McLeod, Anitra Lynn - Dirty Cowboy (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) by McLeod-Anitra-Lynn Page A
Authors: McLeod-Anitra-Lynn
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encrusted he was the exact same color as the earth upon which he lay. Best Everett could figure, he’d been trying to clean himself up when he’d passed out.
“Well, at least you didn’t fall face-first into the water and drown.” Although, that might be have been a blessing, depending on what had happened to the man. Everett didn’t see any blood, but there was only one good way a man lost all his clothing, and that was if he took them off to lay down with another.
From his vantage point high up in the wagon, Everett looked up and down and all around the spring, but he didn’t see any clothing, gear, a horse—nothing. It was as if the man had crawled out of the dirt and fell half into the water.
Curious, and sick of sitting on his behind all damn day, Everett hopped down from the wagon, brushed the dust off his ass, and laughed. “Right. Get myself gussied up for a man who looks like he’s been dipped in dirt.” Even if he jumped in the water right now, it would take a week to get all the grime out of his nooks and crannies.
When he knelt beside the stranger, his knee sank into the ground a good three inches, like the earth had recently been plowed. Cupping his hand, he sifted the dirt though his fingers. It was soft, without any large clumps or rocks. Almost powdery.
“Huh.” He brushed his hand off. “Let’s see what we got here.”
Everett reached out to touch the man, to verify he was alive, but he stopped just short of contact. He wasn’t sure why he was cautious about touching him, just that he was. That funny inner voice that sometimes told him not to even look at a certain fellow was urging him to leave this one be. Everett argued that it wouldn’t be neighborly to just leave the poor man here, all exposed and possibly hurt. Still, that voice urged caution. Instead of touching him, Everett watched closely, noting that the man’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
“Well, you’re alive. That’s a start.”
Pulling the trail-dusty kerchief off his neck, Everett shuffled over on his knees to the water’s edge, rinsed the fabric out as best he could, then returned to the man’s side. Again, he hesitated to touch him. There was something almost… foreign about the man. But then, in a most curious way, Everett felt like he was the one who didn’t belong here, not the other way around.
Determined to get a hold of himself, convinced these odd feelings were just the product of being alone for too long, Everett lifted the wet kerchief to the man’s face and gently wiped away the powdery dirt.
The man didn’t stir.
As more and more of the dirt came away, the man’s features became more pronounced. His hair was brown with some blonder streaks and far too long. Everett could just about pull the length of it back in a ponytail. The man’s lashes were the same color as his hair, and longer than any painted woman’s, but it was his mouth that compelled Everett to slow his strokes.
Everett pressed his lips together to not say anything aloud. Never, not ever in his life, had he ever seen a man as handsome as this one. Had he seen him in a saloon, Everett would have done a hell of a lot more than simply stare at him. Everett would have gladly spent his last penny buying this man drinks and hoping against hope that they would end up sharing a bed.
Despite his best efforts, Everett couldn’t stop himself from letting his gaze wander down the length of the man’s body. Sadly, his cock was so covered in dust he couldn’t get a good look, but what he was able to make out made him grin. The mystery man was packing one hell of a pistol.
Chapter Two
Each pass with the wet cloth tugged the man’s lips askew. When Everett lifted the rag away, they moved back into perfection. Dusty rose, not too thick or thin, the man’s lips were just about the most perfect lips he’d ever seen on anyone. And so plush. He felt them give below his cleaning fingers with more ease than the powdered dirt had
“Well, at least you didn’t fall face-first into the water and drown.” Although, that might be have been a blessing, depending on what had happened to the man. Everett didn’t see any blood, but there was only one good way a man lost all his clothing, and that was if he took them off to lay down with another.
From his vantage point high up in the wagon, Everett looked up and down and all around the spring, but he didn’t see any clothing, gear, a horse—nothing. It was as if the man had crawled out of the dirt and fell half into the water.
Curious, and sick of sitting on his behind all damn day, Everett hopped down from the wagon, brushed the dust off his ass, and laughed. “Right. Get myself gussied up for a man who looks like he’s been dipped in dirt.” Even if he jumped in the water right now, it would take a week to get all the grime out of his nooks and crannies.
When he knelt beside the stranger, his knee sank into the ground a good three inches, like the earth had recently been plowed. Cupping his hand, he sifted the dirt though his fingers. It was soft, without any large clumps or rocks. Almost powdery.
“Huh.” He brushed his hand off. “Let’s see what we got here.”
Everett reached out to touch the man, to verify he was alive, but he stopped just short of contact. He wasn’t sure why he was cautious about touching him, just that he was. That funny inner voice that sometimes told him not to even look at a certain fellow was urging him to leave this one be. Everett argued that it wouldn’t be neighborly to just leave the poor man here, all exposed and possibly hurt. Still, that voice urged caution. Instead of touching him, Everett watched closely, noting that the man’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
“Well, you’re alive. That’s a start.”
Pulling the trail-dusty kerchief off his neck, Everett shuffled over on his knees to the water’s edge, rinsed the fabric out as best he could, then returned to the man’s side. Again, he hesitated to touch him. There was something almost… foreign about the man. But then, in a most curious way, Everett felt like he was the one who didn’t belong here, not the other way around.
Determined to get a hold of himself, convinced these odd feelings were just the product of being alone for too long, Everett lifted the wet kerchief to the man’s face and gently wiped away the powdery dirt.
The man didn’t stir.
As more and more of the dirt came away, the man’s features became more pronounced. His hair was brown with some blonder streaks and far too long. Everett could just about pull the length of it back in a ponytail. The man’s lashes were the same color as his hair, and longer than any painted woman’s, but it was his mouth that compelled Everett to slow his strokes.
Everett pressed his lips together to not say anything aloud. Never, not ever in his life, had he ever seen a man as handsome as this one. Had he seen him in a saloon, Everett would have done a hell of a lot more than simply stare at him. Everett would have gladly spent his last penny buying this man drinks and hoping against hope that they would end up sharing a bed.
Despite his best efforts, Everett couldn’t stop himself from letting his gaze wander down the length of the man’s body. Sadly, his cock was so covered in dust he couldn’t get a good look, but what he was able to make out made him grin. The mystery man was packing one hell of a pistol.
Chapter Two
Each pass with the wet cloth tugged the man’s lips askew. When Everett lifted the rag away, they moved back into perfection. Dusty rose, not too thick or thin, the man’s lips were just about the most perfect lips he’d ever seen on anyone. And so plush. He felt them give below his cleaning fingers with more ease than the powdered dirt had
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