Chapter Fifteen #2
Ivan glanced around, remembering the first time Cash had shown the space to him.
Being able to wear garments other than prison scrubs was a big deal.
Being able to call them his was even bigger.
A person had so much stripped away when they were incarcerated, and little things like wearing clothes you owned felt huge.
New clothes, even ones for work, felt as luxurious as owning a yacht after incarceration.
Rory stilled and met Ivan’s gaze. “I didn’t think people like Cash Sweeney existed anymore.
” He tilted his head and added, “I might be in the presence of a veritable saint. Coming up with ways to beef up the ranch’s reputation in the community is going to be a cinch.
” So Rory had spoken with Cash about the project.
Ivan hadn’t asked because his mind had been elsewhere when he saw Rory on the couch.
Ivan snorted. “Don’t let Cash hear you call him a saint. He gets angry that his way is an exception and not a rule.”
Rory pursed his lips and glanced around the room again.
“That’s what I’d expect a saint to say.” He met Ivan’s gaze.
“I can’t imagine what it would feel like to stand here after getting released from lockup and have the freedom to choose whatever you wanted.
It would be like winning a shopping spree. ”
“Without the cart and timer,” Ivan said, recalling the sense of overwhelm he’d experienced as he’d taken it all in.
Rory reached for his hands and stepped closer to him. “How long were you in jail?”
“Three years.” Ivan’s voice sounded flatter than he’d intended, and he wasn’t sure if that was the reason Rory raised a brow or if the length of the sentence surprised him.
A little voice, unbidden but persistent, urged Ivan to push himself harder.
“Unlike Kieran, I committed the crime I went to jail for, and I’m not sorry about any of it, not the act itself or a single second I spent behind bars.
If given the same set of circumstances, I’d probably do it again. ”
Rory’s nostrils flared, and he swallowed hard, but he didn’t step back. “You’re testing me.”
“Am I?”
He nodded. “You are. But why? Because I’ve gotten too close and you think I’ll bolt when I learn the truth?”
“I’ve always known you’re going to leave,” Ivan reminded him.
“Knowing it here”—Rory tapped his temple—“and knowing it here”—he tapped his heart—“aren’t the same thing.” Instead of pulling away, Rory stepped closer and placed his hand over Ivan’s heart. “Whatever you did, it was to protect someone you cared about or loved.”
Ivan had thought he loved Curt Washington, and maybe he had, but it was hard to judge the veracity of his feelings.
Curt had been his first…everything, and their ill-fated romance had ended publicly and nearly tragically.
Ivan’s best method of stress relief had been stripped away from him when his college football coach suspended him after his sexual orientation was exposed.
O’Reilly hadn’t come right out and said that of course.
He’d claimed the action was for Ivan’s benefit, to give him space and time to recover from the scandal and to get a break from the attention it had drawn.
What he’d really meant was that no one wanted him in the locker room or weight room.
Ivan’s shame, hurt, and anger built into a tsunami without a healthy outlet to release the pressure.
He’d kept his head down and shifted his focus to preparing for final exams since he was only months away from graduation.
Ivan thought he had everything under control until—
“Ivan.” Rory’s soft voice yanked him from his trip down memory lane. “Am I right? Did you get in trouble for protecting someone you cared about?”
Ivan looked around the room, reminding himself of his entire journey with a single glance.
It might’ve agitated some, but Ivan found it centering.
He would not shy away from who he was or what he’d done.
Cash Sweeney had taught him that. “Yes.” The love he’d felt for Curt might not have lasted a lifetime, but it had been real and was strong enough to spark a tempest that had irrevocably changed Ivan’s life.
Instead of looking nervous about being alone with an unrepentant convict, Rory looked smug. “You can tell me if you want to, but it won’t change a damn thing. I’m still going to want to climb you like Mount Viking as soon as you’ll let me.”
It was on the verge of Ivan’s tongue to ask if Rory had enjoyed what they’d shared as much as he had, but it was a diversion neither of them needed.
Besides, he already knew the answer. He’d witnessed the blissed-out expression on his face and felt the intensity of Rory’s orgasm.
Ivan had resented the barrier between them and wanted to feel Rory’s hot release in his channel.
He couldn’t think of anything more intimate than sex in the raw, but that wasn’t a wise move for their no-strings agreement.
Ivan knew he could distract them both with talk of their shared orgasm, but that wasn’t the need riding him hard.
He wouldn’t say he wanted to confess to Rory or even unburden his soul.
It just felt suddenly important for Rory to really know him—both who he was then and the man who stood before him now.
And Ivan wanted to do that in the place that represented him best.
“Good to know.” Ivan leaned forward and kissed Rory, quick and hard, then said, “You’re going to need warmer outerwear and jeans for our tour.
You can leave your clothes here and we’ll swing by and grab them on our way back.
” He picked out a sherpa-lined jacket and a pair of Wranglers in sizes that looked right.
He grinned when they fit Rory perfectly.
Ivan took a few seconds to jot down what they’d taken on the inventory sheet Cash used for taxes, then they made the quick trip to an equipment barn.
Ivan opened the passenger door of the side-by-side ATV and gestured for Rory to get in.
“Such a gentleman,” Rory said with a wink as he climbed inside.
“Not always.”
Ivan hit the gas and launched the vehicle forward.
The wind carried off whatever Rory had been about to say.
Delighted laughter burst from him instead as Ivan accelerated over the terrain.
He’d start the tour in his beloved place and end with meeting the horses and dogs on their way back to the main ranch for dinner.
“I’m glad you insisted on a warmer jacket,” Rory yelled.
Ivan glanced over and saw that he’d ducked his chin into the open collar. He should’ve given him a hat and offered to go back, but Rory declined.
“Show me your special place.”
That unbidden and persistent voice made itself known again, telling Ivan that Rory’s heart could be the most special place of all. Fuck. He really was turning into a poet. Ivan let off the gas when they neared Honeyland and slowed to a crawl just outside the gated entrance.
“I don’t freaking believe it,” Rory said in awe. “You’re not playing around, are you?”
Ivan assessed the large section of meadow Cash had sanctioned for honey production.
The spring wildflowers were just blooming, but within weeks, the place would be awash with vivid color.
Ivan and Cash were the owners, but the rest of the ranch was represented in the cluster of hives spread throughout the space.
“Not just me,” he said. “Rueben made the wrought iron fence and arched gate, and Kieran helped me paint each hive to look like a house, so the clusters became honeyhoods.” The play on neighborhood had been Cash’s idea.
And no two honeyhoods were the same. Some looked like farmhouses, and others resembled urban dwellings like brownstones and high-rise apartments.
“Tyler’s family owns a plant nursery in Texas.
He knew a lot about which plants, flowers, and shrubs attract bees and aid in pollination.
We have blooming plants from spring to fall.
Harry found old bird baths at yard sales and filled the bottom with various sized stones and marbles to give the bees a safe place to perch while hydrating.
Owen laid the pavers to create the pretty walking paths throughout the honeyhoods.
Dylan placed various gnome, mushroom, and wildlife lawn ornaments throughout the area.
I think it makes the space look like an amusement park for the bees.
” Pride and community swelled inside his chest. “This might be my passion project, but they all made it theirs too.”
“It’s beautiful,” Rory said. “Can we go inside, or will we disturb the bees?”
“It’s okay to go in.” Ivan glanced over at him. “The bees are pretty lethargic and confined to the hives until it gets warmer. If we do encounter one, it’s likely to be aggressive and sting. Are you allergic?”
Rory shook his head. “I got stung plenty of times on my grandparents’ farm in Oklahoma. My grandmother used to warn me constantly not to go out barefoot, but I didn’t listen. I loved the feel of grass under my feet.”
Ivan climbed out of the side-by-side. When Rory joined him, Ivan reached out for his hand.
He hadn’t planned to do it and hadn’t consciously thought about the gesture.
He just saw Rory and wanted to touch him.
If he was surprised, Rory didn’t show it.
He laced his fingers through Ivan’s and walked beside him.
Ivan unlatched the gate with his free hand and gestured for Rory to precede him.
Ivan wasn’t sure where he wanted to begin his story.
Did he start with the event that landed him in jail, where he’d learned to keep bees, or did he work backward?