Tyler’s call for help came sometime later that night, after Logan finished work for the day and settled onto the couch in the cabin, eating on his dinner. “Hello, this is Logan,” he picked it up on the third ring.
“Your damn truck won’t start. I tried your magic touches, and talked nice to it, but all it did was give me the silent treatment. Now it all smells of gas. Piece of crap. Come get me!”
“Well hello there, sunshine,” Logan answered back. “I thought the drinks were supposed to help you get into a better mood.”
“I was doing just fine until I came out to drive home. Come get me at the Rhino, I’ll be inside.” With that, Tyler hung up his phone.
Damn, what an ass! Logan thought. This guy has a short fuse, and he’s a real pain in the ass most of the time. He took his mostly finished dinner into the kitchen, made sure his dog was fine, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door to go get Tyler.
The ride into town was short, only six miles. He found his way downtown, to The Rhino, the bar where Tyler said he was drinking. A good local bar, popular on weekends, quieter on the weekdays, Logan occasionally went there for drinks as well. He parked next to Old Blue and headed inside to track down Tyler.
Tyler was in a completely different state of being when compared to the phone call earlier. The bartender said Tyler had come back in and ordered a couple of shots of whiskey, and then a couple more. When Logan got to him, he was working his way through a beer, head down, looking a lot quieter, and not angry at all.
“I’m sorry,” Tyler said as he recognized Logan. “I was an ass on the phone. I’ve been an ass all day. To you, to my dad. Everyone thinks I am an ass.”
“I don’t think you’re an ass. I think you’re drunk. Apology accepted.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
“At least you’re a quiet, sleepy drunk. So much better than a belligerent drunk.” Logan flagged down the bartender and asked for Tyler’s tab. He helped Tyler sign the bill, pocketed his credit card, and turned him in the direction of the front door.
Logan stuck Tyler into the passenger seat of his truck, checked to make sure Old Blue was locked up for the night, and then got into the driver’s seat to drive them home. The ride was quiet. Tyler had obviously been hitting it hard before Logan got to the bar, his head was hanging low and he was ready for bed.
As they got to the ranch, Tyler was certainly even more drunk than he’d been when they left the bar. Logan had to help him get out of the truck, throwing his arm around his neck to help him walk from the barn to the house. Logan was getting a full appreciation of Tyler’s form and level of fitness as he manhandled him across the lawn. Tyler’s bulging bicep draped across the back of Logan’s neck flexing with each step, and he had an arm around Tyler’s waist and mid-section revealing a super tight set of washboard abs under his t-shirt.
Logan started feeling aroused at the situation just about the time Tyler picked up his head and told Logan to stop. “I can’t go into the house like this. My mom will kill me if she sees me this drunk. I gotta’ stay at your place tonight.”
Whatever Logan was going to say in response was lost, as Tyler heaved over and began puking, all over the grass, all over his shoes and pants, and then all over Logan’s shoes and pants. Oh, fuck this situation! was all Logan could think. At least he didn’t throw up in the truck, that would’ve made Logan super pissed off. Logan held Tyler half up, half bent over, letting him empty all the excess alcohol out from his system.
After Tyler was done, and professing how much better he felt, Logan stood him back up and guided him onto the porch of the cabin. He stopped short of the door, trying to figure out how to best deal with one drunk and one sober guy, both covered in alcohol-infused vomit. He decided to just strip off all the affected clothes and leave them in a big pile on the porch for the night.
Logan quickly had his shoes kicked off, then undid his belt and pants, pulling them off as well. Then, as he was standing on his porch in boxer briefs and a t-shirt, he looped Tyler’s arms around his neck, helped him kick off his shoes, and then undid Tyler’s belt and pants, pushing them down around his legs, while simultaneously trying to hold the drunk Marine upright. Holy fuck! The guy had huge, muscular legs, among other things, nicely packed into a tight fitting pair of black briefs. He finally got Tyler out of his jeans, trying not to think about how close his head and face got to Tyler’s bulging junk as he was helping him step out of his pants, then guided him into the cabin.
They made their first stop at the kitchen sink, where Logan got Tyler a glass of water to rinse out his mouth and a hand towel to clean up. Then, he took the poor drunk guy over to the couch and had him lay down. Logan went to a cabinet at the back of the cabin to grab an extra pillow and a quilt, finding Tyler already fast asleep upon his return. He spread the quilt over the top of Tyler and lifted him up enough to stick the pillow under his head, before going back into the kitchen to grab the garbage can, locating it close to the couch and Tyler’s head.
He looked down at Tyler, already settled into a nice alcohol-induced sleep and sighed heavily. There was no doubt that Logan was attracted to him. He was a nice guy, hot and muscly as hell, and had a fun quick-witted attitude that was enjoyable to be around. Until it wasn’t. Those times when he was frustrated and mad, and ready to tear apart anyone who stood in his way. Those times were harder to handle. How many times would Logan see each of those men in the next eleven days?
Confused and frustrated, Logan brushed his teeth and climbed up the ladder to his sleeping loft, leaving all the challenges and thoughts of crushing on a guest until some other day.