Cowboy: The Mathesons - Book 2 Read online

  He reached his hand out for my cheek again whispering, “You’re not only brilliant but also so handsome, too.” In what felt like a split second, Hamish closed the rest of the distance, and his lips met mine.

  It wasn’t much more than a peck, and I didn’t open my lips, but it was definitely a kiss. I quickly pulled back while trying not to look angry. Hamish slowly leaned back and laughed. He said, “I like you. That’s all. There’s nothing more than that.”

  He reached for his glass and then swallowed the rest of the drink down. To my surprise and relief, he waved his hands. “Enough! That’s all the drink I need for tonight. I can feel the morning coming on already.” Hamish sighed. “You’re a good man, Simon.”

  I didn’t feel like a good man. I felt like a louse. I cast a furtive glance around the bar, and I was glad that Sparks wasn’t a regular haunt filled with friends and acquaintances. Everyone else seemed to ignore us as we tucked ourselves back near the rear wall.

  The evening was over for me. Shame crept up the back of my neck raising the tiny hairs there to full attention. Whether Tate ever found out or not, I knew that the kiss happened. I’d been warned about Hamish many times over, and I still let it happen. A few minutes later, I said goodnight and left with my head down.

  19

  Tate

  I didn’t make it home from the long night of work until 3:00 a.m. It was earlier than I thought it could have been. In the end, Leon rallied his haggard troops, and we turned in an outstanding finished product over slices of late-night pizza. Regardless of the specific time, I was exhausted, and I fell into bed. It was possible that I was sound asleep before my head hit the pillow.

  I woke up with a start when I heard a scratchy sound. At first, I thought I was still dreaming. When I realized it was coming from elsewhere in the apartment, I immediately sat upright in bed clutching at the sheets. Opening my eyes, I listened again. My first worry was an intruder in the apartment. We had top-level security technology and an agent in the lobby, but I didn’t know how careful I was with the locks when I was so tired.

  Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I saw that it was 9:30. The scratching noise started again. It was more of a skittery sound like someone or something racing across the floor. I thought it was coming from the kitchen.

  It’s not a person! The realization made me shudder. I hated almost any kind of beast that could make its way into a person’s home from tiny centipedes and spiders up to…rats. Damn! I cringed and shook again. The skittering sound started up, and I looked all around the room with an expression of terror feeling trapped on the bed like I was clinging to a floating plank of wood in a storm at sea.

  The sound stopped for a few minutes, and I caught my breath. I knew that I had to see what it was, as disgusting as it could be, and I swung my bare feet over the side of the bed ever so gently placing them on the floor.

  There it was again. It was the sound of tiny claws trying to get traction on a smooth surface. Nothing else sounded like that. I instantly pulled my feet back up under the sheets and let out a brief howl.

  My next strategy was the only one that made any sense in the situation. I grabbed my cellphone off the nightstand and called Simon. I had no idea what he was doing. He was probably trying to get some work done, but I needed help right away. It was an emergency.

  After hearing Simon’s usual, “Tate, hey!” I launched immediately into the problem.

  “Damn, Simon! I think I’ve got a rat in my apartment. I can’t even get out of bed. I need help. Like right now!” Calming down briefly, I said, “I’m sorry.”

  Simon knew me, and he knew how terrified I’d be. My breathing slowed slightly when I heard his reassuring voice. He was remarkably calm in emergencies. He said that he learned that from observing his moms. When his lack of panic came up in conversation, Simon had multiple stories to tell about how his moms helped support and calm students, friends, and neighbors in the aftermath of the September 11th terrorist attacks.

  “I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Where are you?”

  I wasn’t thinking through the question clearly. I snapped, “In my apartment! I told you that! Where else would I be? How else would I know there’s a rat here?”

  I heard a slight chuckle in Simon’s voice. I started to feel defensive, but then I realized I probably sounded ridiculous. He said, “No, that’s not what I mean. Where are you in the apartment?”

  “I’m in my bed. I don’t want to go anywhere. The rat’s in the kitchen. I swear I didn’t leave food out! I’ve never seen a rat here. Fuck, please get here soon!”

  Simon’s voice was calm. “I’m sure it would be as terrified of you as you are of it. Do this, Tate. Stay in the bedroom, but get up and close the door. You don’t want it deciding to investigate where you are. You’ll have to let me into the apartment, but I’ll send you a text when I’m close so you’ll know before the buzz from the lobby. Relax. This is New York. These things happen. See you soon.”

  “Thank you, Simon. Love you.”

  I followed his instructions. Gingerly climbing out of bed, I tugged on the jeans draped over a chair, and I made my way to the bedroom door. I slowly pulled it shut closing it tight. The closed door made me feel a little bit safer. I breathed a slight sigh of relief when I didn’t hear anything else in the apartment.

  It felt like hours went by before I got the text message from Simon telling me that he was close. I passed the time by playing games on my cell phone. They sucked the battery life out of the device, and it was nearly half gone by the time Simon arrived.

  When the message came, I pulled a t-shirt over my head and hugged Simon tightly at the door. I didn’t want to let him go. He was always my cowboy, my hero, and he was my shield from tiny furry predators as well.

  When I kissed Simon, he surprised me by making it a quick one. I was about to ask if he was okay when he pulled away and began creeping slowly toward the kitchen. He said, “We’ll have time for all the rest later, but I’ve got a mission here.”

  “I haven’t heard it for probably about half an hour. Maybe it’s gone.” I followed near his shoulder and crossed my fingers behind my back.

  Suddenly, the skittering sound happened again, and I barely stopped myself from screaming by clamping a hand over my mouth. Simon was startled, too, and he pressed himself up against a wall.

  Simon said, “Damn, you’ve got something in there. It sounds kind of big to be a rat.”

  “Well, what the hell else could it be?” My mind raced through thoughts of large, hairy vermin colonizing my kitchen. I imagined the most dreadful horror movie coming to life.

  I fell back behind as Simon continued to make his way to the kitchen. He peeked around the corner, and then he laughed.

  His attitude shocked me. “Damn, it’s not funny! I’ve got a beast in my kitchen.”

  “Oh, yeah, it kind of is funny, and this one’s your fault, Tate. Come and see. It’s not scary.”

  I crept forward, and then I jumped again when I heard the distinctive sound of a pan falling and clanging on the floor. Pressing myself against the wall, I wailed, “Oh, God! What the hell is it?”

  Simon reached an arm out and beckoned me forward. “Come and see it. You’ve got a squirrel, and he likes your cooking.”

  He was right about the beast, and all of the evidence for what happened was right there in the middle of the kitchen floor. A pan that formerly held two brownies lay on the floor with dark chocolate crumbs scattered around. A squirrel sat nearby twitching its tail, staring at us, and looking as terrified as me. Simon turned his attention to the window in the rear of the kitchen by the door that led to an old fire escape. The building owners turned it into a balcony feature. I followed Simon’s gaze and saw the telltale hole chewed through the screen.

  Simon said, “I know how to take care of this situation. I’ve done it before.”

  “Seriously? When? “

  “My moms had a nearly identical problem. You know how Mom Tina likes
to cook. I need a blanket, a heavy one if possible, and a pair of winter gloves.”

  “Winter gloves? Why?”

  “Sharp teeth. Now, don’t ask any more questions. Just get what I need.”

  I watched my cowboy toss a heavy blanket over the terrified beast and wrap it up gently with black leather gloves on his hands. He might as well have been roping a calf. Simon took the squirrel out to the balcony, knelt, and gently set it free.

  When he came back, Simon said, “Keep that window closed until you get the screen fixed, and what are you doing setting a pan of brownies in front of a window anyway?”

  I laughed softly. “That was from one of the interns last night. She left the pan in the office, so I brought it home.”

  “Office?” asked Simon with a confused expression on his face.

  “Oh shit, I didn’t tell you. I didn’t send you a message last night at all.”

  Simon peeled off the gloves and stepped up close. “No, and no.”

  I’d been working so hard at improving our communication, and I screwed up already. I couldn’t do anything but apologize. “I’m so sorry. I was going to take a picture at Sagebrush. By the way…”

  Simon interrupted me. He said, “I went out last night, too.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, and I didn’t tell you. We’re kind of pathetic, you know.” He started to apologize, and I wasn’t in the mood to spend the rest of the morning listening to both of us be sorry for our misdeeds. I had time with Simon that I didn’t expect, and I decided that I wanted to make the best of it.

  Before he could say anything else, I wrapped my arms around Simon and inclined my head in preparation for a kiss.

  He stopped talking and looked up into my eyes. For a moment, I thought he might not kiss me, but a small, gentle smile reassured me that I was on the right track.

  The kiss told me Simon wasn’t in the mood for a discussion about how to communicate either. He parted his lips and sucked on my probing tongue. He was as hungry for the kiss as me. I backed him up against the wall just outside the kitchen.

  To my surprise, he started to grope with his hands as well like he was seeking his reassurance in a carnal connection. I gasped when I heard my belt buckle open and felt Simon’s fingers rub against the denim covering my package.

  I whispered a one-word question, “Bedroom?”

  Simon smiled and said, “No.” Instead, he unzipped the jeans and reached inside my boxer briefs.

  Muttering, “Oh, fuck,” I reached out for him, too. Simon was rock hard like me. With our fingers wrapped around each other’s cocks, we kissed feverishly. Our tongues tangled together.

  It didn’t take long for either of us. I pounded my free hand against the wall by Simon’s head while his expert strokes took me right to the edge. Pulling back from the kiss, I whispered, “Fuck, I love you. You’re gonna make me come.”

  His voice was ragged and hoarse when he said, “I’m right there with you.”

  We both bellowed and howled when the orgasms took over. Neither Simon nor I was quiet when we had sex, and I loved it. We roared sounding like animals in heat.

  With my chest heaving from the release, I kissed him hard again and took a half step forward to pin Simon’s slim body to the wall with my bulk. I didn’t know if what we’d just done counted as quality communication in the context of a relationship, but it was good. It was amazing.

  20

  Simon

  The next two weeks passed in a blur. Tate and I had five more outstanding dates. Among them, we had dinner out in old favorite restaurants, took the Staten Island ferry just for fun to sightsee, and spent one long late summer evening exploring the High Line.

  What didn’t happen was any mention of my birthday coming up. When we lived together, Tate always made my birthday a big deal. One year, he threw a big party. The next year he surprised me with plane tickets to fly to Toronto, and we spent the weekend exploring a new city. His silence about it was almost ominous. Three days before, I found out why he was so quiet.

  I promised my moms that I’d have dinner with them on my birthday so Mom Tina could make my favorite lasagna as her annual treat. Her tasty recipe was a feature of every birthday. In the year that I went to Toronto with Tate, my moms gave me a lasagna to put in my freezer and share when we got back home. I told them that I wanted to hold the rest of the evening of my birthday open just in case.

  “Just in case?” asked Mom Missy. “Aren’t you going out with Tate?”

  I had to admit that I didn’t know yet.

  Mom Tina asked, “Why don’t you bring him over for dinner? We can all celebrate together.”

  I thought that was a great idea except for the fact that I was stubborn enough not to want to be the one to remind Tate that it was my birthday. I wanted him to figure it out all on his own.

  I excused his absence without telling a lie by saying, “He’s been incredibly busy with work. It looks like it will just be the three of us.”

  Neither of them was bothered by the fact that it would be our small family celebrating together. I was the one who felt my stomach tying into knots.

  As I wrapped up my work for the day at a coffee shop five blocks from my moms’ apartment, I received a text message from Hamish. I’d successfully avoided him since the kissing incident except for one very brief meeting to discuss the budget for leasing the office location I’d finally found. Out of the blue, he asked if I would join him and “a group of some of your best friends” at Sparks at 8:00 p.m. on my birthday. He added, “You can’t say no.”

  That had to be the reason for the silence about my birthday. Surely, Hamish wouldn’t plan a birthday celebration for me and leave Tate out of it. To make sure, I decided to call Tate.

  His voice was cheerful and loud. That always meant that he was in a good mood. “Hey, I was thinking about you.” He underscored the words with a soft laugh. “Honestly, I think about you all day long, but I wanted to know if you’d go with me to dinner tomorrow night at that Chinese restaurant you like in Times Square.”

  “You hate that place.”

  “But I love you. That makes all the difference.”

  He was trying so hard, and it was perfect. He wasn’t trying too hard. It was just right for a man on a mission to woo me. For the moment, I forgot about my birthday and said, “I love you, too, and of course I’ll go.”

  “Excellent. Should I meet you there at 7:00?”

  My birthday slipped back into my mind as I said, “Yeah, that’s great.” I asked, “And Tate, are you going to Sparks three nights from now?”

  For a moment, there was dead silence on the other end of the line. Then he sounded dejected as he said, “Aw, you found out somehow. It was supposed to be a surprise. I buried the hatchet with Hamish and agreed to come to the party.”

  “You all didn’t need to do something like that.”

  “Honestly, I’m not involved in the arrangements. I just agreed to keep it quiet. I hope you didn’t think I forgot about your birthday. That would never happen. I think Hamish said he’s renting Sparks out for the night inviting like thirty people or so.”

  “What the hell?” Hamish told me that it was a small gathering. Tate let the cat out of the bag. I was thankful that he did. At least I could prepare myself for a massive surprise party instead of a more intimate group.

  I heard the warmth in Tate’s voice when he said, “Don’t be all modest about it, Simon. A lot of people think you’re the best. I don’t only think it—I know it’s true. I know what a lucky guy I am.”

  “I wish I could make out with you right now.”

  “Well, I’m free after dinner tomorrow.”

  I smiled and said, “I can’t wait.”

  “By the way, since it’s going to be a big crowd—and I wouldn’t ask this if it was something intimate with just family and close friends—can I bring a buddy from Sagebrush? He’s had a rough time recently, and he could use the company. I promise that he won’t monopolize
my time because he needs to find a man.”

  I didn’t see the difference between thirty guests and thirty-one. “Of course. The more, the merrier—I guess.”

  After our conversation ended with another round of “I love yous,” I thought about Hamish again. Something didn’t sit right with me. With the kiss in mind, I worried that he was working on a plot to get closer to me. I didn’t like thinking about it too much because I did need his money at least temporarily. Unfortunately, that kiss out of the blue was hard to forget.

  * * *

  Dinner at the Chinese restaurant with Tate was fantastic. I even convinced him to try something new. He was usually adamant about avoiding anything but sweet and sour dishes. He excused the pickiness with, “I’ve never figured out exactly why, but there’s something about the Chinese seasoning that doesn’t sit well with me. I’ll stick with the tried and true.”

  I ordered Mongolian beef and fed it to Tate with my chopsticks. It was sexy as hell watching him take the nuggets of meat from between the sticks while they gently glided over his mouth and lips.

  Tate said, “You know, that’s not half bad at all. I like those little crispy noodles, too. Maybe I’ve been a little too quick to judge. Mom and Dad ordered out Chinese about every other week back in L.A. from the time I was a little kid. They insisted that we try everything. I hated that. Some of it was downright nasty.”

  At my request, once dinner was over, we kissed right out in the middle of Times Square with all the lighted billboards, neon, and tourists flashing around. I grinned from ear to ear and said, “I always wanted to do that with you. We didn’t get to do it when we were together before. I should have made a list. There was so much I wanted to do that didn’t get to happen.”

  Tate hugged me against his broad chest. “I’m aiming for forever this time around, so we’ve got plenty of time.”