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

When he looks up at me, I plant a quick kiss


on his forehead. He rolls his eyes and says, “You sleep too damn


“Morning to you, too,” I grumble. I’d


like to sidle up behind Luke now, ease an arm around his waist,


kiss him,but I settle for a secretive brush of my hand


against the small of his back as I pour myself a cup of coffee.


Lowering my voice, I murmur, “Hey.”


Luke laughs and bumps my hip with his. “Hey,


Blowing on the hot java, I look at him over


the top of the mug. “Like a baby,” I tell him, keeping my voice


quiet. At the table, Kent’s shaking out the daily newspaper,


ignoring us, and I feel brazen enough to wink at Luke. “What about


you?” He laughs again. “What?” I ask, grinning slowly.


Leaning close, he whispers, “Did you dream of


paper—can he hear us? Does he care? With a quick gulp of scalding


coffee, I admit, “Some.” His eyes light up, an amazing shade of


Chapter 38