“IF YOU want me, you know where to find me.”
Chase Larkspur sighed and rested his forehead on the steering wheel of his truck, Alex’s final words to him playing over and over in his mind. The cool tone he’d delivered that parting message with had been a sharp contrast to the shouting that had preceded it.
What the hell was he doing here? He didn’t race off half-cocked like this. He thought things through, made sure he knew what he was doing before he did it. Except when it came to Alex. Alex knocked him off his balance faster than an ornery bull. He’d pushed for more than Chase was comfortable giving, pure and simple. Then he had walked out the door before Chase had a moment to wrap his damn brain around the demands and accusations Alex had thrown.
He should let it go. Indeed, he’d been so damn pissed when Alex left that he had been determined to put the other man out of his mind. A few nights with some buckle bunnies would do the trick, he’d been sure of it. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t forget Alex, and he sure as hell couldn’t work up any interest in the pretty young things that wanted to go for a ride on a rodeo cowboy. They weren’t Alex.
So here he was, just outside of Bandera, Texas, tired and hungry with a career he was willingly flushing down the shitter. It was Cowboy Christmas right now. If he had any sense, he would be driving his RV to the various rodeos, not taking his damn truck down to Bandera. Then again, if he had any sense, he’d be chasing eight on the back of a bull, not chasing that stubborn asshole Alex Dawson.
“If you want me, you know where to find me.”
Yeah, he knew. What he didn’t know was how long that offer was good for. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Alex since the Chicago Invitational. That had been in March. Bastard hadn’t called once, and to Chase’s surprise, the abruptly severed ties were killing him.
You didn’t call him, either.
Chase ignored the voice in his head, focusing on the now. The now being his ass parked in a truck that was rapidly turning into an oven in the summer heat. He could choose to roast in here all damn day, or he could stop being so chickenshit and face Alex.
“If you want me, you know where to find me.”
He turned the engine back on and looked at the entrance to Dawson Ranch. He’d found Alex, all right. And damn if he wasn’t going to tie that cowboy up with his own rope and fuck him until neither of them could see straight.
You’re forgetting what he wants in return, that irritating voice reminded him. As if he’d ever forget. Alex had frequently pushed his limits further than Chase had ever thought he’d be willing to go. But if he wanted Alex back in his life, Chase would have to be willing to give Alex two things he’d never given another man. The two things he’d flat-out refused while they’d shared a bed: an out-in-the-open relationship and—he could feel his ass clench just thinking about it—he’d have to let Alex fuck him.
