Long Tall Drink (7 page)

“Evenin’, Ray,” Jesse said in his youthful exuberance as they climbed the short steps.

He nodded. “Jesse.”

Then he shifted his gaze to Travis and was once again trapped in those impossibly captivating eyes. Amusement and mischief danced in their shadows, withholding the secret Ray had wanted to learn the moment Travis had hopped into the cab of his truck.

“A minute, Travis.”

Shit
. Why did his voice always seem to come out rougher or sharper than intended around this man?

Jesse paused with his hand on the door and looked back at Travis questioningly. Ray wasn’t sure what to make of that. He was the boss of this ranch. Not Travis. But Travis was whom the boy had looked to with his should-I-stay-or-should-I-go expression. When had that happened? And why did it piss him off?

“Go on in,” Travis said.

Jesse shot a quick sidelong glance at Ray, then nodded and disappeared inside.

Chirping crickets and the quick
zzzzzttt
of insects electrocuting themselves on the ultraviolet bug zapper hanging near the door played in practiced concert with the swaying wind chimes.

That rare flush of jealousy rose again, and this time its buddy anger came along for the ride.

Ray glared. Travis waited.

“I appreciate your wanting to help this afternoon, but you needn’t bother,” Ray began once they were alone on the porch, and he could temper his warring emotions. “I’ve got things under control with Diablo. We have a history and a…special way of working together.”

“Special or not, it won’t stop me from reacting how I do when I see anyone in any sort of trouble.”

“I wasn’t in trouble.”

“Didn’t look that way from my vantage point,” Travis challenged.

“What you saw”—Ray lowered his voice, but couldn’t prevent the snap the words were delivered with—“was Diablo playing.”

Why did the man have to argue and rile him up so easily? What really rankled his hide was that he, again, seemed to find himself aroused by it. Which only aided in pissing him off more.

“Twelve hundred pounds of angry horseflesh bearing down on you is not what I’d call play.” Travis lowered his voice to match Ray’s but, unlike Ray, his edge remained controlled.

Ray stood up to face Travis. The man was a couple of inches taller, but Ray made a point of stretching to his full five feet ten and met Travis at almost eye level. “Believe it or not, that horse is actually well trained.”

Travis didn’t back down from Ray’s attempt at intimidation. Didn’t even flinch.

“I don’t,” he answered annoyingly unaffected. “So again, I will continue to help those who appear to need help.”

Ray ground his back molars together until his jaw hurt. He counted to five, fighting the overwhelming urge to take Travis’s mouth in a hard, punishing kiss—or punch him. Either would be equally satisfying right about then.

“I don’t need a sitter, Morgan,” he snapped.

Travis matched his tone. “Not my intention.”

“What is your intention, then?”

The air between them crackled. Both men were once again rendered immobile under locked gazes. The muscle in Travis’s strong jaw clenched, and bronze fire exploded in his eyes and scorched a path straight down Ray’s spine. Silence wrapped around them, and the world closed in. Ray felt cocooned inside a kinetic bubble that had the fine hairs on his arms standing on end. Even the low buzzing nocturnal orchestra failed to penetrate its imperceptible walls.

“What do you want, Ray?” Travis’s tone had changed, the pitch dropped, the edge roughened. Right then Ray knew exactly what he wanted—inside Travis. One stride and he’d cover that long, lean body with his own.

Heat spread out from his abdomen and sent electric shocks in every direction. Blood rushed to his cock, filling it quickly, demanding. His gaze dropped to Travis’s lips; the upper not quite as full as the lower flushed deep pink. Then those lips parted, and the slow whisper that spilled over them was almost a growl. “What do you want?”

Ray felt a groan bubbling up his throat and forcibly swallowed it back. He dug his fingers hard into his thighs in a poor attempt at countering his reaction to the frustratingly sexy cowboy, but it didn’t help. He opened his mouth to tell Travis exactly what he wanted, what he was going to—

The front door banged against the wall like gunshot, and Ray damn near shed his skin. His head snapped around so fast, he knew he’d be feeling the whiplash before the night was over.

Dot stood in the doorway with an amused glint in her eyes. “You boys quit staring each other down like a couple of roosters in a henhouse and get your butts in here. Dinner’s getting cold.”

The burning heat that had run rampant over his body a moment ago suddenly turned cold under Dot’s bucket-of-ice-water presence. His lower body chilled, literally, but his face was now an inferno.

Travis casually removed his hat, holding it against his chest as he ran a hand through his unruly blond hair. Ray’s eyes followed the movement with a frown.

“Sorry, Dot,” Travis said, a sheepish grin on his face and a playful tone in his voice, as if they hadn’t just been a heartbeat away from tackling each other to the ground. “Just discussing a difference in training methods.”

“Must be a pretty serious difference,” she said.

Ray didn’t fail to notice the humor that laced through her words. Her bright eyes were sharp and speculative. Ray knew she saw more than she let on. She always saw more than she let on. A shiver raced up his spine.
Not good. Not good at all.

Travis leaned down and gave her a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek.

“You said something about dinner?” Travis asked politely.

Dot regarded the two of them a moment, then without another word turned for the door. Travis placed his hand on the small of her back and followed her inside without so much as a glance back.

Ray stayed outside a moment to pull himself together, still staring at the spot where Travis had stood. He dragged his hands down his face.

“I am so fucking screwed.”

Chapter Six

All through dinner Ray’s gaze kept straying to the sexy cowboy at the far end of the table. Much as he tried, he couldn’t seem to veer his thoughts off the track that kept replaying how close that body had been to his. He could still feel the heat that had wrapped around his own body, still smell the masculine, earthy scent that had his every nerve vibrating. All he wanted was more.

And every time Travis caught his gaze, that mischievous glint taunted him.

It was the most uncomfortable, yet arousing dinner he could ever remember sitting through. The risk of taking what he wanted, and being caught for it, was at once terrifying and enticing.

Dammit, he had to get a grip on this growing obsession. Why couldn’t he push the man from his mind like he’d pushed every other desire away all his life? What was it about Travis Morgan that drew him like a magnet? It was like he had no control, was almost completely at the man’s mercy. And being under someone else’s control didn’t bode well in Ray’s estimation.

He trained his eyes to the dinner plate in front of him, pursed his lips, and speared the potatoes with excessive force, counting the minutes until dinner was over and the men cleared out.

Travis prolonged the torture by hanging back and trying to do what he did after every meal: help Dot with the cleanup. And Dot responded the same as always by shooing him off. The man was nothing if not persistent.

“Stop messin’ with an old woman,” Dot admonished.

“You, Miss Dottie McCray, are far from old,” Travis drawled with laughter in his rich, resonant voice, sincerity in his eyes, flashing that award-winning smile that made Ray’s pulse quicken. Then Travis scooped her up in his arms and waltzed her around the room. “Let’s go dancing, Dottie.”

To Ray’s complete surprise, Dot giggled, actually giggled like a little girl. Two turns around the room, and she slunk out of his embrace. “Now you stop, young man. Even if I were your age, we both know I’m not your type.”

Travis gasped dramatically and splayed a hand over his chest. “You wound me, Miss Dottie.”

“Oh hush! You go on now and let me do my chores.” Her cheeks were flushed, and she gave him a playful shove. Travis laughed, genuine and heartfelt. The affectionate friendship growing between the two warmed Ray. And hearing Dot giggle was damn near priceless. For some strange reason it was important to him that they got along, that Dot care—

Travis turned and caught Ray’s gaze just then. The smile on his rugged face faltered, and the light in his eyes darkened. And it was there. That heat spread out again, reaching for him, covering his skin. Time crashed to an agitated halt, and Ray couldn’t hear anything over the heavy pulse that beat on his eardrums like a fist. His face felt like it was falling, and with a start, he realized he’d been smiling. Not a grin or a half-cocked lift of his lips, but a full-on, teeth exposed, cheek-cramper of a smile. Ray dropped his gaze and frowned.

The grandfather clock tick-tocked relentlessly.

“Well.” Travis cleared his throat. “I’d best be going then.”

He took Dot’s hand in his and chastely kissed her knuckles over a slight bow. “Good night, Miss Dottie. Thank you for the dance.”

Dot laughed, sounding more like herself, and playfully smacked Travis on the arm. “Good night, Travis.”

Travis graced Ray with a sly smile, his voice low and deliberate, “Good night, Ray.”

He nodded sharply. “Travis.”

It was then that Ray noticed Dot had been watching them, gaze flipping back and forth, expression contemplative. He stood up abruptly and walked over to the large dining-room window that looked out over the barns and the plains beyond. The thick blanket of night had fallen and gently covered the land as it rested.

Ray tracked Travis in the window’s reflection as he left the room. He heard the front door bang softly in its frame as it closed, followed by the dull echo of boots as they trod across the wooden porch. Dot came up beside him. Together they watched Travis walk across the yard with that easy, confident swagger, his sidekick Jesse—who’d obviously been waiting for him—in tow. Floodlights on the barn roof corner silhouetted their bodies. Travis pushed the hat off the younger man’s head and ruffled his hair. Jesse picked up his hat, and Travis deftly dodged an incoming hit with said hat.

Ray frowned, not liking the feeling their camaraderie caused in him.

“Good man, that one,” Dot said at his side. “Be good to have him stay on.”

Ray shot a sideways glance at her, but she kept her gaze fixed forward. He didn’t need to see her eyes to know they were dancing with sage amusement. A coy smile struggled to overtake her face.

“He’s a drifter, Dot.”

“Every seedling roots itself eventually, Raymond. No matter how far the wind carries it.”

He countered. “Winds blow strong and constant in these parts.”

“And the soil is fertile.”

Ray gave up. No point in arguing with the woman.

Dot gave his arm a quick rub, stretched up on her toes to give him a light kiss on the cheek, and left him with his thoughts.

Ray pulled in a deep breath and exhaled on a long, weighted sigh as his thoughts returned to Travis. He was beginning to look forward to seeing the man each day a little too much. Dot and Jesse were quickly growing attached as well. Travis wasn’t the stick-around kind, and sooner rather than later he was going to make his silent exit. Three damn days, and the man had managed to burrow under their hides. Even Clay and Ross acted like he’d been on Ford Creek forever.

Travis was going to take a huge chunk of this ranch with him when he left. The tornadolike force that was Travis Morgan would leave a path a mile wide in its wake.

And Ray had a sinking feeling the damage would be permanent.

Ray looked across the narrow Formica table and watched Travis dip his burrito into a dish of thick salsa before taking a hearty bite. They’d stopped for lunch at Ray’s favorite Mexican café before heading back to the ranch with the newest addition to his herd.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d got himself roped into taking Travis with him to check out the stud in Billings. He’d blame it on Dot. It was all her doing, practically pushing the man out the door and into Ray’s truck after breakfast.

“Travis can give you a second opinion,” she’d said. “He knows his horses.”

Yes, Travis knew his horses, but so did Ray. It was his damn ranch, and he would make the damn decisions. Without Travis’s two cents.

Travis hadn’t seemed fazed with Dot’s insistence as he sat in the passenger seat messing with Ray’s stereo like it was his God-given right. The man had zeroed in on the only rock station in range. His knee bounced, and long fingers tapped on his muscular thigh in time with the fast beats. Ray had been too tense to talk but had found himself relaxing as Travis shared tales of his many adventures and travels training across the country. He had to admit he’d felt an odd pang of envy at the carefree lifestyle Travis enjoyed. Ray had never had that kind of freedom. Nothing to tie him down, no roots or responsibilities—the ability to pick up and go wherever the wind took him in a heartbeat.

A fleeting wave of disappointment passed over Ray. Travis would be moving on before too long. That was something he needed to keep in the forefront of his mind when his body tried taking control. And a good reminder of how much he had to lose. Travis would pack up and disappear, carried away on the ever-present trade winds, and Ray would be left alone to deal with the fallout.

Mind once again firmly in control of body, Ray took a long swig of his iced tea.

“I didn’t thank you for your help back there.” He broke the easy silence that had fallen between them while they ate their burritos and enchiladas.

He hadn’t needed Travis’s input to ascertain that the tall, blue roan quarter horse had stellar bloodlines, confirmation, and disposition. There was no question the stallion would be a valuable asset to his breeding operation. What Travis had helped with was his star-status name.

The owner of the roan had been so excited at the prospect of selling his horse to none other than Travis Morgan, he’d tripped all over himself to sweeten the deal. Ray had attempted to correct the man’s misconception, but Travis had placed a hand lightly on the small of Ray’s back, effectively disconnecting his brain. The shock of that hot touch, Travis’s touch—in public—had frozen Ray in place. He swore his heart had even stopped beating.