Calvin Hamilton reluctantly returns to his home town of Parrish Creek, Texas, to sell his parents' house. Finding the place in need of repair he hires John "Brock" Brockwell to renovate the house before putting it on the market. Brock bares a passing resemblance to Gary Cooper, especially as he often wears western clothing. Calvin has always had a weakness for cowboys.
Time has reversed the two men's fortunes. In high school Brock was the big man on campus, his popularity allowing him to hide his true nature. Calvin was a nerd, bullied by most of the jocks for being perceived as gay. Now Calvin is a successful New York advertising executive, and Brock is a divorced father with a teenage son who faces financial ruin, unable to pay his late father's hospital bills.
Can Calvin put past bitterness behind him and help the cowboy with whom he is rapidly falling in love? Will the deeply closeted Brock be able to admit he has feelings for Calvin? Or will pride, fear, distance, and the past prevent them from building a future together?
Calvin didn't answer his door when Brock knocked. Surprised, Brock went round back and peered through the window of the garage. KITT was there. The sliding glass doors to the bedroom were close by so Brock thought he'd take a look to see if Calvin was still asleep. The strong sun reflecting off the glass made it difficult for him to see much of the room. Using his hands to shield his face, he leaned in close.
"Do you make a habit of peeping in folks' bedroom windows?" Calvin said from just behind him.
Brock jumped and spun around, surprised and more than a little embarrassed at being caught. Calvin had obviously been out for a run, his closely-cropped dark brown hair was plastered to his scalp with sweat. His white wife-beater had a damp patch running from mid chest to the hem, below which Brock could see a pair of strong legs encased in blue nylon running shorts.
Brock said the first thing that came into his head. "You look hot."
Calvin gave Brock a slow appraising look, from the tips of his black cowboy boots, up his legs, resting for a moment on his silver belt buckle, then further up until their eyes met.
"And you're looking particularly sexy this morning, too, Gary Cooper. Black really suits you."
Brock felt his face flush. Darn it, why did the guy always best him?
"Have you had breakfast yet?" Calvin asked, confusing Brock.
He remembered the small slice of cold pizza. "Uh, not exactly, why?"
"Because after my shower, I planned on making breakfast, and thought you could join me."
Brock wasn't sure if Calvin was referring only to breakfast. "Thank you, that'd be mighty neighborly of you." Brock tipped his hat.
* * * *
Inside, Calvin waved at the coffee maker. "Help yourself. There's sweetener and non-dairy creamer in the canisters if you need them. I'll be back in a minute."
"Okay, thanks." Spying Calvin's laptop computer on the kitchen table, Brock asked if he could use it for a few minutes.
"Sure, no problem. Hang on, I'll just log you in."
Calvin stood rather close as he waited for the computer to boot up. Brock could smell the man's sweat; it was clean, masculine, and he found his dick hardening. He quickly sat down, which put his nose level with Calvin's right arm pit. Brock resisted the temptation to take a deep sniff.
After tapping a few keys, Calvin announced, "There you go." He twisted the machine to face Brock.
"Thanks. Appreciate it."
"What do you want to look at? Cowboy porno?"
"Yep. But I'll be sure to bookmark the best sites for you to drool over later." Brock looked up and smiled, pleased that he'd at last got one over on Calvin.
However, without batting an eye, the man moved behind Brock's chair and put his strong sweaty arms around Brock's shoulders. Bending, Calvin whispered in Brock's right ear, "Why would I need pictures on a screen when I've got a real-life cowboy right here?"
Calvin's tongue snaked out and licked Brock's ear, causing Brock to shudder. Calvin then stood up, removed his arms from around Brock and sauntered out of the kitchen.
"Back soon, sexy."
"Fuck!" Brock said to the empty doorway through which Calvin had just passed.
Pushing down on his painful erection, wishing he'd chosen a pair of more forgiving jeans, Brock stared at the laptop and tried to concentrate on spackling, grout and exterior paint.
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