Down and Dirty (Down Home #2)

by Parker St. John

“My suspension is over,” Lane said softly. “They want me in California in a few days.” Denver crushed the hat brim between his fingers. He said through his teeth, “If I ride, will you stay?”

“You aren’t like me. You don’t run, and you care too much about this ranch to let it fail. You’re going to ride. You were made for it, and it doesn’t even matter that you missed your chance all those years ago because you can still set the world on fire. That’s the kind of man you are, if you’d just let yourself be. You don’t need a headcase like me dragging you down.”

Denver’s nostrils flared, and a muscle twitched in his cheek. His voice was tight when he said, “If I get out there again, you’re the only one I want at my back.”

“Without him, you’ve still got the rest of us!” Denver exploded. He yanked Lane forward, pressing their foreheads together and saying through clenched teeth, “None of this is necessary, Lane. It never was. Your place is here even if Skylar isn’t.”

“He was the best part of me," Lane rasped. "I’ve got nothing left to give you except a lot of headaches and hurt. It doesn’t matter how much I love this place or how much I love you—and I do. I do, Den. Nobody’s going to be cheering louder for you than me even if I’m on the other side of the country when I do it.”

“I think every cowboy is born with a love of pretty things,” he said philosophically. “It’s the reason getting up before sunrise ain’t no hardship, and the reason Clark is so gentle tending to that little calf of yours. We see the beauty in the open range, and we love and take care of all God’s creatures. Doesn’t matter if it’s a rawboned old nag or a pretty little thing needing a safe ride home from the Longbranch.”

“He thinks I’m turning my back on you,” Lane said thickly. “Whether this ranch succeeds or fails doesn’t rest on your shoulders, and he knows that. He’s just lost more people than most. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else he loves.” His father’s eyes were bright and so damn blue when he lifted his gaze and said solemnly, “I figure he loves you just as much as you’ve always loved him.”

Logan nodded. “Your mother saw it first. Then Green and Ronnie. After that, it was pretty obvious to everyone. I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I went out to the barn to check on you the other night.” “Oh, God,” Lane blurted. Ruddy color touched his father’s cheeks. It was the first time Lane had ever seen him embarrassed. “I heard you arguing. I was just going to tell you both to go soak your heads, but…well, nobody’s jeans were zipped. So I didn’t stick around.”

Lane struggled. “Your brother was one of us,” his father whispered hoarsely against his temple, “but he wasn’t the best of us. We’re still a family, Lane. We’re yours, and you’re ours, and we’ll be waiting for you whenever you’re ready to come home.” Lane swayed, pressing his forehead against the soggy cotton of his father’s shoulder. He covered his eyes with one hand. The dry sob that ripped from his chest felt like it took his heart with it. He shook and gasped in his father’s arms, and there beside that quiet grave, he finally let go of the pain that had been festering inside him for so long. He finally said goodbye.

Savage Sunday entered the arena like a missile. His hide was sleek with sweat and his horns gleamed as he twisted and turned. It hadn't looked as if he was taking it easy on Davey in the practice pen, but he was a different animal tonight. As if he'd been waiting for a rider who could handle him, he bucked and spun like a hurricane. Denver effortlessly rode the storm. He was breathtaking. Like a surfer on a wave, he flowed with every movement. The power of the enormous animal washed over and through him, but it never shook him. Loose and easy, he maintained perfect balance. In the dance of man versus beast, it was clear which of them was in control.

Lane grabbed Denver by his vest and hurled him to the ground, following him down so hard that a blast of pain rocked through his knees and elbows. Desperately, Lane scrambled to cover him with his own body. He wrapped his arms around Denver's unprotected head and gritted his teeth as the first hoof struck his shoulder. The second connected with his hip, and a line of fire zinged down his leg all the way to his foot.

"Lane!" Denver shouted hoarsely, and the world spun. Lane's vision was a maelstrom of dust and pounding hooves, and then a black-clad shoulder reared up and blocked his vision.

Blood trickled from a cut in Denver’s temple, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were clear and full of concern as they scanned Lane's body. With tears in his eyes, he grabbed Denver by the back of the neck and yanked him close. “Don’t you ever do that again!” he seethed. “It’s my job! I’m supposed to protect you!”

With scraped, bleeding hands, Denver cradled Lane’s face in both palms and kissed him. Shock rocked him to his core, and he froze. Beside them, a man cursed, but then the world dropped away. In the sudden silence, the only thing that existed was the firm sweetness of Denver’s lips. Denver broke their kiss as abruptly as it had begun and glared. “You’re worth protecting too, Lane,” he said harshly, eyes glowing like green embers. “You’re more than a body that can take a beating and get back up, and you lost the chance to take damn fool risks when you came back. You’re mine, and I will never sit back and watch you hurt yourself again.”

Shaking off the grasping hands, Denver climbed painfully to his feet. With blood still dripping down his face, he offered one gloved hand. His mouth quirked in a slow, sexy smile when he said, “Baby, it’s about time we both learned some new ways of doing things.”

"I remember the first moment I saw you," Denver said thoughtfully. He brushed the backs of his knuckles down Lane’s cheek, and Lane couldn’t help but turn his face toward the touch. "I was so angry walking into school that day. Everyone stared at me like I was a freak...and then Skylar showed up with that big smile and made it all seem like something to laugh about. But I couldn't laugh. I couldn't...because behind him was this boy watching me with this look in his eyes like he was starving. I knew that feeling. I knew you. I recognized you before I even knew your name."

"Women are nice," he said agreeably, "but being with one has never felt the way I feel when I'm with you."

"I feel like I belong when I'm with you," Denver admitted softly. "I feel like I matter. It doesn't matter where I go or what I do. I could win a million buckles or spend the rest of my life on this ranch and I'd never be any less in your eyes. Would I?"

"I'd be a fool not to love a man who makes me feel like that,” Denver said.

Lane's fingers shook as he brushed them through Denver's thick hair. "Say it," he whispered. Denver's eyes gleamed. "I love you."

“Like my daddy always said, the only thing that makes this work worth doing is crawling into bed with someone you love at the end of the day.”

Lane reached into his shirt and pulled out the jade pendant that had belonged to his brother. He slipped it over Denver’s head and pressed the charm against his heart. “One day when we’re ready, I’ll put a ring on your finger and make it official. Until then…this is my promise.” When Denver kissed him, Lane’s heart was singing so loud that he didn’t even hear the boom of the mortars lighting up the sky. He was home.