Robbie Sexton is heading home to north Alabama for his father’s funeral. In Baltimore, he could be himself, but in Athens, Alabama, he figures he’ll be back in the proverbial closet. The only one who knows he’s even gay is his cousin Danny. Of course, that’s when life decides to throw him a curveball. Thanks to a bit of matchmaking on Danny’s part, Robbie meets Seth Ellis, one of the newest ranch hands on his uncle’s farm. Before long, he realizes maybe heading home wasn’t such a bad idea.
Over several months, Robbie’s life winds up in a bit of a whirlwind. Between becoming an uncle himself, dealing with his bigoted brother, and trying to start over in the tattoo business, he has his hands full. But there remains one constant in his life: Seth.
“Wow. Very nice. You an artist?”
The sexy drawl pulled Robbie’s attention from the sketchbook on his lap to the tall, tanned body standing in front of him. If he looked straight ahead, his line of sight was dead level with the man’s crotch. Even through a layer of faded denim, it was obvious the man had plenty to offer. Gaze continuing upward, Robbie drank in the sweat-slick skin, stretched taut over chiseled muscles and tanned to soft gold. A light dusting of pale brown hair—bleached gold by the sun—began at the man’s chest and drew a path down his sun-kissed torso, only to disappear beneath his jeans.
His shoulders were broad, and the sleeves of his open blue plaid shirt were rolled up, tight around hard biceps. A black cowboy hat sat on his head, cocked forward just enough to hide his face. Then the man tipped the hat back, taking Robbie’s breath away. Eyes greener than the new spring grass reflected the man’s easy smile. The slightest hint of a five o’clock shadow gave him a ruggedly sexy look. Not that he needed the help.
“Name’s Seth Ellis,” the sun god said, extending a hand downward.
Regaining his composure, Robbie stood and brushed the grass off of his right hand before shaking Seth’s. “Robbie Sexton.”
“I’m really sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks,” Robbie said. As Seth released his hand, Robbie noticed it was done with a bit of hesitation. Now that was promising. “I’m gonna grab a beer. You wanna join me?”
Robbie snuck around the porch and into the front yard, snagging two beer bottles from one of the big coolers and making it away without being seen. Hell, yes! The day was looking up! He returned to Seth and handed him one of the bottles.
“Follow me,” he said. “I know some of the best places around here where a man can find some peace.”
“Of what?” Seth chuckled before taking a long drink.
Robbie glanced over at him. “If the right person’s offering…” He left the rest unsaid, waiting to see if Seth took the bait.
A smile played across Seth’s lips just before they oh-so-slowly wrapped around the mouth of the beer bottle. “So,” Seth said after his sip, “is he offering?” He flashed Robbie a wicked grin from behind the bottle, followed by a quick wink.
Robbie’s throat went dry as cotton as he stared at Seth, or rather Seth’s tongue as it did obscene things to the beer bottle. What the hell had Danny been telling the man?
Clearing his throat, Robbie remembered how to do something other than stare. “I’m guessing you’ve spoken to my cousin Danny.”
Seth grinned. “You could say that.”
Robbie licked his lips. If anything, life wouldn’t be boring here now. “This way,” he said quickly. He forced himself to walk when he wanted to run.
Just as they rounded the corner of the combine barn, a strong hand gripped his arm. Within seconds, Robbie was captive, body caught between the hard metal building and an equally hard cowboy. Hips rocking, Seth ground against him, tongue pushing into Robbie’s mouth without any hesitation. The cowboy tasted like beer and sun and male, blazing hot, breath almost scorching as the kiss moved from Robbie’s mouth to his throat.
“Oh, fuck,” Robbie breathed. His head swam as long fingers found the button of his jeans, popping them open. Then those fingers were inside, slipping into his underwear, tips brushing the head of his prick. Robbie gasped and held on, arms draped over Seth’s shoulders.
“So hot,” Seth murmured, moving back up to take Robbie’s mouth in another searing kiss.
God, this man was unbelievable.
Myc has been writing professionally since 2005, solo and with Shayne Carmichael. Genres include pretty much anything (no steampunk yet), though Myc is well known for paranormal stories. When not writing, Myc is usually playing PC games, reading, editing, watching movies and shows on Netflix and Amazon, or spending way too much time on Facebook. Since the question has come up in the past, pronouns are not an issue. Myc is bio-female, mentally male, 100% genderfluid. So any pronoun works!