Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(30)

Many nights, he and Geoff would drive out of LA, all the way to the San Gabriel Mountains so they could see more stars without the light pollution of the city. They’d lie in the bed of Mack’s pickup and stargaze for hours. Fool around, too.

After leaving LA for good five years ago, Mack had initially hated how many stars he could see on a clear night. They’d been too painful, reminded him too much of his life with Geoff. The stars had also, eventually, helped his shattered heart begin to mend. He liked to think Geoff was up there, in one of those stars, watching over him. And now, endlessly teasing him about his weird dance with Wes.

He’d barely been able to get Wes out of his damned mind all day long, and the sassy monologue had only made him more appealing. He really was a talented actor, maybe even more than Geoff had been. Geoff had never had a recurring role on a popular TV show, like Wes. And after Miller mouthed off about Drake and being outed by the press, Mack realized why Wes had seemed so damned familiar.

Geoff had been a huge fan of Quick Draw, which had aired when their relationship first started, so Mack watched new episodes with him like a dutiful boyfriend. He’d liked the show well enough, and the Wes he knew now was definitely the gawky blond blacksmith’s son who kept accidentally getting himself into trouble. He’d actually been sad when the character was killed off in the season three premiere. Geoff was all over the scandal that broke a few months later, when pictures of Drake and Wes making out in a car had leaked into all the gossip papers.

Mack hadn’t paid much attention to the whole thing. He’d never given much thought to celebrities and their personal lives. But he’d hated the way Wes had gotten upset when Miller threw the scandal in his face. He’d nearly followed Wes to the creek to talk to him, but the last thing he needed was for Miller and Liam to start rumors of their own. Wes had friends to comfort him.

Didn’t stop Mack from thinking about him all damned night, though.

He’d volunteered first watch. Four hours awake, while their guests slept and Reyes rested in preparation for the next watch. The two shifts usually got them until dawn, when the big, bright sun would wake everyone up for breakfast.

Mack was sitting with his back to one of the wagon wheels, a shotgun across his lap. The view gave him a good line of sight for the guests and the wide-open plains. The closest they usually came to wildlife interference in these trips was a distant coyote yowl, or a curious raccoon, but they never wanted to take a chance on some rabid beast running up to someone in the middle of the night.

He glanced at Wes, whose shock of blond hair was barely visible over the top of his blanket. Wes hadn’t said much to anyone as they’d all settled in, his mood dour, like it had been on the trail earlier. And Mack didn’t have a clue what to say to the guy in order to cheer him up, so he kept his mouth shut, in case what he did come up with made it all worse.

The whole thing made Mack respect Wes. This entire ranch experience had to remind him painfully of that scandal, but he’d agreed to spend a week out here because his sister wanted it. Not a lot of people would put themselves in that kind of position. Wes had.

Smart, loyal, and that ass.

Mack really needed to stop thinking about Wes’s ass. That taut ass sticking out when Wes stretched after riding for two hours...a horse! Riding a horse. Except the mental image of Wes above him, gleefully riding Mack’s dick while wearing a cowboy hat and boots, slammed into Mack’s head and didn’t let go. His jeans got painfully tight, and Jesus, he’d never sprung wood over a guest before.

Wood he couldn’t do a damned thing about, not with eight people sleeping fifteen feet away. He bit his thumb hard, hoping the sting would ease his erection. All it did was make him imagine Wes biting that thumb, then sucking on it.

Mack shut his eyes.

Get it together, Garrett. Shotgun shells, horse dung, bedbugs, unsexy things, man.

Fabric rustled. Mack opened his eyes to the best and worst sight possible: Wes standing up and stretching. Showing off his ass.

Hell.

Wes turned, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He walked over to Mack, his face rumpled. “I have to pee,” he whispered.

Mack handed Wes a flashlight, then pointed toward the rocky area with a few thick scrub trees that they’d designated as the watering hole earlier in the evening. “Go for it.”

“Alone? What if a coyote gets me?”

“There ain’t enough meat on your carcass for a coyote to enjoy.” A horny cowboy, on the other hand... Thank God he had that rifle across his lap.

Wes pouted, and that was not sexy as fuck. No way. “Can’t you come with me and keep watch?”

Why did he have to say come?

Mack’s body hadn’t betrayed him like this in years, reacting like he was a lovesick teenager instead of a grown man with a lot more self-control. And even though he’d only known Wes for two days, Wes wasn’t going to relent on Mack going with him, so arguing was pointless. He stood, careful to keep the shotgun low across his groin while pretending the pose was totally casual.

Wes grinned, then sashayed his way down to the watering hole. He literally sashayed, swinging his ass like a rabbit enticing the wolf to pounce. And dear God, Mack wanted to pounce. Pounce and devour and wipe that smirk right off Wes’s face. Make Wes fall apart and beg.

None of that was helping ease his boner, so Mack tried to focus on watching the land around them. Not on the sound of Wes moving around in the bushes. Or the sound of a zipper going down. He definitely didn’t wonder what Wes’s dick looked like, because that was seriously not stopping more blood from going south.