Page 11 of Playing Cowboy
“We ...we’ve already shaken hands,” he reminds me.
I roll my eyes.“Are you always so literal, Chet?This is me, this isus...starting over.Remember?”
He takes my hand tentatively.I accentuate the size difference, squeezing his small hand harder than I normally would in my much bigger one, using all five fingers to practically swallow it whole.“Clean slate?”he offers an addendum, as if we’re negotiating some big Hollywood contract high atop Wild West Studio’s corporate HQ in Beverly Hills, probably.
“Clean as a whistle,” I ooze, dialing up the cowboy shtick all the way to eleven.“You in?”
He sighs, sliding his hand free as my eyes follow it back onto his lap.I wonder, idly, what his pecker might look like.Not small, I imagine.He’s too cocky for that.But not big, either, judging from his pretty little hands.Smooth, no doubt, lotioned and lathered every night before bed, probably.Some routine he no doubt read about in the complimentary copy ofMen’s Groomingin his manicurist’s salon on Rodeo Drive.I smirk to picture his little landing strip of a bush, carefully tended and plucked until it glistens with its high, satiny gloss, resting just above his smooth, satiny, veiny little but not too little cock.
That is, if he isn’t shaved completely.
I wriggle at the thought of him, smooth and shapely, curled up against my sweaty, panting chest after some robust, sexy times in my loft above the—
Snapping fingers brings me back to life.“Bro, where’d you go?”His face is genuinely curious, but also?Slightly blushing, as if maybe he knows exactly where I just went but is just too polite to mention it.
“Sorry,” I blurt, shaking my head as our eyes meet across the cluttered table.“I just ...I’ve never met anyone like you before, Chet.”
He stiffens until I blather, “I mean, we don’t get many big city folk around Pistol Creek.”
He sags with something like relief.“It’s funny, Grady.I ...work for a studio that produces westerns for TV and yet they don’t act or talk or even really look like ...you.”
I frown, despite being flattered.“Is there ...a compliment in there?”
He blushes, suddenly flustered.“Yeah, I suppose so.I mean, come the Grand Opening?You’re going to have to stay out of Nash’s way.”
“Nash?”
Chet chuckles, tapping the dossier I’d brought along with me for my little Apology Tour.“Did you even read that thing?”
Chapter Six
Chet
“Iscanned it.”
I sigh and glance out the window beside us.“Nash Remington,” I explain before Grady guffaws loud enough to get the attention of our nearest neighbors.
