Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(19)

Wes tried not to take it personally—totally in a good way—because Mack said he wasn’t a people person. Except he’d purposely sat next to Wes. Spoken to him. Stuck around.

Maybe papa bear is lonelier than he’s letting on.

That vacation fling may happen yet.

*

Wes and Miles went up to the room at roughly the same time. Conrad, Sophie and Derrick were hanging around with the girlfriends on the front porch for a while longer, but Wes was beat. Miles had started drooping around the edges over an hour ago, but seemed reluctant to go to bed alone. In fact, Miles had been around someone from their group ever since their arrival that morning, not seeming to want to explore on his own.

“So how’d you like the first day?” Wes asked as he dug around in his suitcase for boxers and a sleep tank. The room wasn’t superhot, and a nice breeze filtered in through the open window, but he ran warm.

“It was fun,” Miles replied. “It really is beautiful here.”

“I could tell you thought so. You barely put your camera down long enough to eat dinner.”

Miles squatted by his own suitcase to rummage for clothes. “I like photographing nature. It relaxes me. Usually I only get to take pictures in Golden Gate Park, but this is real, open countryside.”

“You ever think of being a photographer instead of a cook?” He whipped off his green T-shirt that kind of smelled like horse, then put the fresh tank on.

“Not really. I sort of fell into cooking, and I enjoy it. Excuse me.” Miles grabbed his clothes and a small travel kit, then ducked into the bathroom.

He’d always been a bit of a prude at home, but there was a lot more elbow room out here to change clothes than in that tiny bathroom. Whatever. Wasn’t like either of them wandered around their shared apartment in their underwear, anyway.

Wes shoved his suitcase under the bed, then stretched out on top of the covers. It gave him an uninspiring view of the underside of the top bunk, all springs and striped mattress. Not the most comfortable thing ever, but better than a sleeping bag on the ground. He yawned a few times, his body relaxing while water ran in the bathroom sink. The toilet flushed.

Miles exited the bathroom, dressed in the same gym shorts and white tee he slept in at home. He shut the bedroom door almost all the way, turned off the overhead light, and then used the ladder at the end of the bunk to climb up, making the springs creak and bounce in a scary way.

“So is it me, or do you already have Mack on the hook?” Miles asked.

“Hmm. He’s not so much on the hook as nosing around the bait.” Wes still couldn’t shake the warmth of Mack’s body or the memory of his scent. God, he wanted to explore all of Mack’s nooks and crevices and find out what he tasted like. His dick perked up at the thought, and no way was he jerking off with Miles right there.

Down, boy.

“But you’re interested in him?”

“Sure, for a fuck. Maybe a few fucks, but that’s it. We’re only here a week, and besides, I have zero interest in getting my heart broken by another cowboy.”

“Drake wasn’t really a cowboy.”

“Close enough.” Drake had been a mistake from day one, but Wes had let their intense sexual chemistry cloud his judgment. “Besides, you heard what Colt said. Mack isn’t into actors, so it would be vacation sex for both of us.”

“Nothing wrong with a little vacation sex.”

“Says the guy who never seems to get laid.”

“Whatever. You’ve lived with me for a year, dude. I have sex. Maybe I don’t have it to the frequency of your liking, but I’m cool with it.” Miles’s voice had risen a bit with each new word, and by the end he almost sounded pissed.

“Peace, dude,” Wes said in the semidarkness. Moonlight spilled in through the windows, helping him see shapes in the room when he really needed to shut his eyes and sleep. “I’m not giving you a hard time, I promise. I mean, you went home with that guy on your birthday, so...”

Miles didn’t respond to the leading statement, neither to confirm nor deny he’d slept with that guy. Wes kind of wished they were talking face-to-face, instead of face to underside of bed, so he could see Miles’s expression. Wistful? Angry? Regretful?

“Anyway,” Wes said, “uh, night.”

A grunt was all he got in response.





Chapter Six

A sharp, squawking noise pierced the darkness so unexpectedly that it startled Wes into tumbling right out of bed. He hit hardwood flooring instead of his bedroom’s carpet, and for a split second, he had no idea where the hell he was. The squawking noise ceased, only to be replaced by deep, rumbling laughter.

“The fuck?” Wes said as the room came into focus. Four bunk beds. Streaming sunlight. Conrad laughing at him from the top bunk to his left.

Oh yeah. Cowboy camp.

“What was that?” Derrick asked, rubbing at his eyes with one hand.

“I think it was supposed to be a rooster,” Miles replied. He peered down at Wes from his bunk, fully awake, hair styled. Dressed. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Wes hauled himself up, his elbow a little sore from smacking it into the floor. “Jesus, that was one terrifying rooster call.”

“It’s probably Patrice’s way of making sure everyone’s up for breakfast.”