Monday, December 7, 2015

On the seventh day of December my true love gave to me...
Xavi's Wild Ride - The Men of the Crazy Angle 2

Holy crap! Xavi cleaned the shoeing equipment and put everything away. Then he went and brushed Satellite down and let him out into the pasture. All the while, he was thinking about the giant farrier that had been in most of his thoughts and some of his dreams for the last three days.

Xavi had been minding his own business that first day, cleaning out a stall, when in walked a huge, long-haired man dressed in a black T-shirt that stretch across his muscular chest. Jeans encased powerful thighs that made Xavi want to run his hands over them while he sucked on the package that was clearly outlined.

Xavi’s shyness was the bane of his life and he could do no more than nod a greeting at the man each morning when they met in the barn. Xavi would give just about anything if only he could make himself talk to the man. It wasn’t like Trace was a monster or anything. In fact, Xavi could swear as he watched Trace work, there were times Trace was looking back at him. Xavi got goose bumps just thinking about it.

Now Trace was hurt and Xavi decided that he had to help him. With determination, he was going to push his shyness aside and take Trace something to eat. He would include pain medicine, in case Trace needed it.

Making his way to the bunkhouse, he quickly showered and then made a couple of sandwiches in the tiny kitchen. Most of the meals were served in the big house, but the bunk kitchen held basic supplies for the hands. Getting a tray out, he added chips to the plate, along with a glass of milk, and he took them to the door of the room that he knew Trace was staying in.

Setting the tray on the floor, he ran back into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of over-the-counter painkillers and then headed down the hallway. Before he could lose the courage he was hanging onto by a thread, he knocked on the door. Xavi heard a muffled response, but couldn’t quite make out the words.

Opening the door just a little, he said, “It’s me, Xavi. Can I come in?”

“Come in, Xavi,” Trace answered.

Opening the door wider, Xavi froze. Before him, lying on the bed was Trace, dressed only in a pair of tight black boxer-briefs. Acres of skin, covered in small beads of water, called to him, asking for his touch. Thick tribal tattoos covered Trace’s upper chest, shoulders, and upper arms. Long, still-wet black hair fanned out from the pillow beneath Trace’s head. Xavi was stuck. He couldn’t move, he was so transfixed by the man before him.

“Did you need something, Xavi?” Trace asked.

Xavi couldn’t answer, he could only look at Trace helplessly, grey eyes wide and pleading.

“Did you bring me some pain medicine, sweet pea?”

Xavi looked down at his hand holding the meds. He was so embarrassed, he was sure his face was beet-red. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t make himself answer that gorgeous man. It was even more humiliating, because he had just been talking to him and now he couldn’t. So, like an idiot, he nodded his head up and down.

“I can take them dry, but it would probably be easier for me to swallow them down with water.”

Automatically Xavi tossed the bottle of pills to Trace, who caught it with one hand. When he realized what he had just done, Xavi felt even more like an idiot. Turning, he bent and picked up the tray of food.

Behind him, he heard, “Nice.”

Not understanding what Trace was talking about, he turned and saw that Trace was staring at his ass. Now his face flushed for a whole new reason.

Xavi took the tray over to a wooded chair sitting against the wall and set the tray on the seat. Then he went back over to Trace and helped him sit up. He tried his hardest to ignore the feel of warm skin under his fingers and the eye-popping muscles while he propped pillows behind Trace’s back. Xavi hated that the action brought another hiss of pain from between Trace’s clenched teeth. Once he was settled, Xavi went back and got the tray, trying not to stare at the large bulge under the cloth of Trace’s underwear, before laying the tray over it.

Taking the bottle of pills out of his hand, Xavi opened it and shook a couple of tablets out for Trace, and then handed him the milk. All of this was done without him saying a word. It gave him time to get his bearings and ease the muscles in his throat so he could hopefully speak.

Trace let Xavi take care of him, watching as his actions seemed to release some of the tension out of the man. He could see now that Xavi’s shyness at times was almost disabling.

“Why don’t you bring that chair over here and sit for a minute?” Trace indicated to the wooden chair Xavi had used for the tray. Soon Xavi was seated next to the bed, watching as he picked up the sandwich and took a large bite out of it. For a second, Trace stopped chewing when the taste of sour pickle burst in his mouth. Seeing the look of expectation on Xavi’s face, there was no way he was going to tell him that he detested pickles. Instead, he took bite after bite until the blessed sandwich was gone. Then he gratefully drank the whole glass of milk down to wash away the taste.

“Thank you, Xavi. That was really nice of you to make that sandwich for me.” Trace took a few chips and held out the plate for Xavi to take some. Trace was pleased when he did.

When he was finished, he set the tray down on the floor by the bed.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Xavi asked.

“Actually, the meds are kicking in. But tomorrow, I think it’s going to hurt like a bitch.” Trace was glad Xavi was starting to talk to him. With what he had in mind, it would never work if Xavi didn’t talk.

“Xavi, do you want to stay on Silas’s Ranch permanently?” Trace could see Xavi was thinking over the question carefully.

“Right now, I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he answered.

“Do you like working with the draft horses, or do you want to do something else?”

“I’ve always wanted to work with the horses. My family demanded I obtain a two-year associate’s degree to become an assistant accountant. I was working as a bookkeeper at a bank, but that’s not what I really wanted to do.”

At the mention of his family, Trace saw Xavi shut down, and it pissed him off. He was leaving tomorrow morning and he didn’t have the option of taking his time, letting Xavi get comfortable with him.

“I live on a ranch in Texas, called the Crazy Angle. It’s one of the biggest ranches in the country that raises and trains Belgian draft horses. The owner’s name is Graham Conner, and he is one of the fairest employers you could ever find. I need an assistant, and I think you would fit real well in that position.”

“You want me to work for you?” Xavi’s beautiful grey eyes were wide with surprise.
“You would be employed by Graham, but you would answer to me.” Trace intended for Xavi to answer to him about everything in his life. But he kept that to himself for now.


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