“Hope you’re at peace now. I am.” Rory closed his eyes and sent up a quick prayer, thanking God for sending Zane and pleading that the man would stick around for a long time. “We need to go now, back to the ranch in Colorado where I work, but even though I won’t be able to come visit often, I’ll never stop thinking about you.” Rory rubbed at his eyes, uncomfortable at shedding a tear in front of Zane. He also shivered, partly because of the cold, but also he hated saying goodbye.

  Zane put an arm around Rory’s shoulders and pulled the smaller man into a half-hug. Almost instantly Rory felt warm and stopped shivering.

  Zane touched the brim of his hat. “Bye, Mrs. B. I won’t forget my promise. And that’s a promise.”

  Rory had to bite his lip either to stifle a sob or hold back a chuckle, he wasn’t quite sure which.

  “You okay?” Zane asked, giving him a squeeze.

  Rory took a deep breath to steady himself before nodding. “Let’s go.”

  * * * *

  Rory had been surprised when Zane hadn’t followed the signs for the interstate.

  As if sensing Rory’s confusion, he said, “Don’t like driving on the interstate. Too many cars going too fast. Or going too slow if there’s accidents.”

  Rory smiled and nodded. He’d been in plenty of jams himself as a passenger. However, he could often weave his way through them when riding his motorcycle.

  “And this old lady don’t like going too fast or sitting around in traffic,” Zane said, letting go of Rory’s hand briefly to pet the dash.

  The longer travel time was fine with Rory. It meant more time holding hands with Zane. And hadn’t Barry said there was no hurry to get back?

  The miles rumbled by, each man occasionally commenting on the changing landscape, but mostly they sat quietly listening to country music. Rory didn’t mind. And it turned out Zane had a pretty passable bass voice and could carry a tune without much difficulty.

  There was the occasional flurry of snow, which steadily increased to a gentle and uninterrupted snow shower. At first the blacktop stayed clear but within a half hour the road had a white covering.

  Zane seemed on top of the situation, however.

  As the afternoon wore on, the sun grew lower in the sky and Zane lowered the brim of his hat.

  “You okay?” Rory asked.

  Zane nodded. “Should be a pair of shades in there.” He pointed to the glove box.

  Rory sifted through old gas receipts, paper napkins from various fast food outlets, as well as packets of condiments from a similar range of eateries. There was a spork, and finally at the back, a plastic case that seemed the right size to hold sun glasses. “They in here?” he asked, holding up the case.

  “Yep.”

  Rory opened the box to reveal a pair of raparound shades, which he handed to Zane. Rory moaned when Zane put them on. The man looked incredibly hot.

  Zane turned Rory’s way momentarily and gave him a questioning look.

  Rory scrabbled for a reasonable-sounding explanation for the noise he’d made. Then he hit upon the perfect distraction. “Was wondering if you wanted to stop in the next town for something to eat?”

  “Sure. Also give the engine time to cool down some as well.”

  Zane’s truck had been making some strange noises and Rory had privately feared all was not well under the hood. The noises didn’t seem to trouble Zane, however, and Rory figured the man knew his truck well enough.

  * * * *

  A half hour later they were sitting in a booth in a nondescript diner, the menu equally as uninspiring. When they entered, Rory decided to test out a pet theory. He suggested they sit at a table in the center of the room but Zane quietly herded him into a booth at the back and sat next to him rather than opposite. Rory smiled to himself, Zane had passed the test.

  “What are you in the mood for? My treat,” Zane said.

  “You paid for breakfast,” Rory told him.

  “I eat more than you. So, what do you want?”

  Rory took a look at the specials board but didn’t relish the idea of chicken fried steak or spaghetti—not again—so he looked back at the menu, flipped it over, and said he’d have the chicken Caesar salad. “What will you have? And it’s my treat.”

  Zane frowned and studied the menu. “A regular burger.”

  Rory was stopped from commenting by the appearance of the waitress, who looked so painfully thin it was obvious she didn’t eat the food she served. Without asking, she began to pour coffee for them both.

  The waitress then got out her order pad and silently looked between the two of them.

  Rory wondered if she were mute or just rude. “I’ll have the chicken Caesar salad, please.”

  “Ranch, blue cheese, or Thousand Islands?”

  So she can speak, Rory thought. “No Caesar dressing?”

  “We’re out.” The pencil hovered impatiently over the pad.

  Ordinarily, Rory would feel intimidated by this point and would order whatever he thought would be least likely to offend the server. But having Zane next to him—actually sitting between Rory and the waitress—gave him a measure of confidence. “Do you have any light salad dressing?”

  “Suppose I could check.” Although she made no move to do so just then.

  “Thank you, you’re so kind.” Rory wasn’t sure he’d kept all the sarcasm out of his voice. He examined the waitress’s creased and slightly-stained uniform. She wore the name tag “Joy.” He tried not to roll his eyes at the inappropriateness of the name.

  Zane was starting to bristle, so Rory gave his knee a squeeze under the table in an attempt to calm him. Rory didn’t want Zane to make a scene. They could just eat, pay, and leave.

  “And you?” Joy looked at Zane. Was there a little more warmth in her expression and tone?

  Before Zane could speak, Rory said, “He’ll have a large order of the chicken fried steak with country gravy, green beans, and mashed potatoes.”

  “But, I—”

  He gave Zane’s knee another squeeze and the big guy ceased his protest.

  “Sure thing, hon,” the waitress said and departed, taking the menus with her. Was it an optical illusion or had Joyless Joy actually smiled?

  Rory was thrilled at how his man—he’d already begun to think of Zane as his—could charm anyone. He’d sure charmed Rory. Rory jumped when he felt Zane squeezing his leg. Previously, their touching had always been above the waist, obviously Zane was comfortable to go lower. Rory rubbed his sneakered foot against Zane’s leg, and Zane soon reciprocated, a playful smile teasing at the corners of the big man’s lips.

  The game of footsy soon had Rory needing to adjust himself in his Wranglers.

  The arrival of their meals came as something of a relief, although this soon turned to disappointment upon tasting it. The food was definitely below par. Either the special was better than Rory’s salad, or Zane was just hungry, because he made rapid inroads into his steak. Rory played with his food more than ate it. The chicken was cold, the romaine warm and limp. And were the mushy cubes of whatever supposed to be croutons? He reminded himself of what he’d thought earlier about how they wouldn’t be likely to ever eat at this place again. That helped him swallow a few mouthfuls, although no way could he clean his plate like Zane was doing.

  Thankfully Zane turned down Rory’s suggestion of dessert, so Rory called for the check, paid, added the smallest tip he thought he could reasonably get away with, and they left.

  * * * *

  Back in the parking lot, the snow was coming down hard and Zane’s truck was blanketed in about an inch of it. Zane spent a few moments clearing the windshield before getting into the cab. When Zane turned the key in the ignition the engine turned over but wouldn’t catch. Zane swore under his breath and tried again. This time the engine started but backfired.

  “Hope no one thought that was a gunshot.” Rory chuckled nervously. “Don’t want the locals to come after us brandishing shotguns and rifles.”

  If Zane thought Rory’s comment humorous, he didn’t show it, and Rory was left wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

  The truck, under Zane’s expert handling, made it safely onto the street, Rory increasingly uneasy at how much snow had accumulated—where were the snowplows? Thankfully Zane kept his speed down and, unlike some of the other road users, drove sensibly in the worsening weather conditions. Rory thought about suggesting they try and get a room for the night and start for Colorado the next morning, but thought it better to keep his mouth shut and not distract Zane.

  A small part of Rory didn’t want their journey to end. Sure, he loved his job, the location and the people he worked with, but having Zane all to himself was…special.

  * * * *

  They were moving, albeit below the posted speed limit, but at least they were moving. They saw fewer and fewer cars on the road; most people seemed to be heeding the advice given on the radio to stay off the roads—especially the untreated ones—unless their journey was essential. Rory was beginning to wish he’d spoken up about getting a room back in the previous town. A part of him also wished they’d stayed at the motel. At least there they were safe, warm, and could get adequate food. To add to his unease, the truck’s engine began to make very un-engine-like noises—banging, rattling, and a most disturbing grinding. The cab began to fill with the odor of burning oil. Zane partially wound down the window at his side. This immediately chilled the cab, which hadn’t been all that warm to start with. Rory burrowed deeper into his jacket and pulled up the collar. Despite the chill, he reasoned opening his window would allow the air to better circulate but he soon realized the window on his side still didn’t open.

  “Think I should find a garage in the next town,” Zane said, jaw tight.

  Rory nodded, praying they would actually make it to Green Plains.

  But God must not have been listening, because almost immediately a belch of black, acrid smoke issued from under the hood and the truck lost power. Zane was able to steer the vehicle to the side of the road before it stopped moving completely.

  “Fuck!” Zane said softly under his breath. He rested his forearms on the steering wheel and laid his head on them, dislodging his hat. “Sorry, Ror,” he muttered so low Rory had to strain to hear him.

  Rory was momentarily pulled back in time to car journeys during his childhood. If anything went wrong with the vehicle or Heaven forbid a pedestrian or other road user stepped out of line, Garry would explode, laying on the horn, shouting and swearing through the open window. It got to the point where Rory dreaded going anywhere with his father. His mother would have made a better and calmer driver, but she’d been forbidden to learn to drive as Garry saw it as his role.

  Rory snapped out of his memories. Zane was nothing like his father. He laid a hand on Zane’s right arm, hating to see the usually happy-go-lucky Zane so despondent. “You can’t blame yourself for the snow.”

  Zane shook his head. “Not the weather’s fault. Knew my truck wasn’t in good shape. Just wanted to…” He sighed and didn’t finish his sentence.

  Rory moved his hand to rub circles on Zane’s back. Needing to fill the uncomfortable silence, he said, “Don’t beat yourself up. You drove all this way because you were concerned about me. You cared enough to come. That means a fucking hell of a lot.” Rory rarely swore, bad language reminded him too much of his father, but it seemed appropriate in this situation. “I didn’t like being on my own having to face…the prison, my dad, the flights. But you came, Zane, you came.”

  Zane was unmoving and silent.

  Still rubbing Zane’s back, Rory went on. “You were like a hero riding to the rescue.” Rory didn’t much care for putting himself in the role of the archetypal damsel in distress, but he’d say anything to show Zane how much the man’s actions had meant. “And as soon as the caped crusading cowboy broke down my motel room door and pulled me into his strong, powerful arms, I knew everything would be all right.” Ok, so he was definitely going overboard now, so he told himself to shut the fuck up.

  Zane remained unmoving, head still resting on his arms.

  Feeling an increased sense of desperation, Rory broke his resolution and plowed on. “I feel partly to blame for this…mess.”

  Zane finally looked up, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. Rory castigated himself for thinking Zane looked sexy. This was not the time or place for such thoughts. Talk about inappropriate.

  “How’d you figure that?”

  Rory smiled, relieved he’d got the big guy to talk. “Because when we set off this morning I was sad. A bit of me didn’t want to go back to the ranch…not just yet anyway.”

  If anything, Zane’s confusion—and his sexiness—deepened.

  Rory sighed. He was going to come across as even more of a sap, or a dork or whatever. But none of that mattered if he could pull Zane out of this current funk. “Don’t get me wrong, I love working on the Double J. The guys are great, and of course the food is amazing.”

  The corners of Zane’s lips twitched slightly.

  Buoyed by the success of the half smile, Rory continued, “But there’s one guy who works there who I’m particularly fond of, so much so, I wished I could spend some more time alone with him away from the ranch, time when he was all mine and I didn’t have to share him with anyone else.”

  Zane’s smile grew broader.

  “So you see, I kinda wished for this to happen.” Rory gestured to encompass the broken down truck and maybe even the snowstorm. “So don’t blame yourself, blame me.”

  Zane shook his head. “You’re crazy.” But he kept on smiling.

  Yes, it was crazy but mostly true. “Come on, we can’t sit here all day. It’ll be dark in a couple hours. We need to call for a tow truck, get a motel room for the night, and find a diner or something.” Smiling and waggling his eyebrows, he added, “Although I am prepared to negotiate the order of the last two.”

  Zane barked out a laugh. “God, Ror, you’re fucking amazing.” He cupped Rory’s face in his hands and moved in to lay a gentle kiss on Rory’s lips.

  Rory sighed. “You’re the amazing one.” He stroked Zane’s cheeks. “This stubble is so hot.”

  “I’m not hot.”

  Rory pointed to the windows. “You’re hot enough to steam those up.” He then fanned himself with his hand. “Hot enough to steam me up, too.” So what if he was being goofy? He put it down to getting back the Zane of old.

  Zane shook his head, bemused but obviously pleased.

  Under normal circumstances, making out in the truck wasn’t wise. Rory would have to have a talk with Zane about public displays of affection. But as these were extraordinary circumstances, and they weren’t exactly in public, the talk could wait. Being straight, Zane would have made out—and done other things Rory didn’t want to think about—with women in the open and few would have objected. Sadly, objections, and more, would be raised at the sight of two men getting it on.

  Although Rory could have spent much longer making out with Zane, his practical side kicked in, and he began searching his phone for local garages. He was surprised to get a signal in such a remote spot. However, he wasn’t surprised at the small number of garages in the area. The call to the one in Green Plains went unanswered. The second garage was over thirty miles away and although someone did pick up, the lady told Rory that due to the snow and ice, her husband already had several towing jobs pending and he wouldn’t be able to reach them for several hours. Rory conveyed this news to Zane, who told him to try somewhere else. However, the next closest garage refused to come out that far. On learning this, Zane announced his intension to walk to Green Plains.

  Rory didn’t like the idea of Zane going alone, and wasn’t enthusiastic about accompanying him either. “We should stay here and wait for someone to come along.” Although no one had passed them since they’d broken down.

  “Knew I should have taken the interstate,” Zane said, sounding glum. “Least that would’ve been plowed.”

  “Come on, let’s put on extra layers to keep warm,” Rory encouraged, trying to keep Zane’s thoughts away from what he should or shouldn’t have done.

  The suggestion at least got Zane moving. He reached behind him and pulled one of the bags of clean laundry onto his lap. Taking out a couple of his black flannel shirts he handed them to Rory. “Should be able to get these on over your coat.”

  “Thanks.” Rory was thrilled at wearing something of Zane’s, even though they’d been washed so didn’t smell of him. He slipped into one of the shirts, buttoned it up, then shrugged into the second. Even though he was wearing them on top of his thick winter coat, the shirts were still way too large. They felt really warm, however.

  Seeing Zane hadn’t put on any extra clothing, Rory asked, “You gonna put on some of your superhero tees?”

  Zane shook his head. “I’m warm enough, and don’t feel much like a superhero at the moment.”

  Rory couldn’t let that pass without comment. Feeling bulky and unwieldy, he slid closer to Zane and wrapped the man in a hug. “Remember what I said about that caped crusading cowboy breaking down my motel room door so’s he could rescue me?” Rory tilted Zane’s head so he could lay a big wet kiss on the man’s lips. “He’s my superhero.”

  A vehicle slowly passed them, and through the fogged and snowed up windshield, Rory could make out it was a pickup and was pulling over and stopping.

  “My superhero and my good luck charm.” Rory kissed Zane briefly on the lips before moving back to his side of the cab.

  “Yeah, right.” Zane shook his head and opened his door, letting more cold and snow in. “Stay here until I know if this guy will help us.”

  Rory sighed mock-dramatically. “My protector as well as my superhero and my—”

  “Knock it off.” Zane stepped out of his truck and closed the door, dislodging a fair bit of snow from the window.

  Rory chuckled. He didn’t need half as much protecting as Zane thought he did, but it was a huge turn on when the big guy went all papa bear on him. Or was that momma bear? No, Zane was all man. He’d settle for alpha bear.

  The potential rescuer wound his window down when Zane approached and the two exchanged a few words. Zane then moved back, the man stepped out of his cab, and the two approached Zane’s truck.

 

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