"Steady there," Bryson said.

Milo was afraid to look up. His back was smashed against the man's burly chest, Bryson's hands on his sides. Milo felt a funny current running through his body, the warmth of Bryson seeping through the shirt Milo was wearing. His breath grew shallow and his mind suddenly lost its ability to form words.

Until he glanced at the box on the floor.

"Oh, no." Milo quickly pushed from the man's body as he stared at the soaking-wet case. "Clayton is going to make me pay for that."

"I scared you, so I'll pay for it," Bryson offered.

"You'd do that for me?"

Bryson shrugged. "It was my fault."

When Milo had dreamt of finally talking to the guy, this wasn't what he'd had in mind. But he couldn't let Bryson pay for his clumsiness.

Bryson reached up and grabbed another case, handing it to Milo. "Take that to Clayton while I clean this up."

He wasn't sure what to say. No one had been this kind to him before. "Thank you." Milo headed toward the door that led back into the bar, his steps feeling lighter.

His conversation with Bryson might not have been what he'd expected, but they had talked nonetheless.

It was a start.

Chapter Two.

Milo still didn't understand his attraction toward a complete stranger. He'd never pursued anyone before, and he was starting to think that maybe Bryson was out of his reach. He cursed under his breath as he set the case on the counter and then grabbed his tray, hurrying back over toward the booths. The crowd had thickened slightly and Milo was glad for the reprieve.

He saw that Angelina had finally shown up for work. Now he would have someone to help distract him from ogling Bryson all evening. But all he could think about was how it had felt to have Bryson's fingers on his body. The moment they'd touched him, tiny shocks had rocked him.

"You look a bit flushed," Angelina said as she tied her half apron on. "Aren't you feeling well?"

"No, no. I'm fine."

She gave him a coy smile. "Then you're still infatuated with Bryson."

"Shhh." Milo grabbed her arm, pulling her further away from the bar. "Not so loud."

"Why don't you just tell him?" She tied back her black hair with a scrunchy. "The worst that could happen is he turns you down."

"You make being rejected sound so simple."

"I've dealt with my fair share of rejection," she said. Milo didn't see how. Angelina was simply beautiful. What straight man in his right mind would turn her down?

Then again, Milo judged beauty by personality, not looks. Angelina was the sweetest woman he'd ever met, which made her gorgeous in his eyes. She was also the sheriff's sister. Maybe that was why men turned her down. Who wanted to deal with her older brother? "Yeah, well, I'm not ready to feel the sting of rejection."

"You got to be willing to risk it if you want to reel in the catch." She winked at him before going behind the bar to retrieve a tray. When Milo glanced Bryson's way, their gazes met and for a long moment, Milo lost track of where he was and what he was doing.

God, he is handsome.

Milo saw a smile twitching at the corner of Bryson's mouth and wondered what was going on inside the man's head. Milo dragged his eyes away as he cleared his throat and smiled at the men and women sitting at one of his booths. "Can I get your orders?"

After jotting everyone's drink order down, Milo took it over to the bar, keeping his distance from Bryson. The man made Milo nervous and his klutziness only worsened around the guy. Keeping distance between them was a smart idea in Milo's opinion.

Apparently Bryson didn't agree. He got up from his stool and walked to where Milo was waiting for his orders to be filled. If he wasn't mistaken, Bryson was nervous. The man cleared his throat a few times as his deep-grey eyes darted around the room before settling on Milo.

"Thanks again for helping me in the storage room," Milo said.

"Not a problem." Bryson scratched the back of his neck, his lips twisted to the side, before he asked, "I was wondering. If you're not doing anything-"

"Stop harassing my waiter." Clayton filled Milo's tray with the drinks. "Unless you're asking him out. In that case, carry on."

Milo lifted the tray from the counter, turned, and then tripped over Bryson's boot. The tray went flying and so did Milo. For the second time today, Bryson caught him, stopping Milo from hitting the floor.

"Damn it!" Clayton shouted.

"Gotcha," Bryson said as he pulled Milo to his feet. "That was my fault, Clayton." Bryson turned toward the owner. "You know my feet are too damn big. They got in the way."

Clayton grunted. "Just clean the mess up while I remake that order."

Milo bit back a chuckle when Bryson gave Clayton a one-finger salute. He grabbed the dustpan as Bryson swept the glass. "We're starting to make a pretty good team at cleaning up broken glass," Bryson said.

They were, but Milo was waiting for Bryson to ask him whatever it was he was going to ask him before Clayton had interrupted. But Bryson didn't say another word about it. As the big guy dumped the glass, Clayton got the mop bucket out and thoroughly cleaned the area.

"Looks great." Bryson smiled.

"Now let's see if you can do this right." Clayton pointed at the tray before looking at Bryson. "Stay out of his way."

Thankfully, the rest of Milo's evening went well. He didn't break another thing. Too bad Bryson never came over and talked to him again. As a matter of fact, not too long after that last incident, the guy had taken off.

His chances of getting to know Bryson better were looking slimmer and slimmer.

The following day, well into the afternoon, Bryson walked from the stables. He'd cleaned every last stall and fed the horses. He was now ready for a long, hot shower. He smelled liked he'd rolled around in crap and sawdust. The pungent odor was so strong that he was ready to run from himself.

As he walked toward the house, Bryson kicked at the small pebbles under his boots. He was still cursing himself for running like a scared little boy last night. Bryson wanted to take Milo out on a date. He'd almost asked the guy, but had lost his nerve after he'd been interrupted.

The screen door squeaked as he opened it and stepped inside the mudroom. After removing his boots, he wandered into the kitchen. Renee crinkled her nose and pointed toward the stairs. "Don't stop walking, Bryson. Dresden and I just scrubbed this kitchen down and you're stinking it up."

"Yes, ma'am." Bryson ambled his way up the steps and into his bedroom where he stripped and showered. As the steaming-hot water slid down his back, Bryson thought about Milo's dark-green eyes and fire-red hair.

That alone was enough to make him hard. His cock pulsed as the water glided over his heated flesh. Bryson wrapped his fingers around his shaft as his head rocked back on his shoulders. His imagination took flight, and in his mind, Milo was in the shower with Bryson.

The guy was on his knees, gazing up at Bryson in pure wonder, his lips moist as they skimmed over the head of his cock.

Bryson's grip tightened almost painfully.

"Suck me," he whispered into the shower.

And Milo did.

His mouth sucked Bryson in, all the way to the back of his throat. In his fantasy, Milo's gag reflex was nonexistent. His heart stuttered and all the breath left his chest in a pleasurable rush.

Bryson stroked himself faster. Milo's image blazed through his mind as the man licked him from root to tip before swallowing him once more. Bryson gritted his teeth, stopping himself from shouting when his seed erupted, hitting the wall of the shower.

He slumped against the tiles, pressing his forehead into the wall. Why couldn't he get up the nerve to ask the guy out? It frustrated the hell out of him that he was so shy. Although he couldn't help it, Bryson hated that about himself.

He washed himself and then turned the water off. Jacking off hadn't helped. If anything, he felt a bit aggressive from the pent-up frustration.

After dressing, Bryson stepped into the hall to find Clayton leaning against the wall.

"What's up?" Bryson asked after closing his bedroom door.

"I wanted to talk business with you." Clayton thrust his hands into his pockets. "I wanted to know if you'd buy me out."

"The Ugly Broad?" Bryson asked. That was a double-edged sword. Bryson wouldn't mind owning something other than a piece of the Triple-B, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be Milo's boss. That would change things. Bryson wouldn't be comfortable pursuing one of his employees.

"I want to spend more time with my family. I don't want them to feel like I'm neglecting them with two jobs."

Bryson still wasn't sure if owning the tavern was the right move. He stayed busy enough on the ranch.

Clayton slapped him on the back. "Just think about it, okay?"

Bryson grinned broadly as he stared at his friend. "You're gonna pester me until I give you an answer, aren't you?"

"Would I do that?" Clayton asked.

"Yes, you would," Clayton's mate Josh said as he walked down the hallway. The slim blond had his son, Kane, over his shoulder. He handed the infant off to Clayton. "He's fussy and Sparrow had to go into work. Your turn to calm him."

Bryson was still amazed that Clayton had mated two men. That was almost unheard of in the shifter world. And out of their love triangle, Kane had been born. Clayton took the small boy into his arms as he glanced at Bryson. "Just think about it."

Josh and Clayton walked down the steps as Bryson stood there, imagining himself as part owner of the saloon. Clayton had said that it was losing money. If Bryson agreed to buy the guy out, he would have to find out why it was losing money and then make some changes.

The noise level downstairs reached a fever pitch. Six youngens tended to do that. And they were all under the age of five. Bryson wondered what it would be like to have a child of his own down there, causing a fuss.

That won't happen if you don't find your mate.

Being shy wasn't helping him. What if Milo was his mate? Bryson had entertained that thought last night on his drive home. Every time he was around Milo, Bryson scented honey-roasted walnuts and licorice. But he couldn't go by smell alone.

And he would never find out if he didn't open his damn mouth and ask Milo out.

He'd been this way for as long as he could recall. Bryson had grown up in a shifter community where size mattered. Other bear shifters his age had tested Bryson. It was some strange game they liked to play. If a scrawny guy could knock Bryson on his ass, then the guy had bragging rights.

But Bryson had yet to be put on his ass. He might be shy, but he wasn't a pushover. His brute strength came in handy on the ranch and when he had lived at home, helping his pa in the garage. But it didn't mean squat when it came to Milo. He had to use his brain for this one.

And a hefty dose of courage.

Milo sat on top of the washing machine, kicking his legs back and forth as he waited for his load to finish. He didn't own a washer and dryer of his own, so he was in town at the local Laundromat.

It was a quiet and peaceful night. Not too many people were out even though the sun was setting. He stared out of the large floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at the big ball of red slowly descending behind the mountains.

There was one other person in the Laundromat with him. Milo didn't know the guy, but he noticed how the man kept stealing glances at him. Milo felt pretty safe in Bear County. He'd heard about the raid on Lamont's Trailer Heaven, but that was before he'd come to town. The trailer park was a pretty nice place to live in his opinion. This whole town was.

So when the stranger continued to stare at him, Milo ignored the guy. He hopped down when his load was finished and transferred his wet clothes to the dryer.

As he closed the door and slid his coins into the slot, he saw something out of the corner of his eye that caught his attention. Milo turned to see Bryson walking past the big window.

Milo hurried across the room, slowing his steps when he got close to the door. He didn't want to seem like he was chasing the man down, even if he was.

"Bryson?" he said in a voice that sounded as if he'd just spotted the guy. Harland was there as well. He said something to Bryson, so low Milo couldn't catch the words, and then Harland continued to walk as Bryson turned and headed back toward Milo.

"What are you doing in town?" Bryson asked. Milo wanted to point out that he was standing in front of a Laundromat but decided it wasn't that important.

Besides, his attention was on the faded jeans and tight T-shirt Bryson wore. They fit snugly and showed off his ripped body. "Had some things to do. What are you doing here?"

Bryson crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps swelling as he leaned against the building in a nonchalant manner. "Enjoying the nice evening."

It was a nice evening. Milo stood there in his knee-length shorts and a tank top. He was wearing sandals on his feet and wished he had used some lotion on his skin. His feet looked a little dry.

But the air was warm and the sun had finally gone down, leaving him to talk to Bryson under the streetlight. He pointed toward his tan car, the only thing he'd taken with him when he left California. "I brought my laundry into town."

Bryson gazed at the building he was leaning against. His cheeks pinked as if the man realized the obvious.

"It's my night off so I'm catching up on my chores." Milo tried desperately to think of something witty to say, but all he could think about was laundry.

As he stared at Bryson, Milo felt an empty ache inside of him, a void he wouldn't mind this man filling. There was something about Bryson, something that made Milo feel as if he'd known the man his entire life.

He turned when he heard the roar of motorcycles. Four riders turned down the street and drove past. Milo sighed.

"Like bikers?" Bryson asked.

"Like bad boys," Milo said, the words slipping free before he had a chance to stop them. "I mean, they're okay."

Something shone in Bryson's deep-grey eyes before he glanced in the direction the bikers had ridden.

Milo chewed his lower lip before saying, "I like cowboys as well." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "Big guys are my favorite."

He suppressed a smile when Bryson's biceps flexed. He still wasn't sure if Bryson liked him, and Milo had been trying to gauge the man since first spotting him at the bar.