Boone's Cowboy [Rescue for Hire 8] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (13 page)

Boone looked adorable with red spots of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Um, well, you see, it's kind of like this…”

Cade cleared his throat. “It has become a tradition with the members of Rescue for Hire and their partners to get matching tattoos on their ring fingers as a sign of commitment.”

Flynn looked at the room full of men and now noticed that they all had tattooed fingers.

“Tattoos are permanent,” Flynn stated.

“That’s the point,” Treb chimed in.

Flynn studied Boone’s beautiful, hope-filled, velvety-brown eyes.

“So, pretty baby, after I get out of here, are you going to drive me to the shop for matching commitment tattoos?” he asked.

“It has to be on the finger,” little Pip put in.

“On the finger,” Flynn agreed.

“I’d love to,” Boone said.

“I love you,” Flynn said.

Boone’s gaze never wavered as he leaned forward until their heads were only inches apart. “I love you, too,” Boone whispered.

Their lips met in the sweetest kiss of Flynn’s life.

* * * *

Three weeks later, Boone did drive Flynn to the tattoo shop. Their tattoos consisted of a horseshoe on the top of their fingers with a thick black band around the finger, connecting the sides.

In bed later, Flynn watched his pretty baby ride his cock. The man’s sensuous moves reminded Flynn of the first time he’d seen Boone on the dance floor.

Boone’s hips bumped and ground down as he impaled himself on Flynn’s bare cock. While Flynn was in the hospital, they’d had the tests done. The days of condoms were over.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he told Boone.

Sweat coated Boone’s dark skin, making it shine. Brown eyes hazy with lust looked down at him as tiny muscles gripped Flynn’s cock, squeezing it tight.

“Flynn,” Boone groaned out before he lost his battle and cum poured out onto Flynn’s belly.

His orgasm wasn’t far behind, and he surged up into Boone’s still-quivering hole, coating it with his cum.

Flynn collapsed back onto the bed, trying to keep his breathing shallow. He’d found healing ribs and a punctured lung were a bitch.

Boone lay beside him, the man always careful of Flynn’s ribs and broken leg. Flynn ran his hand over the smooth, tan skin of Boone’s shoulder. Boone opened his eyes and smiled at Flynn.

Flynn’s first thought was that trouble always knocked on their door when mischief danced in Boone’s eyes like it currently did.

He was right when Boone said, “Hey, cowboy, are you up for a ride tomorrow?”

“Is it a long drive?” he asked cautiously.

“About ten minutes,” Boone answered.

For some reason, a picture of a black and white puppy popped into Flynn's brain. By the look of pure joy and expectation on Boone’s face, Flynn feared he was right.

“Have you picked her out yet?” he asked in defeat.

Boone laughed with delight, and Flynn fell in love all over again. “She’s so beautiful, Flynn,” Boone exclaimed. “She has this white face and shiny black coat. I already named her Daisy and…”

* * * *

Tony walked out of the hospital holding Shane’s hand. It had been a couple of weeks since his last radiation treatment, but the side effects still lingered. His chest felt as if it had a permanent case of severe sunburn. He was so tired he was sure he could sleep for a week. And a slightly sick feeling in his stomach always seemed to be hovering over him.

And yet he had never been so happy in his life as he was right now.

Looking up at Shane, he smiled in triumph. “We did it.”

Shane laughed. “That we did, honey.”

“The doctor said that there was no sign of cancer,” Tony persisted.

“Yes he did. It was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard,” Shane said.

“One of the sweetest?” Tony snorted. “I’d say it was the best.”

“No, when you tell me you love me. Now that’s the sweetest,” Shane said.

Tony stopped and hugged Shane tight. This was his rock, his love, the one who never hesitated to show his love for Tony to the world.

“Shane Miller, I love you. I will always love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

* * * *

Boone took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and the fading light. They had finished supper and now it was time to usher the chickens back into their brand-new chicken coop. In the morning Boone and Daisy would let them out again to roam around the farmyard.

“I am still trying to figure out how you talked me into chickens,” Flynn said, pulling Boone closer by their linked hands.

Boone lifted his lips and Flynn gave him the quick kiss he was asking for. “Well, Daisy needed something small to practice her herding skills on and the barn cats refused to cooperate,” Boone pointed out. “And you don’t seem to mind the sweets the grannies make out of the eggs.”

Boone had first met the grannies at Jack and Brian’s house. At the time they were making chocolate chip cookies while helping Jack and Brian take care of their twin toddlers and twin baby girls. Boone later found out they had adopted the entire Rescue for Hire team members and their families. Those women kept an eagle eye on them all.

Soon every week fresh pies and cinnamon rolls arrived on the farm. In return Flynn and Boone kept the lovely ladies’ homes in good repair. And now the grannies had as many fresh eggs as they wanted.

In front of them, the black-and-white puppy tripped over her own feet in her serious pursuit of rounding up a couple of fat hens.

Warmth flushed through Boone at Flynn’s belly laugh. For the last three months his cowboy had struggled to heal his ribs and leg. Flynn still experienced dull pain, but he no longer needed the hated crutches. Every day Flynn spent more time working outside and the fine lines of pain around his eyes were fading.

“I think it will be a few more weeks before Daisy gets the hang of herding those chickens,” Flynn commented and chuckled again.

“Hey, before long you’re going to wonder how you managed without her,” Boone predicted.

Flynn pulled Boone closer and dropped a kiss on the corner of Boone’s mouth. “I already know I can’t live without you, pretty baby.”

Boone turned to Flynn and looped his arms around Flynn’s neck. Looking up into his cowboy’s handsome face, Boone said, “That’s a good thing because I won’t live without you.”

Flynn’s firm lips covered Boone’s. He opened and let Flynn in, falling under his cowboy’s spell.

A tiny whimper interrupted the moment, and there was a tug on the leg of his jeans. Boone looked down and his laughter joined Flynn’s. Daisy sat at his feet looking up at him with sweet brown eyes and her white tipped tail wagged so hard her little body almost tipped over.

“I think someone is jealous,” Boone said.

Flynn scooped Daisy up with one arm and pulled Boone close with the other. “Well, she better get used to it. I plan on spending the rest of our lives with you in my arms.”

The room was quiet. Sometimes Spencer Ryland turned on the television and endured the pain just to have some noise breaking up the silence. Who knew that when a person listened to a show or music they automatically moved their eyes? Spencer wanted to break down and cry, but it was too gross. What Leonel Heartland had done to him was unforgivable. Kidnapping Spencer and a fellow police officer had been bad enough. When Heartland had taken Spencer’s eye with his vicious knife, he might as well have taken Spencer’s life.

Heartland had also damaged Spencer’s other eye, but after two hours of surgery the doctors managed to save it. Now Spencer was in agony. Every time he moved his supposedly good eye, the raw exposed muscles and nerves where his other eye used to be also moved, causing
pain,
unlike anything Spencer had ever felt. The doctors thought by covering both eyes it would help keep the pain to a minimum, but it didn’t.

When Heartland had tried to escape
during
his
arrest,
a spare bullet had plowed into Spencer’s abdomen. It had taken the surgeons three hours to put his insides back together. For two
weeks,
Spencer lay in the hospital bed and hoped, prayed, and wished he could die. The doctors took the tube out of Spencer’s
stomach,
and he thought things would get better.

The next morning Spencer started bleeding internally and was rushed back to surgery. Infection set in and it took another three weeks for him to heal enough for the doctors to remove a tube from each side of his abdomen.

Every couple of
days,
Craig Collin’s called him. Craig was the other deputy
kidnaped
with Spencer. Because Spencer was alone in the
world,
those calls were all he had to look
forward to
. It was during one of their first conversations that Spencer learned he was at a university hospital hours away from Granite County. They had flown him down there to save his good eye, kidney, bladder, and intestines. Spencer wished they had let him die.

Spencer’s body froze. Carefully he listened and ignored the pain when his eyes automatically tried to scan the room. There it was again, the whisper of cloth on cloth. Now that he was focusing he could hear someone breathing.

“Who’s there?” he asked.
For a moment Spencer didn’t recognize that the hoarse voice was his, he hadn’t used it in so long.

“It’s about time you figured out I was here.”

THE END

AUTHORBELLANN.BLOGSPOT.COM

Bellann Summer lives in the middle of nowhere with her husband and children surrounded by lakes and woods. In the summer Bellann enjoys fishing, camping, gardening, and growing flowers. Autumn is spent out in the woods exploring the beautiful colors and nature at its finest. In the winter there is ice fishing, snowmobiling, and sitting in front of the wood fireplace. She has always loved to read and any free time is spent with a book in her hand. When major life changes occurred, she decided to try writing what she liked to read. And it worked.

For all titles by Bellann Summer, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/bellann-summer

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com