“Yes,” he finally replied tersely, with a bizarre accent that was part Texan and part Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. He definitely didn’t seem to be from this planet. “Yes, I am Reno. I am Reno Dakota. It is a matter of fact that my name is Reno Dakota, and there’s not an iota of patience in me—do I get the gig, or do I or not get the gig?” He once again showed me his finger gun.

His threats and attempts at harshness came off as being more cute and unusual than intimidating. I knew I wanted to hire him anyway, so I decided to do it right there on the spot. He was worth hiring as eye candy if for nothing else.

“The job is all yours cowboy.” I extended my hand out to him to congratulate him, but he only accepted the offer after he brought his mimic pistol up to lips and blew off imaginary smoke.

“I guess you bit the bullet this time,” responded Reno coolly. His gaze didn’t leave my face for at least 30 seconds after he stopped talking. We were still locked in a handshake, and he almost crushed my fingers to a pulp with the strength of his thickset hand. I pretended to not be affected by it and stared into his deep blue eyes, which were canopied by his broad forehead and dirty blonde eyebrows. His hair was short but still unkempt and sat atop a very square face with a well-defined jaw line. By all rights he should have been an ugly man, but he had a rough handsomeness to him. He had jagged features, but they were not over the edge. Only his personality was over the edge, and I loved it.

Still gripping me, his straight face broke into a mild grin and he reached around me to my ass with his free hand. He patted it and said, “I thank you Rick. I’ll be here tomorrow. You would be well advised to be in attendance, too.” He let go of my hand and patted my ass again, but it felt more like a grab that time, as if he intentionally wanted to help himself to an extra serving of my firm buttocks to show me his appreciation. My cock nudged a little in my pants, but thankfully I didn’t get completely hard. Reno seemed the type that would beat up a man for sporting a boner after a manly yet plutonic ass-grab. He winked at me once more, withdrew his hand, and galloped off across the room and out of the saloon door.

Once the Cactus Creek opened for dinner that evening, I found myself missing Reno Dakota already, wishing he could have started that day. All good things come with time, I repeated in my head. No matter how busy I tried to keep myself helping customers or doing the financial records, my concentration would break and drift back to the image of Reno touching my ass, almost getting his fingers in the crack. I had to stop thinking about him that way. I hadn’t come out to any of my workers, and I wasn’t planning to. I was also sure Reno was way too