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

I gather up the plates, the cups, the tongs I


used to turn the burgers on the grill, and head for the house. I


won’t mention it, then. Maybe ask him to pick up some poison in


town tomorrow, tell him we have rats, I’ll take care of it myself.


He doesn’t need to know anything more than that.


I wake to the slap of the screen door—Kent


leaving, and a glance at the clock beside my bed shows that it’s


not even six AM yet. I pull the blankets over my head and wish the


warmth that surrounds me wasn’t just my own. Some mornings I would


give anything to have the memory of his body lingering next to me.


But he goes to bed before I do, wakes up too damn early, tells me


that he likes a separate room because it keeps me from rousing him


when I turn in at night. The explanation doesn’t make my own bed


I’m almost back to sleep when I hear tires


spin to a stop in front of the house, the truck door slam shut,


Chapter 8