Texas and Tarantulas by Bailey Bradford Page B

talk to you,” Mahon began, letting his nervousness show. “People in town talk. It wasn’t hard to find out who you were and where you live. Asking people for your phone number would have been too weird, so I…I came out here.”
    “And hid out back like a weirdo,” Trent added.
    Mahon let more of the truth out. “You had people over. I didn’t want them to think I was a creep, like you do now. I was going to come around to the front and knock, but you came outside and I was mesmerized.”
    Trent rolled his eyes so dramatically it had to have hurt. “I bet you were. You had a chance to talk to me today.”
    Mahon figured he would just have to own up to another truth. “Look, I’ve never let another guy fuck me. I was, um. I was stunned and yeah, maybe I didn’t know what I wanted. It’s not something I ever thought I’d allow.”
    “Ah.”
    Trent still didn’t lower that damn shotgun.
    He did nod. “I get it. I have the magic dick. It made you see the light and fall in love, right?”
    Mahon laughed before he thought better of it. “Sorry, but no. I just wanted to get laid again.”
    “If that was your first time, your ass won’t be up for more,” Trent argued. “In fact, as hard as I fucked you, walking should be difficult.”
    “You think it isn’t?” Mahon retorted. “I can still feel you in me, fucking me, your teeth on my skin, your hands gripping me.”
    Trent cursed and still didn’t waver. “You ain’t right in the head, coming onto someone’s property like this and lurking around. Legally, I can kill you in this state. Just FYI.”
    Mahon did gulp then. He wasn’t familiar with Texas gun laws, but… He was in Texas, for fuck’s sake. It was likely that Trent had the right of it.
    “Please don’t,” he asked. “I am not wrong in the head, either. Just in a situation I never thought I’d be in before.”
    “Hunting down a dick to fuck you again,” Trent said. “Maybe that does just make you the average guy.” But Trent snorted and followed that up with a laugh. “Yeah, me and the magic wang. It can cure all ills.”
    With Trent’s Texas accent, ‘wang’ really came out sounding almost like gibberish.
    “I’ll tell you what. You come on up here, and strip out of your wet clothes on the porch. I don’t want my carpet wet. And don’t touch my plants,” Trent warned.
    Mahon didn’t budge. “You’re going to shoot me inside the trailer.” His gut cramped.
    Trent laughed again, this time like he thought Mahon was an idiot. “Please, dude. I don’t want water on my carpets. You think I’m going to want blood and guts on them? Get real. I’ll stop aiming at you once you step inside.”
    It was as good an offer as he’d get. Mahon forced his shaky legs to move forward. His shoes squelched with every step. When he reached the porch steps, he stopped.
    Trent backed into the trailer. “Come on up.”
    Mahon did then he proceeded to strip down to bare skin while Trent watched him. “Do I get the all clear now that you see I’m not armed?”
    Trent stared him right in the eyes. “There’s more than one kind of weapon. What’s your name?”
    “Mahon Morrison. I’d offer to shake hands.” But he didn’t, because there was still a gun aimed at him.
    Trent backed up some more. “Come inside. I told you I’ll take the aim off you then and I will.”
    “Because I’ll be shot?” Mahon asked, both of his eyebrows twitching.
    “Only if you give me reason to shoot you.” Trent stepped to the right, then another movement and he was out of sight. “Come in or get out of here. I won’t say it again.”
    “So I could leave now—”
    “And I’d let you go,” Trent finished. “Wouldn’t even fire a warning shot.”
    For some reason, Mahon believed him. He entered the trailer—
    Only to be tackled by Trent.
    “God—” Mahon panted as he tried to fight the man off. “Damn it!” He didn’t want to kill Trent, not yet, though if the man kicked him one more time