But Bryson was a hard guy to read. The cowboy didn't say much as far as conversations went, so Milo had no idea what was on the man's mind. "Guys who are as big as you," Milo added.

If the hints he was dropping fell on deaf ears, he would have his answer. Either that or Bryson was a very thickheaded man.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" Bryson asked and Milo breathed a sigh of relief. They were finally getting somewhere. He no longer had to guess whether Bryson liked him or not.

A date meant the man was interested.

"I would love to," Milo answered. "When and where?"

Milo spotted the man in the Laundromat watching him through the big window. It was a bit unsettling. He didn't know the guy and wondered why the stranger kept ogling him. He glanced away and looked up at Bryson for an answer.

"Tomorrow afternoon good for you?" Bryson asked as he glanced over his shoulder, looking into the building. The stranger was reaching into a machine now, so Bryson probably hadn't seen the man staring at Milo.

"I have to be to work at eight," he said.

"I'll have you back in plenty of time," Bryson promised.

Milo stepped aside when a couple walked past, his eyes darting toward the ground. He wasn't sure how accepting people around here were of gay men and he was trying to keep a low profile. The fewer people who knew him, the better.

The last thing Milo wanted was for his father to show up. Quinn's reach was far and there was no telling if the man would find out where Milo was. He wouldn't put it past his father to employ a private detective.

It wasn't that Quinn was desperate to have him back. It was more that Milo had defied the man's order, and Quinn McNeal didn't take defiance lightly. He was a beast in business and overbearing to deal with in any circumstance.

"Then I'll see you at eight," Milo said with a soft smile as he turned and ran right into the window of the Laundromat. A shooting pain pulsed from his nose as he backed up.

Bryson jerked away from the wall. "Are you okay?"

Milo rocked his nose from side to side and was relieved that he hadn't broken it. "The only thing hurt is my pride."

Bryson chuckled as Milo walked back inside, beaming from ear to ear. He had a date with the hot cowboy.

Go me!

Chapter Three.

"Can I borrow your motorcycle?"

Sparrow stopped on the bottom porch step, his hand on the banister. "You don't just ask a guy to borrow his hog."

"Why not?"

Sparrow's gaze wandered over Bryson's face. "It's sacrilege to allow anyone on your motorcycle except a really hot babe."

"I just want to use if for the evening," Bryson said.

"Do you even know how to ride?"

Bryson nodded. "Me and my pa used to go riding a lot."

He and his father had ridden the back roads often when Bryson was younger. He had considered buying a motorcycle when he first moved to Bear County, but with all the work the four men were putting into the ranch at the time, the idea had slowly faded. He loved to ride, though, and wanted to take Milo on a day trip up into the mountains. Bryson couldn't think of a better way to spend time with the redhead.

After getting up the nerve to ask Milo out, Bryson wanted to be the big badass the man was looking for. He was wearing a black ribbed tank top, faded blue jeans with rips in each knee and one in his back pocket. He made sure he put his wallet in the pocket that didn't have a hole.

He was even wearing his favorite well-worn shit kickers.

Before coming downstairs, Bryson had examined himself in his mirror and was satisfied that he looked like a hardcore biker.

Something he was not.

But he knew Milo had this weird desire to hang out with a bad boy. Bryson just hoped he didn't let the guy down. "Just for the evening," Bryson said.

"I don't know." Sparrow rubbed his hand over his jaw. "If anything happened to my-"

"Nothing will happen, I swear." Bryson checked his watch to see he had fifteen minutes before he was supposed to pick Milo up. "If I crash your hog, then you can have my truck."

Sparrow's dark eyebrow lifted. "That desperate?"

"Kind of," he answered, hating to admit that to the sheriff.

Bryson had just bought his truck two years ago. It still looked brand new. It even smelled brand new on the inside. He took damn good care of the things he owned. His red-and-black pickup had been customized for someone of Bryson's size. It had duel exhaust, an extended cab, and all the bells and whistles a guy could want.

He'd paid a mint for it.

But yes, he was desperate to impress Milo. Besides, he didn't plan on putting a scratch on Sparrow's motorcycle.

Sparrow reached into his pocket and pulled the keys out, dangling them in front of Bryson. When Bryson reached for them, Sparrow snatched them back. "Not one dang scratch and bring it back on full."

"Will do." Bryson grabbed the keys before Sparrow could change his mind.

He headed outside to see the shiny Harley parked close to the house. Before getting on, he pulled a dark-blue bandana from his back pocket and tied it onto his head, covering his dome.

His biker badass look was complete.

Bryson swung his leg over and started the motor, listening to the purr of the engine before he guided the Harley down the driveway. Once he was on blacktop, he took off, kicking the bike up just a tad past the speed limit, his pulse racing at riding once again.

It was also racing because Bryson was about to see Milo.

He knew he wasn't thinking with a clear head. Bryson loved his truck almost as much as he loved breathing. The promise had not only stunned Sparrow, it had stunned Bryson as well. He had never acted so irresponsibly before. He just couldn't bring himself to regret making the deal so he could see Milo's reaction.

It didn't take him long to get to the trailer park. Bryson slowed, navigating the corners carefully as he searched for Milo's place. He'd forgotten to ask for Milo's address last night, so he'd had Harland look it up in the man's application. If Milo hadn't already agreed to a date, Bryson would classify himself as a stalker.

But Milo had agreed.

Bryson smiled when he pulled up next to Milo's home. It was a double-wide tan-and-white trailer with a flower bed out front. There was also a small deck with two chairs and a table that had an umbrella. The surroundings were well kept and the porch looked to have been swept off.

Nonetheless, once Bryson dismounted and climbed the steps, he wiped his feet thoroughly on the welcome mat. He knocked and waited, his palms sweaty as hell.

He frowned when he heard something crash inside followed by someone cursing. Was Milo okay?

Milo appeared in the doorway before he pushed the screen open. His eyes grazed up and down Bryson's body. "Wow."

Bryson took that as a compliment.

"You look...fantastic." Milo stood there ogling him for a moment longer before he blushed, his green eyes shimmering with heat. "I'm sorry. Where are my manners? Come on in."

As soon as Bryson stepped inside, a tan cat swiped at him.

"Elyse, no." Milo wiggled a finger as he reprimanded the cat. "Be nice."

"She's fine." Bryson had a feeling the pregnant cat could sense his bear and was being protective of Milo. But he couldn't tell Milo this.

Crouching, Bryson stuck his hand out and waited for Elyse to come closer. The cat sat there staring at him as if to say she wasn't falling for his trick.

"It's okay," Bryson said. "We're cool."

The tan cat moved closer, sniffed, and then swiped at Bryson again, drawing blood.

"Oh my god!" Milo hurried into the kitchen and wet a towel. Bryson followed. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what's gotten into her. It might be the gas." He patted the towel over the scratch mark.

Bryson didn't argue, didn't say a word as Milo held his hand and attended to him. He liked feeling the slender fingers glide over his skin and wasn't in a rush to pull his hand away.

As he stood there, Bryson took in the place. Milo was living in one of the better homes in this park. There was an island in the kitchen and a large television on the wall. The furniture appeared to be brand new, or close to being brand new. The suede sofa was overstuffed and the coffee table was made of black smoked glass.

Even the kitchen was updated and nice. Milo's home was calm and uncluttered, simply decorated.

"I like your place," Bryson said. "It's cozy."

"Thanks." Milo tossed the towel aside and looked closer at Bryson's wound. It was just a scratch. It wasn't even deep. The red line was about an inch long and would heal in no time.

"Would you like something to drink?" Milo asked, walking to the cupboard. "I have iced tea."

"Sounds perfect." Bryson leaned against the island and watched as Milo poured two glassfuls. He observed the way Milo's slim frame moved around with ease. Bryson glanced down at the man's ass and silently groaned.

What a nice ass.

"Here you go."

Elyse padded over to where they stood and then sat. If Bryson didn't know any better, he'd say the cat's expression was challenging.

"I heard a motorcycle," Milo said. "Was that you?"

Bryson tried to relax, tried not to let his nervousness show. He clutched his glass to stop his hand from shaking and feared he would shatter it. "Are you ready to take off?"

Milo drank half his tea down before placing both glasses in the sink. "Yep."

Bryson and Elyse exchanged a hard look at each other before he walked to the door, Milo right behind him.

When Bryson stepped outside, he took a look around. Since the big sting operation a few months back, the park already seemed like it was settling back into the way it was before those hoodlums had taken over. He spotted a few of the elderly residents standing outside, talking. That was something they wouldn't have done when Buck and the other drug dealers lived here.

But they were all rotting in jail now. The residents finally felt safe in their own community.

That thought made Bryson smile.

"What a nice bike," Milo said. "Yours?"

"I borrowed it from a friend of mine," Bryson admitted.

"Then let's go for a ride." Milo seemed excited enough for the both of them. Bryson could feel the electric energy in the air as Milo stared at the bike with glee.

"Do you know how to ride?" Bryson asked as he pulled a pair of sunglasses from the saddlebag and handed them to the redhead.

"Never been on a motorcycle a day in my life," Milo said simply as he slid the shades into place.

Bryson paused. From the way Milo had been acting, he would have thought the man had ridden plenty of times. "Never?"

"Nope." Milo pushed the frames up his nose when they slide back down. "But they look like so much fun."

Bryson reveled in the fact that he would be the person to take Milo on his first ride. He mounted the bike, slipped his dark sunglasses into place, and then patted the seat behind him. "Get on, my little virgin rider."

Milo burst out laughing and the humor was contagious. Bryson began to chuckle, smiling at the happiness surrounding Milo. He couldn't recall seeing anyone look so handsome, so carefree before. Bryson wanted a piece of that sunshine, to bask in Milo's glow.

Bryson grabbed Milo around the waist. The man sucked in a breath of surprise. His fingers lingered on the man for a moment before he said, "Let's get out of here."

Milo nodded before he grabbed Bryson's shoulders and climbed on. Bryson kept the bike steady. Milo wasn't the smoothest when it came to climbing on a bike. The guy's knee swung into Bryson's ass before he perched himself into position. "Sorry about that."

Gracefulness was not one of Milo's blessings.

"Not a problem," Bryson said as he started the Harley. Milo laced his fingers together, holding onto Bryson around his chest, as if afraid to place his hands any lower.

The bike kicked up a cloud of dust as they drove away. Moments later, Bryson pulled onto a paved road and sped up. Milo leaned into the curve of Bryson's body as he tightened his grip.

He was going to hate when the ride was over. Bryson liked feeling Milo's arms wrapped around him. It wasn't exactly an embrace, but it was close enough and Bryson found himself getting half-hard.

The road to the mountain wasn't heavy with traffic. Bryson managed to maintain a steady speed as they passed a few semi-trucks and other vehicles on their ascent. He could feel Milo pressing his cheek between Bryson's shoulder blades. Was Milo doing okay back there? This was his first ride. Was the guy scared?

After riding for forty-five minutes, Bryson found a dirt road winding up into a thick forest. He decided to take the road and give them a break from riding.

Luck was on their side. He spotted an old house, no bigger than a small cabin. It appeared to be deserted. One window was missing and there weren't any curtains hanging. The weeds were overgrown, nature taking back what was hers.

"Where are we?" Milo asked when Bryson pulled the Harley to a stop and turned the bike off.