...They ended up driving to the shopping complex at the foot of the hill, just outside the gated entrance. Juan shopped with canny skill, Troy noticed, and seemed to know exactly what he needed and the best value in each item. He did it quickly as well. In less than a half-hour they headed back up the hill to home. By the time darkness set in, Juan was ready to put his creations on the table and sit down to eat.

Yep, he could definitely do more than fix tacos. Troy had paid good money for many worse meals in expensive restaurants.

“Oh, man, that was great. I think I’ll marry you.” Troy’s unthinking comment slipped out before he could censor it. He realized what he’d said when Juan’s startled expression soaked in.

“I— That is not yet legal in New Mexico, is it? And you do not have to go that far.” Juan spoke very low and much more slowly than usual. In less than an instant his gaze slid from Troy’s face to the floor and fixed there, riveted to the pattern of the tiles.

Troy felt his face heat, embarrassment flooding through him. Juan had not indicated he was gay nor had he shown many signs of an attraction to Troy. We’re friends, buds, nothing more. Are we? Holy shit, what did I just say? Some Freudian slip that was!

Panic fisted around his heart. No relationship, not yet, maybe not for a long time. And with Juan? No! I admire the hell out of this guy. I really like him. But… Oh, my God, maybe I do want to take it farther. Is that why I asked him to come and stay? A real reason under the altruistic one of keeping him out of reach of those gangsters?

A welter of emotions, all verging on something approaching complete terror, flashed through him. “I…er…I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, well, I don’t know if you— What kind of social life you have or want, whether it’s girls or guys or both or neither or…” He floundered into silence.

Shit! He hadn’t been so uncertain in years, since the time a teammate his first year at college had made a pass at him, and not one with a football. He wasn’t usually a gauche asshole like this. What’s going on?

“It’s okay. I did not think you are one of the muchachos mariposos, but I am not offended. I tell you I would not run away if you meant it. We are friends already, maybe could become more. I know that’s not why you asked me to stay. I would have refused. I do not sell myself so cheap or out of fear.” Juan’s growing facility with English seemed to have abandoned him at the moment. His words emerged stilted and awkward, slowly, as if he were searching for the right ones.

Still Juan seemed to be calmer and more in control of the moment than Troy was. As if from a distance, Troy watched the other man stand, come around the table and stop at Troy’s side. Juan hesitated a moment before he put one hand on Troy’s shoulder. The touch was light, but Troy felt it in every nerve. Awareness and arousal washed over him in a breath. His cock leaped to attention, straining at the confines of his slacks and Jockeys.

He heard the slight hitch in Juan’s breath and when he looked, he saw the smaller man had a hard-on, too. Whoa. What the fuck? Where do we go next? Moving as if swimming in molasses, Troy stood. He felt Juan’s hand slide free to fall aside as he reached out with both arms. Juan flowed into Troy’s embrace and clasped both of his arms around his body, just above his waist.

Juan was about five-ten, Troy decided, as their bodies fit together. Though slender, the Latino was wiry and tough, muscles honed by activity and lean, perhaps from not always having enough food. Juan had not confided a lot of details to Troy, but he’d gathered enough to verify the other’s life had not been easy nor had he yet climbed the ladder of success as far as Troy had, although it was clear that was coming.

Troy recognized that Juan had the determination and drive to succeed, just as he had.

We could make a good team if we worked together. I’m not sure how yet but…

There was still the issue of the Mexican drug gang to deal with, but for now, that was far from the most urgent matter.