Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(12)
“Four years, give or take,” Colt replied.
“What about you, Reyes?” The guy was eerily quiet, and Wes was pretty sure he was still side-eyeing Miles. He didn’t know Reyes well enough to guess if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Reyes turned his dark gaze to Wes. “Used to be a firefighter. Quit.” He cut his eyes at Colt, as if daring his friend to offer up more information.
Wes could take a very unsubtle hint. “So, Colt, any hints for me about how to snare Mack’s attention?”
“Be yourself,” Colt replied. “Mack hates fake people.”
“I have absolutely no problem being myself. Haven’t been able to hide who I am since I was in diapers, or so my mother tells me.”
Colt laughed. “You are going to make this week highly entertaining, Wes Bentley, not the American Beauty actor.”
“Well, I live to entertain.” He tossed Colt a sunny smile, then went to join Miles near the barn.
*
Cold sandwiches and side salads weren’t the most authentic Old West lunch food ever, but Wes was starving by the time Patrice walked out onto the guesthouse porch and rang a big old bell, then hollered for lunch. The dining table was loaded with four kinds of bread, six lunch meats, two cheeses and a host of condiments. Wes dove in and piled a plate with two ham and cheese on white, both slathered in mustard and sliced tomatoes, plus a big scoop of potato salad.
As this wasn’t a formal meal, he and his group took over one of the seating areas and settled in. They were quickly joined by the Girl Trio, who introduced themselves as Amanda, Alex and Sheryl. Sheryl had the awesome blue and purple hair. Apparently Sophie and the girls had already bonded over the ten minutes it had taken to nest in their assigned room. They were all squeals over Sophie being engaged, seemed to think Conrad was the greatest human being ever, and they even fawned over Derrick, Miles and Wes.
Miles looked like he’d rather eat alone in their room than continue enduring the barrage of chatter from the four women, and Wes started second-guessing inviting the girls to eat with them. Miles hadn’t always been this flighty and timid. Sure, he was pretty quiet on the line when he cooked, shouting about food and not much else, but this was a whole other kind of social anxiety.
At one point, the dude-bros tried to move in on their group, probably because of the girls, but they were quickly shut out. Eventually they stopped trying and went outside to eat on the porch.
“So are you two secret boyfriends?” Sheryl asked, pointing her fork between Wes and Miles, who were sitting side by side on the sofa.
Miles nearly dropped his plain turkey sandwich. “What? No.”
Wes placed a hand over his heart and jokingly said, “What’s wrong? I’m not good enough for you?”
“Asshole.” No bite to it, so he wasn’t mad at the teasing. “Quit.”
“What makes you think so?” Wes asked Sheryl. “Not all gays are attracted to each other, you know.”
Sheryl shrugged. “It’s the way you guys stick together, and you seem kind of protective of him. You keep glancing at him, like you’re checking to make sure he’s still there.”
I’m doing that? Huh.
Miles looked like he wanted to melt into the sofa.
“Jesus, Sheryl, shut up,” Amanda said with a grin. “She’s a psychology major, so she thinks she has to deconstruct every person she meets.”
“You’re going to be a shrink?” Wes asked Sheryl.
“Yup,” she replied. “I come from a long line of therapists with various degrees in stuff like anxiety disorders and counseling. I want to work with kids when I get my PhD.”
“Wow, doctorate and all. Good for you.”
“Did you go to college, Wes?”
“No, I made my parents extremely anxious when I forewent college in favor of pursuing an acting career in Hollywood. It didn’t go very well, so I came home to San Fran, and I’ve been working there ever since. It’s how I met Miles, actually. We work at the same dinner theater. I act and he cooks.”
“Oh my God, really?” Sheryl went off on a tangent about some dinner theater production she’d recently seen in Sacramento that Wes kind of tuned out. And Miles seemed relieved to no longer be the center of attention, so Wes let his gaze wander.
It wandered to the very rear of the dining room, where a small archway led into the kitchen. Mack stood in that archway, shoulder pressed to the wood, one hand holding a sandwich of some kind. Their eyes met and a little thrill shot through Wes. Mack held eye contact for several long, glorious seconds before turning and disappearing into the kitchen.
A kitchen which was, at Patrice’s decree, off-limits to guests, damn it. But Mack was watching him, which suggested interest. Maybe Wes wouldn’t have to work that hard to snare his cowboy after all.
Chapter Four
“This is going to be the longest week of my life,” Mack said.
Tude nickered in response. He continued to brush her flanks, wiping off dust from the stables. Despite her name, she was the best horse they had for kids, and both of the Reynolds kids wanted to learn to ride. Reyes was nearby, getting his own horse, Hot Coffee, ready for the saddle.
The guests were getting riding lessons this afternoon. Everyone’s online survey said they were interested, and day one was about getting them comfortable getting on and off the horse, riding at a walk and a trot, and leading the horse. Neck leading was too subtle for most folks to grasp quickly, so they were using horses who didn’t mind being led by the bit.