Chapter 1: Not so casual encounters
Marcus looked in the rearview mirror and waved his old life goodbye as he crossed the state line into Wyoming. At 24 years old, he’d already accomplished more than most. The 5x8 cargo trailer hitched to the back of his black Ford F-150 carried the remaining pieces of his old life. A new life and adventure, hopefully, awaited him in the small town of Snow Pine, Wyoming. From all the photos, the town looked like a very picturesque mountain town.
Hours later, he was driving through the middle of the small town. A towering pine forest gave the town a picture-perfect backdrop. The main street was a charming stretch of locally owned shops. Everyone looked friendly. People were waving and chatting with neighbors. It was different from the city life Marcus had been accustomed to in Boston.
The locals in the new town were a mix of outdoor rugged enthusiasts, artists who lived for the natural beauty, and, of course, multi-generational families. At a glance, the town seemed warm and loving. Marcus thought to himself, “This is just what I need.” It was a hopeful start for a new beginning.
He pulled up in front of the big white house. Marcus got out of the truck, and the sun instantly glowed around his chocolate skin. The fresh air filled his lungs and made his muscular chest expand. He pushed his locs out of his face. Those hazel brown eyes lit up at the sight of the charming home. She was a historic fixer-upper, but the beauty of her charm was not lost on anyone who laid eyes on her.
The paint was slightly chipped, and the porch creaked underfoot. The expansive wraparound porch was lined with rocking chairs. A vintage swing hung on the south side. She offered a fantastic view of Crystal Snow Lake in the distance.
The northeast corner of the home was a towering turret. Everywhere you looked, there was something special and magical about it. It truly warmed Marcus’s heart and saddened him all at the same time. Just as his mind was starting to go down a certain path, his cell phone rang. He quickly pulled the phone out of his pocket; it was his mother calling.
“Hello, mother,” he said as he hit answer.
“Marcus, have you made it there yet?” she began her line of questioning. “You sure you want to be all the way out there? You said you’d call as soon as you got there. I timed it, and I tracked your location on the iPhone.”
He let out a long, exasperated sigh, “Yes, I made it. Yes, I’m sure I want to be here. Even if I change my mind, I’m already here. I already purchased the house.”
“I know. It’s just your dad and your grandma worry about you,” she said. Her tone was a bit more softer than previously.
“I know,’ he said as he started to pace in front of the house, “I appreciate everyone worrying. I’m totally fine. I promise. I just got here, and I should unload the truck before dark.”
“Okay. You call me if something happens,” she instructed him.
“I just got here. I doubt anything…will happen,” his words slowed down as he saw him jogging about twenty feet away.
“Marcus,” she called out.
“Mom, I’ll call you back,” he said as he stared at the vision across the open green field.
He was wearing a pair of Hoochie Daddy shorts, white boots, and a black cowboy hat. Those shorts fitted him nice and tight. His thighs were thick, and his legs had specks of dark hair on them. He was shirtless, and his chest and abs were nicely developed. He had a dark trail of hair that went from his belly button, which disappeared down inside his shorts.
His nipples were small and pink; his eyes were a deep green. Part of his dark, wavy hair hung from underneath his hat. He had thick eyebrows and a round, sun-kissed face. He had no facial hair but semi-full, pink lips. As he ran, you could see his appendage swinging back and forth in his shorts. He was a mouth-watering small-town treat.
The man felt Marcus’s eyes on him in the distance. He turned his head and made eye contact. He had to stop running. Initially, it was his curious nature that made him stop. It was the sight that kept him at a pause. He thought to himself, “Someone finally bought the old Pine family home. Well, not just any old one. He’s hot.” He quickly waved at Marcus in a neighborly way. Marcus returned the wave.
“You movin’ in?” the stranger yelled out. His voice was smooth as whiskey.
“Looks that way,” Marcus answered with his city charming smile.
As the man approached Marcus, he took in his beauty. He couldn’t help but admire his dark chocolate skin. It was smooth and flawless. His beard was fully trimmed and lined up. Those hazel brown eyes looked more like sweet caramel. Those pants clung to his body, showing off his curvy figure. Lastly, he had the juiciest, tastiest-looking pink lips.
“I’m Ryan. Ryan Calloway. I live just right on the edge of town,” he said as he stuck his hand out with a dazzling smile.
Marcus replied, “Nice to meet you. I’m Marcus. Marcus Reed.”
The two men shook hands. The handshake lasted way longer than it should have. There was a spark of some sort instantly. Their eyes lingered, and they continued to shake hands. It was almost comical yet totally sweet.
“So, are we just going to continue to shake hands?” Marcus asked with a laugh.
“Sorry,” he pulled his hand away. “I never thought anyone would buy the old place. Is it just you?”
Marcuse looked over his shoulder at the house. He turned his attention back to Ryan. A smile formed in the corner of his mouth.
“I don’t know if I should answer that,” he replied. “You could be an axe murderer or something.”
Ryan chuckled, “You’re funny. I am not a murderer. I happen to be a productive member of society.”
“That’s what they all say, Boots.” It slipped out so seamlessly.
Ryan blushed, “Boots? You're calling me that because…”
“Because you’re wearing cowboy boots, sir.”
Ryan feigned his knowledge, “I knew that. I was just checking your knowledge.”
“That’s usually an indicator that you didn’t know what I was talking about,” he responded.
“Right…uhm…well, I should get going. Welcome to Snow Pine.”
As he backed away, he stopped, and his eyes lingered on Marcus. He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his thick, dark, wavy hair. He knew he shouldn’t do it, but he couldn’t resist it. It felt like the right thing to do.
“There’s this bar in town called Snow Patrol, not the singing group. They have really good tequila. I’ll be there around 7ish tonight. Swing by, maybe?”
“Wow, dude, I’m sorry. I’m straight,” Marcus said with a straight face.
Ryan’s eyes bulged. “I am so sorry. I am so embarrassed. I thought…never mind what I thought. I’m sorry.”
“Straight up, gay,” Marcus corrected himself as he burst into laughter.
Ryan stood still. He watched as Marcus’s shoulders bounced up and down to the rhythm of his laughter. His eyes roamed over the man’s rise and fall of his chest.
“A true comedian, ladies and gentlemen. Hopefully, I'll see you there,” he said as he put his hat back on. “Just casual drinks between neighbors. A welcome to our small town toast.”
Ryan turned and began to jog away. Marcus stood watch as he ran. The view was amazing. Ryan had a near-perfect shape—an absolute peach of a behind. The way it moved as he ran gave Marcus bad thoughts. They were the kind of thoughts he shouldn’t have been thinking. It had been so long since he had looked at a guy and had that kind of reaction.
“It’s just a casual encounter, Marcus. Calm down,” he told himself.
Marcus walked into the bar and was surprised to find it empty, minus one person. There was no sign of Ryan. He decided to take a seat, order, and shoot. He was on his third shot when the guy of everyone’s wettest dreams walked in. He was tall, mysterious, and absolutely gorgeous.
He had a head of dark golden, wavy hair, dark green eyes, thick, dark eyebrows, and a long, narrow face. Where there would normally be a mustache, there was stubble. He was wearing a white T-shirt that hugged his huge arms and thick chest. You could tell he took care of his body. His blue jeans looked like they were painted on. He had some nice thighs and a little bit of an ass. He was the very definition of sexy.
He took a seat next to Marcus at the bar. He ordered a drink, and you could hear his thick, country Midwestern accent. Everything about him made the heart jump. People had dirty thoughts about all the nasty things they would let this guy do to them. Marcus was no exception to that rule. The very sight of the sexy cowboy filled his mind with dirty images.
The man glanced over at Marcus with heavy eyes. “You not from round these parts, are you?”
The tone and bass in his voice sent a chill down Marcus’s spine. He felt frozen and lost for words for a split second.
“If I’m not?” Marcus finally asked.
“Then we’d have to discuss some things,” he answered. His voice was low and edgy.
“I don’t want any trouble, dude,” Marcus said, knowing he was out of his depths there.
“Just makin’ a little conversation witchu. No trouble,” he said casually as he swallowed his shot. “I’m Cameron.”
He extended his hand out. Marcus stared at it. He was completely hesitant to take hold of it.
“Don’t be rude,” Cameron added.
“Marcus.”
“Don’t be nervous. I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that kind of thing,” he said playfully but also with a hint of seriousness.
“People really go around saying things like that to people,” Marcus asked, half amused and half nervous.
“Hurricane” by Luke Combs began playing. He jumped up from the bar and started belting the song out. With every word he sang, he stared at Marcus. He was singing the song with all his might. It was clear that it was jam. Marcus couldn’t tell if he was singing to be singing, or if he was flirting.
The guy was charismatic with a bad-boy vibe. His entire swagger gave the very definition of big dick energy. Who doesn’t love a bad boy with a big, you know what, though? Marcus would be the first to admit that Cameron’s bad-boy edge was a turn-on.
The way he moved was erotic. The entire situation was surreal. He had Marcus’s undivided attention, and he fucking knew it. The more Marcus watched him, the more he wanted to do bad things with the stud.
Cameron knew the types of reactions he invoked in people. His eyes moved down Marcus’s body. In his mind, he undressed the man. Just as his eyes found Marcus’s crotch, he saw the man’s cock as it began to jump and twitch in those pants.
Cameron's eyes moved back up till they were locked with Marcus. A feeling of heat overtook them both. Marcus suddenly needed some cold water on his face ASAP.
Marcus jumped up from the bar. As he headed for the bathroom, Cameron grabbed hold of his arm. He spun him around and pulled him into a tight embrace. Heat radiated from Cameron’s muscular body and wrapped itself around Marcus. He began to slow dance with him. Marcus struggled to break free. The struggle excited Cameron and made him hold him tighter. The bulge in his tight jeans pressed into Marcus like a key sliding into an ignition.
“Let go of me, Cameron,” he struggled to break free of Cameron’s Thor-like grip.
“I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” his thick mid-west accent flowed out like honey.
Marcus inhaled Cameron’s aroma, and he suddenly stopped struggling. For a moment, Marcus lost himself in time. He was somewhere else with someone else. He rested his head in Cameron’s chest. The heartbeat rang in his ears. He could feel myself fading and melting away under Cameron’s touch.
The stud was a cocky son of a bitch. He knew it, and he seemed to thrive in it. He narrowed his eyes and licked his lips seductively. He just knew he had Marcus right where he wanted him.
“I know you’re not from round here. I would have had you on my cock a long time ago,” he said matter-of-factly.
His words broke whatever spell Marcus was temporarily under. He pushed away from him. Cameron still had a firm grip on his arm. The challenge excited him. He was so used to getting what he wanted in life.
Marcus sighed, “I’m not that easy.”
“I. Think. You. Are.” He leaned in closer with each word he spoke.
Their lips were suddenly just a couple of inches apart.
Marcus could feel his warm breath on his face. Their stomachs and chests touched. Their man parts were ready to collide. Part of Marcus wanted to kiss him. There was this other part that wouldn’t let him. Why did he have to be tall, dark, mysterious, and such a bad boy? Just as Cameron was about to kiss him, he slapped him across the face.
The slap stung. Cameron ran his hand across his cheek. That was not a move he had anticipated. Marcus took Cameron's temporary distraction as the perfect opportunity to exit. No sooner had he exited the back entrance Ryan came in through the front. Ryan spotted Cameron standing in the middle of the bar, staring off into the distance. Even from behind, he knew who he was.
“When you get in town,” Ryan asked as he made his way over to Cameron.
“This afternoon,” Cameron answered with extreme annoyance. He never once turned to face Ryan.
Ryan sighed, “Reckon you just passing through for the night and will be gone by sunup.”
Cameron stared at the back exit door, “Naw. I think I might stick around for a little bit longer. This town is finally gettin’ some excitement.”
Cameron finally turned around and faced Ryan. The turned-up-sour-face Ryan displayed made Cameron smirk.
“You think you can handle us both being in the same town?”
Ryan cut his eyes. “I don’t care what you do. Just stay out of my way.
Cameron turned his back on him. He stared at the back exit as he rubbed the place where Marcus’s hand had connected to his face.
“Trust me, I have no intentions of being in your way, little brother.”
Cameron’s words were completely dismissive. He had no desire to feed into the sibling rivalry that existed between him and Ryan. Cameron Calloway had something else on his mind that he wanted to tame.
TO BE CONTINUED
© Beckham G 2026. All rights reserved.
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