Wilder, Winona - Loving Tyler [Coming Out 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (3 page)

Chapter Two

Tyler
felt a bit sorry for the sucker sent to sign him up for a sponsorship. He never planned to join Cavendish, and now the man they’d sent knew they wouldn’t want him. The city slicker was tongue-tied, but
Tyler
wouldn’t sweat it. He’d take his free meal and be done with it. Why did all the hottest guys have to be straight? The look of shock on the city boy’s face proved he’d never walked off the beaten path in his life. If he had of showed any sign of interest,
Tyler
would have loved to rock his world.

The silence during the following half hour was tense. It only made
Tyler
eager to get around friends who loved him, feel the thrill of riding in competition, and fuck the first man who offered him a room for the night. Fast living. It was what he needed, especially right now, faced with too much reality.

“Well…thanks for lunch.”
Tyler
stood up, stretching his shoulders. “Guess you’re anxious to get back to civilization, so I’ll be going.”

As soon as he burst out of the diner, he could breathe again. He looked up at the blue skies, inhaled deeply, and let the rest roll off his back. Marcus was gorgeous but no more than a figment of his imagination, here today, gone tomorrow. No sense replaying everything over in his head. The man was probably repulsed by him. He needed to get his shit together before the event.

He walked back down the main street. It was true about time being the cure for all things. Every step he took made him less and less anxious. He had nothing to prove, so why should he feel guilty for who and what he was?
Tyler
supposed the recent events with Jet Cartwright had him off his best. If he wasn’t good enough for Jet to settle down with, why would anybody else ever want him for more than cheap thrills? It wasn't like Jet was his boyfriend, or they had anything serious going on. They had sex, hung out for a few beers after events, but that was the gist of it. It still cut him down a peg when he found out Jet had established a serious, loving relationship with a hot, young cowboy. What was wrong with
Tyler
? Jet had never even proposed anything serious between them, not that he would have agreed anyway. Fuck! His head was a mess.
Tyler
didn’t do vulnerable, and right now he was totally out of character.

“Hey!”

He turned around, almost having reached the rodeo grounds. Marcus was running up the street, briefcase in one hand,
Tyler
’s Stetson in the other. He looked like a fish out of water.

“You forgot your hat!”

“Thanks for that,” he said flatly. He ran a hand through his hair before fitting his hat into place. After a quick nod, he continued on his way. The sound of Marcus’s shoes on the gravel roadside kept pace with his own steps. “You following me?”

“You said I could watch you compete. There’s no sense in rushing off right away. Like I told you, I’ve never seen a rodeo.”

“Suit yourself,” he said without stopping.

“If you were interested, I don’t have to tell Cavendish about…you know. I mean, if that’s the reason you’re not willing to accept the sponsorship, I’m sure we could work something out.”

The man didn’t give up.
Tyler
wouldn’t be caught dead being represented a company only interested in an image that wasn’t the real him. He wasn’t one to conform to fit the expectations of others. It got the snot kicked out of him as a teen, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Now he was a man, with the muscle to back himself up, and he dared anyone to challenge his choices.

“I’m not a sell-out. Money isn’t the most important thing in life. That’s something you should try to remember if nothing else.” They reached the fence keeping out the spectators. “But then again you’re a businessman from the big smoke. You’re probably taught early on that money is greater than God.”

Marcus’s features set hard. “Actually no. You shouldn’t be so quick to judge others. You know nothing about me as a person, only that I represent Cavendish. It doesn’t mean I agree with their ideals. I have a life beyond nine to five.”

Tyler
hadn’t expected him to talk back since he’d been quiet and accommodating until now. His passion amused
Tyler
. He backed the other man against the fence, eager to test his suspicions. Although Marcus was slightly taller than his six-foot-two frame,
Tyler
was thicker, more built. The city boy was all lean muscle, probably from working the gym, not hard work under the sun.

“So you don’t have a problem with gay men?” He braced an arm on either side of him, caging him in.
Tyler
wanted to watch him squirm, for him to take back what he said and admit he was no better than the bigots at Cavendish. Or something else…

Marcus swallowed hard, trying to lean away from him. “Of course not.”

“Really? It doesn’t disgust you that I fuck other men?”

The city boy kept silent, but held his gaze, which surprised him. Then Marcus shrugged, not giving him an answer one way or the other. The man was nice to look at, too nice. His soft waves of jet black hair, dark, narrow eyes, and thick, kissable lips were distracting.
Tyler
would love to spend the night exploring his body, teaching him every kind of erotic pleasure, but he wasn’t on the market. He never pushed his lifestyle on others—he didn’t have to. There weren’t too many nights he was forced to spend alone, although most of the cowboys he screwed around with lived two lives and demanded
Tyler
keep their sexuality a secret.

“I don’t judge others.”

“You’re a rarity then. Even I judge by appearances without realizing it.” He had to fight back the urge to fix a lock of Marcus’s hair, to run the backs of his fingers along his strong jaw. “Like when I first saw you. I only saw the suit.”

“Fair enough. I suppose I expected an uneducated, middle-aged hick when I came out here.”

Tyler
cocked an eyebrow. “And what do you think now that you’ve met me?” He gripped the wooden fence harder, trying to will away the swelling below his belt.

“My perception of cowboys has changed.”

“In what way?” Lord he wanted Marcus to spill it out, to admit there was something between them more than just two potential business associates. He could sense something deeper, something sensual, but wasn’t going to be the first one to say something.

“You take care of your body. You’re young. You’d look great on a billboard for Cavendish.” Marcus licked his lips. Was his breathing picking up?

“So you only see the potential profits when you look at me?”

“No. Maybe.” He shifted uneasily, pulling his briefcase higher as a partition between them.

Tyler
felt disappointment assail him. “It’s one thing if you wanted to use me for my body—that I can handle. But when you want to use me to increase your bottom line, I don’t want any part of it.”

* * * *

Marcus had to keep his briefcase in front of his crotch to disguise his hard-on. He knew he wasn’t normal since before puberty, but continually fought what he knew was the truth. Maybe one day he’d wake up normal and desire women, not men. No such luck.

Tyler
was playing a dangerous game. It seemed he was taunting him, pushing him to admit he was indeed gay. Part of him wanted to give in and admit he was desperately attracted to the cowboy, but the logical, more dominant part of his brain continued to live in denial. Once he admitted to being attracted to
Tyler
, it would be over. No more second-guessing himself because he’d be one-hundred percent gay, no going back. It would change his life, most likely in a very negative way. He’d played the scenario over and over in his head at night for years—he’d lose his job, alienate his family, be laughed at by friends, and grow old and lonely before he died and went to hell.

Even with the gloom in his head, it was hard to keep holding back when those green eyes seemed to look into his soul. Even at twenty-eight Marcus was a fucking virgin, which wasn’t much better than thinking he was homosexual. He’d kissed a couple girls, but never a man. Soft, fragile, feminine bodies did absolutely nothing for his libido.

Taking in
Tyler
’s thick neck, broad shoulders, biceps bulging on either side of him, was too much to subject him to. His oversexed, tightly wound body was ready to explode. What would it feel like to touch a man, to touch
Tyler
? Knowing the cowboy was gay and sexually experienced made the situation more real, and made the possibilities harder to ignore.

“I’m not trying to use you. If I don’t get my commission for this deal, I’ll handle it. It’s not every day a cowboy gets the chance to be represented by the country’s biggest saddle-maker. I’d hate for you to miss a good opportunity. “

“To wear a logo on my back? To smile pretty for the camera, maybe have a buckle bunny hanging off me?” He dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back.

“If you’re not interested, I’ll leave. But I came all this way. Can I at least watch you compete in one event? Or would I be a bad luck charm?”

“It’s a public event, and you’re free to watch.” He reached out and snagged the length of his tie, tugging him forward. “Time will tell if you’re good or bad luck.”

He nodded, his throat too clogged with desire to speak.

“If you’re smart, you’ll get out of your fancy clothes before the crowd eats you alive. You stand out like a sore thumb, and these people don’t take kindly to strangers.”

Marcus hadn’t packed a bag. He’d never expected to stay overnight. This was supposed to be a quick account—come flash some money and fame in front of a hick’s face and be done with it. The refusal was one shocker, but the worst was how much Marcus craved to let everything go for one night with the cowboy. Maybe after a little private experimentation in the boondocks he’d know which side of the tracks he was on.

“This is all I have.”

“Come on. I’ll let you use some of my duds. I still have a couple hours to kill,” said
Tyler
, tugging his tie until he followed behind him. He looked to the sides to see if anyone was watching. They were. The scene must look mildly erotic, in the least, affectionate. What had he gotten himself into? Thank God he was far from home and anyone who may recognize him.

The familiar melody of an ice cream truck chimed as it came up the street in their direction. Children he hadn’t noticed previously seemed to come out of the woodwork, running for the box-style white truck. Cicadas droned to a near deafening pitch, reminding him just how overly heated he still was.

“You like ice cream?” asked
Tyler
, a smile on his lips as he eyed the growing crowd of kids.

“It’s fattening.”

Tyler
scoffed. “Like you need to lose weight. Come on, you need to live a little.”

As they neared the truck, the idling engine nearly drowned out by the chatter of excited children,
Tyler
cleared a path. He scrubbed the heads of young boys and pulled the ponytails of little girls. They loved him, called him by name, and grabbed onto his clothes trying to climb him, fighting for attention. Marcus stood back at a safe distance, not willing to get sticky little fingers all over his good suit.

“Little scoundrels! Let me get my ice cream, and maybe I’ll buy y’all a treat.” He ordered two vanilla ice cream cones and then gave the attendant behind the window several bills, telling him to pass out ice cream to the small group of children.

Tyler
passed him one of the cones, and they moved into a private area behind one of the out buildings, overlooking a holding paddock where the horses grazed peacefully. An oversized weeping willow danced magically in the slight breeze just behind the wooden fence.

Marcus took a tentative taste of his ice cream. He hadn’t had such an indulgence since he was a child. When he shifted his gaze to
Tyler
, the other man was already staring at him. He’d been mindlessly licking his cone, not realizing the cowboy wasn’t doing the same.

“You have some on your face,”
Tyler
nearly whispered. A gentle breeze fluttered the leaves in the big oak, which was providing them some welcome shade. They were in their own perfect bubble of time and space, but it was wrong to feel so, wasn’t it?