WHEN HIS phone rang in his pocket, Curtis damn near jumped out of his skin. Shit. It had been a good bit since anyone but Stetson even texted him.
He tugged out his phone and clicked the green when he saw Ty Berry’s name pop up.
“Curtis? Hey, son. It’s Ty, from Cinch.”
“Hey, old man. How’s it going?” Ty was his sponsor liaison with the jeans company.
“Good. Good. Are you going to make an appearance at the Dallas event? We’d sure like to see you.”
“Dallas?” He wasn’t sure what that even was. “Uh.”
“Normally we’ve had a sit-down by now to work out your schedule, but I figured you were taking it easy after your win.”
“Yeah. I am. I’ve been working on my ranch. Thinking about investing in bucking horses.”
“Woo, son. You got you a ranch already? Look at you, becoming a real cowboy.”
“Hey, I grew up that way.” Sometimes the rodeo attitude got to him, even though he knew better. “I’ve settled on a place outside of Taos.”
“Pretty country there. I come up to ski sometimes with my kids.”
“Well, you should come up to see the ranch. It has amazing bones.” And Stetson. “Remind me about Dallas?”
“They’re doing that big Ride of the Champions deal. You’re going to be the big draw. Twenty different champs. You ride in rounds until there’s one left standing.”
“All roughstock? What’s the purse?”
“All bulls, all the way. Million bucks at the end.”
“Fuck.” A million dollars to the winner? His heart kicked into a hard rhythm. “Any payout for runner-up?”
“Fifty thousand for fourth up to a hundred for second.”
“Goddamn. When do I have to be in Texas?”
“Valentine’s Day weekend.”
Oh, man. He would just have to take Stetson with him. They could celebrate together.
“All right. I’m in. I’ll call Barb and have her make arrangements.”
“There you go. She probably already has you signed up.”
“Yeah, well, if she does, she should have told me. I need to work out some.” He chuckled, but he was already dreading the grueling regimen he’d have to fit into the next three weeks or so. “Is there a meet and greet?”
“Yeah. VIP package deal too. You know the drill. We’ll bring the stand-up cardboard bigger-than-lifelike Curtises.”
“Fuck you, man. I ain’t that little.”
“Uh-huh. Still….”
“Okay. Well, like I said, let me get Barb on it, and she can call you.”
“Good deal. Send pictures of the ranch.”
“I will.” He knew Ty would want to know if the place was worthy of a photo shoot.
He wondered what Stetson would say to a casita. Something they could put company in. Of course, there was a full side of the house they weren’t using.
Still, a casita would let them put business guests out somewhere with a little kitchen and their own bath and only have to deal with them when they called ahead….
He realized all of the sudden that he didn’t remember telling Ty goodbye. Huh. His mind was on what all they could do with a nice big purse.
He pondered tracking down Stetson, but he didn’t want to interrupt workshop time. Those tools had just come home today. He didn’t imagine he’d see his Roper until supper.
So he could make some calls and get the plan set. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Stetson would balk at him doing four or more rounds of bulls, and he knew it.
It was too soon, but the money was too good to pass up. With that kind of purse?
Shit.
He could take off the rest of his damn life. Well, except for Santa Fe. That was like a state pride thing, if he was gonna be a New Mexican now.
He could buy horses and settle down, actually be the working cowboy he wanted to be.
Curtis stopped right there in the kitchen, his scalp prickling. Holy shit. He really was ready to retire.
Jesus. He stared out the kitchen window, at the barns—his barns.
His and Stetson’s. The whole world had tilted on its axis in just a few short months. The perfect storm had thrown them back together, and now was the time.
His heart had damn near stopped when Stetson broke down. He’d never seen that from his lover, but it was like, all of the sudden, Stetson could breathe.
Curtis clicked some buttons on his phone to call his sports agent, Barb. He needed to be in on that ride of champions. Even fifty thousand would be a lot of improvements on the ranch.
Hell, showing up would make a nice nod to his sponsors and possibly a commercial or something. He could glad-hand and sign autographs and wear his gold buckle. Then he could come home. To Stetson.
Maybe he’d even be able to bring Stetson with him. He was sure gonna try. Stubborn cowboy.
Okay. Time to make a plan. It felt good. Real good. He knew where he was going for the long haul.
Now he had to figure out how to tell Stetson so he didn’t feel like Curtis was running out on him. Maybe he would make an engraved invitation.
Curtis laughed out loud.
That just might work.
HIS WORKSHOP looked… like his again.
Stetson sat on the stool and breathed, surprised that he couldn’t see his breath. That little heater did its job. His tools hung on the pegboards or lay neatly in the workbench drawers. He had some twisted cedar and a big hunk of ironwood Miz Ivy had traded him for a bonus llama that had appeared on his land last year.
She was out there with a leaf blower once a week, grooming the llama so she could shear him late in the spring and make yarn.
God, was it true? Was life coming back together?
He stared at his hands, trying to decide if he should feel guilty. Momma had passed on, and suddenly his world was spinning again. Did that make him an asshole?
He didn’t think so. He’d stopped everything to be there for her. He’d given her his best.
Okay. Okay, so he had his shop. His tools. The lights were set up. Maybe….
Stetson picked up a piece of twisted cedar.
By the time he looked away from the wood, it was dark outside and he had a rose in his hand, heavy and eternal. The grain of the wood worked its way around the outer petals and spiraled into the middle, and he thought it looked pretty damned good for a first try.
He put it on the table, staring at it. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
Grinning, he tugged out his phone, took a picture, then sent it to Curtis.
It only took seconds for him to get a Beautiful. Now come eat back.
Curtis was kinda obsessed with learning to actually cook. Stetson had seen him looking online at cooking classes in Santa Fe.
Weirdo.
He cleaned up his shit and put his tools away, then locked up. The snow was falling again, looking like fairies where the flakes caught the lights from the house.
Turning up his collar, he headed out, two of the dogs joining him, dancing around his legs and begging to play.
“Hey, y’all.” He bent down, scooped up a handful of snow as he walked, then threw it, the silly beasts tearing after it.
They barked and leaped and rolled each other in the white stuff all the way back to the porch, where Curtis met him. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey. How goes it?” He made another snowball, threw it hard.
“Good. I like your rose.”
“It’s okay. I need practice.”
“Good thing you have a heated workshop.” Curtis winked. “I have to practice. I have to get out in the cold.”
Stetson snorted softly. “You’re working on getting those barns gone up so good that you’ll be in shirtsleeves in there.”
“Is it ridiculous to want an indoor practice arena?”
“I don’t see why?” He stomped his boots off. “We’ll save up and build one between the two big barns.”
“Sounds grand.” Curtis grabbed him once they were inside and two-stepped him through the mudroom.
Stetson laughed, blowing an icy cold kiss on Curtis’s throat.
“Oh! Damn, that’s freezing! I hate to think what your hands feel like.”
He feigned a grab at Curtis’s fly. “You want to know?”
“No!” Curtis danced away. “I made lasagna.”
“For real? That sounds good, man.” He loved anything that involved noodles and cheese.
“Yep. I had a wild hair. Real, not Stouffer’s.”
Hmm. Okay, what did Curtis want? Stetson grinned, ready to stretch it out a little, make Curtis sweat.
“You and your wild hairs.” First a practice arena, now lasagna—had the man bought a load of horses?
“I do get them.” Curtis wouldn’t quite look at him, and that sent a little ball of dread to his belly. “So, I got a call from a sponsor.”
“Yeah?” Was that bad? Back in the day, that was good.
“Well, you know how I said I would skip stock show season, maybe just do some events around Cowboy Christmas?” Curtis warmed to his topic, meeting Stetson’s gaze with his. “There’s an event in Dallas over Valentine’s weekend. Last man standing kinda thing. All bulls. The purse is a million for first, and Cinch wants me to headline.”
He’d known that this was coming. This was the nature of the breed, and there was no way Curtis was going to spend the rest of his time on the ranch. Stetson would take what all he could get. “Good deal.”
“Even if I just place, it’s good money. Fifty K for fourth. That’s our initial investment for the horse operation, and I could just let the rest of the year go.”
“Damn. That’s a good purse.” He wouldn’t make that all year, unless he lucked out and got a huge job on a house or a church.
“Yeah. We can do Dallas together, huh?” Curtis grabbed his hand, clearly excited now. “I need to work out some, but I got a few weeks.”
“Yeah? You want company?” That sounded even better. He hadn’t been anywhere in an eon.
“Of course I do.” Curtis squeezed his hand. “I told you, this is the long haul. No more running off without you.”
“Well, I like that.” He liked it a lot, to be honest.
“Cool. I’ll get Barb to arrange the tickets and hotel, then. They’re thinking it will be a big crowd.”
“Dallas folks do like their bulls.” And they’d be on fire, as short a distance as those bastards would have to travel. Curtis would have to be careful, because really the NFR bulls had nothing on some of the bulls who went to the pure bull riding events. Lord, his neck hurt.
He rolled his shoulder, trying to loosen the kink.
“You okay?” Curtis frowned slightly before turning him around to rub him good right where it hurt.
“Not used to carving so long any—there! Oh damn. Right there.” He wasn’t sure if it hurt like all get-out or felt so good. Goose bumps popped up on his arms, and he went up on tiptoes. “Damn.”
“You’ll get it back.” Curtis kissed his neck. “Get the garlic bread out of the oven?”
“Surely can.” He toddled over to the oven and pulled it out. “Let me go take my boots off and change my socks and I’ll be out.”
“You got it.” Curtis hummed, setting the table, sounding happy as a clam.
He liked that. He liked that Curtis wanted company. That he wanted to go. It felt damn good, and even better to say yes. Years ago he would have turned it down.
Years ago Curtis wouldn’t have asked.
He guessed they had both grown up a little.
He could live with that. Now, the cold feet in his boots? Not so much.
He stripped out of his cold, damp clothes, threw on his comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt and heavy socks. Better.
Now, about that lasagna. The whole house smelled like garlic and red sauce, and he was suddenly starving.
“God, I’m hungry.” He walked into the kitchen with the heavy table where it always had been, the casserole dish the one Momma used to make tamale pie in, and it made him grin.
“I figured you had to be working your ass off.”
“It wasn’t bad.” None of this was.
“Good. I like a happy Stetson.” Curtis smiled for him, those blue eyes on him, admiring him.
“You look pretty damn pleased with life yourself.”
“I am. I made lasagna, and it looks like Mom’s. I got you to agree to go on a job with me.”
“I like that you asked.” He liked it a lot.
“I’m so glad you said yes.” Curtis had dished up lasagna and salad, bread. It looked amazing.
“Thank you.”
“For what, Roper?”
“Supper. Having someone to come home to. Asking me to go.”
“I made the mistake once of letting us live separate lives.” Curtis flushed, ducking his head. “Not gonna do it again.”
“No. No, and I’ll never just let you fade away.” Never.
“Well, see? We’re figuring this shit out.”
They were. Day by day.
One supper after another.