"Oh." Harland grew quiet for a moment before he said, "I'm sorry. I could have sworn you were...never mind."

"Gay?" Dresden asked as his smile grew wider. There were a lot of men who assumed that just because he had a child he was straight.

"Well, yeah. But it's no big deal if you aren't. I like talking to you."

"I am. I had Markey through a surrogate." He wasn't sure why he felt the need to explain himself. Maybe it was the fact that Dresden was downright lonely and loved having someone to talk to. Or it could be that he really liked Harland and wanted the air clear between them.

Although he'd been nervous about calling Harland, Dresden found it easy to talk to the guy.

"Really? Doesn't the mother want her son?"

"It was arranged," Dresden explained. "I went through an adoption agency."

"They have things like that? I mean, places where you can go and knock a girl up?"

Dresden laughed at the confusion in Harland's tone. "I didn't have sex with her. Markey's mother was artificially inseminated with my sperm."

"Sounds too clinical." Harland clucked his tongue. "Are you sure she isn't going to come after you for the baby?"

"No. We signed a contract. She does this for a living." Dresden moved from the table and took a seat on the couch, checking to make sure Markey wasn't overheated. If it got too hot, his son would have an asthma attack. It had happened once already since Dresden had come to live with his uncle a month ago.

"He's a cute kid," Harland said. "He has your eyes and hair."

"Thanks." Dresden settled back, rubbing his hand over his son's leg. His son was still asleep and would be for the rest of the night. "So, what do you do for a living?"

"Knock up horses and serve drinks."

Dresden frowned. "I hope not all at once."

The deep chuckle that came over the line had Dresden grinning from ear to ear. He liked that sound. It was low, melodic, and made him want to talk all night. He felt a fluttering in his stomach as he bit his lower lip.

"I hope not either, but some nights I wonder. I breed horses and am part owner of the bar in town."

Dresden remembered a time when his life was that exciting. He'd owned his own gallery and had sold paintings to some very rich collectors. But one fateful night had changed it all.

"You should bring Markey to the ranch sometime. I have a horse that is gentle enough for him to ride."

Dresden wanted to say yes. He would love for his son to experience something like that. But he knew he couldn't. Stork kept a close eye on him. And besides, he couldn't get enough time off from the store. Stork made sure Dresden worked to cover not only his keep, but Markey's daycare expense.

"Maybe."

The sound of Stork shouting outside the trailer had Dresden continually darting a gaze at the door. His chest tightened as he swallowed. If his uncle knew who he was talking to, there would be hell to pay. "I gotta go. It was nice talking to you, Harland." Dresden hung up before the cowboy had a chance to reply.

No sooner had he shoved his phone under his leg, than Stork walked in. Dresden curled up on the sofa, closing his eyes as he imagined what it would be like to belong to someone as sweet as Harland Macy.

A week later, Dresden was in the Piggly Wiggly grabbing some things on the list Stork had given him when he spotted Harland. The fluttering in his stomach returned as his pulse began to race. The urge to go over to the cowboy and talk nearly propelled him forward, but Dresden hesitated.

The problem was, Stork was waiting out in the parking lot. Which meant if Stork had seen Harland come in, then Dresden's uncle would be in here soon.

Harland spotted him and began to walk down the aisle. Dresden was rooted to the spot. His eyes snapped around to make sure Stork wasn't anywhere near. He had to be cautious.

"If it isn't my little bakery," Harland said as he approached. "And he has his little donut with him."

Markey's blond little brows furrowed before he asked, "Can I have a donut?"

Of course, his son hadn't said that so clearly, but Dresden understood him. "No snacks before dinner." Dresden watched as Markey crossed his arms over his chest and took a seat on the bottom shelf of the cereal aisle, pouting.

"Aw, give him a donut," Harland said.

Markey grinned from ear to ear.

Dresden rolled his eyes. "You aren't around kids much, are you?"

"Do my friends count?" Harland wiggled his eyebrows. But it was his charming grin that was winning Dresden over. There was just something about this cowboy. It didn't help that he had a pirate smile and an appeal that was starting to affect Dresden in ways that it shouldn't.

Dresden chuckled. "Your friends don't count if they can't be classified as toddlers."

"Then they do count." Harland squatted and waved for Markey to come to him. Dresden stood there and watched as the cowboy said something he couldn't hear and then Markey was smiling, nodding his head.

"What did you say to him?"

"I told him that Uncle Harland would buy him a donut if he ate his entire dinner." Harland actually looked proud of his small accomplishment. Unfortunately, it was short lived. Dresden picked his son up and put him in the shopping cart. "I hate to tell you this, Harland. But he would have promised to scrub toilets if you offered him the donut."

"Dork," Markey chirped. Dresden's insides froze. His son couldn't pronounce Stork's name. And although he inwardly laughed at what Markey had called his uncle, he was cringing at the hell he was about to pay.

"Stork." Harland nodded toward the tall figure standing at the end of the aisle. His uncle was staring daggers at Harland. Dresden wished a hole would open up so he could fall into it. He just prayed that Stork didn't cause a scene in the store.

"Bout done?" he asked Dresden, ignoring Harland completely. The deep scowl on Stork's face said that Dresden was in for a long night. He hoped his uncle didn't act like an ass in front of Markey, but that was wishful thinking. Already Stork had smacked the crap out of Dresden with his son sitting on the couch. It had happened two days ago when Dresden asked his uncle to stop smoking in the trailer.

"I have to get a few more things." Dresden quickly wheeled the cart away, leaving Harland behind. For a second, he thought his uncle would follow him. To his relief, he watched Stork walk out of the store.

It hurt his heart to tell Markey no when his son asked for a small toy that was hanging on a clip strip. The toy was only two dollars, but Dresden was shopping with Stork's money and his uncle wouldn't be happy if he bought anything that wasn't on the list.

"Next time." Dresden ruffled Markey's hair as he checked out and loaded the bags in his cart. When he exited the store, he spotted Harland's truck. He could see the cowboy sitting behind the wheel, watching him. The man held up his hand and made the universal sign that said he wanted Dresden to call him.

Dresden gave an imperceptible nod before loading the back of Stork's truck and then strapping himself and his son in. It took everything in Dresden not to look at Harland as they drove from the parking lot.

"You're bound and determined to embarrass me, aren't you?" Stork was driving a little too fast for Dresden's comfort. The man was barely paying attention to the road as he dug around for something. To Dresden's horror, Stork pulled a can of beer from under his seat and popped the tab before taking a long swallow.

"Should you be drinking and driving?" Dresden asked.

The man gave him a look that should have killed Dresden where he sat. "Mind your own damn business. What you should be worried about is what I'll do to you if anyone finds out I have a fairy for a nephew."

Dresden stared back at his son who was watching the scenery out of the window. Come hell or high water, Dresden was going to get out from under Stork's thumb. He didn't care what he had to do.

But for now, Markey needed a place to lay his head. Dresden had nowhere to go and he wasn't about to live on the streets with a two-year-old asthmatic child. He was just going to have to tough this out until he could secure better living arrangements.

Chapter Three.

"I don't like it," Harland said to Jed as he closed the gate to the corral. "It's almost like he's too terrified to even think for himself."

It had been bugging Harland for days that he hadn't heard from Dresden. Since first laying eyes on the man over ten days ago, the slim little clerk was all he could think about. The lack of communication was driving not only him, but his bear insane.

"Then go see him," Jed said as he walked with Harland toward the two-story Victorian home they owned together with Bryson and Clayton. "It's odd though. I've known Stork a long time and he's always been a good guy."

Harland was starting to suspect that Stork's good-natured smile was a front. There was more going on with the guy than met the eye. But the last thing Harland wanted to do was drive a wedge between himself and Dresden. What if he was reading into this wrong and made an enemy out of the clerk?

When he reached the mudroom, Harland made a decision. He was going to stop by the trailer park where Stork lived and take a peek. It couldn't hurt, and the impromptu visit would help ease his mind.

"Whatever happens, you know we have your back." Jed slapped Harland on the shoulder. "Whether Dresden is your mate or not, we've got plenty of room if he needs help."

Although Harland owned one fourth of the ranch, it was good to know his friends were on his side. It meant the world to him.

"I hear you might be knocking up some poor sap," Clayton said as he came through the door, mock punching Harland in the arm. "Who's the unlucky guy?"

Harland grunted before he smacked Clayton on the back of his head. "Your daddy, son."

"You wish you were lucky enough to catch a handsome man like my father." Clayton winked at him. "That Italian dick is addictive."

"You're hopeless." Harland left Clayton laughing in the living room as he went upstairs to shower. He wanted to be fresh and clean when he stalked Dresden. Being clean shaven wouldn't hurt either.

He smoothed his hand down his shirt, taking a good look at himself in the mirror. Harland didn't plan on running into Dresden, but just in case, he had to look his best.

After running a brush over his hair, Harland tossed his hat on his head, ready to take on the world-or at least a small portion of it.

Clayton gave a low whistle when Harland came down the steps. "Boy, you clean up good."

"That's what your daddy said last night."

The man was good natured, grinning from ear to ear. "I'll be sure to tell my ma that."

Harland froze. Mrs. Calabria would wring Harland's neck if she knew he had been talking dirty like that. He would never be able to face the sweet woman again. "You wouldn't."

Clayton didn't waste one second reaching for his phone. Harland tackled the man, trying to knock the cell phone out of the bear shifter's hand. They tumbled over the couch, hit the floor, and knocked over a bin that held cattle magazines.

The entire time, Clayton was laughing. "Okay, I give."

Harland eyed the man, refusing to let him up. "Swear you won't call her." Because if Mrs. Calabria got word of Harland's filthy mouth, then Harland's mother would hear about it next.

And Harland would rather face a firing squad than Renee Macy. Even Harland's father had feared the woman when the man was alive.

"What's in it for me?" Clayton asked, keeping the phone just out of reach. "You were the one talkin' smack about my daddy."

"I won't beat you with a soap sock in your sleep." Harland reared back and then got to his feet, helping Clayton up before straightening the magazine bin.

"You drive a hard bargain, Hardy har-har."

Harland winced at the nickname his friends sometimes called him. He hated it, but after twenty-five years of hearing the damn name, he was used to it. Hopefully no one told Dresden.

"Call your mother and I'll feed you to the pigs," Harland warned.

"We don't have any pigs," Clayton countered.

"Then I'll buy some just for your demise." Harland headed outside and climbed into his truck.

As Harland drove through town, he gazed out of his window at the barbershop where two older gentlemen were sitting outside playing checkers. There was an antique shop next door and a floral shop next to that.

People walked the streets, some pushing strollers, others stopping to chat with someone they knew. Harland waved at a few people as he drove by. He loved this town. He and his friends couldn't have picked a better place to live.

The street posts held decorative plants and the town square was thriving with families who were out enjoying the day. Harland passed the sheriff's station and the post office. Mr. McCregee, the postman, waved at Harland before walking toward his mail truck.

It took him ten minutes to make it to the trailer park, which was situated on the outskirts of town. This was not a place Harland would ever willingly live. Not that he had a thing against trailer parks. Just this one. It seemed to be a requirement that you had to be one trashy-ass person to live in Lamont's Trailer Heaven.

No, that wasn't true. A lot of the residents consisted of the elderly. It was the younger generation who were ruining it for everyone. Harland had a few friends out this way and they were pretty decent folk. There weren't too many people Harland didn't get along with.

Everyone knew that he and his three best friends were gay and didn't bat an eye. It was the bottom barrel feeders in this park who were always shouting homophobic slurs. He hated when people used those references to describe something.

As he drove through the maze, Harland spotted little kids that should be in bed by now. They were running around like a pack of wolves, no adults in sight.

Oh, wait a minute. Yes there was. The adults were over by Buck Buchannan's trailer, drinking like fish and listening to loud, eardrum-piercing rock music. Most of the women were barely dressed and Harland could only shake his head when he spotted a few people off to the side, shoving something up their noses.

Again, it was the younger generation who were bringing this park down.

There were a few young guys with backward baseball caps on, sagging jeans that showed off their damn underwear, and all of them-honestly-were wearing white wifebeaters.

Harland didn't scent one shifter among them. But then again, with the smell of drugs floating all around him, it was hard to tell. The place reeked of skunk.

Before he reached Stork's trailer, Harland pulled over on the side of the small road that wound through the park and cut his lights. Stork's place was bathed in darkness except for a single light that shone through a side window.

After about ten minutes of observing the trailer, Harland saw Stork stumble out, barely able to stand up straight. The man leaned against the side of his home, spitting-was that blood? Harland sat up straighter.

He waited until Stork weaved his way to Buck's before getting out and sneaking to the door. Harland didn't bother to knock. He walked right in. Dresden was standing at the kitchen sink, an ice pack over his eye.

"What's going on, Dresden?"

The man jumped, dropping the ice pack as he held his hand over his heart. "What are you doing here, Harland? Stork will kill me if he finds you anywhere near me."

Harland growled when he heard a shotgun blast, followed by loud whooping. But that growl was nothing compared to the red-hot anger that took hold of him when he saw the bruises on the side of Dresden's face. Harland gently grabbed the man's chin, tilting the human's head to the side. "Stork do this?"