18 months later

BEN STOOD ON THE safe side of the arena railing, heart in his throat, watching entranced as Harlan and his pickup partner, Cory Ackerson, hazed a massive cream-colored Charbray bull from the ring. Or tried to, rather. The bull rider had only managed to hang on for a few seconds before hitting the dirt hard. Colorfully dressed bullfighters got the cowboy safely out of the arena, but Harlan and Cory weren’t having as much luck with the bull. The feisty, two-thousand-pound beast of a bull named Megabyte just wouldn’t leave, and every time he charged at Harlan and his horse, Diesel—a gorgeous, sorrel-colored stallion—the air in Ben’s lungs froze.

“Relax, Ben,” Scott Gillard said, Cory’s boyfriend and pro bull rider who stood beside him. “They’ve got this.”

Ben huffed a strained laugh, not taking his eyes off Harlan for even a split second. “I know. I’ve been watching him ride pickup long enough now, but still. Bulls are dangerous.”

“Yeah, I hear ya.”

“I swear, it’s like the most rodeo action is when the pickup men get their turn, especially with the broncs,” Ben said.

Of course, he was completely and unapologetically biased. Watching Harlan was like watching a magician. Harlan had mesmerized Ben from the moment they’d met, but out here in his element, Harlan always seemed to know just where to be. He and Cory got every cowboy off their horses and safely on the ground. They took great care with the bucking horses as they guided them from the arena, and when it came to the bulls . . . Well, Ben could mostly keep both eyes open.

“I would beg to differ,” Scott joked. He’d had a clean ride earlier and was on track to take home cash along with his stellar points. “Most the audience is here for the bull riding. We’re the main event.”

Maybe so, but as far as Ben was concerned, the pickup men—and Harlan especially—were an all-day main event.

Megabyte dodged Cory and charged toward the end of the arena where Ben and Scott stood with a few other cowboys. Harlan came racing up behind, lasso swirling in the air. He threw the rope with practiced grace and skill, looping the bull’s horns just as it reached the railing. Dirt flew in their direction as Megabyte came within inches of slamming into the rails, and Ben and the men on the fence all jumped back instinctively.

Harlan’s handsome face maintained a laser-like focus, and a rush went through Ben. God, he loved that man. He never could have imagined that a road trip he’d taken nearly two years ago would have brought him here. And now he couldn’t imagine a life without Harlan and Tanner in it. They were his world, his purpose. He smiled, thinking about what he had planned for Harlan later.

They’d left Tanner with Harlan’s parents for the weekend, much to Tanner’s dismay—he’d started junior steer roping this year and hated to miss any rodeos. Harlan’s folks had given Ben a funny look when he’d told them what he wanted to do, but then they laughed, hugged him, and said they’d keep Tanner busy.

Only a few more hours until the big moment, and Ben couldn’t wait.

Harlan sat back in his lawn chair, cold beer in hand, in front of a roaring campfire, biding his time until the small crowd of cowboys and cowgirls listening to Ben sing and play guitar turned in for the night. The weekend’s rodeo had been a good one—not a single cowboy had been seriously injured. There’d been a few hard dismounts, and more than a couple of ice packs would be needed, but there hadn’t been a single hang up and the paramedics had never entered the ring. Any rodeo where the paramedics were bored was a success as far as he was concerned.

He met Ben’s gaze over the crackling fire, and the light in his warm brown eyes twinkled, just as they had the first night they’d met, when Ben had sung directly to him. Sometimes Harlan marveled at how this musician passing through town had become his heart and his home. That Ben loved Tanner as his own only made Harlan love the man that much more.

When the last few members of the small group said their goodbyes and faded into the darkness of the night, Ben didn’t make to get up, and neither did Harlan. Ben grinned that sexy grin Harlan had fallen in love with, and mischief sparkled in his eyes. Harlan’s heartbeat kicked up a notch with anticipation, and his palms began to sweat.

Tonight was the night.

Harlan stood up, smiling as he walked around the fire. Ben shifted in his chair, spreading his legs wider, his grin beckoning. Ben reached for Harlan’s hand, probably expecting Harlan to pull him to his feet, and cocked an eyebrow when Harlan kneeled down in front of him instead. Harlan took his hat off and held it to his chest, looking up at Ben with so much love he didn’t think it would be possible to ever contain it.

“I adore you, Ben Marshall,” Harlan said in earnest, his voice gruff and low. He reached into his shirt pocket, and ran his fingers over the warm metal hidden inside. He pulled out the golden ring and held it up. A simple band sparkled in the flickering firelight. “I love you. I want to spend my whole life with you. Would you do me the honor of being my husband?”

Ben stared at him for a long moment, long enough for doubt to niggle into Harlan’s mind. Could he have had it all wrong? Was history going to repeat itself? And then Ben shook his head and started laughing, a low rumble that reverberated up from his chest and rose in volume as it escaped his mouth. “Oh, Harlan . . .”

Harlan’s mouth dried, and his throat felt thick as he tried to swallow. Heat spread over his cheeks. “Not quite what I was expecting,” he said quietly, lowering his arm.

Ben captured his hand and squeezed. “Hold on.” He leaned over and reached for his guitar case with his free hand. When he sat back up he held a small black box in his palm. He opened the box, and there sat a single gold band. “Harlan Bennett,” he said as he slipped out of his chair and onto his knees in front of Harlan. “You are my hero and my champion, and I love you. Will you marry me?”

Laughter burst from Harlan’s chest as relief flooded his veins and his heart swelled. He cupped a hand around the back of Ben’s neck and kissed him gently.

“Yes,” Harlan said softly but reverently. “And you?”

“Yes,” Ben said with conviction.

They slipped the rings on each other’s fingers, and Harlan placed his hand on Ben’s so their rings lined up side by side, glowing in the firelight. The kiss that followed promised a lifetime of love and devotion. Nothing could make this night any more prefect.

“But with one caveat,” Ben said, his mouth lifting into a mischievous smile. “We’re going to hyphenate our names with mine first. Otherwise I’ll be Ben Bennett!”

“Anything for you, Ben Marshall-Bennett,” Harlan said softly, a promise he knew he’d keep for the rest of their days and beyond.

“I never expected you, Harlan Bennett,” Ben said and leaned over to pick up his guitar again. “You and Tanner are my world.”

His gaze locked on Harlan, Ben began to strum his guitar. Harlan knew the song well, but Ben usually only played it at home when it was just the two of them, after Tanner had gone to bed. Harlan’s vision blurred, and his body didn’t feel big enough to hold all the love he felt for Ben.

Ben began the first verse of the song he’d written for Harlan in that alluring baritone that sounded like sex. Only Harlan knew now that it was the sound of love.