quinientos | The Author & The Rancher

For the twentieth time today, Ale curses his agent for sending him out into the wilderness because he's got writer's block. He never should have said anything, he should have kept quiet about all of this. Instead, he was the idiot who decided that he would share his inability to get through the chapters of his western romance and now he was being punished.

Well, he was being sent into the West to a ranch with all-expenses paid, but to him, that meant punishment. Adjusting his suitcase, he waddles his way up the front porch after the taxi had dropped him off, staring at the estate he's been sent to.

The Faraday Ranch.

Sam, that damn agent of his, had insisted that Joshua Faraday would help to unstick some of the writer's block that was keeping the chapter from moving forward. He'd seemed so very convinced, too, and it's not like Vasquez can argue that. Besides, none of his old tricks have been working and maybe seeing a real live cowboy will actually do some help. He reserves the right to be wary about that, though.

Dropping his bags at the door, he leans on the bell, feeling disheveled and exhausted from the plane ride and the long cab in. He probably looks a mess, but he doesn't care, because right now, all he cares about is getting inside and trading on the rancher's hospitality so he can put his feet up and worry about writing later.

Besides, how handsome can this one man be? Sam is probably just exaggerating again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

onesyllable

It is, above all else, a working ranch. He doesn't regularly have others around like some kind of Coca-Cola cowboy bed and breakfast with a lot flash and pretties where the cattle are just for show. That said, when an old friend calls and asks him to help out? That he can't say no to. Just not the man he is.

Not that he has any idea what to expect from this romance writer. That's all Sam had told him, and there's an image in Joshua's head of some tiny petite girl in jeans that cost about as much as his monthly truck payment and boots with like red soles or something.

So when he opens the door, he just kind of stands there, stunned and staring for a long time before finally managing one questions. "A Vasquez?"

From:

quinientos

"Alejandro Vasquez," he agrees, thinking about the pen name that he uses because people buy more of his novels if they think he's a woman. He never even uses a picture so that he can keep some anonymity to himself, so he doesn't fault the man for not knowing who he is.

It's also lucky that saying his name is second nature, because he's gaping at him like he's been shocked. He'd thought this would be some old, grizzled cowboy, but now he understands why Sam has sent him here.

This man could be on the front cover of his novel. The suitcases are still at his feet and he's still gaping. "Sorry, it's been a long day," he manages, trying to explain his idiocy. "You have a room for me, I was told?"

From:

onesyllable

"Joshua Faraday," he says in return, giving the man a nod. The man. A man. Writing romance novels. Faraday blinks, trying to get himself back on focus with what he's supposed to be doing. Which he is pretty sure is not gaping, and wondering now if he should check out any of these books. He really doubts they're going to have the male rancher and the male writer. Nope. Not how these worked.

So instead he nods, stepping back and gesturing to him. "Come on then. Course I do. Sam said you needed some space to get back into the story you're on or something?" He hadn't really paid attention when he thought he was housing some heel wearing blonde writing about ripped bodices.

"And no worries. I get long days. Still have to put down feed for the night for the horses, so I get it," he says, smirking. "Follow me."

From:

quinientos

"I have writer's block and the city isn't doing much to help with my problems," he admits, bending down to pick up his suitcases and heading inside, feeling awkward and without a place as he tries to figure out where he should be putting his things down.

The house is gorgeous and even so, Vasquez can only keep his attention on the man in front of him, stuck with how much he finds him so attractive. He's already hearing scenes in his head being written and he follows. "What I really need is for someone to show me what goes into a cowboy's life. Maybe it will help set some scenes, get the rancher to fall in love with my city girl."

From:

onesyllable

Joshua paused, moving to reach back and take one of the bags easily. "Here, give me that," he says, moving to take the other as well. "Just follow me. I have a guest room on the second floor. It'll give you a view out over the ranch as well," he adds, smiling as he thinks about it. He really does love this place.

He doesn't say anything as he heads up the stairs, moving easily even with the bags and turning to a bedroom, kicking open the door. "There's a bathroom off this room. Both are suites, so you don't have to worry about running into me in the hallway."

Dropping the bags, turning to look at Vasquez, giving him a long, slow look. Yeah, he saw this being the story. Someone like him... and some pretty blonde thing like he was expecting.

"You wanting to just watch? Or you planning to put your back into things?"

From:

quinientos

Vasquez had brought two suitcases and they're both brimming, because he hadn't been sure how long he'd be here. Letting Joshua take the other one, he appreciates the swell and curve of his biceps a great deal as he follows, peering around the house and marveling at how beautiful everything looks.

"I'm definitely a city boy," he warns. "You can ask me to work, but I might just make things worse and I don't know if I have enough in my savings to pay for all the damage," he jokes. "Maybe I could watch and pitch in if it looks easy enough?"

That seems like a good in-between, to him.

From:

onesyllable

The house was meticulous, decorated by his mother, though Joshua didn't talk much about that. Instead he just loved the way it all looks, moving easily up the stairs to the bedroom.

Pushing open the door, he steps in and puts down the bag, moving to let the other man walk in. The entire guest room is done in muted shades of blue and white, an antique quilt on the bed, and a roll top desk in the corner.

"Well, I suspect I could write you a contract that makes you a farm hand for a season. Then you'd be covered by our insurance," he offers, grinning widely at him, and maybe only teasing. "Do you at least ride?"

From:

quinientos

Vasquez absently lets his fingers drift and touch small pieces of decoration as he stares at everything on display, genuinely impressed by the items that are here. It's a beautiful home and it feels rustic and charming in a way his loft back in the city can't.

He peeks inside the room, heart beating faster for how cozy it looks, settling his bag down. "I learned how when I was younger," he assures, "but it's been a while and I'm a little bit spooked. You might have to help me."

Vasquez realizes after how much of a come-on that could sound like and his nervous laugh doesn't really help. "Just until I get my riding feet back under me."

From:

onesyllable

Joshua stays by the door, watching as this man, this romance writer, wanders around the room. He's not sure what to say, or even how to handle this. It's nothing like what he was expecting, and now that he's here, he's wishing he could throttle Sam. Or at least ask him if he's just trying to torture Joshua.

Some pretty petite thing in heels he could have handled. Tall, dark and handsome here, that's going to be another story all together.

"I'm sure it'll come back to you. It's one of those things that even without a lot of practice, your body remembers just what to do." Like sex. Or... "You know, like riding a bike," he says, realizing that it's really not right of him to have thoughts about it any other way. The man writes Hallmark romances, and Joshua needs to keep that in his head above all else.

"But we can get you back in the saddle, if nothing else. It'll give you a feel for the ranch and let you have a look around."

From:

quinientos

He comes back to get his second bag, hauling it with some effort onto the bed, because his computer is there, his typewriter, and plenty of other items that he's been using to try and break through the writer's block. He sits on the end of the bed and bounces on it a little, his jeans pulling at the knees.

"Maybe you can tell me some tips about sexy things?" His face flushes hot when he remembers that English being his second language sometimes gets him in trouble. "I mean, I have a scene after riding a horse and I need to figure out a way to make it sexy. Maybe you could tell me some of the opportunities. I don't think mucking stalls would be, but maybe something to do with helping people into the saddle?"

Heart pounding, he thinks he recovered decently from it, but now he's not going to stop thinking about Faraday's hands on him.

Damn Sam for sending him here. Why couldn't it have been an old retired ranch hand?

"Can I help with the cooking? That, I'm very good at."

From:

onesyllable

Oh but a brow jerks at that, more than curious than he really should be about that question. Though when he goes on, explaining what it is he meant by that question, Joshua can't help but to chuckle at the explanation.

"I see. I can come up with a few ideas. Obviously the stables. Large mounts, solid wood..." He pauses, watching Vasquez curiously with the darkness of that flush. "Lots of leather and crops around. Like that," he says, voice a bit of a rumble as he tests the waters. Even if he's not interested, he can't help but have a little fun with all of this, can he?

"Definitely into the saddle. Plenty of casual touching that can become more, lingering there with thighs right there to nuzzle and kiss," he adds, trying to sound so matter of fact about it all, even though he knows just what he's doing.

"Kitchen's aren't a bad place either," he adds, smirking. "But if you're good at cooking, I'm sure you know that, but the help is more than welcome. Do you need some time to settle in, or want the tour?"

From:

quinientos

"My stories aren't very much about crops and whips," he confesses with a laugh, feeling a little embarrassed as he rubs a hand through his hair. "It's a bit more vanilla, where all the sexual tension has to do with the characters dancing around each other. Missed moments, almost connection, that sort of thing," he explains, his flush only growing worse for the rumble in Faraday's voice.

He's in so much trouble, honestly, he's either going to write more than ever before, or get nothing done because his hand will be occupied. "Do you mean riding together? Would that be possible?" He's already reaching for his small notebook to start taking little notes, wanting to get this down before he forgets.

"Maybe let me change? It's been a very long flight, I could use some more casual clothes." He's even embarrassed to realize he'd brought thematic clothes, with red checkered button downs and worn-in jeans, and even a cowboy hat.

From:

onesyllable

"Want to know the truth? I have never read a romance novel in my life, so most I know is when they make social news." And that news is usually about books that do include such things. "I get your target audience isn't men like me though," he points out with a smirk, hiding the truth of that statement in that smile. "But I can show you around, show you places that might work and get your juices flowing. Creative juices," he adds, "correcting" himself.

"And we can definitely take a full tour, ride and all. I promise I've got horses that will do you just fine and give you time to get acclimated again. None of those things I think people imagine of setting you up to end up on your ass in the dirt," he teases, trying to make himself act casual and stop thinking about how pretty this man's smile is, or the brightest of his eyes making him want to move closer.

"Take your time. I'll be downstairs whenever you're ready. Probably in the kitchen seeing to a few things. Just you and me in the house, put I put up food this morning so there'll be dinner when the time comes."

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