“What’s your mom’s deal?” Ty took his sunglasses off again and frowned down at them. They had scratches he hadn’t noticed before.

Zane snorted. “She’s just . . . very determined.”

“So are you, but you aren’t a frigid bitch. Usually,” Ty added as he slid his sunglasses back on and scrunched up his nose when they wouldn’t fit right. The frames seemed to be bent.

“Ugh.” Zane shook his head and slowed the truck to pass over a burbling creek. The wheels hit a metal grate in the road, jarring the vehicle. It wasn’t the first grate Ty had seen; they were all over the main roads too. And while he’d been walking up the driveway he’d stopped to stand on one and look down into it, thinking they all might be over water or something. There was nothing under most of them.

“What are those?”

“Texas gates.”

“What?”

“They’re cattle guards. They keep the livestock from passing over them. We call them Texas gates.”

“Cows won’t cross those?” Ty glanced over his shoulder to look at the receding grate. It went from one side of the road to the other, met on both sides by the creek bed. Most were flanked by barbed wire fencing.

“Cows won’t even cross bridges. But nothing else will cross the cattle guards either. Sheep, goats, pigs. The grates are far enough apart that their feet go through.”

“So you use them instead of gates you have to open and close. Smart.” Ty glanced over at Zane and plucked a wad of cotton out of the end of the bright green cast on his arm. “So, wait, do those ring the property? Is that how the trespassers are gaining access?”

“Probably. Stop messing with it.” Zane said as he swatted at Ty’s hands. “I don’t want to take you back to the damn emergency room to have another put on.”

“You realize I’ll be cutting this thing off with my Strider in about two more days, right?”

“You cut that thing off, Grady, I will break your other hand.”

“You can try, Hoss.”

Zane was quiet a long moment as he stared out the windshield.

Soon enough, Ty was drumming his fingers against his leg. The truck topped a small rise and the main ranch sprawled in front of them. Three massive barns, two corrals, miles of white fencing leading off over the hills, and the three-story white colonial-style house that towered over the spread. Ty hadn’t taken the time to look around when he’d arrived this morning, too concerned with seeing Zane and finding air conditioning to think of anything else. It was an impressive sight.

He began whistling “Home on the Range.”

Zane shot him a glare and reached out to thump his chest. “Asshole,” he said as he steered into the drive.

“Ow!” As soon as Zane put the truck in park, a man walked out of the barn. “Is that your dad?”

“What the hell is he doing out here?” Zane opened the door and headed toward the barn, and Ty trailed along behind him at a safe enough distance to give them privacy if they needed it.

“Dad. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I am resting.”

Zane motioned with his hands, reminiscent of the way Ty would flail sometimes. Ty bit his lip to keep from smiling. Every once in a while he noticed something like that: evidence that they were beginning to pick up characteristics from each other.

“I needed to get out of the house,” Harrison said, aiming a pointed look at the beautiful mansion.

“Oh.” Zane glanced at Ty, uneasy.

Harrison nodded and reached into his pocket for a pouch of tobacco and rolling papers. “She’s planning the Steers and Stripes fundraiser. On the warpath.”

“You’re fucking kidding me. She’s still having it here? What part of ‘trespassers with guns’ does she not get?”

“Appearances are everything. And watch your language,” Harrison added, shooting a tired smile Ty’s way.

Ty frowned and moved closer. “What’s going on?”

“Every Fourth of July we hold a barbeque fundraiser. We should cancel it after what happened, but my wife refuses.”

He began packing a cigarette with experienced fingers. Ty opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again with a frown.

“Until we learn more about what’s going on, there’s no way that party should happen,” Zane spat.

Ty reached out and set his hand on Zane’s shoulder. “Calm down.”

Zane looked back at him, fuming.

Ty squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll sit down and take a look at the problem, see what we can do. The fourth is like a week away; this might not even be an issue by then. And if it is, holding a big party here might turn out to be helpful.”

“How do you figure?” Zane asked. Any good the last few hours may have done him was gone; he’d turned edgy and combative in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Zane’s mother must have been a real piece of work for the mere mention of one of her ideas to have this effect on Ty’s normally stoic partner.

Ty glanced at the bright red front door of the mansion and then met Zane’s eyes with a small smile. “It’ll be okay,” he said, voice soft and calm.

Zane stared at him for a long moment, then rolled his shoulders and began to relax again. “You’re right. No need to get worked up. Yet.”

Harrison whistled and drew Ty’s attention from Zane. “That’s impressive, son,” he said to Ty as he watched Zane. He put a hand around Ty’s shoulder and pulled him close. “You ever tried to break a horse? I bet you’d be real good at it.”

Zane laughed on his way to the truck, but Ty wasn’t quite sure he understood the joke. He shook his head and glanced at Zane’s father. “I’m not all that fond of horses, sir.”

Harrison looked amused. “We don’t stand on ceremony here, Ty. Call me Harrison.” He patted Ty’s shoulder and released him. “Besides, Z already told me you could be a real son of a bitch.”

Ty narrowed his eyes at Zane. “Real son of a bitch, huh, Z?”

Zane’s eyes widened as he came closer, carrying a box he’d retrieved from the truck bed. He obviously hadn’t heard what had preceded his nickname. “What?”

“Jackass,” Ty said to him. Harrison laughed.

“What’d I do?”

Ty gave him a wink.

Zane rolled his eyes. “I got you something in Austin. I was going to bring it home, but since you’re here . . .” He handed Ty the box.

Ty took it with a quirked eyebrow at Zane and a sideways glance at Harrison. But Zane wouldn’t have given it to him here if it were something . . . dubious.

He pulled the top off the box and peered inside to find a felt cowboy hat, light brown with a black band. On the front of the band was a beautiful silver and turquoise concho.

Ty laughed and pulled the hat out. “Thanks, Zane.”

Zane plucked off Ty’s baseball cap, then took the hat out of his hands and set it on top of his head. Zane fussed with it, making sure it fit right, and Ty stared at him from under the brim of the hat, watching Zane’s dark eyes go darker.

“Looks good,” Zane said with a curt nod, the undercurrent in his voice unmistakable. It must have looked pretty damn good.

Ty gave him a jaunty grin. “Thank you.”

“You wear that like you’re from Texas,” Harrison said, nodding his approval.

They heard a shout from inside the house: Beverly on the phone in her study, where an open window let in the evening breeze.

“Oh, kill me now.”

“It can’t be that bad, right?” Ty asked, looking between Zane and his father.

“Optimists are so cute,” Harrison said around his cigarette.

Ty did a double-take, and Zane grunted. “God help the poor party planner she’s dealing with.” He sighed and jerked his hand. “But better her than me.”

“She’s your mother,” Ty said, voice low. “Next time she gets on your case, you do what all good sons do and lie to make her happy.”

Zane looked up sharply, blinking. Harrison threw his head back and laughed again. Ty merely raised an eyebrow at Zane. His hat shifted with the motion.

Harrison patted Ty’s shoulder, shaking him with surprising vigor for a man who’d just been released from the hospital with a bullet hole in his arm. “I like this one, Z.”

Zane smiled gamely.

“You boys don’t tarry, now. Dinner’ll be on soon,” Harrison said, then made his way back toward the house, sliding what was left of his rolled cigarette into his pocket.

They waited until he was out of earshot, and then Zane stepped closer. “You got any idea what she gets on my case for?”

“Tell me.”

Zane stared at him for a long moment. “She wants me back here, running the ranch, married again, with kids. Like a good Texan boy. And to hell with what I want.” He took another step, until their chests brushed together. Ty had to tilt his head back to keep the brim of his hat from poking one of Zane’s eyes out. “I’ve got other ideas of what I want,” Zane said quietly.

Ty nodded, glancing around the yard out of habit, then looking at Zane with an odd rush of nerves.

Zane tipped his head to one side, studying him. “I think you might be able to see the problem.”

“I see it,” Ty whispered. He sniffed as he looked around the yard again. “What is that smell?”

Zane shook his head. “What smell?”

“Smells like horse.”

Zane snorted, and Ty turned to move toward the front porch. Zane chuckled. “It’s a ranch, Ty. Dad’s got whole barns full of horses. Better check your boots, buddy boy.”

“You’ll find one up your ass soon enough,” Ty promised as he walked away. Zane’s laughter followed him across the yard.

They got halfway through dinner before Beverly brought up the topic Zane was desperately wishing she’d avoid.

“Zane, when are you going to come back here and settle down? Surely you’ve gotten this government nonsense out of your blood by now,” she said as she passed the gravy to Annie, like it was an everyday conversation.

“Now, Beverly, you know Z’s worked hard to get where he is. He can’t just drop it,” Harrison said.

“I can’t just up and leave my assignment, Mother.”

“Surely you can request a transfer or retirement.” Beverly turned her eyes on Zane’s silent partner sitting across the table from Zane. “Can you do that, Mr. Grady?”

“Oh, look,” Ty said, as if he’d just discovered something wonderful. “Biscuits!” He tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth.

Annie snickered, and Zane kept his eyes on his plate as he tried not to smile. Even Sadie began giggling, looking around the table with eyes that shone. She was sitting next to Ty, mimicking his actions. Ty looked sideways at her and winked.

Beverly drew a breath to continue, but Harrison spoke first. “So what is it you’re doing now, Z? You must like it pretty well.”

Zane looked at Ty before speaking. “We do a lot of investigative work. Research and field work, stuff like that.”

“Research,” Beverly sneered.

“Mother, not right now, okay? We can talk about it later.”

Ty pressed his lips into a thin line and kept his eyes on his plate, obviously trying to keep from saying anything. But then he glanced up at Zane’s mother, brow furrowed, and then at Zane. He was probably tying his tongue in knots trying to restrain himself from weighing in.

The whole thing made Zane angry. And then there was Ty, here to support him and being forced to sit through Beverly’s cutting remarks. She had yet to address him by any of the titles he’d earned, instead calling him Mr. Grady. Zane glanced up and met his partner’s eyes.

Ty raised one eyebrow pointedly. “Lie,” he mouthed.

Zane’s jaw clenched. “I’d been thinking about it.”

Silverware clattered as both Annie and Harrison looked at him in surprise, and Beverly broke into a smile. “Well, you merely had to say so, Zane. We can talk all about it sometime this week. Now, Juanita, what do we have for dessert?”

The matronly little woman hovering nearby bustled off toward the kitchen, and Beverly surveyed the dinner table with a smile.

Eyes wide, Zane stared at her and then Ty in disbelief.

Ty pressed his lips together again, clearly trying not to laugh as he ducked his head and tightened his grip on his fork. Zane kicked Ty’s shin under the table, and Ty gave a muffled grunt and jerked before he could stop himself, clanging his fork and plate together.

Harrison looked up, his lips twitching. “Okay there, Ty?”

“Yes, sir,” Ty answered with a grimace. “Bad leg. Old football injury. Tripped over the water boy. There was Gatorade everywhere, it was horrible.”

Annie began giggling again, and even Zane grinned as Juanita came back in with a tray of churros and bowls of sweet dips.

As Sadie dove into the desserts with all the enthusiasm of a three-year-old, Beverly placed her napkin on the table at her elbow, leaning forward and watching Ty. Ty seemed to sense the attention and he looked up, meeting Beverly’s eyes.

Zane’s stomach flipped. His likened his mother to a wild animal sometimes; if you made eye contact, it was like a challenge. But Ty always made eye contact, and he didn’t back down from challenges. Watching his mother and his lover stare at each other was the proverbial irresistible force meeting an immovable object.

“So, Mr. Grady, how did you find yourself in the FBI?”