“He’s an idiot.”
He’s perfect.
“Why so much food, Amelia? You got enough rolls and potatoes here to feed all the hands on this ranch and the one up the road,” Walker asked.
“Well, Fox invited someone over tonight. And you know I like to be prepared.” She said.
“Who?” the three men said in unison.
Amelia laughed. “He didn’t say.”
“Someone from work?” Bull frowned.
“Are Hart and Freeman coming?” Walker piped up, his brown eyes damn near twinkling as he stood as though he was about to go and get gussied up.
“I said I don’t know. Why are y’all in here drilling me? Go on out there and ask him yourselves.” She pushed Bull out of the way of her sink. “I need to get my salad finished, and you two are in my way.”
Bull flung on his black coat and took his hat off the peg behind the door. When he stepped outside, the first thing that hit him was the delicious smell of searing beef. Then it was Fox’s smile.
“Hey,” he said, greeting him with the same level of affection he did every time. “Amelia said you and Walker like your steak medium rare.”
“Yes.” Bull came up behind Fox and wrapped his arms around him from behind and whispered in his ear, “What made you do this tonight?”
Fox closed the lid. “Maybe, I just wanted to make a big hunk of meat for my man after a hard week’s work.”
Bull’s smile fell slowly. “Your man, huh?”
Fox glanced up at him through those light lashes, all playfulness and teasing vanishing as he turned and leaned into Bull’s chest. “You heard me.” Fox nodded. “Mine.”
Bull had wanted Fox to say those words to him for months, and now that he had, he was afraid he was in some kind of unconscious state where it could all disappear if he shook his foundation too hard. They hadn’t put a definitive label on what they’d started, and they’d both sort of danced around the topic when others brought it up. But making love to Fox at night, waking with him in the morning, working beside him most of the day, and oh heavens, riding beside him on that damn horse, it all sang of partnership to him.
“What are you saying?” Bull murmured, his heart beating a mile a minute.
Fox scoffed. “Does everything have to be spelled out in the dirt for you cowboys to understand it?”
Bull yanked Fox tighter into him when he growled, “Yes.”
Fox exhaled. “Dom. I don’t wanna go back.”
Bull swallowed, praying he’d heard correctly and wishing he hadn’t. Could Fox truly be happy away from his city, his team, no longer chasing Atlanta’s most wanted and saving lives? All to stay here and ride a horse, fix fences, and build new animal shelters every now and again.
“Look at me,” Fox said, cupping Bull’s cheek. “I’ve never been happier in my life. This is not a decision I’m making for you. I’m making it for me. I’m forty-two fuckin’ years old, and I’ve never told a man that I loved him. Not even my father.”
Bull touched his forehead to Fox’s at that tragic confession.
“It’s time I made a decision based on what I want… not everyone else.”
“I need you to make sure you do.” Bull sighed, turning and kissing Fox’s palm. “I don’t want you to resent me or come to resent this kind of life. It’s not for everyone. Ranching is seven days a week, all four seasons. Rain, sleet, hurricanes, anyth—”
“You don’t think I realized you guys don’t celebrate TGIF?” Fox scoffed. “I don’t give a damn about days off. I never had ’em before.”
They stared into each other’s eyes for a long, emotion-fused moment before a wide smile cracked Bull’s face and Fox crushed his chest into his. Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of just hugging this man.
“Damnit.” Bull breathed hard against Fox’s throat, squeezing him until he probably struggled to inhale. Bull gripped Fox behind his neck and pressed their mouths together, sucking on his tongue and attempting to bury deeper, when a throat cleared a few feet away from them.
Fox was the one that had to push Bull away because he didn’t give a fuck if the governor was trying to get his attention. Fox was his.
“Sorry to interrupt, but you guys didn’t look like you were wrapping up anytime soon… and the grill is smoking,” Rid said with a quirk to his full lips and his eyes on his boots.
“Oh shit,” Fox cursed and hurried to flip the lid open, grimacing as he turned the charred meat.
“Wow… that looks pretty bur—”
“It’s best to eat beef more on the well-done side anyway. The more heat the less risk of salmonella, E. coli, shigella, and staphlyloco—”
“Shut up, brainiac. You burnt the steaks. Admit it,” Bull laughed, then took a drink of Fox’s hot cider he had sitting beside the grill. “Hey, Rid. What are you doing here?”