GENRE: Gay Western Spicy Romance
LENGTH: 16,706 words
RATING:

Sequel to Calvin’s Cowboy

When John “Brock” Brockwell’s high school class ring goes missing, then later reappears, his boyfriend, Calvin Hamilton, denies all knowledge. Often when Brock walks into a room, Calvin and his guests change the subject.

What’s going on? Brock wonders if Calvin is working up to proposing marriage. But despite several opportunities -- limo rides, drinking champagne in a private jet before retiring to the bedroom at the back of the plane, and vacationing on a gay dude ranch in Texas -- Calvin doesn’t pop the question.

Brock soon finds life as a cowboy on the ranch isn’t what he thought it would be. When he confesses this to Calvin, tempers flare. Where are the wedding bells Brock was expecting? Will love and honor win out over pride and stubbornness?

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

From his buttery soft leather seat, Brock looked around the cabin of the private jet. The thick pile carpet, the walls, the ceiling, the seats, the blinds at the windows. They were all bright pink.

Losing most of the maturity that Brock had admired in his possible future daughter-in-law, Maggie bounced in her seat. “This is so cool!” She took out her phone -- in its faux-jewel-encrusted pink case -- and began to take pictures.

JJ groaned. “Who’s plane is this, anyway? Barbie’s? It’s giving me a headache.”

Calvin snickered. “It’ll help you get in touch with your feminine side.”

JJ scoffed.

Brock rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was getting a headache, too. The limo, the private airport, and now the private jet. It had to be a dream. He knew Calvin said that he deserved only the best, but all this ...?

“The plane belongs to Julissa Hudson.”

Maggie gasped. “Awesome!”

Brock felt like echoing her sentiments. He’d met the glamorous film star, one of Calvin’s clients, a couple of times. And each time he’d behaved like a total dooffus, tongue-tied and star struck.

Alan, the smartly dressed flight attendant who’d welcomed them aboard, handed Brock a glass of something fizzy ... and pink. He took a sip and wondered if it was pink Champagne.

“Can we have some, too?” JJ asked.

The flight attendant looked to Brock, who nodded. He and Mary Ann hadn’t been twenty one when they’d had Champaign at their wedding reception -- the only other time Brock had drunk the stuff -- so he guessed it was okay.

* * * *

The “fasten seatbelts” sign went out and they were free to explore the cabin.

“Even the john’s pink,” JJ said, emerging through the bathroom doorway.

“Gotta see that,” Maggie said, pushing JJ back into the bathroom and closing the door behind them.

“Three guesses what they’re up to,” Calvin said, sliding closer to Brock. “And the first two don’t count.” He ran a hand along Brock’s shoulder. “Want to do the same out here?”

Brock pulled away. That Alan guy might come in!”

“I’m sure he’s seen it all before.”

“He hasn’t seen all of me before,” Brock said, staying Calvin’s hand that had wandered to the front of his shirt and had begun unfastening the snaps.

“Good point.” Calvin moved his hand away and Brock was strangely disappointed. Although it didn’t last long.

Calvin moved in under the brim of Brock’s hat and licked his ear. “Behind us is a door.”

Brock, thinking JJ and Maggie had come back, turned around. The bathroom door was still closed.

“The other door,” Calvin said, turning Brock’s head a little more to the left. Sounding like a game show host, he asked, “And what do you think is behind door number two?”

“Uh, the flight attendant’s quarters?”

“No, he’s up front with the pilot. They’re lovers.”

That didn’t inspire confidence. If the attendant distracted the pilot then…

“It’s a bedroom.”

Brock turned to face Calvin, eyebrow raised.

Calvin smiled. “Want to re-join the mile high club, cowboy?”

They’d officially joined the club in a cramped business class bathroom on a flight to Las Vegas a couple of years earlier, but he’d only had time to blow Calvin before someone started pounding on the door. Brock had spent the rest of the flight red faced and blue balled.

Brock stood and, taking Calvin by the hand, led his man to the rear of the plane. When they passed the bathroom he could hear muffled whimpers and was about to knock when Calvin pulled him away. Calvin shook his head and pointed to the bedroom door. Brock smiled, knowing he’d have a much more comfortable surface to work with than JJ and Maggie had.

Brock shook his head in wonder at the interior of the bedroom, dominated by a king size bed. It was a world away from the cramped seats in an economy cabin, it even put to shame the business class seats he’d sat in when flying commercial with Calvin. The pink color scheme was continued with the carpet, walls, pillows, padded headboard, and small nightstands.

“That’s a surprise,” Brock said, pointing to the quilt. It was white with a pattern of blue and red interlocking circles.

“Yes. To me, too.” Calvin did indeed look surprised.

There was a folded piece of paper on one of the pillows. Before Brock could reach out and pick it up, Calvin beat him to it. He scanned the note quickly before stuffing it in his pocket.