26. Jake
Jake
The party in the barn was in full swing.
Somehow it had taken only a day to arrange the setup.
The horses and cattle were all in the upper paddocks, far away from light and noise.
Sheets of plywood laid in a large square just outside the barn formed a dance floor illuminated by lights strung from poles.
Couples were already out there, doing the two-step in large, lazy circles.
Inside, all the barn lights were on. The DJ had set up his station, headphones on backward, a stack of actual records in a rack. Playing good songs, too, with words I could understand. Cowboy favorites and Dalton’s favorites.
There was a buffet on one side of the main barn, lined up in front of the box stalls, and if I’d thought the dining hall offerings left me full, I’d not imagined what would happen when Dalton made sure there were shish kebabs on a grill, sizzling in a mouthwatering way.
I’d had three helpings. My belly was pushing against my belt buckle.
Dalton had asked me about that long-ago barbecue when I’d gotten punished for stealing a shard of meat from the grill. Upon discovering that the meal had been shish kebabs, he must have made a point about it to Lucas, the mastermind behind all this. Our engagement party.
Smoke from the grills wafted in the air, limned by the spotlights in each corner of the barn.
In addition to the shish kebabs, the grills held hot wings and hunks of steak.
The tables groaned under the weight of potato salad, macaroni salad, and Jell-O salad.
Sweet rolls. Cookies. Brownies. We were never going to run out of food. Or drink.
Hearty chatter rose to the rafters, the scent of hay mixing with the mist of beer from the pony kegs.
I’d had a chat with Lucas as well, and there were pitchers—many—of gin and tonic, and the bartender, a young woman from the Saddle Up Saloon, had been instructed to keep those pitchers full and flowing.
Folks were having a blast, but all I wanted to do was sneak away. I watched Dalton from my spot near the open doors, inhaling the smoke from the grills, the dust of hay, ghostly scents of horsehair and hoof oil.
Dalton had a clear plastic glass in his hand as he chatted to anyone and everyone. He was the center of attention at this party, and that was fine by me. He deserved the spotlight for being so good, so good to me, and so pretty as he smiled that sweet smile of his.
His fair hair was sticking to his temples from the heat, and he’d taken off his new cowboy hat long ago. He’d given it to me, and now it was safely ensconced in Walter’s office.
My hat sat beside his on that old desk. Both were waiting until we could make a safe exit whenever Dalton had enough of the chatter and the handshaking and the backslapping. Of showing off his ring, pointing in my direction, his eyes alight each time he looked at me.
I was his prize. He was mine. Bliss was ours.
I didn’t want to dance. I just wanted to watch as the world of Snow Creek Ranch celebrated.
The world that I’d entered, so full of bitterness and anger twelve years ago, had come through a lot, struggling to find its place after Walter had passed.
And now we had this: a party that reached the rafters.
A party that didn’t look to be slowing down anytime soon.
Dalton came over and pressed himself against me, full body, where I leaned against the wall. His plastic glass of gin and tonic was nearly full and just about slopped over.
I borrowed the glass. Took a sip and winced. When I tried to hand it back to him, he waved it away. Someone came and took the drink from me so I could focus on Dalton. Cup his slender hips in my hands. Spread my thighs for him to stand between, as he seemed to like to do.
He kissed me. His lips tasted of gin. Like juniper and lemon. I sighed against his neck as I hugged him.
“I’m not drunk,” he said, tipping his head back to look up at me.
“No, you’re not,” I agreed, puzzled, because wasn’t that the point? To get rip-roaring drunk at one’s engagement party? But then, this was the first time I’d been at such a party, let alone had one thrown for me.
“Neither are you,” he said, pretending to be irritated about it.
“Why not?” I asked, intending the question to encompass both of us. Practically teetotaling it at our own engagement party.
“Because here’s the deal.” Dalton laughed under his breath. “We’re getting married in the morning.”
My eyebrows rose, but I didn’t question him. If he wanted to get married in the morning, then get married in the morning we would. We were just about sober. We’d be fine in a few hours.
I dug into his hips to pull him even tighter to me. Any closer and we would have been one body.
“Tell me.” I kissed his forehead and looked at him with all the possessiveness in my soul.
“There’s no church in town,” he said. “I called around in Fort Collins. An officiant will be at our spot at eight a.m. tomorrow.”
“Okay.” There would be plenty of time to spruce ourselves up. “What about a license, or—”
“We need to file together.” He turned in my arms, his back to my front, and reached back to loop one arm around my neck, his other arm across mine, around his waist.
His profile was utterly sharp to me. The flush on his cheeks. A flick of eyelashes as he watched everybody on the ranch having a good time.
“Flowers ordered. Lucas will lead Buddy. Jesse will lead Snowball. Flowers in baskets, like we talked about. And.”
He paused, spinning in my arms once more to put us chest to chest. My heart was pounding. He was so breathlessly beautiful, I could open my mouth but I could not speak.
“Will you ask Xander to be our ring bearer?” Dalton asked. “He’d be the right person for that, I think.”
I had to look away. My jaw worked. My eyes were hot. I blinked. Tried to swallow. Cleared my throat. Failed. Tried again.
What a thing. Not just planning a wedding so neatly, single-handedly. But to suggest including Xander, who reminded me of myself. For whom I wanted to tear down buildings. For whom I wanted the best, to honor Walter.
“Yes,” I said. “I will.”
Xander was along the far wall, sitting on a metal folding chair. He had a half-full paper plate on his lap and was talking to a kid I didn’t know. He was watchful and listening, like he was waiting for clues as to which way he should jump.
He must have felt my eyes, for he looked up. I gave him a nod. His eyebrows went up, and he returned the nod.
In that little bit of silence, I had mentally set my alarm for three a.m. That’d give me enough time to thoroughly groom our two flower bearers, brush them to a shine, and oil their hooves. To make sure their canvas halters were spotless, their manes and tails like shimmering waterfalls.
I would shower and shave. Put on my best clothes. Boots and hat. Then kiss Dalton awake and fetch Xander. It was going to be a beautiful wedding.
Someone approached me, but I was so dizzy with my love for Dalton that I barely noticed them until they nudged me with their elbow. I looked up and saw Jesse, pleasantly glowing with drink.
“Will you two find a fucking room?” he asked, all hard-assed, as though we’d pissed him off. His eyes were shining with laughter.
“Yes, boss,” I said.
“Oh.” Jesse pointed at me with a red Solo cup. “I see a smile. Will that be a habit?”
“Yes, boss.” I tipped my finger to my head as though I were wearing my hat. “I believe so, boss.”
“I’ll make sure it is,” Dalton said, his hands on my chest, his body curved protectively around mine.
Jesse toddled off into the melee. I squeezed Dalton’s hands.
“One stop to talk to Xander,” I said. “Then we’re gone.”
“Yes.”
I led him through the throng in the middle of the barn, over to where Xander sat. The second he saw me, he stood up, plate abandoned on the chair, his companion making a beeline for the door.
The life experiences of those young men had taught them that when someone was looking for them, they were in trouble. Hopefully, with time and patience, they could learn otherwise.
“Mr. Jake.” Xander looked at me with wide eyes. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Yes, it is. I need a favor. If you’re up for it.”
“Sure. Sure.” He scraped his hair out of his eyes, his gaze flicking to either side of me as if looking for a quick exit.
I pulled Dalton forward, and he gave Xander a small wave, which was utterly adorable.
“This is my fiancé,” I said. That much he already knew, of course. “We’re getting married in the morning. Can you be our ring bearer? Meet us in the barn at seven thirty?”
He blinked at me in surprise, looking about ready to bolt. It was either that, apparently, or admit he had no idea what a ring bearer did.
“Here,” I said. I tugged off my ring, so precious to me, and held it out. Dalton, without a second’s hesitation, did the same. There on our palms, those rings glittered in the bright lights of the barn.
“What do I do?” Xander asked. Looking at the rings but not taking them.
“You hold on to them until morning,” I said. “You keep them safe. You bring them to the ceremony.”
“Me?”
I understood his hesitation. Not because the task was complicated, but because there was so much behind it. Weight. Import. It was a lot more than I was used to dealing with, so I knew how he felt.
“Yes, you.” Dalton’s voice was warm and sincere.
I wanted to kiss him. So I did.
The rings fell from our palms. Xander caught them and clutched them to his chest. “Can I still wear my lip ring?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Just make sure it’s polished.” Dalton smiled to show he was teasing.
“Shower,” I said. “Comb your hair. Wear a clean shirt. Like you’d be in church.”
“Okay,” Xander said. “I’ll be there. Bright and early.” There were sparks in his dark eyes as he made this promise. Like nobody had ever selected him for any responsibility—not trusting him to come through.
I trusted him. The way he looked at me. The way he held those rings close to his body. I had a feeling he would walk through fire to make it to the barn on time, and that was fine by me.
Without saying our goodbyes, I hustled Dalton back to our bunkhouse. Our bunkhouse.
The idea of it rang pleasantly in my head as I tore open the door. Left the lights off. Stripped Dalton of everything he was wearing. Bent him forward, his hands on the wall. His bottom cupped in my hands, his thighs inside mine, so he could feel I was fully dressed.
I fumbled for the lube. It was on a little stand next to the bed. When I popped it open, I felt his body jump at the sound.
“Jesus Christ,” Dalton muttered. I eased the lube between his buttocks, cool then warm against my fingertips. “Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ.”
“No, just me,” I said, jaunty and bright. I was a new man since I’d met Dalton. “Just be still.”
He obediently settled, waiting until I’d unbuckled my belt, the clink loud in the silence. Unbuttoned my jeans and shoved them halfway down my thighs.
I fingered him. A little hard, and definitely quick. Listened to the way he gasped, the gurgles in his throat. His sigh, my echoing one. Feeling the sweat build along his back where I swept my hand to gentle him as I entered him. His body tight around my cock. The heat of him.
There was nothing languid or romantic in the way I fucked him.
It was hard and urgent and very, very quick.
He would have slumped to the floor after we came, but I grabbed his waist to hold him to me so I wouldn’t slip out, which was how he seemed to like it.
The lingering. Bodies cooling. Breaths slowing.
Connection. It was what he gave me. What I would give him every day of our lives together.
We were getting married in the morning. And the future, after that, was an open road down which I would be happy to go, to explore what might be, as long as Dalton was with me.