"You think you see an awful lot," Robbie finally said.

"I see that and so much more. And I want that more."

Robbie huffed irritably. "Sex—"

"I want more than sex." Eli grabbed at Robbie's hand. "Let's talk."

"Wait. Where are your models? Your work?"

"I'll explain later. Come on." Eli led Robbie and, by virtue of the fact Robbie held the guide rope, the horse as well until all of them were in the shade of the oak.

"Which horse is this?" Eli asked. They needed conversation of some point just to cool the hell down.

"Catty. She's a strong one. Gonna be a great barrel racer."

"Cool," Eli said, despite not really knowing what that meant.

"You have no idea what I just said, do you." Robbie laughed and Eli shook his head. "Do you want to know?"

"Please," Eli said. He settled himself down by the tree, sitting on the ground with his back against the trunk. He passed a bottle of the water to Robbie, who thanked him and then pointed up at Catty.

"She's going to be a good barrel racer because she has strong flanks and legs, and the musculature is typical quarter horse. Barrel racing is a rodeo event."

"Like with cows?" Eli didn't mean to sound thick but he didn't know and he really did want to understand. He had been to a rodeo before and he remembered calf roping and a clown. Other than that it was a blank of alcoholinfused fucking with the guy who took him.

"There's this clover leaf pattern that a horse and rider attempt to complete around preset barrels in the fastest time." Robbie hunkered down next to Eli and drew the shape in the dirt with his finger. "It is mostly a rodeo event for women and it combines the horse's athletic ability and the skills of a rider. It's fast and dangerous. Horses and riders can both get hurt. But the better trained the horse and the more disciplined and experienced the rider then the safer it is."

"I love listening to you," Eli said softly. He was feeling tired. Didn't matter he was cancer free. Sometimes exhaustion stole upon him with no regard for what he was doing or what he wanted to do. The docs said it was neurological shit; Eli tended to pay little attention to any of the negative stuff. He did what he was told and lived life by the day. Except… recently… seeing Riley and Jack together? Hell, anyone seeing the two of them together would want more. Way more.

"I can talk about horses forever," Robbie said. His admission held more than a little wryness and just a dash of being shy. The whole package was like this endearing invitation to sin.

Eli wanted more kissing but he felt a little lightheaded and admitted to himself that he was stupid to stalk out in the sun like he had.

"Sorry I jumped you." Eli was sorry really.

"It's okay. I kind of enjoyed it," Robbie admitted. He placed a finger over his lip. "Though I think I tasted blood." He half smiled. "Are you a wildcat in bed?"

"No!" Eli was horrified. Jeez. Robbie couldn't expect that long-term, there was no way Eli had the energy for all that climbing and jumping and mauling. Then he remembered the taste of this man and he somehow imagined he would love to be crawling and jumping all over him. "Sometimes, I guess."

"What?" Robbie asked seductively. He dropped to his knees from the crouch and took off his hat. Pouring half of his water over his head, he ran his hands through his hair as rivulets of water ran down his shirt. "You mostly a quiet one? All whispers and moans and slippery slow?"

Eli couldn't find his voice over the sound of his dick demanding instant gratification. Robbie leaned in the final distance and dropped the softest of kisses on Eli's lips, only deepening it enough to tangle tongues and taste each other. When they parted Eli had gone past turned on and was now a second from coming in his pants like a teenager.

"Want a hand with that?" Robbie asked. He reached down and flicked buttons open to delve inside until Eli felt the rough skin of Robbie's hand around him. "You're growing on me, city boy." Three movements, nothing more, and Eli was coming harder than he ever remembered from a hand job alone.

Then everything went dark.

* * * *

"I told you. He was sitting against the tree and he just passed out." Robbie's voice. All concerned and gruff. "So I put him over the horse and bought him back."

"Should we get a doctor?" Jack asked.

"I don't know who his doctor is," Riley put his two cents worth in. "He may not even have one here. He was in LA for a long time."

No doctors. Please.

"Is his assistant woman still here?"

"No, they all left. We should get his cell."

"It's not in his pocket."

"Maybe we should phone the doc now. You don't just pass out like that—"

"It was hot," Robbie interrupted. "Maybe it's just dehydration."

"Robbie, he's not been well." Riley sounded so damn worried.

Eli didn't want to worry anyone. I'm fine. His tongue felt too big for his mouth and there was a gritty sandiness in his eyes as he forced them to open. Still dark.

"Is he still taking any medication?" Jack again.

"I don't know." Riley sounded pissed.

"I'll go." Robbie offered immediately.

"Idiot never told me he was gonna keel over. I assumed when he said remission that he meant he was well. Someone should check his room."

No!

"Wait. He's opening his eyes. Eli? Can you hear me? Eli? Eli?"

"Outamyfacefucker," Eli grumped at Riley. Damn man was hovering around him. Riley moved back.

"Do you need a doctor?" his friend asked.

"No. Water, sleep," Eli said. Between the three of them they managed to get Eli stripped to boxers and into his bed. Riley left and then Jack and finally as exhaustion pulled Eli under to a place where he could heal, he saw Robbie staring at him.

There was fear in the cowboy's eyes. Fear and shock. One single word had caused that. One word that haunted Eli every waking hour of his life.