Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance, Bailey Bradford [best pdf ebook reader for android .TXT] 📗

find a job with a fag in Texas. Should suit you just fine.” Art Johnson’s mocking laughter slapped against Rory’s ear with the force of a sledgehammer. That motherfucker…

“You have no room to talk, Art, considering you liked fucking me every chance you got.” In more ways than one.

“I told you, boy—” Art had gone from laughing to cruel, something he excelled at. “I only fucked you ‘cause you were there and wanting it so bad. Now, if your sister had been a bit more accommodating—”

Rory’s temper exploded. “Stay away from my sister, you twisted son of a bitch, or RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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I’ll—”

Laughter cut him off before he could finish. “Or you’ll what? You step one foot on this ranch and it’s mine, remember? Then where will your pretty little sister go? I might let her stay on the ranch if she suckss dick as well as you do.”

Anger unlike anything he’d ever felt seeped through Rory’s veins. He hadn’t considered that Art would go after Annabelle, but he should have. The man was the sickest fuck Rory had ever known.

“I swear to you, you touch Annabelle and I will kill you. Then it won’t matter if I step on the property or not, and it would be worth a prison sentence to rid the world of your useless ass.”

Rory issued the vow with a calmness that surprised him; he’d never considered himself a violent man, but he would not let Art hurt Annabelle—physically or any other way. When there was no immediate reply, he figured Art had hung up. Rory started to do the same, jerking the phone back to his ear when he heard the man say something that had Rory seeing red before he hung up instead.

Hands shaking, Rory dialed his sister’s number and cursed when he got her voice mail.

He left her a terse message to call him immediately then disconnected the call.

Fury and fear roared through Rory and he looked around for some outlet. Rory slammed his fist into the barn wall, the shock of pain doing nothing to dull his anger.

Gripping his injured hand, he managed to reach the back of the barn before he fell to his knees and threw up, Art’s parting words ringing in his ears. Tell Chance your ass is the only one I’ve fucked that could measure up to his—

RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

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Chapter Ten

The smell from the grill had Chance’s stomach rumbling. Another ten minutes and it would be ready. He checked his watch and tried to rein in his frustration. Where was Rory?

It’d been a good hour since they had finished for the day—he’d thought Rory would have been here by now. He would give the man until the steaks were done. If he didn’t show by then, Chance would hunt him down.

Since he had decided to let go of his hang-ups regarding younger, very attractive men—

okay, one particular younger, very attractive man—Chance would be damned if he let Rory go. The realisation of that thought scared the shit out of him. Where had that possessive feeling come from? They’d only spent one night together, and already Rory was burrowed somewhere deep inside Chance and he didn’t know how to handle it or what to make of it.

A sharp rap of knuckles on the front door sent Chance’s heart skittering with an eagerness he couldn’t quite hide. He was at the door and pulling it open before Rory’s hand lowered back to his side. Chance was taken aback once again by the man’s beauty, fingers itching to trace the firm jaw and slip into the mass of pale gold hair.

“Come in, dinner’s just about ready.” Chance smiled, feeling timid and nervous and not liking it one damn bit.

Rory stepped inside, shoulders tensed enough that it was noticeable, as was the forced nature of his answering smile. Chance narrowed his eyes and studied the younger man, taking in his subdued look and dull eyes. Then he noticed his hand.

“What the hell happened?” Chance reached for Rory’s hand before it could be tucked away and hidden. Scraped raw at the knuckles and swollen. Chance knew from personal experience how an injury like that occurred. He glanced up at Rory, who didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes. “There’s a punching bag that you can use if you need to. You want to tell me what you hit and why?”

Rory’s Adam’s apple bobbed a couple of times, almost distracting Chance with the need to press his lips to it. Rory finally looked at him and swallowed nervously again.

“Could we maybe…eat first?”

And there, in his lover’s voice and midnight eyes, was pain and something close to fear RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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that hit Chance like a physical blow. Something was hurting Rory, and it tore Chance up inside in a way he’d never felt for someone else.

It clicked like a light switched on in a pitch black room—he felt things for this man that he had given up all hope of experiencing. Instead of making him want to head for the hills, Chance wanted to pull Rory close and promise to heal his wounds. He was fairly certain his lover wasn’t ready for that just yet.

Chance looked at Rory’s hand again and nodded. “Yeah. Come on and have a seat while I pick up the steaks.”

“Okay.” Heavy footsteps sounded behind him as Chance led the way to the small kitchen table.

“Just relax, it’ll only be a few minutes.” Chance opened the fridge and took out the salads he’d made before stepping outside and placing the thick steaks and foil-wrapped potatoes on a platter. He’d set the table earlier, wanting to have everything in place for dinner.

Okay, he had been nervous—he hadn’t forgotten his promise from this morning to tell Rory why he had been such an ass. Not that he was in a hurry to do so, but damn, he hadn’t been able to stand the wariness that had cloaked Rory