before he uttered “hey”—the standard cowboy greeting.
“Hey, yourself. Nice runs. You looked good. Smooth. Like you’re still competing a few times a week.”
He shrugged, but I knew he was pleased I’d mentioned it. “Thanks. You hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Good. I had a little extra time today so I went into town and picked up that ice cream you like so much.”
“You did?”
“Yep. Course, you’re gonna have to share.”
A mental image flashed of Breck licking the sweet white stuff off my stomach and cock.
“I also saw the new Lee Child paperback, so I snagged that for you too.”
Yeah. Not just about sex for me anymore—if it ever was. “Aw. Thanks. Is that a hint you need a break tonight and you’re actually gonna let me read?”
Breck growled and gave me a hard kiss. “Fuck, no. We’re gonna eat. Then fuck. Then I’m gonna school you on Madden, boy.”
“You wish. I have a surprise for you too.”
“What?”
“Not telling. That’s why it’s a surprise.”
He shrugged. “I know what it is anyway. Blood test results.”
Of course he’d gotten his too. “Mine were all clear. I brought them with me.”
“Mine’s all clear too.”
We grinned at each other.
Then he said, “Think it’d be obvious we’re impatient to fuck if we run through the crowd and back to the campsite?”
“Maybe just a tad. Besides, I’ll meet you. I left my truck in the office parking lot.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
I didn’t point out that would put us in direct view of the cafeteria and the dorms and everyone would know we were headed back to his place.
But Mr. Popular had to stop and chat with everyone. As much as I wanted time alone with him, it thrilled me to see the return of charismatic Breck, the confident cowboy, the guy in the thick of things. The joy on his face, like he truly felt their acceptance…was worth the wait.
Chapter Seven
Breck
“I suck as a teacher.”
Jerry, my colleague, the saddle bronc instructor, grunted and crushed his empty Coors can beneath his boot. “What makes you think that? Did one of your students say something to you?”
“No. It just seems none of them are makin’ any progress.”
“Progress.” Jerry snorted. “These kids are here to learn the basics. Think back to when you were seventeen. Did you give a hoot about makin’ progress ? Or were you more focused on if the pretty girls were watching you acting like a rodeo cowboy stud?”
A beat of silence passed and the campfire popped, sending a flame of orange sparks into the air.
“Shoot. Sorry. Sometimes I forget that you’re…” He gestured distractedly. “You know.”
I grinned. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that you forgot I’m… you know …”
“Smarty.”
“Anyway, yeah, I had an ego and liked people watching me become a rodeo stud and All-Around Cowboy contender. But I also had discipline and drive to get better in all three of my events. And I can’t get these boys to focus on just one event when they’re in class.”
“Discipline and drive is why you’ve won more championships than the whole lot of these students—combined—ever will.” He paused. “There’s only one student here with the potential to win big.”
We both said, “Etta Geyer,” at the same time.
“See? You know talent when you see it, Breck. You can’t feel guilty because none of your kids have talent.”
“Lucky for Sharla, she knows she’s got a gem in Etta.” Sharla, the barrel racing instructor, had twenty years on me and Jerry age wise. She’d retired from competition before I’d started competing. I’d never met anyone who knew every nuance of the sport like she did.
“Etta may have to give it up because of her family situation.” Jerry cracked open another Coors. “I ain’t a gossiping old fart, but this is her last year to prove herself on her high school team and snag the eye of one of them college rodeo team recruiters.”
“Where’s
“Hey, yourself. Nice runs. You looked good. Smooth. Like you’re still competing a few times a week.”
He shrugged, but I knew he was pleased I’d mentioned it. “Thanks. You hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Good. I had a little extra time today so I went into town and picked up that ice cream you like so much.”
“You did?”
“Yep. Course, you’re gonna have to share.”
A mental image flashed of Breck licking the sweet white stuff off my stomach and cock.
“I also saw the new Lee Child paperback, so I snagged that for you too.”
Yeah. Not just about sex for me anymore—if it ever was. “Aw. Thanks. Is that a hint you need a break tonight and you’re actually gonna let me read?”
Breck growled and gave me a hard kiss. “Fuck, no. We’re gonna eat. Then fuck. Then I’m gonna school you on Madden, boy.”
“You wish. I have a surprise for you too.”
“What?”
“Not telling. That’s why it’s a surprise.”
He shrugged. “I know what it is anyway. Blood test results.”
Of course he’d gotten his too. “Mine were all clear. I brought them with me.”
“Mine’s all clear too.”
We grinned at each other.
Then he said, “Think it’d be obvious we’re impatient to fuck if we run through the crowd and back to the campsite?”
“Maybe just a tad. Besides, I’ll meet you. I left my truck in the office parking lot.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
I didn’t point out that would put us in direct view of the cafeteria and the dorms and everyone would know we were headed back to his place.
But Mr. Popular had to stop and chat with everyone. As much as I wanted time alone with him, it thrilled me to see the return of charismatic Breck, the confident cowboy, the guy in the thick of things. The joy on his face, like he truly felt their acceptance…was worth the wait.
Chapter Seven
Breck
“I suck as a teacher.”
Jerry, my colleague, the saddle bronc instructor, grunted and crushed his empty Coors can beneath his boot. “What makes you think that? Did one of your students say something to you?”
“No. It just seems none of them are makin’ any progress.”
“Progress.” Jerry snorted. “These kids are here to learn the basics. Think back to when you were seventeen. Did you give a hoot about makin’ progress ? Or were you more focused on if the pretty girls were watching you acting like a rodeo cowboy stud?”
A beat of silence passed and the campfire popped, sending a flame of orange sparks into the air.
“Shoot. Sorry. Sometimes I forget that you’re…” He gestured distractedly. “You know.”
I grinned. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that you forgot I’m… you know …”
“Smarty.”
“Anyway, yeah, I had an ego and liked people watching me become a rodeo stud and All-Around Cowboy contender. But I also had discipline and drive to get better in all three of my events. And I can’t get these boys to focus on just one event when they’re in class.”
“Discipline and drive is why you’ve won more championships than the whole lot of these students—combined—ever will.” He paused. “There’s only one student here with the potential to win big.”
We both said, “Etta Geyer,” at the same time.
“See? You know talent when you see it, Breck. You can’t feel guilty because none of your kids have talent.”
“Lucky for Sharla, she knows she’s got a gem in Etta.” Sharla, the barrel racing instructor, had twenty years on me and Jerry age wise. She’d retired from competition before I’d started competing. I’d never met anyone who knew every nuance of the sport like she did.
“Etta may have to give it up because of her family situation.” Jerry cracked open another Coors. “I ain’t a gossiping old fart, but this is her last year to prove herself on her high school team and snag the eye of one of them college rodeo team recruiters.”
“Where’s
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