Texas and Tarantulas by Bailey Bradford

and Joe together made Trent regret being so quick to leave Hollis House. It wouldn’t have hurt to have gotten the guy’s name and number. Of course, that worked both ways. He had to remind himself that the stranger he’d fucked hadn’t been any more interested in getting his info, either.
    Plus, if his dad had killed his mom, Trent needed to figure out what that meant for him. He wasn’t stupid and wouldn’t automatically assume he was going to murder his partner if he ever had one. He didn’t have the anger his father seemed to have carried in his core, disguised as righteousness and the God-given command to discipline his boys.
    “You worried about what people will say?” he finally asked, when Joe stood to leave with a passed out Diego in his arms. “I mean, if people talk shit about it, I don’t think Diego will care.”
    Joe nodded sagely. “But you think it might make a difference to a guy you’re into?”
    “If that ever happens, maybe.” Trent rolled his lips in, thinking about how much to say.
    Diego sniffled, burrowing closer to Joe.
    Trent decided to let them be on their way. “Y’all be careful. See you in the morning.”
    Joe didn’t leave. He had an intense look on his face. “Anyone worth being yours won’t be an asshole about a past we had nothing to do with.”
    “Not like I’ll be able to go out for a while anyway,” Trent observed. “Not just the barn, but, you know. It’d be a good idea to wait a couple of months and make sure Diego’s former pack isn’t going to try anything.”
    “You were eager to go, now you’re not. Guess the crappy sex with Bill was enough to tide you over, huh?”
    Trent shrugged. “Almost as good as fucking my hand, yeah.”
    Joe laughed and after he left, Trent wondered if he was lying to his brother.
    “No. We never did tell each other who we fucked in the first place. We’re not that kind of brothers.” Even if Trent did tease Joe about being noisy and spanking Diego now, it was different. Joe and Diego were committed. That meant something to Trent, too.
    It meant Diego was a part of their family, a brother-in-law he could joke around with and harass, not a fly-by fuck he wouldn’t see again. Diego and he could be friends, and he thought they kind of already were.
    Trent cleaned up the kitchen, tossing the beer cans into the recycling bin. He stepped out onto the back porch and watered his plants. Standing there, he had the oddest sensation of being watched. The short hairs on his nape felt like they quivered with an electric current of alarm.
    He knew that feeling. Trent went very still, hardly daring to breathe. Someone, some thing was watching him.
     

Chapter Six
     
     
     
    Mahon wasn’t going to be fooled again. Trent froze, his senses alerting him to the fact he was once again being stalked. Mahon didn’t doubt for one moment that was what happened. Trent had been aware of him in Uvalde. He was aware of Mahon now, though perhaps not on a conscious level. Some part of him knew.
    Mahon had been patient, watching the old trailer, waiting. He’d been close enough to inspect the plants growing on the porch—marijuana, which surprised him for reasons he couldn’t fathom. He supposed he never thought of cowboys smoking pot, just figured they all dipped that nasty chewing tobacco.
    There’d been no snuff can rings on Trent’s back pockets. He hadn’t smelled like tobacco, or pot, or anything but clean, sexy man. Mahon had been battling hard-ons half the evening, thinking about Trent’s personal aroma.
    And how he wanted to know more of it, from the muskier scent of his balls and ass, to the rich fragrance beneath his arms. Mahon wanted to lick him from head to toe, learn every flavor there was to him.
    Which made his job really hard to do. Mahon stayed in the dark, careful to keep his eyes shielded.
    Slowly, Trent turned his head, giving the area a thorough perusal. There was no way he could see Mahon.
    Yet when Trent looked in his