Cain Ranch Read online

  Micah was taking a shower, a cold shower. He was extremely disturbed by how attractive he found Princeton... the rich boy... the boss. His boss. Micah was hot for his incredibly beautiful, like seriously he could be a model beautiful, rich, infuriating, spoiled, lazy, drunk... boss. It was too much. But Micah also wasn' t the type to spend longer than ten minutes in the bathroom ever, so his long shower was unusual.

  Once he was done, he got dressed again, combed his hair, sat on his perfectly made bed for a minute. The cowboy was looking at a really shitty flip phone he kept hidden in a drawer when he smelled bacon. Damn. Putting the phone away, Micah came downstairs. Hanging his head sheepishly, he went back to the kitchen island where he set down his coffee. "Breakfast for dinner?" he asked, boyish.

  Princeton looked up when he heard Micah's voice. Cha-ching. Yes. Breakfast for dinner worked to drag him down the stairs to talk to him. Prince was currently finishing the bacon and starting eggs. "What kind of eggs?" He smiled softly, apologetically, actually. "I'm sorry, I... didn't know drinking bothered you... like that."

  Bacon always works. "Over-easy. I can—" Micah cut off, stepping back and letting Prince handle it. As he apologized, he scrubbed the back of his neck. "S'ok. I sometimes forget people drink normally."

  Prince flushed when Micah came to help him, "Yeah... my parents, my mother, likes to have a glass just about every afternoon." He shrugged. "I mean, I did go to college. And I have soooo been trashed. But... I don't really do that anymore." Only because he's now in the country.

  "Mm," was all Micah had to say to his parents drinking and Prince getting 'wasted' in college. Rich people. "I've, uh, been drunk a couple times. Wasn't a lot of fun, really. I don't even drink when I go into Nashville." Then it was the cowboy's turn to blush, thinking of everything else he did besides drinking in Nashville.

  Prince finished the eggs and slid them into a plate with long strips of bacon and grits. Then he fixed his own plate with a few strips of bacon (reluctantly but bacon) and a little bit of grits and nothing more. He just didn't even comment, he knew what he did when he got drunk— which was make out with people he was secretly crushing on, or try. "Ah," he said softly. "We should change the subject."

  "Yes'sir," Micah eagerly agreed to change the subject. "Thanks," he murmured as he grabbed his plate, taking it and his coffee to the kitchen table. Sitting down, Micah waited for Prince to sit before he started eating.

  Prince settled across from him eventually after fussing with the left over extras and this and that. For whatever reason he was just reluctant to sit right across from Micah - no distraction, no nothing to interrupt him and that was scary. They'd become really good at finding distractions rather than interact directly with each other. Micah had stormed off, bickering about the drinking on a Thursday, Prince had pushed him further up the stairs, but now he was back down and they were sharing an awkward apology meal. He ate slowly, picking at the food that he knew was good just because... well, he'd watched his mother do it for years and he didn't know what else to do.

  Eventually he did look at Micah, swampy green eyes going from his food to the cowboy across from him, trailing up from his rough calloused fingers up his arm, swollen with muscles that came from hard work and not the gym, and then up to his shoulders and last his face. He tried to work out a smile, but he was taken by how naturally beautiful Micah was. Those piercing blue eyes, and just the worldly but youthful features on his face. When he realized he was staring... staring and analyzing, he looked back down and picked at his food more.

  Micah fussed with his food while Prince fussed with the leftovers, getting up to make toast. That needed butter, which ate up a couple more seconds. By the time Prince sat down across from him, the cowboy was ready to eat, which he'd been too gentelmanly to do without Prince. He was grateful for the distractions, too, as the rich boy's effortless beauty took his breath away sometimes. He really did look like a model, posing gracefully in the rustic ranch house, like a Christmas ad. Hands soft from absolutely no work at all, arms muscled but leanly, a graceful neck, and that perfectly sculpted face. Micah wanted to devour him, and yes, that was mighty distracting. It was tough enough being a gay cowboy, but now he was lusting after his boss? His rich, infuriating, spoiled, beautiful, kissable boss. But there they were, eating together.

  The cowboy eat steadily but neatly, letting the golden yolk spill over his white egg, cutting it up, then sopping with the toast. He paused, corner of toast held above his plate, shy blue eyes flicking up at him. "Sorry I ain't much of a talker." Then Micah went back to eating.

  "It's okay... me neither, really." Prince flushed when Micah spoke and then focused on his grits. he didn't actually even like grits but he was eating them because breakfast for dinner. He nibbled his bacon to keep from having to force conversation. "I am going to finish with the finances tonight... the mail that never got opened. You should, um, think about what kind of stuff you feel comfortable doing... Rodeo wise," he tried to explain. "And, um, just let me know."

  Of course Micah loved grits. Because cowboy. He ate his happily, looking up at him every once in a while. He drank milk instead of coffee, licking the traces from his upper lip. "Oh. All right. I can sit down here with you... and explain stuff. If need be." He didn't apologize for not opening the mail, of course, but he'd be there to discuss it.

  Micah went back to eating for a bit, thinking about the rodeo. He did need to figure it out because he had to practice. "Well. Nacoma and I can do calf roping pretty well, and we'll see what sort of races they got. I can, uh, also do steer wrestlin, which is a little harder. But I'd have to brush up on that." He paused for another slow sip of milk, considering his next words. "Would you be going with me to the rodeo? I'd be busy at the events, but there's other ranch owners there who you could talk to..."

  Prince wasn't asking him to apologize. "Calf roping... and... steer wrestling?" He watched Micah, a little confused by what those things were, frankly. Neither of them really made sense. "Um. So... what do you do during those events?"

  Micah said the events like they made complete sense, and he blinked as the rich boy asked for more. "Oh. Well. Calf roping is... well. There's a calf let loose in the arena, and you have to throw a rope around it while ridin a horse. Then you jump off the horse and tie his feet up. And they score you on how long it takes." Satisfied with that explanation, the cowboy nodded, taking a second to work out the second one. "Steer wrestlin starts out the same, only it's a grown cow—a steer—that gets let loose. You take off after him, and then you... well, you jump off your horse, grab his horns, and wrestle him to the ground. Oh, and you gotta flip him over."

  Prince stared at him, rather blankly. "I'm sorry... I don't think I understand these games. I will just have to see them."

  Micah frowned. "They ain't games. You—" He stopped himself, mouth compressing, nostrils flaring as he let out a frustrated breath. "Just watch. Come to the rodeo and watch me do it. Then you'll see." He took a couple bites, washed them down with milk, finishing the glass. "You know what? Google it. Watch it on YouTubes or what-have-you. Just do that."

  "I was going to watch you, you know... when you do this steer wrestling thing. I was going to come and sit and watch."

  Micah smiled before he could stop himself. "Oh. Well. Good." Embarrassed, he stood up, taking his plate and glass to the sink.

  "But I guess I can Google it instead. If you don't want the young naive rich kid to watch you and your friends wrestle cows."

  Leaning the heels of his hands on the counter, Micah stopped after washing his dishes. As Prince spoke, he grimaced, still turned around where the rich boy couldn't see. "They're not my—no. I meant before. The rodeo. So you know what's happening. That's all."

  "I don't think all of the Youtube videos on the internet will adequately prepare me. So it'll just be a fun surprise." He offered, standing to take his plate to the sink, too. "I'm... not sure, but I think the steer wrestling sounds kind of hot."

  Fun... Surpr
ise. This rich boy... The cowboy smirked. Micah's spine went straight as Prince said it was hot, his eyes flying wide. "It's... dangerous?" Micah wanted to smack himself immediately.

  "Dangerous usually means hot," Prince commented dryly.

  Micah blinked, red-faced. "Oh. Yeah. I don't... do it for that. But thanks?" Flustered, the cowboy turned toward the door. "I should go... put up the horses."

  When Micah blushed, Prince blushed. He couldn't quite believe he said that. Maybe he was a little drunker than he thought he was. "Oh... s-sorry. I'll... I'll come with you." He hastily put the dishes in the sink and then moved after Micah.

  "I...what? No it's fine... wait, what?" Micah was so flustered. "You're coming... okay." He pulled on his boots and picked his hat off the hook. "It's just the boarder horses I gotta put up. I let em out to get exercise, but they need to be in the barn at night. They's all in the small pasture, so I was just gonna walk em in." Micah explained as they walked out toward the barn. Prince probably didn't care but he felt the need to talk.

  Prince pulled on his only pair of sneakers (not really meant for tramping through the pastures but whatever), and rushed after Micah. "Oh." He nodded simply. Listening but he didn't know what Micah was really talking about. He cared, but he just didn't know anything about caring for animals and he didn't want Micah to have to explain more things just because he was naive and young.

  Princeton needed some boots. Not fancy ones, just boots. For tramping in the pastures. Micah ignored the sneakers, though, and he wasn't upset about having to explain. He actually kind of liked it, since he'd just done all this stuff since he was a kid. Explaining it to someone else was nice. "Sorry to bore ya," he commented on his own explanation. "I just thought you should know a little more about how things run."

  "Um, cool." He offered and let the cowboy walk ahead of him because he wanted to steal another private moment. He watched Micah walk ahead, particularly watching his ass in his cowboy jeans. Supposedly cowboys did everything for a reason... so what exactly was the purpose of the really tight jeans? Prince wet his lips. "How.. often.. are people really injured in this rodeo thing?"

  Those jeans were tight, but not really for any reason. Well... They needed to be tight so they didn't catch on anything and tear? Micah knew that they did good things for his ass, though. (He'd been told.)

  "At the rodeo? Quite a bit. I mean, it's like any other sport, football or something. Probably worse, since you're dealin with big, strong animals who don't know any better."

  "So. Basically it's like... Making big strong animals really angry, tie them up, and see who can do it the fastest?"

  Micah turned to give him a smile at that summing up of the rodeo. "Pretty much. Only sometimes, it's make the big strong animal angry... then get on his back." Chuckling, Micah continued on to the pasture. Passing the barn, he grabbed a lunge whip—-a long stiff whip with tail on the end that he used to tap the horses' back flanks to get them moving.

  "And this is a pastime? People bet on this... And follow it like football?"

  "Uhh... Yeah people bet, but that's not really how it works? Racin and rodeo is different." Micah tilted his head, face screwing up as he tried to figure out how to explain. "People bet on racin, but rodeo's more like NASCAR, where people sponsor cowboys. And we'll have to pay a fee to compete, but then we'll get prize money if I do well." When they got to the fence, Micah paused, kinda sitting on it in another typical cowboy pose as he looked to Prince. "And yeah some people follow it like football. Luckily for us, most of those people have money and love horses." Micah grinned at that.

  "Oh..." He chewed his bottom lip, "Only if you will enjoy it. If you will enjoy this steer catching thing. I don't want you to do it just because of money... Or because I think you should," Prince explained softly. He was being more serious, even if Micah was trying to lighten the mood.

  "Wrestling. Steer. Wrestling." Micah's lips twitched. Oh, how he wanted to kiss him. But no. That was inappropriate. Feeling Prince turn serious, his grin faded to a slight smile, a warm look as he nodded. "I know," he replied softly. "I do enjoy it. The money is nice, sure, and I would be pleased as punch for you to watch me." His blue eyes sparkled at that. "But I really do enjoy it. There's something... almost magical about it. For those six seconds—" That was a really good time, but Princeton didn't know that. "—it's just me, Nacoma, and a steer. It's me against nature. And I win." Shrugging, the cowboy pushed off the fence. "Hang on, lemme do this." Then Micah quickly and efficiently put up the horses before walking back up to Princeton.

  Pleased as punch made him smile. Prince made a note of the 'six' seconds, filing that away to google later and see if that was a good time. When Micah said 'and I win', Prince shivered a little bit and was speechless as Micah moved to get the horses all inside. He watched, vaguely, head spinning.

  It truly was a powerful rush to leap off a moving horse, land on a steer's head, and literally wrestle him onto the ground. That rush was addictive too, and most of the cowboys on the rodeo circuit were definitely affected by that high/low cycle, just like a drug addict. Of course, ask any high-impact athlete and they'd say the same. Micah had gotten a little freaked out by working the rodeo circuit, and that's why he settled down on the ranch. When he got back to Prince, he was smiling slightly, just happy to see the rich boy, despite their little spat earlier.

  "We should... um... places for you to compete," Prince said vaguely, still kind of stunned by how hot Micah was.

  He smirked, quickly looking away to hide the expression. "Oh, there's websites for all the rodeo associations with dates and fee schedules and everything. I'll show ya. I dunno if you made a ranch email or whatever, but you can sign up for newsletters. I been gettin all that stuff in the regular mail, but I guess that'll have to change."

  "Um, really? Snail mail?" He shook his head, "I will make an email and sign up for the rodeo newsletters." Prince started back to the house after being completely useless while Micah put away the horses.

  "What?" Micah blushed even as he protested. "Mr. Whitson... wasn't... really into computers. And I'm not either." Princeton wasn't... okay he was useless, but the cowboy didn't mind. It was enough that Prince was there waiting for him when he was done. That thought made him blush as they walked back to the house. "I don't have a laptop or nothin, so I'd like it if you could write stuff down. On the calendar or something."

  Prince's brow arched. "Okay... I will write things down. But eventually you need to get a smartphone, so I can share an online calendar with you. It's easier."

  Micah waved a hand. "Sure, sure. When we get the money for it. Those things don't work out here anyway."

  Prince shook his head, "Right." He just sighed as they made their way back to the house. "So, um, I guess I'm going to finish up with the bills. In my room. I'll... um... see you tomorrow I guess?"

  Micah ignored the sigh but paused at the question, standing there on the porch with the light fading all around him, blue and gold. "Princeton..." He started to say something, then obviously changed his mind. "Yeah. See ya tomorrow."

  Prince paused when Micah said his name, perhaps praying for him to say something... but then his eyes looked downcast when he didn't. "Right," he said softly. He didn't even know what he wanted Micah to say, let alone be hopeful for it. He shook his head, and then just turned to disappear inside and dash upstairs.

  Micah didn't even know what he wanted to say; that was the problem. So he too went upstairs to his lonely bedroom. He'd read for a bit and fall asleep, early as always.

  Prince was up forever.. thinking about Micah. Thinking about being with Micah. Thinking about everything. Micah was good at not thinking about things, so he didn't think about Prince. His latest Western novel was a decent enough distraction, so he fell asleep quickly.

  The next day, by the time Micah got down for breakfast, Prince had already made a list of potential rodeos to go to. He'd written them by hand, shockingly enough, and the boy had weirdly beautiful handwriting. Hand
writing like he took penmanship in school. It was neatly written cursive, notes to the side and all of that. He signed his name by it for whatever reason. And added. "Oh... P.S. 6 seconds is a really good time for steer 'wrestling'." Naturally when Micah got up for breakfast, Prince wasn't up.

  When he found that note in the morning... Micah thought about Prince like he’d managed not to the night before. Seeing that neat handwriting, he just stood there with one hand over his mouth. His eyes teared up, and then he set it down with a curse, mad at himself for getting emotional over a stupid letter. It was the comment about his steer wrestling that did it. Micah knew he'd looked it up online just because of one of his offhand comments. He had just been so frustrated with the spoiled rich boy, and then he does something so sweet.

  The cowboy ate his breakfast and read over the actual contents of Prince’s note, forcing himself to pay attention to business. Before he left the house, he hunted down some of Mrs. Whitson's floral grocery list paper and wrote him a reply, which read: "I'll do all of these except for the one in Gatlinburg. Had a bad time there last year, judges are crooked. And thanks. With you there, I might beat that time."

  It was some time after that when Prince finally rolled out of bed and trudged his way to the shower. He had a late night because he just couldn’t sleep and subsequently slept later than he normally did and felt like shit on top of it. It was probably the wine, a little bit, too, but he wouldn’t say that because then Micah would never shut up about it. He disappeared in the bathroom and turned on the shower, standing in there and letting the steam clear up his brain and the water wash over his smooth bronzed body. Long shower, then he finally got out and started getting dressed, content to let the heat of the day dry his skin and hair as he started down the steps to the kitchen.

  He smiled when he saw Micah’s note, reading it over and over, chuckling softly at how he instantly declined Gatlinburg. He wouldn’t argue. He actually slipped the note into the pocket of his sweats, and then started floating around the kitchen, trying to decide what he should make for dinner.. and what would make his headache go away.