Stars & Stripes (Cut & Run 6)

Zane slid the bullrider on and pulled it down low over his eyes. His hair was long enough that it curled under the brim. Ty couldn’t keep his eyes off him as they climbed out of the truck. He would stay in Texas forever, as long as Zane promised to wear a hat all the time.

Their boots crunched on the gravel. Zane reached out and slid his fingers into the palm of Ty’s hand. Ty looked over at him, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. He squeezed Zane’s hand and Zane smiled as he sauntered toward the door.

There were fifty or more people sitting out on the patio, waiting to get a table inside. Where the hell had they all came from?

“Z! Over here!”

Zane stopped on the rough wooden steps to find the origin of the voice, and then he smiled and waved. He turned to Ty and took his elbow. “They’re waiting for us,” he said, nodding to the door as the others disappeared inside.

Ty grunted, gesturing for Zane to lead on. It was fascinating to see Zane with people who’d known him before, like watching a wildlife show—prairie dogs in their natural habitat.

In short order, they arrived at a set of tables with three other couples, one of them Annie and Mark, who gave Ty a bright smile and a sardonic salute, respectively. Annie threw him off his game by introducing him as Zane’s boyfriend. Word had gotten around, because no one even blinked at that. They merely shook his hand and told him their names.

“Okay, who’s driving?” one of the women asked, raising her voice over the music. She jingled her keys in front of her.

“That’s me.” Zane doffed the bullrider and held it out over the table, waggling it.

“I don’t want to see any scratches on my baby, Z,” Joe said in a slow drawl that seemed as stereotypically cowboy as his handlebar mustache and lanky, bow-legged frame.

“You drive a puke-green Chevy, Joe,” Cody said. He was Joe’s exact opposite: dark hair, dark eyes, clean-shaven, and beefy shoulders. “1980 with the floorboards rusted out.”

“But the engine is cherry!” Everyone laughed, and Zane waved the hat, now weighted down with other sets of keys, in front of him.

Ty’s eyes were stuck on Zane, on the crow’s feet that formed when he smiled and the light in his eyes. It was so rare to see him relaxed and having fun.

Keys stashed in his pockets, Zane sat down next to Ty and sprawled back in his chair as the ladies started suggesting drinks. Ty settled his hand on Zane’s knee, something he’d rarely been able to do in Baltimore.

“How about margaritas?” one woman suggested. Jill, maybe? He hadn’t quite been able to hear.

“Beer,” Cody said.

“Mojitos?” That one was Marissa. Or Melissa.

“Beer,” Joe said, voice flat.

“Jack Daniels!” Annie cried.

“Beer,” Mark insisted.

Then six sets of eyes turned on him and Zane.

Ty looked around the table with a raised eyebrow. “I hear beer is good.”

The guys all crowed in agreement, and Zane gave him a tolerant look of amusement. “Sure you don’t want a peach bellini?” Zane teased.

“Hey, those things were pretty good. And they kicked my ass.”

The laughter carried around the table as Zane related the peach bellini story to the others. It was an odd feeling, being able to share experiences like that with other people. Ty was determined to enjoy it while he could.

No sooner had Zane ordered a pitcher of iced tea, than Jill jumped up and pulled on Zane’s arm.

“C’mon! No one else will line dance with me.”

Ty shook his head and reached for the basket of peanuts in the center of the table. Zane could line dance all he wanted as long as they didn’t drag him out there too.

“And you ask so politely, Ms. Marshall,” Zane said as he crossed his arms and shook his head.

“Oh come on, Garrett,” Ty said over the thumping music.

“Shut up, Grady.”

“You dance, I sing. Nothing to be ashamed of,” Ty needled, smirking and tossing a sidelong glance at Zane.

Zane allowed Jill to pull him to his feet, but before she dragged him out to the crowded dance floor, he leaned over and poked Ty’s arm. “Turnabout’s fair play, you know. They do karaoke every night at ten.”

“They what?”

Zane didn’t answer. Ty watched him head off into the crowd, then looked at his watch. It read 9:15.

Drinks arrived a moment later, and Mark pushed the bucket of iced-down beers toward Ty. “Drink up, Marine.”

Cody and Joe lifted their bottles in silent toast.

Ty reached for a bottle and toasted along with them, his eyes seeking Zane out in the crowd. It didn’t take but a minute of watching Zane dance—the way his hips and shoulders moved, his long, lean body, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans, the smile on his handsome face—to convince Ty that he couldn’t watch Zane dance in public.

“So, Grady. How long you and Zane been screwing?” Joe asked.

Ty almost choked on his beer.

“Joe, come on!” Marissa said with a wave of her beer bottle.

“What?”

“There’s got to be a better way to ask than that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Ty said, still trying not to choke. He put the back of his hand to his mouth. “Just caught me off-guard.”

“Do you take a lot of shit from people?” Marissa asked.

“Not really. But people we work with don’t know, so . . .”

“You might take some shit around here,” Mark told him.

Ty nodded and shrugged. “I kind of expect that.”

Annie looked troubled by it, but said nothing. The conversation turned toward how good Zane looked compared to the last time he’d visited. Despite Ty’s better judgment, his eyes strayed to Zane on the dance floor. He was the tallest man out there, easy to spot because he wore no hat. His thin western-style shirt hugged his slim torso and highlighted his impressive muscles, and his dark jeans were just tight enough to make him look even longer and taller.

He was a good-looking man, that was for damn sure.

Ty felt eyes on him and forced himself to stop staring at his lover and return his attention to the others at the table.

“This is one hell of a place,” he said.

“This is the only bar within easy driving distance of the surrounding ranches,” Annie said, pointing to a prominent picture on the far wall of several men in 1970s fashion, breaking ground. “The ranch owners all went in together and built the place to keep the ranch hands from driving all the way into Austin and getting in trouble. It was Dad’s idea. Now people drive from Austin just to come here.”