His Big Hometown Cowboy

Wyatt

Fences don’t fix themselves. Not even on a Sunday.

That’s what my father always said, his voice echoing in my head even now, three years gone.

“A good rancher never leaves a job half-done.”

Since his passing, those words had become both compass and burden. Sometimes I wondered if I’d ever feel like more than just a caretaker of someone else’s dream, steering this land through sweat and sheer stubbornness.

I shifted in my saddle, the familiar burn already deep in my thighs from riding fence lines since dawn. The Texas sun beat down, relentless, baking the smell of dust and horse right into my clothes.

Pepper, my stubborn quarter horse, snorted below me, flicking her ears as if sharing my fatigue. A low buzz of cicadas pulsed in the simmering air.

“Just a few more miles, girl.” I patted her neck, the leather of my gloves sticking slightly. Squinting, I scanned the horizon where heat waves rippled above the parched, dusty grass of the south pasture. “Then we can both take a break.”

Pepper had other ideas. She suddenly veered left, ignoring the subtle pressure from my knees and the tug on the reins.

“Whoa, what’s gotten into you?” I asked, pulling her up short. Then I spotted what had caught her attention. Brogan Creek glimmered in the distance, the deep shade beneath the cottonwoods a stark contrast to the bleached landscape. A tempting reprieve.

I couldn’t blame her. My shirt clung to my back with sweat, a damp trail running down my spine, and my hat band had soaked through hours ago. A quick stop wouldn’t throw the schedule off too much.

“Fine, you win.” I guided her toward the creek, the promise of cold water a welcome distraction as I mentally recalculated how much more I had to do today.

As we approached the water’s edge, my gaze snagged on a figure perched on the large flat rock that jutted out over the deepest part of the creek. Shirtless, legs dangling over the water—but I’d recognize those shoulders anywhere. Even broadened, leaner than I remembered, they had a familiar set.

Timmy Prescott. Travis’s little brother.

There was nothing little about him anymore, except his height. The teenager who’d devoured books, graduated college early, and gone off to California four years ago had filled out. Nicely.

Lean muscle defined his back and arms, like a swimmer’s build, compact and efficient. His exposed skin had bronzed to warm gold, surprisingly dark for someone supposedly living under coastal fog. Not just Travis’ nerdy kid brother anymore. The awkward energy was gone, replaced by a quiet stillness I didn’t recognize.

Pepper whinnied softly, announcing our presence. Tim turned, surprise registering on his face before it broke into a wide smile that hit me like an unexpected shove.

Unexpected, and unsettlingly potent.

“Wyatt Walker?” He shaded his eyes with one hand, looking up. “Is that you under all that dust?”

I swung down from the saddle, the impact jarring through my boots. Pepper dipped her nose toward the water. I let her reins hang loose. I looked down at him, summoning a confident grin. “In the flesh. Didn’t know you were back in town, Timmy.”

His smile twitched at the corners, a flicker of the old annoyance I used to deliberately provoke. “Most people call me Tim now.”

“Well, they haven’t known you as long as I have.” I removed my hat, wiping my forehead with my forearm, feeling the grit scrape against my skin. I might have flexed my bicep just enough. Old habits. “You still killing it in Silicon Valley?”

He popped a chip into his mouth, chewing slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “I needed a breather. Four years of working in a startup can wear you out.”

I led Pepper closer to the water’s edge so she could drink properly. “Your brother mentioned you were doing well out there. Some kind of computer genius now?”

“Product design, not programming.” He laughed, a quick, easy sound. “Though I appreciate the promotion.”

Now that I was closer, the changes were starker. His jawline had sharpened, definite stubble dusting the skin where soft peach fuzz used to be. His eyes, those were the same. Hazel, flecked with green, always a little too knowing, like he saw more than he let on. Right now, they were doing an unmistakable once-over, slow and deliberate, from my worn boots up to my dusty hat and back down.

“You haven’t changed a bit, cowboy.” His tone held something new, an undercurrent I couldn’t quite place.

“Rancher,” I corrected, adjusting my hat, settling it back on my head. “Cowboys are for rodeos and postcards.”

“And calendars.” Tim smirked, gaze lingering for a fraction too long on my chest before flicking back to my face. “The sexy kind they sell in gift shops.”

Heat crept up my neck that had nothing to do with the sun.

Flustered. Shit.

“Didn’t realize tech bros were so interested in the agricultural aesthetic.”

“We appreciate a good view.” His eyes met mine, direct and unwavering. “Some things just don’t change, no matter how far you go.”

That damn undercurrent again, stronger this time, pulling like the creek’s own flow.

Timmy wasn’t a kid anymore. Not even close.

And the way he was looking at me now wasn’t childish curiosity. It was something else entirely. Something that saw right through the ‘responsible rancher’ facade.

I crossed my arms, trying to regain control of the situation, of myself. “Well, some things do change. You look—”

I never finished the sentence. Pepper, having drunk her fill, chose that exact moment to nudge her head against my back.

Hard.

Hard enough to send me stumbling forward on the slick mud of the bank. My boots lost purchase, and before I could even curse, I pitched headfirst into Brogan Creek with a loud, undignified splash.

The water wasn’t deep, maybe chest-high. I surfaced sputtering, spitting water, my hat floating serenely downstream. My boots felt like concrete anchors.

Tim’s laughter rang out, echoing off the water. Deep and genuine, not mocking, just pure amusement. “Smooth move, Walker!”

I pushed wet hair from my face. “Glad I could provide some entertainment.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, still chuckling. Then, without warning, he stood up on the rock, kicked off his canvas shoes, and—in one fluid, surprising motion—stripped off his shorts.

My mouth went dry. He stood there in nothing but snug black briefs that left very little to the imagination. For a guy who wasn’t tall, he was perfectly proportioned. Compact, strong lines, zero softness. Just lean muscle and smooth, tanned skin.

“What are you—”

Before I could finish, he launched himself off the rock, cannon balling into the water beside me, sending another wave sloshing over my head. He emerged with a whoop, water streaming down his face, plastering his short hair to his scalp.

“Damn, that feels good!” He shook his head like a wet dog, droplets flying everywhere.

I snatched my hat before it floated all the way to Fort Worth and slogged toward the bank, soaked clothes heavy and clinging, boots squelching with every step. I watched him float easily on his back, sunlight catching the water droplets on his chest and stomach.

“You’re insane,” I said, but the words came out with an unwilling smile.

“Life’s too short not to jump in.” He flipped over with barely a splash and swam toward me with smooth, efficient strokes. “Though I’m guessing those clothes are pretty uncomfortable right now.”

He stopped a few feet away, treading water. Close enough that I could see the individual water beads clinging to his eyelashes. Close enough that if I reached out, my hand would land right on the curve of his shoulder, where a specific freckle I remembered from years ago still marked his skin. The thought sent a jolt through me.

“They aren’t great,” I admitted, the wet denim feeling rough and heavy. “But I’m not stripping down in broad daylight.”

“Why not? No one around for miles.” His eyes glinted with challenge, a familiar spark I hadn’t seen in years. “Unless you’re shy all of a sudden.”

Shy wasn’t the word. Wary, maybe.

Standing half-naked near Tim Prescott, with four years of distance suddenly evaporated between us, felt like playing with faulty wiring. Dangerous.

“Some of us have a reputation to maintain,” I said instead, running a hand over my jaw.

“Right. The serious rancher.” He splashed water at me playfully, droplets hitting my face. “God forbid anyone see Wyatt Walker having fun.”

That did it.

I lunged, grabbing his shoulders, aiming to dunk him. He came up laughing, twisting in my grip, hands slippery on my arms as he wrestled back. It was like sparring when we were younger, clumsy and laughing, except everything felt different now. His strength surprised me, meeting mine despite the obvious size difference.

The brush of his slick skin against mine wasn’t kid stuff anymore. It felt good, was electric. Sparking something I’d kept banked for too long.

Water dripped between us. Our faces were just inches apart. His hands gripped my waist, fingers pressing into the soaked fabric of my shirt. Mine were clamped on his shoulders, feeling the tension in the muscles beneath his skin. Our breathing was the only sound, harsh and uneven. His pupils dilated, his gaze dropping unmistakably to my mouth.

“Wyatt—” His voice was rough, deeper than I remembered.

My carefully constructed walls nearly crumbled. I released him abruptly and stepped back, nearly tripping over a submerged rock in my haste. The cold water felt like a necessary shock back to reality. “I should get out. Dry off.”

Tim blinked, the intensity fading slightly. “Right. Yeah.”

I sloshed to the bank, hauling myself out. The weight of Tim’s gaze followed my every move, prickling along my wet skin, but I kept my focus on the difficult task of unbuttoning my soaked shirt. My fingers felt clumsy.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.” I tried for casual as I straightened to my full height, peeling the heavy shirt off. I laid it flat on a sun-warmed rock. “Remember when half the football team used to skinny dip out here after games?”

“I remember.” Tim swam closer to the bank but stayed in the water. “You never joined in.”

I wrestled with my boots and then jeans, the wet denim clinging stubbornly. Finally, I peeled them off, leaving me in just my soaked boxers. “Someone had to keep watch.” Make sure Travis didn’t drown, usually.

That wasn’t the whole truth. I hadn’t joined because watching Travis and the others splash around was one thing. Watching him, even back then when he was all knees and elbows… that felt different. But Tim didn’t need to know that ancient history.

He pulled himself out of the water in one smooth movement, water streaming down his body. He sat on the edge of the flat rock, dripping. Even sitting, the difference in our builds was obvious, my frame broader, taller. “Always the responsible one.”

“Someone had to be.” I settled beside him on the rock, deliberately leaving a few inches of space between us. The sun felt good on my damp skin. “Not all of us had older brothers to bail us out of trouble.”

“Travis wasn’t always much help in that department.” Tim grinned, the expression momentarily chasing away the intensity. “Remember when he was supposed to be watching me and instead got caught making out with Sheila Wilson in your barn?”

Laughter burst out from me. “Your dad was livid. And you were what, fourteen?”

“Thirteen. And I only set off those fireworks because I was bored out of my mind waiting for him.”

“You nearly burned down the hay storage.”

“Details.” He waved a hand dismissively, then grew quieter, gaze drifting across the creek. “It’s weird being back. Everything looks the same but feels… different.”

I nodded, watching Pepper graze a few yards away. “That happens. You change, even if the place doesn’t.”

“Yeah.” He glanced sideways at me, his expression serious again. “You changed too, you know. Not just physically.”

“How so?”

“You’re…” He studied me, head tilted slightly. “Steadier. More certain. Back then, you were still trying to prove yourself, living in your dad’s shadow a bit. Now… now you wear the ranch like it’s part of your skin.”

His observation landed closer to home than I liked. I kept my tone even. “The ranch doesn’t run itself.”

“I was sorry I couldn’t make it back for the funeral.” His voice was quiet.

I shrugged. He’d been chasing his own dream out in California, building something. I got it. “Your brother was a big help. Travis really stepped up, helped me get through it.”

“Still.” He kicked his feet idly in the water below the rock. “How’s it been? Running everything yourself?”

“Busy. Exhausting. Rewarding sometimes.” I let a bit of pride seep into my voice. “We expanded the breeding program last year—got some prime Angus bloodlines that are finally paying off.” We certainly weren’t the biggest operation around, but we held our own.

“No time for anything else?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and direct. He wasn’t asking about cattle prices.

“Not much,” I admitted, meeting his gaze. The sun warmed the space between us. “Small town. Limited options.”

“For ranching?” He knew damn well what I meant.

“For everything.” I held his gaze, letting him see the truth for a moment. “Dating especially.”

He nodded, absorbing that. “I figured. Travis never mentions you seeing anyone.”

“Your brother respects my privacy.”

“So, there has been someone?” His tone stayed casual, but I caught the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened on the rock beside him.

I hesitated. How much to admit?

“Nothing serious.” Truth was, there had been a few men over the years—discrete encounters in the next county over, nothing that lasted beyond a weekend. Nothing that felt like… this.

Like sitting next to Tim Prescott, half-naked by a creek, feeling years of unspoken things finally surface. Nothing that made me want more.

“What about you?” I turned the question back on him. His proximity was doing things to my focus. I was hyper-aware of the space between us, of his heat radiating off his skin. “California must have offered plenty of options.”

“It did.” He squinted at the horizon, lost in thought for a moment. “Dated a startup founder for a while. Brilliant guy, intense. Not my boss, by the way… that would’ve been way too much drama. Then there was a graphic designer. Sweet, artistic. Both ended badly.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged, a wry twist to his lips. “Occupational hazard of working eighty-hour weeks, I guess. Relationships take time I didn’t have.”

“Is that why you came back? Burnout?”

“Partly.” He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “Mostly I missed this.” He gestured vaguely at the surrounding landscape. “Open sky. Quiet. People who knew me before I was whatever Silicon Valley wanted me to be.”

Understanding washed over me. I’d never left this land, never wanted to, but I knew what it meant to wear a mask—to be the stoic rancher, the responsible son, keeping parts of yourself carefully hidden away.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” the words slipped out before I could censor them, “I like this version of you.”

Tim’s smile was slow, softening his features. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You seem more… yourself.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in months.” He bumped his shoulder against mine gently. His head barely reached my shoulder when we sat side by side like this. The contact sent another jolt through me. “Though I’m not sure what version of me you’re comparing to.”

“The version that used to follow Travis and me around like a shadow,” I teased, smiling at the memory. “Always watching, taking everything in with those big eyes.”

“I wasn’t following Travis.” His admission hung in the air.

Heat crawled up my neck again, fierce this time. I looked away, toward Pepper.

My clothes were nowhere near dry, but the need to do something, anything, was sudden and urgent. I stood, my height momentarily casting a shadow over him. I ran my hands over my thighs, as if I were brushing the day’s grime off my jeans, though I wasn’t wearing any.

God, this wasn’t how I pictured this day going—nearly buck naked in front of Timmy Prescott.

In my bare feet, I went and checked Pepper’s reins, fussing unnecessarily.

“How long are you planning on staying?” I asked over my shoulder, keeping my back to him for a moment, trying to gather myself.

I knew what I wanted to do, but asking him out felt like jumping off a cliff blindfolded.

Travis’s brother.

Here, in this town, where everyone knew everyone’s business.

But the way he looked at me… the way I felt looking back… maybe some risks were worth taking. It had been a long, lonely few years.

“Not sure yet. Travis is letting me crash at his place until I figure things out.”

“Any plans?”

“Besides recovering from tech burnout?” He stretched languidly on the rock, arching his back, drawing my attention back to his lean, defined torso. Damn him. “Not really. Might help Travis with some projects around his place. Reconnect with old friends.”

My heart started hammering against my ribs. A stupid, reckless idea formed, one I knew I’d probably regret but couldn’t seem to stop.

I turned back, facing him. “You know, there’s a bar over in Milton. Hosts a Rainbow Night every Sunday.”

Tim’s eyebrows shot straight up. “A gay night? Tonight? Here in cattle country?”

“World’s changing.” I shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, trying to ignore the frantic pulse in my throat. I let a hint of confidence, bordering on cockiness, slip into my smile. “It’s not San Francisco, but it’s not half bad. Good music, decent drinks.”

He tilted his head, studying me intently. “How do you know about it?”

I gave him a look. “How do you think? I might not be the partying type, but I get out every once in a while.”

“Right.”

“It’s the next town over,” I added, feeling the need to reassure him, or maybe myself. “Nobody cares much about other people’s business there.”

Tim waved his hand, as if that was the last thing he was worried about. He studied me for a long, silent moment, his hazel eyes searching mine. “Are you asking me to go with you?”

This was it. The moment to back out, laugh it off, pretend it was just a casual suggestion. But the image of him sitting here, the memory of his hand on my waist, the years of suppressed longing—it all coalesced. I squared my shoulders, meeting his gaze directly. No more hiding. “Yeah. I am.”

His smile bloomed slowly, transforming his face, chasing away the last vestiges of the kid I remembered and revealing the man sitting before me. “Then yes. I’d like that.”

“Really?” The surprise leaked into my voice despite myself.

“Don’t sound so shocked.” He stood up, still in nothing but those briefs, and crossed his arms over his bare chest. He had to tilt his head back slightly to meet my eyes. “Did you think I’d say no?”

“Honestly?” I admitted, running a hand through my damp hair. “I wasn’t sure I’d have the guts to ask.”

His expression softened, a warmth entering his eyes that mirrored the heat spreading through my chest. “I’m glad you did.”

Something shifted between us then, palpable, like a logjam breaking free in the creek. Possibilities I’d never allowed myself to seriously consider suddenly felt real, within reach.

“Tonight, then,” I said, letting my confidence resurface, steadier now the leap had been taken. “I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“It’s a date.” He paused, his eyes locking with mine again, seeking confirmation. “It is a date, right?”

I met his gaze, no longer hiding anything, letting him see the want that had been simmering for years. “Yeah, Timmy. It’s a date.”

He didn’t correct me on his name this time. Instead, he grinned, a flash of the boyish enthusiasm I remembered, but his eyes held a promise that made my pulse quicken all over again.

“I should get back,” I said, bending to gather my damp, heavy clothes. “Still have the fence line to check before dark.” Responsibility called, same as always.

“Don’t let me keep you from your duties.” His tone was teasing, but his eyes were warm, holding mine. “Some things never change.”

I pulled on my cold, damp jeans, grimacing. “And some things do.”

I shrugged into my shirt and put my boots back on.

As I swung back into the saddle, Pepper shifting patiently beneath me, Tim stood watching, hands on his hips. For a moment, I thought about all the years I’d spent telling myself he was off-limits, all the missed chances, all the carefully constructed distance.

“Eight,” I reminded him, tipping my still-damp hat with a touch of cowboy swagger I hadn’t earned but felt anyway.

“I’ll be waiting.” He raised a hand in farewell, a beautiful smile across his face. “Try not to fall in any more creeks between now and then.”

I just grinned back. “No promises.”

As I rode away, urging Pepper into a trot, I caught myself smiling—a wide, unrestrained smile, the kind I hadn’t felt crack my face in years.

Only a couple of hours to shower, change, and figure out what the hell I thought I was doing, starting something with my best friend’s little brother.

Something I wasn’t entirely sure I knew how to finish, but damn if I wasn’t suddenly desperate to try.