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clattering wheels and swaying wagon lulled him to sleep.

Chapter Five
     
    Rafe had closed the account ledger, but numbers still danced in his mind. Payroll, food, supplies, bribes to local officials—all left little for any kind of renovation to the wagons or the attractions. Morale would go out the window if he divulged the truth, so out of habit, he hadn’t told the whole truth to the newest member of the troupe. The show would go on as always, shabby and decrepit and barely turning a profit. Some days he wondered why he bothered. He had other options. Even if he never returned home, he had education and possible resources.
    But owning the carnival was no longer about earning money, if it ever had been. This odd collection of people was family to him now. He couldn’t break down the show, abandon them, and leave many of them with no livelihood. He had an obligation. Which was amusingly ironic given how far he’d run to escape his real family obligations.
    As mile after mile of boring countryside rolled past, Rafe’s mind shifted from business concerns to thoughts of a more personal nature—namely the lad currently sleeping in his home. His instant, powerful attraction to the young man bewildered him. He’d seen more handsome men, more beautiful youths during his travels. Jonah Talbot was nothing special. Medium height, wiry build, unremarkable blond hair. His physique was not spectacular nor his features particularly interesting. But his eyes… Ah, they’d caught and held Rafe like a hook in a fish’s mouth from the moment he’d looked into them. Even with that impressive shiner someone had given him.
    Last night he’d supposed his attraction to the lad was unreciprocated. But today as they’d talked, little signs—inclinations of Talbot’s body, facial expressions, vocal inflection—had pretty well assured Rafe the attraction was mutual. That, at least, was comforting. He was usually accurate in his assessment of other men’s sexual bent; had to be, because one couldn’t afford to make a mistake when setting an assignation with a stranger.
    So, here was Jonah, an attractive and available man lying in the back of this very wagon. What would be the harm in taking advantage of that? It wouldn’t be taking advantage at all if they both wanted it. But once, some time ago, Rafe had learned a hard lesson about shitting in his own nest. It didn’t do to become involved with someone you had to continue to work alongside after the moments of passion faded.
    Still…
    A vision of Jonah Talbot’s face, bruised and vulnerable as he slept, turned into a vision of that same face transported in ecstasy. Images of naked limbs, a lean torso, a taut arse, a sucking mouth, a rigid penis, shifted like kaleidoscope pieces in Rafe’s head. It was so distracting, he nearly drove into the wagon before him when it pulled to an abrupt stop. His horse, Chaucer, had to turn and pull the wagon off the edge of the road and into the weeds to avoid a collision.
    Rafe jumped down and walked to the front of the line to talk to Henry Fisher, who was squatting beside the red wagon, peering underneath it.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Heard a noise. I’m afraid the axle may be about to give way.”
    “Perfect. At this rate we might make Bartonville about a week from now.”
    “Sarcasm doesn’t help,” the knife thrower said. “Call Dimitri up here and see if he can fix it.”
    Rafe didn’t have to summon the strongman. Dimitri trotted up from his spot near the back of the line, where he’d no doubt been flirting with Miss Jamie, or trying to, since the mistress of the dog and pony show never gave him the time of day. He crawled beneath the wagon.
    “It’s cracking, all right. I think you can make it to the next stop, though, if you take it easy and avoid the potholes. Just to be safe, I’ll lash some binding around the axle to hold it firm.”
    Rafe trusted Dimitri’s assessment. The strongman had labored at a carriage works