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

the barn, rounding the corner when he reached it. He spotted Rory slumped against the wall.

“Holding up the barn?” God, when had he got so lame? Chance knew without a doubt he was never going to get laid again with lines like that escaping out of his mouth. Rory’s profile was every bit as fine as the man looked head-on. His full mouth tipped up in a slight smile, at least on the half Chance could see.

RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

19

“Look, Rory…” What? I’m sorry your old man’s an ass? Sorry I tried to check your references but not Max’s? Sorry I’m an ass?

“Annabelle will be calling you as soon as she can get away from Ian, probably tomorrow or the next day. She texted me after she got her phone back from him. Good thing he doesn’t know how to delete numbers and such, huh?” Rory kept his gaze down, staring at, Chance would bet, nothing other than what was playing out behind his eyes.

He walked closer to the younger man, unable to keep his distance in the face of Rory’s pain. Chance wouldn’t, however, let himself reach out for Rory. That’s what he thought, at least, and was therefore the more startled of the two when he brought a hand to rest on Rory’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry. Please let your sister know that the references are unnecessary.” Rory’s dark blue eyes met Chance’s and there was no way either man could deny the heat that passed between them. Chance pulled his hand back, tucking it down deep into his front jeans pocket to keep it from slipping away from him again.

Still those indigo-coloured eyes stayed on his. This close, Chance couldn’t help but notice the blue had small flecks of amber close to the pupil. It was a stark contrast that fascinated him to the point of distraction, almost like little flames dancing in the midnight depths of the younger man’s eyes.

Chance couldn’t make himself move away as Rory brought up a hand and stroked a finger up the line of his neck, stopping right below his ear. Chance shuddered at the touch, feeling it through every nerve ending in his body. Rory dropped his hand back to his side and looked away, giving Chance his profile once again.

“She’s gonna call you anyway, Mr Galloway. Might as well get what you need. That everything, sir?” Rory’s tone never deviated from polite, but damned if it didn’t piss Chance off because of it. And sir? Was that really necessary? Probably. Chance’s brain kicked in and stomped his pride back down. It wasn’t like he’d been anything other than a dick to Rory.

“No, Rory, that’s not everything. It’s Chance, not Mr Galloway or sir.” Chance let out a frustrated sigh as Rory continued gazing at God only knew what. There was no way mesquite brush was that interesting, though he did manage a slight nod of acknowledgement at Chance’s words.

“There’s also the matter of your… God damn it. Okay. I’m an ass and I’m sorry and we need to discuss your salary, all right?” As apologies went, it wasn’t his best, and it was made RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

20

out of frustration, sure, but also sincere regret. Chance wasn’t normally such an asshole and he knew it.

What set him off with this man was something he wasn’t ready to delve into yet, so he was afraid he might have to get used to making apologies.

Rory kept his eyes locked in front of him as he nodded once again.

“All right, Chance. As for the salary, I’m sure you’ll be a fair man, yeah? So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to…”

It was then that Chance let his mad go, watching the younger man’s jaw twitch as he stopped talking. Whatever had happened with that phone call, it had hurt Rory and he wanted, or needed, to be alone to cope with it with some dignity.

“Still need to discuss it, butlater. Whenever you’ve got time.” Chance bit his tongue to stop from offering to listen to whatever was troubling Rory. It’d be best if he didn’t know. He headed back to the bunkhouse and asked Max to keep an eye on Rory and lend him an ear if he thought it was needed. That handled, Chance went to the ranch house, resigning himself to listening to the voice mails he’d undoubtedly received from an irate Ian Calhoun.

RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

21

Chapter Four

Rory watched out of the corner of his eye as Chance walked away. He was sure the man had been on the verge of saying something else but reconsidered at the last moment and fled instead to prevent any words slipping from his lips he might later regret.

Or maybe Chance wouldn’t regret anything he said. Rory didn’t really know the man, but in his opinion, Chance Galloway seemed to be a tightly wound man who was going to snap in half if he didn’t find a way to blow off some steam. Rory’d be more than happy to help Chance with that, but seeing as how Rory was so young and too damn close to being pretty—which played a part in why he made sure his body was every bit as masculine as it could be—with those two Chance-declared evil traits, he’d have better luck trying to nail the head of the right-wing coalition. Though, come to think of it, what with everything that had been in the news lately, that might not be such a tough nut to crack.

And now he was coming up with his own lame jokes. Whatever Chance had must have been contagious. Rory snorted at that and pushed up off the barn, batting away the hurts and insults his father had pelted him with. He would have hung up but that never worked before—man would have just called back and left voicemails. Easy enough to delete, but Rory had never been able to do so without listening to them first. Glutton for punishment or