George's Turn [Brac Pack 8] Read Online Free PDF

pocket of his jeans.
    “Okay.” Scratching the back of his neck, his mate looked like he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer any personal questions.
    “What’s up with Kitty?”
    A look of relief flooded George’s face. “Is it that obvious?” George chuckled. “I think she’s trying to make me a daddy.”
    “What?” Tank thundered out.
    “Whoa, big fella. I said trying . She’s got a dozen of them runnin’
    around at home. She doesn’t think I know. I may be a hick, but I’m George’s Turn
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    not that stupid.” George laughed.
    Tank could listen to his laugh for hours on end and never tire of it.
    “So, you’re not interested in her?”
    “Nah, ain’t my type.” They began to walk again, heading back toward the diner.
    “What’s your type?” Please let him say me.
    “Not sure, but she ain’t.” Tank could tell he was hiding the fact that he was gay. Frank told him that he let his mate know how gay-friendly the town was. Well, most of the town. He remembered the scuffle the mates had in the bathroom of the diner a while back. Four cowboys from the local ranch seemed to have a problem with the sexual preference of others and wanted to make an example out of the mates. Boy, were they surprised when the mates defended themselves.
    Hell, Tank had been shocked.
    They ended at the back entrance of the diner, Tank wishing they had taken a longer route. He didn’t want to let George go. Dammit, why couldn’t he just take him home and claim him? Tank wanted to stomp his foot like a five-year-old having a fit. It wasn’t fair.
    “Well, it was nice talking with ya. I guess I’ll see you around the diner. And thanks for the roses.” George turned to leave, but Tank wasn’t having it. He pulled his mate into his arms, crushing his lips to the softest set he’d ever tasted. George moaned and leaned into Tank, battling for domination. Tank knocked George’s Stetson off and grabbed a handful of blond hair, pulling his mate’s head back and delving deeper.
    George broke the kiss. “Tank.”
    Tank stopped the protest by kissing George again, his taste like a fresh summer morning rain. Tank got lost in the sweetness of his mate’s mouth.
    Tank could tell George wanted to push him away, but his mate surprised him by grabbing his face instead. Tank reached a hand around his mate’s neck, pulling him closer. This must have been too much because George pushed him away, a look of mixed lust and 32
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    confusion in his eyes.
    “George.” Tank reached out, but George stepped away.
    “I can’t, Tank. I just…can’t.” George pulled the door open and ran upstairs.
    Tank stood there, stunned. What did he do wrong? Reaching down to grab George’s hat, he dusted it off and inhaled the scent of his mate.
    He had thought things were going well. George seemed like a really nice guy, a guy Tank wanted to get to know better. His heart reached out to the guy, wondering what it was like to deny who you truly were.
    Never in his life had Tank thought to lie about being gay. Even when his pack turned their backs on him, he stood proud and tall, leaving them behind. To be kicked off of three ranches must have been devastating to the cowboy. Tank couldn’t even imagine someone telling him to get out. He left his pack of his own free will.
    He had an urge to drive to Wyoming and kick everyone’s ass that offended his mate.
    Staring up at the apartment, he was torn between just going home or knocking the door down and claiming what was his. He’d force George out of the closet. He shook his head, knowing he really wouldn’t do that.
    With a sigh, Tank started walking slowly back toward his truck.

    * * * *
    George paced his small apartment, thinking about the best kiss he had ever had. He felt at a loss being away from Tank, and that scared the shit out of him. George hit the on button to the stereo and blasted Faith Hill’s “Free,” letting the melody take him away.
    The image of that big Clydesdale of