Marcus was just passing through Texas when he met Kent. In his cowboy hat, low-riding jeans, and black boots, Kent looks like the type of guy Marcus desperately wants to love.<br><br>But two years later, he's discovered Kent is cold and distant, the quintessential American cowboy, and spends more time drunk than sober. Marcus can never predict his mood and blames himself for the flailing relationship.<br><br>Then, one day when Kent rides into town, Marcus finds a young runaway hiding in their barn. Luke is warm, loving, and quick to please ... everything Kent is not. Though the answer seems obvious, Marcus finds himself torn between the boy who demands his love and the man whose love he craves.

Cowboy

hundred, maybe four, because he sold the rhododendron in full bloom


for a pretty penny, and out in these parts plants like that are


scarce, like gold or diamonds in the dust. After the tarp is down,


held in place with large stones to keep the night wind from


whipping it away, Kent comes up behind me, rubs a hand around my


waist, over my stomach, until his thumb hooks onto my belt buckle.


His fingers on my zipper arouse me despite the alcohol that rises


from his pores, and when he blows on my neck, I giggle and squirm


away. I’m as bad as any of those women in here earlier. “Let’s cook


out tonight,” he says. That means he wants me to fire up the


Folding the money into a deposit envelope, I


ask, “Burgers?” That’s about all we have right now—he’ll pick up


groceries tomorrow when he’s in town, and put this money in the


bank, and get a showerhead, I have to remind him about that. “One


Chapter 5