Extreme Bull

Ford
    96

    “Okay, then don’t.” Jeff pitched his cigarette into the steel barrel by the fence and pulled his jacket closer, wrapping his arms around himself against the sudden chill he felt. “I need some shuteye.” He walked back to his trailer and went inside, locking the door behind him.
    “I won’t,” Clay said defiantly. He stayed by the fence smoking one last cigarette. When he finished it, he went back to his own trailer and lay awake the rest of the night, staring at the ceiling and beating himself up.
    If it hadn’t been for his stupid outburst, he wouldn’t have had to spend the night alone in a cold camper. Jeff was so close and yet so far away. But it was better this way.
    There was no possible way anyone could mistake them for fags, and from now on, he would stick to finding a girl and making do with that.
    When he woke up in the morning, Jeff’s trailer was gone. It was only then that he realized how much he’d been counting on finding some greasy spoon in the morning and having breakfast with him.
    He got on the road again, determined to find Jeff wherever he’d stopped and join him. He’d show Jeff that he didn’t mind them being seen together. At the back of his mind though, a nasty little voice told him that maybe he overslept on purpose so that whatever restaurant he found Jeff at they wouldn’t be seen coming in together.

    Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
    97

    When he spotted Jeff’s trailer outside the Little Gem Diner, Clay pulled in next to it. This was a popular stop for truckers, not so much for the cowboys. But he didn’t care.
    Time to build some bridges.
    He opened the door, and every man in the place looked over at him without interest when the bell tinkled. He stood there for a moment, surveying the place until he spotted Jeff sitting in a booth by a window. He walked over and paused, his hand on the back of the booth. “This seat taken?” Jeff looked up and his lips twitched, like he wanted to smile but wouldn’t let himself. “Nope.”
    “Mind if I take a load off?” Clay didn’t wait for an answer, just slid in.
    “Be my guest.”
    Clay turned the cup upright on the saucer, and a girl came by promptly to fill it with coffee but rushed off without taking his order. “Been here long?” There was no plate in front of Jeff.
    “Nope.”
    The girl hurried back and slapped two plates on the table, filled with smoking eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and toast. “Need anything else?”
    “No, we’re good,” Jeff said.

    Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
    98

    Clay’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed his food. “You ordered for me?”
    “Maybe I’m hungry.”
    Clay glared at Jeff. Jeff smiled at him triumphantly.
    Clay opened his mouth but started to laugh instead, the relief of being on speaking terms again just overtaking him.
    “You’re not getting any of my grub.”
    “Oh well, them’s the breaks, I guess,” Jeff said, and he picked up his fork.
    Clay looked down at his plate of food, afraid that he might start giggling if he looked at Jeff, that he would give away how happy he felt, not only that they were speaking again but just that he was sitting here with him. He moved his leg when he felt something brush against his shin. A moment later he felt the same thing, except a little firmer this time.
    Was Jeff playing footsie with him under the table? Part of him was terrified that someone would see, but he held completely still, just to see if Jeff had done it on purpose.
    The toe of a boot stroked his shin more insistently this time.
    Clay made a sudden movement as if to look under the table but stopped; that would have been way obvious.
    Instead he glanced up cautiously, intending to check whether any of the men in the place were looking their way, but the sight of Jeff smirking into his plate stopped his gaze.

    Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
    99

    Jeff gave him a sly look from under his lashes, and Clay felt like he might burst he wanted to laugh so bad. Jeff was playing with him. Well, two could play at this game. He moved his foot, but Jeff withdrew his legs just as the waitress stopped for a moment to ask if everything was okay.
    For once, he wasn’t chewing, and Clay assured her that they were fine and didn’t need anything more. She left the check face down on the table.
    He let his napkin slide off his lap and dove under the table to see where Jeff’s legs were at so he could return the favor. He made the discovery that the table’s pedestal was a hefty