Boone's Cowboy - Rescue for Hire 8 http://www.bookstrand.com/boones-cowboy
Damn. Dark-brown
hair, tan skin, and wild dance moves that had his prick wanting in on some of
that action. Damn.
Flynn
Wakefield leaned back and hooked his arm over the back of the chair. From his
small table, he watched the man spread
his legs and sway his perfect ass back and forth. The paper-thin, tight jeans
left nothing to the imagination. Damn.
The music changed, and couples crowded onto the dance floor.
Flynn took a drink of beer before he let
the bottle hang between two fingers. His gaze never left the lean muscles
exposed by the sweat-dampened, tight, white muscle shirt. Even in the dim
lighting of the bar, the pretty baby’s skin shone as he left the dance floor.
A cocky,
rolling gait brought the man to Flynn’s table, and Flynn enjoyed every second
of it.
“Buy me a beer, cowboy?” Mischief danced in dark,
velvety brown eyes topped by dark slashes of thick eyebrows.
Flynn used his
thumb to push back his straw cowboy hat. “Park that fine ass in the chair, and
I’ll see what I can do,” he ordered.
The man turned
the chair next to Flynn around and straddled it before folding his arms along
the back. Flynn noticed a tattoo of an anchor decorated the top of the man’s
left forearm. Flynn flagged down a waitress and ordered two beers. He waited
for her to set the beers down and leave before he addressed the intriguing man
sitting next to him.
“So what’s
your name?” he asked.
A hungry brown
gaze started at the top of Flynn’s head and swept down, taking in his face,
neck, chest, and arms. Flynn knew what the fascinating man saw. He was okay-looking
with green eyes and short light-brown hair. Flynn kept his beard and mustache
trimmed close to his face, and very seldom did he leave his house without his
tan straw cowboy hat.
This evening he
wore a dark-green V-necked T-shirt that molded heavy muscles he’d gained from
hard work. Flynn, too, had a tat, one in
the shape of a horseshoe on his upper
arm. A string of barbed wire graced the bicep of the other arm.
“Boone, Boone
Ryder,” the man answered. “And what’s yours, cowboy?”
“Flynn
Wakefield,” Flynn answered.
“I haven’t
seen you in here before. Is this your first time?” Boone asked, eyes sparkling.
Flynn
chuckled. The cocky shit was asking about more than Flynn being in a gay bar.
And Flynn loved every minute of it.
“I usually
stop in during my stay here when I’m attending the auctions at the auction
house in town. That’s about twice a year,” Flynn answered.
“Oh, what are
you bidding on, furniture or old paintings?”
There was a
teasing quality in Boone’s tone, and Flynn was tempted to say, yes, it was
paintings he was bidding on. But the way he figured it, he had nothing to hide.
“No paintings.
I’m bidding on beef cattle,” he answered.
Boone leaned
forward a little and smiled, almost knocking Flynn’s socks off with the punch
it packed. Flynn hoped this turned out to be a one-night stand, but part of him
longed for something more.
Mentally he
shook himself. No way would such an exotic man like the one before him want an
old farmer like him.
“So you’re a
real cowboy? Do you have cows and ride horses with barns and hay and stuff?”
Boone’s face was alive with genuine curiosity.
Flynn frowned.
“How old are you?”
“I’m
twenty-seven. Why?” Now Boone was frowning.
Damn. There
went Flynn’s hopes of a night of fun right out the window. Tangling with
someone that young never led to anything but trouble. With a sigh, he took a
drink of his beer.
“Hey, you just
shut down,” Boone complained. “What’s going on?”
“I’m forty,”
Flynn stated.
“So?” Boone
challenged.
“Honey, you
are one pretty man, and I’d love to take you back to my motel room and let you
ride my cock all night. But face it. You’re much too young for me.” Flynn felt
disappointed right down to his soul. He liked the man’s spunk, and Flynn’s body craved feeling the younger’s man’s flesh
against his.
“Bull. Let’s
get a few things straight, cowboy.” Boone’s eyes
flashed with fire, and Flynn’s cock filled so fast it was painful. “Number one.
I’ve just spent the last eight years of my life defending this country against
shit that most people can’t imagine. Number two. Age doesn’t make a man, so get over that notion. And number three.
I like my men older. Frankly, after the initial fun, men my age don’t have any
idea what to do with me.”
Flynn changed
his mind, even if he still had some reservations. Boone was feisty, cocky, and
fascinated him. Right there, Flynn
decided to take whatever time the man would give him.
“My motel room
is two blocks away,” Flynn threw out and waited to see what Boone would do.
Boone stood
up. “Great, I’ll follow you.”
Flynn had no
arguments and led the way out of the bar.
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