The Man Who Loved Cole Flores (Dig Two Graves 1)

“We’ll talk tomorrow, once all this is settled,” Homer said, opening his coat to retrieve a six-shooter kept in a holster under his arm. “You’ll come with us to get your payout, and once that’s done you’ll be free to go.”

Ned hadn’t counted on that money anymore, so he wouldn’t regret losing it. And what was money anyway in comparison to the affections of the handsomest, most charming man who ever lived? They just needed to do that last job, and once they ran off to California, they’d be able to live out their lives as honest men.

On his way to The Hamburg, he hoped no one would recognize him or Nugget, but even if someone did, he had a decent enough excuse for his presence during the morning attack. Ned wasn’t out of the woods just yet, but close enough to breathe more freely.

His heart longed for him to jump on horseback and ride off into the night, but he needed to remain cautious. Instead of renting the room, like he’d been meant to, he sat close to the door, watching men gather to storm the camp full of drunk outlaws, who were now set for death.

He left as soon as the Craigs left town with the posse. As the wind blew into his face, swiping his hair back, he could have sworn he sensed ylang-ylang already. It took him over half an hour to reach the pond, but despite his worries, he spotted Thunder feeding on the shrubs, and that meant that Cole was here. Waiting for him.

Then, Ned heard a merry harmonica melody.

He smiled in relief and jumped off Nugget’s back before the horse stopped. He was a murderer, yet his heart felt light, and he strained his eyes, seeking Cole among the shadows while the stream whispered nearby. Dressed in black, his lover managed to hide, but he betrayed his location behind a desert willow the moment he moved, sitting up in the grass.

Ned sucked in the cool air and ran up to him, straddling Cole’s thighs so they could kiss. It had been only hours since he’d last touched Cole, yet it felt as if they’d been parted for years.

Kissing Cole was like tasting sunshine in the spring, and as their tongues touched, frantically rolling in their warm mouths, he saw bright light reflected on the backs of his eyelids.

“What took you so long? I considered riding back,” Cole whispered, sliding his arms around Ned as they parted for air, with their noses and foreheads still touching.

Ned's heart stopped at the notion of what could have happened if he’d taken more time, but it didn't matter anymore. Cole was here. With him. “I got wrapped up in conversation. Don’t matter.” He kissed Cole again, unable to satiate his need. They’d now kiss and fuck every day, and they’d make their relationship work.

Cole stilled, cupping Ned’s face and gently rubbing his cheeks. “I was so damn worried. But we need to ride all night. Can’t let them find us.”

Ned groaned but nodded. “I’d fuck you now if we haven’t wasted so much time already. Let’s go.” He got off Cole’s lap and gave him one more smooch, unable to keep his hands to himself.

“Wait,” Cole said, rolling off the ground and capturing Ned’s hand to lead him toward Thunder. “I took all my valuables. You should take some of them, just in case.”

“In case what?” Ned squeezed his hand. “It’s gonna be fine. One last job and we’re out of here.”

Cole removed a satchel from his saddle and attached it to Nugget’s. “I insist,” he said, and the amount of trust this simple gesture expressed made Ned’s heart soar.

He took off his bandana and held it out to Cole. “Let’s swap. For luck. And so that I can smell you even when you’re not standing next to me.”

Cole spun around, unwinding the knot holding up his own rag. “You know what you smell like?” he whispered, stepping so close to Ned their chests touched. “You’re all leather, and cotton, and rosemary. Warmth,” he added, pressing a kiss to Ned’s mouth.

Ned slipped one arm around Cole’s waist, still feeling disbelief that he had earned the presence of this glorious man in his life. “And horse?” He chuckled and nuzzled Cole’s cheek, loving the way it scratched him.

Cole tied his sweet-scented bandana around Ned’s neck, gently smoothing out the wrinkles in well-worn silk. “Sometimes. But you always smell like somewhere I want to put down my head.”

Ned took his own bandana, made years ago by his aunt from a piece of spare red plaid, and wrapped it around Cole’s beautiful throat. He wanted to kiss that neck, glad it would never end up squeezed by a noose

“Let’s go. I want to put my head down on a sandy beach by the ocean.”