screamed bachelor pad with the mismatched brown furniture, but the couch facing the fireplace looked like a fabulous place to curl up and read a book.
Ivan had struck a power pose with hands on hips, chest out, and shoulders back as he waited for Rory’s full attention.
Not a conqueror, my ass. Three cats sat at his feet, staring up at him like he was the next coming of Christ, and Rory understood their worship.
“Who are your little darlings?”
Ivan looked at the cats, who all chorused a pleading meow.
“It’s not dinnertime,” he told them. The felines replied with a protest and all rose on their hind legs to place their front paws on his legs.
“Spoiled brats.” Ivan leaned down and scratched a tabby cat behind its ears.
“This is Scruffy.” He moved to the butterscotch-colored cat next and smoothed his hand over its back.
“This is Candy.” Aptly named. Ivan leaned down and picked up a small black and white cat.
“And this man is Tux.” He scratched the little guy under his chin before gently setting him back down.
He opened the arm rest of a brown recliner, pulled out a pouch of treats, and doled out a few to each of the cats.
Christ, could this man get any more delicious?
Once they were occupied and the treats stowed once more, Ivan turned his attention back to Rory. “We need to get something straight.”
“Yes,” Rory agreed. He dropped his Louis Vuitton on a corduroy club chair and gently set his guitar case down on the rustic woven area rug.
“What do I call you if conqueror and Daddy aren’t permissible options?
” The big man’s cheeks turned red again but not quite dark enough to signal an impending stroke.
He probably should’ve eased up on the guy, but high emotion tended to entice his inner brat to the surface.
Rory’s stress eased a little more with each reaction he evoked from this yummy man.
“I’ve started thinking of you as Ivan the Ripped.
” Rory quirked a brow to encourage a response but only received a scowl in return.
God, who knew that could be so sexy? “Okay, that’s a no. How about sir?”
“No,” the big man growled. “Just call me Ivan.”
“Mr. Gallagher if I’m nasty?”
Ivan didn’t show if he recognized the Janet Jackson reference.
Maybe he wasn’t as obsessed with the ’80s radio station on Pandora as Rory was.
His mama had loved the era and always played music while working in the kitchen.
Ivan pivoted and walked away, not offering an explanation or even a simple kiss my ass.
He disappeared down a hallway between the kitchen and the staircase to the second story. “Come.”
Ivan’s soft voice gained some grit and gruff when irritated, and it was so sexy Rory pressed the palm of his hand to his lengthening dick. “Easy boy. We’ll replay that when we’re alone later.”
Rory inhaled deeply and sauntered after Ivan.
The big man was easy to find since there was only one room with a light on at the end of the hall.
Room was a stretch. The space was half the size of his closet back home.
There was barely enough room for both him and Ivan to be in there at the same time.
The oak-paneled walls, planked floors, and ivory ceiling provided either a dull backdrop or a clean palette, depending on a person’s opinion.
Rory couldn’t decide which direction he leaned.
The patchwork quilt on the double bed reminded him of the ones his grandma, Eustice Stuart, had sewn by hand until arthritis made it impossible.
In fact, the small room reminded him of the one he shared with Nick during the summers spent on their grandparents’ farm in Oklahoma.
Rory immediately thought of nightly cricket serenades through open windows as he drifted to sleep.
He didn’t want to think about those happy childhood memories because they made him pine for things he would never have again.
Instead, Rory wanted to create a new collection with the gorgeous hunk staring a hole in his head.