“So he can touch base with Bishop the adorable professor during the day,” Montrell added.
Would I get fired if I kicked them both out along the highway? Probably. Didn’t mean I couldn’t fantasize about it though.
* * *
Evenings beganto take on a routine that I was thrilled with. Bishop would return to my cabin, we’d eat dinner, and then we’d head to the stables. It had taken some talking on my part, but I’d convinced him to give horses a second chance. We’d started off small, with him merely standing in the walkway as I led Tiberius past him. The horse must have thought we were mad but after a few uneventful nights of that, Bishop asked if he could reach out to pet T as he and I paraded back and forth. His tension levels began to lower the more time he was near Tiberius and the other horses, and he asked if he could brush him the next evening. Not in the stall, he was quick to point out. I stole a kiss and told him that T would love a new friend with a brush in his hand.
The brushing then led to him asking to help tack the big gelding up. All in the walkway. Which I understood. It could be intimidating to be in a small space with a big horse if you were anxious about them. We tacked him up for a few nights, me climbing up on his wide back and looking down at Bishop, who was staring up at me, his hand resting on Tiberius’s soft neck. He’d shake his head and step back. I’d take the horse out for a short ride, just an easy go around the paddocks, so that Bishop could watch.
It was a warm Friday evening, about three weeks into June, when Bishop came home from the dig, his usual enthusiasm about fossils ramped well beyond the norm.
“We have the skull ready to transport to the lab! I wish you could see it! Oh, it’s a beauty! The university is thrilled. They’re going to send out a photographer to chronicle the move. I think I’m going to write a research paper about the find as well. Perhaps it will get published in the Annual Review of Paleontology and Planetary Research!”
He wound his arms around me, pulled me from the stove and the beef cubes I was browning for a stew, and kissed me so passionately we both grew woozy.
“I’m so happy for you. When do you move it?” I asked, using my thumb to remove some dirt from his chin.
“As soon as we can get a crane out to the site to lift the casting onto a flatbed.” His hands began to wander. If not for the meat starting to smoke we’d have ended up with me over the island and his prick in my ass. Which sounded damn good. I broke free and rushed to the stove to save the beef cubes. “There’s a ton of bones yet to remove. I doubt we’ll be done before snow flies. Which means I’ll be back here next spring.” He eased up behind me as I poured some red wine and vinegar into the frying pan and began scraping the browned bits from the bottom as the wine began to bubble. He dropped a kiss to my neck. I shivered and so he did it again. “I feel like I could take on the world! Let’s go for a ride.”
“The four-wheeler isn’t fixed yet. I had to buy new tools and then order the—”
“Mm, no, on a horse.”
My gaze flew from the cubes soaking up the red wine. “Are you sure you’re ready for that big of a step?”
“Today I could do anything!” His blue eyes glimmered.
“Okay then. We’ll saddle up Jezzy and get on the saddle.”
He gave my ear a nibble then released me. I got the stew ready and into the oven on low heat, and we headed to the stables. Hand-in-hand. A few of the men were kicking around a soccer ball as we neared the large pole barn. They raised a hand and called out greetings. Not a one seemed upset or angry. Even knowing that most of the men here were accepting of LGBT people, they had to be or they’d not be working for Landon as that was requirement number one on the application, I still carried the stigma with me. The fear of being spotted, being outed, and being beaten that old queers like me would probably never fully leave behind. Bishop had no such cares, or if he did they were well hidden. Growing up in a more accepting society in a rather free-spirited state surely helped. What a difference a few decades make.
We tacked up Jezzy slowly, talking about various things that had no bearing on what we were doing as he brushed her down. I was trying to keep him as chill as possible. Once the palomino mare was saddled, I came around her with the reins. Tiberius, who was being a little nippy today, probably due to seeing me ready another horse and not him, reached out to try to bite Jezzy’s flank. We got her bridled with ease. She really was a perfect lady.
“Stop being a prick,” I told my horse. He tossed his head in reply. Bishop stood beside Jezzy his eyes wide but his aura calm. He learned quickly. “You can back out of this at any time. It’s only been a few weeks of us working on your phobia. Some folks take years to conquer their fear.”
“I’m good.”
“What do you need before you get on that horse?”
“Prayers?”
“No.” I grabbed a riding helmet from a hook and plunked it on his head.
“You never wear a helmet,” he pointed out.
“I’m a grown-up,” I tossed out.
“Oh, don’t even go there,” he countered playfully and took Jezzy by the reins to lead her out into the corral. I held her while he scurried up the mounting block and eased his sweet ass onto the saddle. I took the reins and eyed the stirrups to make sure they were the proper length.
“You feel okay up there?” I asked as we started walking around the circular pen.
“Yeah, it’s awesome.” He smiled down at me, his fingers tight on the pommel.
“You look sexy as hell.” I ran a hand down his leg. “Jezzy is a good horse to start learning on. She’s real forgiving and has more whoa than go.”
“I like that in a woman,” he said. We made a few circles of the pen as I told him about ear, shoulder, hip, heel alignment in the saddle and how to hold the reins when he got them. We paused by the gate, the summer wind playing with Jezzy’s cream colored mane, and I passed the reins to him. “Now remember what I told you. Pick up the reins, slide down then separate, holding them between—”
“My thumb and pointer finger, thumbs up like I’m holding an ice cream cone.”