Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance by Bailey Bradford (poetry books to read txt) 📗

good idea of why. He would have laughed if it had happened to someone else—as was usually the case, it wasn’t funny when it happened to oneself.

Now he had in his employ one sexy man who, if he’d been fifteen years older—or at least ten, Chance could have handled ten—Chance would have…done nothing. He needed help on the ranch more than he needed to get laid, no matter how much his prick thought otherwise.

That particular part of his anatomy had sat up and taken notice of the blond man like no one before, with the exception of the stranger at the bar Saturday night.

“Must be it—damned stranger with the magic hands turned me into a horny old man.”

Not that Chance really thought forty was ancient or anything, but in a world that worshipped youth and beauty, it was hard not to feel old and worn down. Which was a good reason to keep the younger man at a distance. He wouldn’t feel any sympathy for the…Rory.

Hadn’t been anyone to pick Chance up when he’d been toppled by life, and he’d made it.

Not without an issue or two, but who didn’t have at least a couple?

And all this self-examination was a stalling technique and he knew it. He would not RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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allow himself to feel guilty for doing this to Rory only and not Max as well. Chance trusted his gut, and he was certain that Max was legit. When it came to the younger of his employees, however, there were just too many feelings swirling around in Chance’s head and body for him to believe his judgement sound towards Rory.

Chance picked up his cell phone then dialled the number listed for one Annabelle Calhoun and was treated to hellacious music on the other end as he waited for her to answer.

Who had ever thought that bit of technology was a good idea?

“Hello,” a rough voice barked across the line. Chance bit back a snicker of surprise and hoped like Hades that wasn’t Rory’s sister on the phone. If so…eesh.

“I’m calling for Annabelle Calhoun. May I speak to her, please?”

“Who is this? What do you want with Annabelle?” Chance had a sneaking suspicion the angry man on the phone was Rory’s dad, and as much as he was tempted to tell the man why he was calling, because he was sure Ian Calhoun would tell Rory’s story in a vitriolic outburst, Chance had enough integrity to hold himself back.

“Is she available?” Chance kept his voice reasonable and calm. He wanted the reference check on Rory—the cursing coming across the line proving he was irritating Calhoun senior with his perseverance was just a bonus.

“I’ll just call back at another time.” Like when you’re better adjusted to your psych meds.

Chance disconnected the call and turned his phone off for a bit. He was pretty sure he’d have some fun messages to listen to later.

Right now, he needed to head over to the bunkhouse and give his employees the detailed worklist he’d made up, as well as discuss salary with Rory.

Odd that the man hadn’t even asked about it, and Chance had to acknowledge that he’d been too busy trying to suffocate his attraction to the younger man to even think about salaries. He would have to get his brain out of his balls and act like the boss instead of an old horndog. Chance just prayed he was up to the challenge.

Chance’s stomach sunk down to his kneecaps when he discovered Max alone in the bunkhouse.

“Hey, boss, what can I do for you?” Max’s grin was infectious, reaching out to Chance RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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and inviting him to share in a laugh at the world in general. How could the man be so cheery? It wasn’t natural.

“I came to give you and Rory the worklist, answer questions about it if y’all had any.

Also realised I needed to discuss something with Rory we completely forgot about in his interview. Do you know where he is?” Chance didn’t want to ask—he did not want to be alone with the all-too-appealing man if possible.

“He got a phone call a few minutes ago. Couldn’t help but overhearing a man’s voice yelling at him. You know how loud those cell phones can be.” Max eyed him in a way that made Chance wonder just what the smaller man was seeing.

“Yeah, they can be very…um. I guess I can leave the list with you and you can fill Rory in on it. I’ll just catch up with him on the other thing another time. Or he may be back by the time we’re done. If you want, I can wait while you look the list over. Just in case you have any questions.” Chance sneaked a peek out the door and still didn’t see Rory anywhere.

Maybe he’d gone out behind the barn. He turned back to find Max studying him intently.

“He’s probably done and checking out the place. Said he was gonna do that right ‘fore his phone rang, if ya want to go see,” Max suggested.

“No. I doubt he’d want anyone overhearing…whatever is going on in that call if it’s not over.” Guilt tickled Chance’s brain—had he inadvertently sicced Calhoun senior on Rory?

The idea made him feel like a jackass. Of course he had. The kick he’d got out of provoking Ian Calhoun had flung back around and caught Rory upside the head.

“Shit. Okay, Max, here’s the list. You’ve both had enough experience for it to be self-explanatory anyway. If either of you do have questions, just come up to the house. Any time you need anything, don’t hesitate.”

Chance had barely placed the paper in Max’s hand before he was turning and striding out the door, trying to keep a little dignity by walking fast rather than running. He stopped and listened, hoping to catch the sound of Rory’s voice but heard nothing other than the occasional cow or horse. Going on instinct, Chance headed to