02-Let It Ride (17 page)

Color rose in Bridge’s cheeks, and he glanced away. “That was amazing,” he said quietly. He looked over and met Eric’s gaze with that demure bravado Eric found so fascinating and endearing. “I want to try that too.”

Eric grabbed the horn of the saddle, holding on through the sudden wave of light-headedness as all his blood ran southward. “When you’re ready,” he managed, trying to get a grip on himself before he really did fall off this damn horse. Yes, he wanted that. Who wouldn’t? But he’d never really imagined Bridge would want to.

“I’m ready.”

Eric closed his eyes, groaning. “Killing me here.”

Bridge reached out and squeezed his knee and then pulled his horse ahead as they rounded the barn. Kent was standing by the gate that led into the main yard and opened it for them when they approached.

“What’s up, dude?” Bridge asked as he cleared the gate and hopped down from his horse.

“Your mom called.”

Bridge’s cheeks paled slightly, and a guilty expression took over his face. “Uh-oh.”

“Yeah, uh-oh.” Kent closed the gate behind Eric and secured the chain. “She’s a little pissed you haven’t called her back yet. Did you forget about tomorrow?”

Eric glanced between Bridge and Kent. “What’s tomorrow?”

“My birthday,” Bridge said, his tone casual, like he should have known.

Eric’s eyebrows shot up, and he sucked in a harsh breath. “Your what?”

“I thought I told you last weekend.” Bridge came around to stand beside Rosie, waiting while he threw a leg over her back to dismount. “It’s not a big deal. Just us, Kent, Marty and Tripp, and my family for dinner and the mandatory birthday cake.”

Eric knew all the color had drained from his face by the way his skin suddenly felt too tight and his scalp crawled. His feet hit the ground and his legs, which had somehow turned to rubber during the course of their ride, just about gave out. Bridge had apparently anticipated it, though, because a large hand was at the small of his back, offering support while he settled on solid ground again. “Us?”

Bridge frowned and glanced at Kent, who frowned in return.

“Yeah. Of course.” Bridge looked to him and then back to Kent, like he was silently asking for help, but there didn’t seem to be much guidance in Kent’s shrug. “You want to go, right? Shit. I didn’t even think. I’m sorry. I figured you—”

“No. I . . .” Eric looked down at the reins in his hands, fidgeted with them for a second. How did he tell Bridge he couldn’t do family dinners? Couldn’t do family? His voice softened when he said, “I didn’t know. I . . . I don’t have a gift.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Bridge draped an arm over Eric’s shoulder and pulled him close. “You’ll be giving me your gift later, when we get home.”

“Oh God.” Kent held a hand up. “I don’t want to know. My gift to you is the house to yourselves. I’ll sleep in the rig.”

Kent and Bridge laughed, but Eric remained quiet, and without a word or look back, he slipped out from under Bridge’s arm and led Rosie to the barn.

“What happened there, Eric? Did I do something wrong?”

He started at Bridge’s deep voice right behind him a few minutes later, so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t even heard him approach. He didn’t turn around, just kept running the brush over Rosie’s shiny coat. “No! No, it’s okay. I was just . . . You know . . . A bit of warning would have been appreciated.”

“I’m sorry. I swear, I thought I’d told you last weekend.” Bridge must have picked up a brush too, because he stepped into the stall on Rosie’s other side and began grooming the docile mare with long, slow strokes. “I’m so used to how tight our families have always been and forgot that not everyone has the same thing.”

Eric couldn’t raise his eyes to meet Bridge’s. Not yet. It was embarrassing enough to find out the cowboy’s birthday was the following day and to be completely unprepared. How had he not known? Why hadn’t anyone told him? More than that, why hadn’t he asked? And meeting the family . . .? That freaked him out even more. Wasn’t that what couples who were serious about taking their relationships to the next level did? Introduce the significant other for approval? He’d only agreed to move from no strings to dating just last night.
Casual
dating. They were nowhere near the meet-the-family stage, and he doubted they’d even reach that point. Not to mention, no family would approve of him anyway. If he’d been worthy enough, his own family would never have given him up in the first place.

Which led to another worrisome thought.

“Do they know?” Eric risked a glance at Bridge, who frowned.

“Does who know what?”

“Your family. They know you’re bisexual?”

“Oh.”

Oh? Great.
Instead of a double whammy it was a trifecta.

Silence hung thick in the space between them while he watched Bridge, who looked lost in thought as he chewed on his lower lip, gaze following the hand that Eric groomed Rosie with. She snorted and swished her tail, the ends snapping Eric’s bare forearm.

Then Bridge shrugged one shoulder, and for the first time, Eric found the habit irritating rather than endearing. Bridge lifted his eyes, and that warm gaze settled on Eric. He smiled. “No time like the present. I’ll call them when we get back to the house.”

Eric’s heart jumped into his throat, and he gasped. “What?”

“It’s okay. They’ll be fine with it. Then it’ll all be out in the open before we get there.”

“How can you be so sure?”
How can you be so frustratingly nonchalant?

“Because they love Marty like their own.”

“But you
are
their own. That’s different.”

Bridge paused his strokes and rested his arm on Rosie’s back, regarding him for a long moment. “Do you know why Marty, Kent, and I are practically brothers? Our parents are best friends. They’re all ranchers who grew up valuing family above all else, and family sticks together, no matter what. They also believe in the ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ thing, so when something happens to one of their friends’ kids, it happens to all of them. They might have to revise what they envisioned for my future, but they’ll still be beside me regardless.”

“I don’t know.” Eric tore his eyes from Bridge, staring at Rosie’s muscular shoulder while he brushed. From his experience, things that sounded too good to be true usually were. He didn’t understand how these guys, their families, could be so open and accepting, how Bridge could simply expect that. The whole concept was foreign to him. “Maybe you should wait.”

“For what?”

“You know, to be sure this is what you want before you go telling them something that big.”

“Oh.” That one word, delivered like a punch to the solar plexus, brought Eric’s attention back to Bridge. The gold flecks in Bridge’s gaze dimmed, his usual warmth cooled, and he lowered his head, hiding behind the brim of his hat. “You still think I’m going to wake up and realize I’m riding the wrong horse? Or that I’m going to dump you like people in your past have?”

Yes.
But he couldn’t say that, not when the hurt in Bridge’s voice was his doing. “No. Just . . .”

“Eric, I know it probably seems fast. I mean, until a couple of weeks ago, you thought I was straight. But we’ve known each other almost a year now. I’ve been dreaming about you for months, and this is not a whim or a temporary fling. Not for me.”

Eric sighed, dropped the brush into the tack box sitting by stall door, and walked around Rosie to stand beside Bridge. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just haven’t had the same experiences. That’s all. I don’t know why my family tossed me away. The one family I told I was gay couldn’t send me back fast enough.” He copied Bridge and shrugged his shoulder. “It’ll be fine. I was caught off guard.”

Bridge turned and wrapped his strong arms around Eric’s waist, pulling him in close. He melted into the embrace, wanting nothing more than to stay right there for the rest of his life. If time didn’t move, then things couldn’t fall apart.

“I’m sorry they did that to you. I’d feel sorry for them if I weren’t so pissed off at them for what they did to you. They are the ones who lost out on getting to know what an amazing, giving man you are. But I’m not them. I’m not going to walk away from you.” Bridge’s warm, moist breath fanned lightly over his neck, and Eric wanted so badly to believe him.
You can.

“And I’m sorry I assumed you’d be fine with going,” Bridge continued. “That was thoughtless of me. We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to. It’s not a big deal.”

“No,” Eric said, with more bravado than he felt. “It’s your birthday, and that is a big deal. We’ll go. It’ll be good.”

The very next night, Eric sat in a comfortable chair at a long table set for fourteen instead of the seven he’d expected—and that was only for the adults. There was another table set for five kids. He’d been so very wrong: this was not all good.

“Just us” turned out to be him and Bridge, the guys, and Bridge’s family consisting of his parents, grandparents, two older brothers and their wives, and five pint-sized Sullivans ranging from three to twelve years old, who were currently wreaking havoc on the household. And the whole damn family was big and blond. Like they’d descended from Vikings rather than cowboys.

To say he was overwhelmed would be an understatement.

Bridge’s parents had been nothing but warm and welcoming, though, making him feel as if he were already a part of their family. After meeting them, it was no secret where Bridge got his warmth. Not a single member of the Sullivan clan gave him a sideways look or skipped a beat when Bridge had introduced him as his date. His
date
! He’d felt a rush of equal parts joy and terror at the claim, but the family came at him from every direction—a constant swell of motion and sound—making it hard to dwell. Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan insisted he call them Hank and Lenora, and Bridge’s grandparents demanded to be addressed as Abe and Willa. The brothers, Bill and Barrett, were both ranchers. The oldest, Barrett, had his own spread, and Bill lived on and worked the family ranch.

Eric sat between Bridge and Barrett, marveling at the camaraderie and obvious love the family shared, wanting to be a part of it but unsure how without losing himself to them completely. They made it hard for him to keep his guard up, what with Lenora fussing over him to eat more, Abe topping his glass of wine so it never dipped below half full, and the brothers and their wives, Angie and Joan, peppering him with questions about his career and New York and how he managed to put up with Bridge’s nonsense, which led to a round of good-natured ribbing and more carefree laughter.

And therein lay the problem.

He liked all of them and could too easily become attached to this big, boisterous family. It scared the hell out of him. Made him want to burrow into their fold and never leave, while at the same time, his feet itched to get up and run fast and far, before it all went to hell. As much as he wanted a life like this, he knew he was just one of those people for whom it was never meant to be.

A cold sliver of panic tickled across his chest. Disposable people didn’t get to keep lives like this. He needed to get out now, before he got in any deeper and the curb would hurt too much. He was already in too deep, knew it was going to hurt anyway, but he could limit the damage if he just ended it right now, on a high note while they could still take good memories with them.

A warm hand settled on his thigh and squeezed slightly. He turned to find Bridge looking at him closely, his gaze searching. And all Eric’s worry that things would fall apart and his resolve to end things on his terms faded away under that concerned stare. He couldn’t walk away from this, from Bridge. Soon he’d have to, but not yet.

“Are you okay?” Bridge whispered while the chaos that was the Sullivan clan carried on around them.

Eric didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words, but now wasn’t really the time for it anyway. He plastered on his best smile and nodded. “They’re just so . . .”

“Yeah.” Bridge chuckled. “They can be a bit much, I guess. But I told you they’d be good with us, right?”

“Yeah. I can’t even believe how much of a nonissue that is.”