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

As I watch, he takes a shuddery breath, hugs


himself tight, mutters something and falls silent. Still asleep.


Quietly I edge around the washtub and into the stall, tiptoeing so


my boot heels don’t wake him. He’s long and thin, and there’s


something about him that makes me think he’s been on the road


awhile. I have pictures of boys like this, their belongings tied in


a bandanna slung over one shoulder, shirts open to show bare chests


beneath, the band of their briefs snug at their waists while their


jeans droop down, thumb out to hitch a ride. I’ve dreamed of boys


like this, with these narrow legs, these slim hips, these sinewy


arms holding me tight. He has thick ankles, I like that, and long


toes that I want to thread my fingers through. Nice feet. I like


And nice hands, I can see the one gripping


his elbow where his arms are crossed—long fingers, an artist’s


hands, even nails despite the dirt rimmed beneath them. Dusky skin,


Chapter 10