Cowboy Logic - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,27

this.” Anderson walked in with Darcy and Dougie. “It tastes tart, but it’s low-fat. Evening.”

“Hey.” Jericho smiled, but he was unsure of his footing now. Anderson sounded… cool. Like he’d done something wrong.

Anderson met his eyes, and for a second there was nothing, but then he got a grin—bright and happy and sexy and real. “How goes it, man?”

“Good.” Relief flooded him, and Jericho relaxed. “It’s good. Hey, guys. Travis and Ellie are playing a game in the family room. Want to go get in on it?”

Both older kids disappeared like smoke, leaving them staring at each other.

Bailey cleared her throat. “Come on, Mandy. We’ll go watch the bird feeders with Mason.”

Boom. All of a sudden they were alone. Him and Anderson. Alone. “So. How’s it going?”

“It’s going. I’ve been writing a lot, believe it or not.” Anderson leaned against the counter, gaze pinning him. “Just so you know, Bailey says I’m not allowed to seduce you.”

“O-oh.” His voice hitched. “Well, that’s a damn shame. Too bad for Bailey I’m an adult and make up my own mind.”

“Good to know. I am also an adult, in case you’re wondering.” Looked like Anderson didn’t like Bailey telling him what to do.

“I like that about you.” He was breathing hard, thinking about Anderson seducing him. He really, really liked that idea.

“Yeah? That’s good to know.” Anderson took a deep breath, those eyes dragging over him.

He’d never kissed anyone with a beard. He wanted to. Now.

In fact, Jericho found himself leaning, not too much, maybe not enough to see, but he was totally leaning.

Anderson’s smile went purely sexual, and he reached up with one hand, cradling the back of Jericho’s head. The kiss, when it happened, liked to burn him to the ground.

Oh Jesus. The beard tickled, but not in a funny way. In a “Jesus, I want to come” way. In a “please let’s do it again” way.

“Daddy?” Ellie’s voice had them springing apart, and he had to clear his throat three times to speak.

“What, baby?”

“Can I have more juice?”

“How about we mix some with sparkly water?” God, his heart was freaking pounding.

“Ooh! Sparkly juice!” Ellie bounced, and Anderson turned toward the fridge, hiding a raging erection.

Lovely.

Okay, actually it was hot as hell, but thankfully, Ellie would have no clue. Travis, well, he would be more savvy. Anderson handed him apple juice, good man, and he mixed it with water from the soda stream.

“That’s a good idea.”

He nodded to Anderson. “Keeps the sugar level down. And she likes the bubbles. They tickle her nose.” Like your mustache.

Were they making small talk?

“I like it. I’ll have to try it.” Anderson watched Ellie leave. “I want to do that again.”

“Me too.”

“Good to know. Can I walk home from here, if I stay after supper?”

“I can drive you.” Anderson could probably walk, but who knew what might be out on the back forty. Coyotes, wild pigs, druggies.

“Excellent. I’m all over that.”

The way Anderson’s eyes moved across his body gave the statement a serious double meaning. “Must grill meat.” Oh, great move, cave cowboy.

“Yep. Man make fire. Ook.”

“Right? Ellie loves her country ribs. Want a beer?” Good host.

“Maybe one. I don’t want anyone blaming what happens on booze.” Jesus, the things Anderson said.

“No way. I want to be one hundred percent aware of everything that’s going on.” He felt brazen as hell.

Anderson’s smile was slow and lazy, burning all the way down to his balls.

He licked his lips, which were bone-dry, and turned to grab a couple of Shiners from the fridge. They could switch to tea at supper.

“You need help out there?”

Did he? Could he stand it? Why not live a little. “If you can take the heat.” He winked, breathless and hot as hell.

A low chuckle filled the air, the sound close enough to make him shivery. Was that a hand on his ass? Please be a hand on his ass.

Jericho buzzed, goose bumps climbing up his back. He’d never been so aware of another man in his whole life, had never allowed himself to be. He could smell Anderson—a mixture of musk and Ivory soap and sandalwood.

His scalp prickled, his cock responding, and he was glad the kids were all busy. Now he was the one with the hard-on.

“So, what do you put on your ribs?” How did that question sound sexual?

“Some dry rub. Chile and cumin and cayenne. Lemon peel powder.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing!” That wasn’t “oh, I want to fuck you.” That was real interest. He thought Anderson might be a