Page 90 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

He blinked at me in surprise, looking about ready to bolt. It was either that, apparently, or admit he had no idea what a ring bearer did.

“Here,” I said. I tugged off my ring, so precious to me, and held it out. Dalton, without a second’s hesitation, did the same. There on our palms, those rings glittered in the bright lights of the barn.

“What do I do?” Xander asked. Looking at the rings but not taking them.

“You hold on to them until morning,” I said. “You keep them safe. You bring them to the ceremony.”

“Me?”

I understood his hesitation. Not because the task was complicated, but because there was so much behind it. Weight. Import. It was a lot more than I was used to dealing with, so I knew how he felt.

“Yes, you.” Dalton’s voice was warm and sincere.

I wanted to kiss him. So I did.

The rings fell from our palms. Xander caught them and clutched them to his chest. “Can I still wear my lip ring?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Just make sure it’s polished.” Dalton smiled to show he was teasing.

“Shower,” I said. “Comb your hair. Wear a clean shirt. Like you’d be in church.”

“Okay,” Xander said. “I’ll be there. Bright and early.” There were sparks in his dark eyes as he made this promise. Like nobody had ever selected him for any responsibility—not trusting him to come through.

I trusted him. The way he looked at me. The way he held those rings close to his body. I had a feeling he would walk through fire to make it to the barn on time, and that was fine by me.

Without saying our goodbyes, I hustled Dalton back to our bunkhouse.Ourbunkhouse.

The idea of it rang pleasantly in my head as I tore open the door. Left the lights off. Stripped Dalton of everything he was wearing. Bent him forward, his hands on the wall. His bottom cupped in my hands, his thighs inside mine, so he could feel I was fully dressed.

I fumbled for the lube. It was on a little stand next to the bed. When I popped it open, I felt his body jump at the sound.

“Jesus Christ,” Dalton muttered. I eased the lube between his buttocks, cool then warm against my fingertips. “Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ.”

“No, just me,” I said, jaunty and bright. I was a new man since I’d met Dalton. “Just be still.”

He obediently settled, waiting until I’d unbuckled my belt, the clink loud in the silence. Unbuttoned my jeans and shoved them halfway down my thighs.

I fingered him. A little hard, and definitely quick. Listened to the way he gasped, the gurgles in his throat. His sigh, my echoing one. Feeling the sweat build along his back where I swept my hand to gentle him as I entered him. His body tight around my cock. The heat of him.

There was nothing languid or romantic in the way I fucked him. It was hard and urgent and very, very quick. He would have slumped to the floor after we came, but I grabbed his waistto hold him to me so I wouldn’t slip out, which was how he seemed to like it. The lingering. Bodies cooling. Breaths slowing. Connection. It was what he gave me. What I would give him every day of our lives together.

We were getting married in the morning. And the future, after that, was an open road down which I would be happy to go, to explore what might be, as long as Dalton was with me.

Epilogue - Dalton

The wedding was as pretty as a picture. The rain held back all that morning, and a cool breeze wafted through Buddy’s black mane and tail, and Snowball’s gray-and-white mane and tail.

We managed to hire an officiant from Ft. Collins who was willing to come out to the foothills at such an early hour and on such short notice. Her voice was clear and sweet beneath the cottonwood leaves fluttering overhead, in the bend of the river where the air smelled like willows and warm pine. And it smelled of wildflowers, dripping from basket panniers set over the horses’ backs. (The wildflowers were hand-collected by the LGBTQ kids at the ranch.)

Our two witnesses were Lucas and Jesse. Xander brought both wedding rings held tight in his fist and, with a solemn expression, handed the rings over at the appropriate time. And thus Jake and I were married.

The party that followed at the barn was much like you might expect, full of joy and flowing with beer. Toward the middle of the party, Jake and I slipped away for a quiet, two-night honeymoon at an old pioneer cabin just south of Raven Rock, which was just north of Snow Creek Ranch.

And when I say old, I mean on the outside, which was warped plank wood, bleached by the sun, and a sagging metal roof—probably for effect. On the inside, it was clean and cool, and had been done up with a coffeemaker, a stocked fridge, a mini-dishwasher, a bed with a thousand pillows, and outside there was a covered porch, and a hot tub, and the most amazing view of miles of blue sky and, most beautiful, a star-filled sky at night.

We made love in the bed, drifting off afterwards, dozing in the peace and quiet. Then we went outside and made love on the hard wooden planks next to the hot tub, with towels beneath our knees, and said again our vows to each other in whispered words and tender touches. Watching over Jake as he fell asleep in my arms was true bliss.