And a Good Book
*arranges pillows* Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
The finest cotton sheets money can buy. Silk is too slippery.
*quirks brow* Too slippery for what? Don't answer that! What are you wearing?
Not a damn thing.
*mutters* I really should make it clear that these interviews are not clothing optional. What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Melt in your mouth sugar cookies and spicy roasted nuts. Don’t tell Renata though. She’s the best cook ever but she doesn’t approve of eating in bed.
My lips are sealed. If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Lube, condoms, my e-reader, and… No, Andy would kill me if I mentioned the rest.
*chuckles* Well, for the sake of your life, we'll disregard the… *coughs* Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
Kick off the covers. The only thing I want pressed against me is my lover’s skin.
I think I just melted a little. Could you be any more romantic? Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
You could, but I might shoot ya.
And that cures that! What are we reading?
If Wishes Were Horses by Silvia Violet
Kenneth Carver had everything growing up except warmth and acceptance. When protecting his family’s name became more than he could bear, he came out as gay, sold his company, and bought a horse ranch.
Andrew Wofford's last undercover assignment nearly cost him his sanity. Now he has another chance of catching the drug runner who killed one of his informants and then escaped, but gruesome flashbacks threaten his ability to function in the field.
Andy’s latest investigation sends him to Ken’s ranch where he poses as a ranch hand. Ken is a prime suspect, but Andy refuses to believe Ken is guilty, in part because Andy is falling for him. Ken knows Andy isn’t who he seems, but he can’t bring himself to push the man away. When Ken hears rumors that someone is using his land to move drugs out of the city, he worries that it’s Andy. Neither man can trust the other even though that’s exactly what their hearts tell them to do.
Andrew glanced down at his copy of the job application he’d submitted under the name Andy Watson. His new identity kept with the rule of using a name enough like his own that he wasn’t likely to forget it—maybe it was too close, but while he’d occasionally been called Drew, he’d never been Andy—and his background was mostly truth with a few embellishments like recent ranch experience. He’d learned that Kenneth Carver, rebellious rich boy, had taken a hands-on approach to running his ranch. A shiver ran down his spine as he imagined Carver’s hands exactly where he’d like them. Hopefully, Carver was just playing cowboy, and he didn’t have any solid ranching knowledge. Andy didn’t need the man noticing how little he remembered from a few summers spent on his uncle’s ranch.
He slammed the door of the truck the department had given for him for the assignment, and a rusted-out patch caved in. Fuck, the truck had been seized from some asshole they’d locked up, and it was so old and beaten up Andy had doubted it would get him to the ranch. He hoped to hell there were ranch-owned vehicles he could drive, or he’d likely find himself walking wherever he needed to go.
The front door of the traditionally styled ranch house was solid dark wood. Andy knocked and waited. A few seconds later, Mr. Carver opened it himself. Andy had been expecting a maid not Kenneth Carver himself live and in person wearing an expensive white button-down, worn jeans that probably had a designer label over his fine ass, and cowboy boots with actual dust on them. He was more rugged than he looked on TV, his face angled and craggy. His hands looked like he’d he was due for a manicure appointment, but that would only make them sexier wrapped around Andy’s dick. His smirk and those knowing eyes though, they were just as Andy had expected. The man was a walking fantasy.
Andrew almost forgot and said his real name instead, but just in time, he caught himself. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m here about a job.”
“Do come in.” Carver bowed slightly and swept his hand out to indicate that Andy should enter.
Fuck, was the man flirting with him? Andy’s dick said it liked that a whole lot, but his other head knew that could lead to serious trouble. Despite what Gomez thought he might do and no matter what answers he would get from fucking Ken, getting that close would compromise him. The last thing he needed was flashbacks in bed.
But oh my holy God, Carver was even sexier in person than he’d been when the media had spent day and night detailing the events of his coming out. The man moved like he knew he could have whatever he wanted, and wow, that ass. His jeans fit it perfectly, and Andy wanted to reach out and test its firmness. Carver was dangerous, like a jungle cat, ready to leap down from the trees and devour him. All Andy’s senses told him this man was shrewder than anyone gave him credit for and far more in his element on a ranch than Andy had thought he’d be. There was little or none of the ridiculous city playboy in him. That must have been an act for the cameras. This man played for keeps which meant Andy was in a fuckload of trouble.
He followed Carver into his office. The heavy oak desk spoke of power and the wall of glass with French doors said he enjoyed looking at the land he’d made his own. Carver sat in his leather swivel chair, and Andy stood, facing him down, pissed as hell that he was so fucking nervous. He was no rookie. Sure the last time he’d been undercover he’d lost big. A good man had ended up dead, and he’d been left so screwed up he might not actually be fit for police work anymore, but he’d gone back in anyway, and he’d done it, putting assholes in jail, busting his ass, not looking back. So why was he acting like such a fucking baby now?
Ken studied Andy for several seconds before speaking and Andy’s face heated under the inspection “I’ve looked over your application. I’m glad you’ve had some experience, but frankly, a man can learn how to work a ranch fairly quickly. You’ve got to be willing to follow my rules if you want to be here.”
Andy nodded. Arrogant son of a bitch. At least, he wasn’t questioning Andy’s history. Gomez assured him his background was solid, but Ken was a billionaire whose fact-checking resources no doubt exceeded the FBI’s.
“What are those rules?” Andy asked, not quite succeeding in keeping his annoyance out of his voice.
Carver grinned at him. The asshole knew he was pissing Andy off, and he liked it. “Forget everything you’ve heard about me. This ranch is my life now, and I take it very seriously. I have every intention of being involved in running it.”
“Yes, sir. I can’t see how that would be a problem for me.”
Carver ignored him and continued. “If you have a problem with who I am, a gay man with an asshole for a father and too much money, then walk out that door right now. I do not tolerate prejudice on this ranch. Everyone pulls their weight and respects all the other employees.”
Andy fought not to show his surprise, but the way Ken’s sexy mouth quirked up and his hazel eyes mocked him told Andy he’d failed.
“I can handle that, sir.”
“Good. And call me Ken.”
“Okay.” But it wasn’t. Andy didn’t need to get any more familiar with this man.
Isn’t that your assignment?
Yes, but while it was still based on nothing but instinct, his belief that Kenneth Carver wasn’t guilty had only increased since meeting him.
All the man has to do is smile at you, and you’ll believe anything he says. I thought you were better than that.
Ken smiled seductively. He had to be flirting, but how had he guessed that Andy would be receptive? Did he assume anyone, gay or straight, would be taken in by him?
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