Chapter Text
Eddie picked up the book by happanstance at LAX while waiting for their Nashville flight.
The the duty-free shop they'd stopped at before boarding didn't have crossword books for some reason (what kind of airport giftshop doesn't carry crossword books??) so he'd grabbed a paperback by cash at random. It had a cowboy on the cover, which seemed thematically relevant.
Eddie's not particular when it comes to reading material. Whatever's nearby and not too wordy or serious he'll probably read, a habit he picked up from deployment when the days got long and boring and hot enough that you'd do just about anything to distract from sitting around, sweating, imagining all the ways you could die tomorrow.
A lot of Jason Born-thype action novels floated around the camps. Sometimes a thriller. Sometimes a romance, though depending on the group of guys he was with, he'd only read those when he was sure no one was looking over his shoulder.
He would never admit this to anyone, but Eddie always liked the romances the best. There's just so much drama in them—and very little death—and always, always a happy ending. They're comforting, familiar, low stakes, cheesy in a way that never fails to make him smile when he's the most in need of something to smile about.
He got pretty good at clocking the romance readers among the few guys who swapped books around, at sniffing out the trade networks within any given camp. Even caught on to some of the veteran tricks, like ripping off covers and taping true crime or mystery ones in their place. That usually meant the book had on-page sex in it. Those were particularly hard to find; Eddie himself only came across two before getting shot up and shipped home.
He always found it weird, all the stigma around reading those kinds of books when magazines of scantaly clad women in semi-compromising positions were easier to come by than toilet paper some days. Whatever. He never really thought much about it. Or tried not to. He just read his books and hoped to be left alone.
The habit, like so much else from those days, followed him home.
In waiting rooms with Chris, on slow days between calls, in the middle of the night when sleep eludes him, there's usually a paperback within reach. Mysteries inherited from Pepa, beat up old Harlequin's conspicuously appearing on his coffee table after abuela visits, psychological thrillers scattered around the firehouse by Hen.
So when there weren't any crosswords at the airport, he picked up a book without much thought, something to reach for during those innevitable traveling lulls.
What Eddie forgot to account for, was Buck. There are no lulls with Buck, not at work and certainly not while traveling. He's all movement and facts and undousable energy that Eddie is more than happy to let pull him along.
The book was purchased as a backup against boredom, but Eddie is never bored when he's with Buck, so it was forgotten, tossed to the bottom of his bag and breifly erased from existance.
Until now, a rare day when Buck has a shift and he doesn't, when Eddie finally gets around to unpacking.
He's home alone and he's antsy. He'd been riding that high of going to a new place, of competing, of winning, of being partners with Buck again, and now, suddenly, it's all stillness and quiet and mundane domestic chores waiting to be caught up on. He'd rather be on shift, but he's got to take Chris to an appointment this afternoon and it's one of those one's where no one really knows exactly how long it's gonna take. Which he hates, but he endures them without a word because he loves his son more than he hates sitting in a sterile clinic waiting room for an indeterminate amount of time.
So, here he is, trip clothes already in the wash, kitchen clean and still two hours to kill, when he pulls the forgotten, now slightly bent, paperback from the depths of his bag.
Can't Quit the Cowboy, the cover declares in dramatic swooping letters.
Huh. Definitely a romance, which he's not complaining about. It's been a bit since he got his hands on a new romance.
It's a sunset cover—which he always appreciates—with a single dude front and centre, one hand grabbing at a too-large belt buckle while the other tilts the brim of a too-clean cowboy hat, obscuring most of his face except for a crooked, rogueish grin. His blue plaid shirt is artfully unbuttoned, not enought to look scandalous (like some other covers he's seen) but enough to effectively convey the potential for scandalousness.
He opens the book and starts reading.
Lucas Brady was twenty-seven and sick of love.
Sick of bad first dates and friends trying to set him up with their sisters or cousisns or sisters' cousins. Of family giving him that pitying look whenever they thought he wasn't looking.
Mood. (Chris taught him that one)
Tired of the smiling and the polite dismissals and the tedium of explaining, for the millionth time, no, he's not looking for something new. Krissy had been gone two years, but it still stung like hell. And no matter what people said, that pit didn't close, it just… relocated out of eyeline.
Eddie's heart twists. Great. The book instantly looses points for being about a widower. He hates romances about widowers, but he's still got so much time to kill and nothing else he hasn't already read nearby except Buck's oceaography books—and those he prefers learning about through Buck himself.
Shannon would probably tell him to give this book a chance past the first page…
What's so wrong about wanting to stay single anyway? Is it a crime to enjoy his own company? He's got his work. He's got his horses and the wide open Montana sky. He doesn't need a relationship to be happy.
You tell 'em Lucas.
Eddie reads on.
Despite his early skepticism about the whole dead wife thing, Eddie finds himself enjoying the story more than anything else he's read recently. Lucas is a bit of a recluse, sure, but he's a likable guy with a soft heart. He clearly misses his wife, but he's not hung up on her the way other widower heroes tend to be. Honeslty, if the whole book was just about Lucas taking care of his horses and riding through the mountains at dawn, Eddie wouldn't even be upset.
He is a bit confused though. He's read enough romances to know the love interest usually gets introduced by now, but so far the only women in the book have been Lucas's sisters, the old woman who owns the bar in town, and a fellow ranch hand who gives very strong butch lesbian energy (if Eddie's learned anything from Hen's trillers).
There's Lucas's horse, Dusty, who Eddie would kill for, an old rodeo cowboy who's clearly set up to be a father figure, a younger bullrider currently serving as a nemesis, and a shady real estate guy who's obviously gonna be the main antagonist.
There's also Tucker. He's the new guy in town, just joined the ranch for the season and he's already weedling his way into Lucas's quiet life in a way that's honestly made Eddie laugh out loud a couple times. Eddie likes him a lot. He's sort of a dork and he's the only character who's been able to make Lucas smile so far.
Eddie's almost fifty pages in, amazed but not particularly bothered that the heroine still hasn't been introduced yet, when it happens.
It's past midnight when they get back to the stable. They dismount quietly and lead Dusty and Jax to their stalls, untacking them in companiable silence.
"Thanks," Tucker says, voice quiet on the night air. "For showing me that spot. It was really something."
Lucas grabs Jax's bridle from Tucker to give his hands something to do and his eyes something to look at that isn't his friend's face illumanated under soft starlight. "It's nothing."
"I recon you aren't someone who trusts easy," Tucker says, stepping in front of Lucas before the other man can scurry away. "I know it's not nothing. Not to you."
Lucas's breath hitches. He looks up into sparkling dark blue eyes, then his gaze drops to plump lips-
Eddie slams the book closed. Flips it over. Looks at the synopsis on the back.
Can two hurtin' cowboys find healing in each others arms?
He never looks at the synopsises on the back.
Can two hurtin' cowboys find healing in each others arms?
He stares at the words. Processes them, poorly. Stares some more.
Can two hurtin' cowboys find healing in each others arms?
They do not change. He reads the rest of the synopsis, just to be sure.
Lucas Brady is done with love. With one dead wife and six years as Blue Moon Rodeo's most trusted ranch hand under his belt, he's got more than enough occupying his mind—and his guarded heart. He doesn't need a new partner. All he needs are his horses and his peace.
Then Blue Moon's newest ranch hand saunters into town. Tucker Denvers is all charming smiles and enthusiasm. Well-traveled and hungry for adventure, he isn't planning on staying longer than a season, but he sure is planning on leaving his mark on the small Montana town—and one particularly grumpy cowboy's heart.
The two fall easily into a fast friendship over long hours under the sun and quiet nights under the stars. What's not so easy is realizing friendship may not be what Lucas wants from Tucker after all.
Can Lucas find the courage to finally reach for what he's always wanted, or will Tucker be just another good thing he let slip from his grasp?
Okay yeah yep, he picked up- yeah this is, this is a gay cowboy romance novel. Okay. That's fine. That's cool. Eddie's an ally. Eddie isn't homophobic. He can read a gay romance. People do that. People who aren't gay read gay romances. About cowboys. Who are gay. Cowboy men. Who are gay. Men who fall in love. With- with men.
He's expanding his literary pallett or whatever. Diversity. That's important. Some of the thrillers he's read from Hen had lesbians in them. That was always fine. This is also fine.
Eddie's heart, on the other hand, does not think this is fine and is currently beating at a rate that suggests he's being hunted down by a pack of rabid wolves, not sitting on his couch looking at a flimsy paperback with a stupid cowboy on the cover. He's not even wearing the right kind of hat if he's a ranch hand. Fucking Lucas.
Eddie doggears his page, tucks the book amid his small collection of paperbacks, and goes for a run.