Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(32)

“You gave him an ultimatum?” Mack asked when Wes went silent.

“Yeah. I said I needed to be acknowledged by him or we were done. I never threatened to out him, or to tell people about us if he didn’t come out, but I put my foot down. I was worth more than that. I deserved a boyfriend who’d take me out in public, instead of hiding away in my crappy apartment.”

“What did Drake do?”

“He dumped me.” Wes sounded so forlorn that Mack was glad he had the shotgun to grab onto, so he didn’t do something stupid like hug Wes.

“Sorry.”

Wes shrugged. “I kind of expected it, but it still broke my heart. And I figured it would be painful to see him every day when we started shooting the new season. Except the producers informed me my character was dying at the end of the season premiere in the heartbreaking way I should have died after my first appearance. That was the line, anyway, but I knew Drake had done it. He was the star and he got whatever he wanted.”

“He got you fired?”

“Pretty much. That’s why, when those photos of us got leaked, everyone assumed it was me getting revenge.” Wes’s cheeks darkened. “Except I didn’t, and I would never, but the press ruined us both. I got blackballed. Drake got a lot of attention he didn’t want. Middle America decided they hated that their manly-man lead was gay, so the ratings dropped. Show got canned halfway through season four.”

“Damn. None of that was your fault, though.”

“I know, but our relationship tanked both of our careers. Well, Drake still pops up in low-budget made-for-TV rom-coms, but whatever. I couldn’t get work anymore, so I went back to San Francisco and moved in with Sophie for a while. Nursed my wounds and got myself back together.” Wes threw his hands up in a dramatic flourish. “And that is my sordid tale. What’s yours?”

“What’s my what?” Mack said, playing dumb to buy time. He was enjoying this conversation with Wes way more than he should have, but he wasn’t in the mood to share his own secrets.

“What’s your story, duh. I told you why I left La La Land. Why did you? Was it because of your ex?”

You have no fucking idea.

“It was a mix of things.” Mack could tiptoe around the truth without sharing too much. He didn’t want to lie to Wes, but his tragedies weren’t fair game to everyone. “Biggest thing was a SWAT job that went south. Team leader’s plan didn’t feel right to me going in and I tried to speak up. Got shut down. People died when they didn’t have to, and I raised holy hell with the brass after that. And then I quit. Came out here to clear my head, and I never left.”

“I’m sorry,” Wes said softly, almost reverently. “Not that you’re here and never left, but that those people died.”

“Me, too.” Sorrier than Wes would ever know, and old grief squeezed his heart tight. “SWAT’s intense, and it can break you if you let it get to you. It got to me, so I got out. And I’m happy here, with the dust and horse smells.”

Wes smiled. “The ranch does seem to suit you. What about your ex?”

His heart twisted harder. “Still in LA.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. He just hadn’t specified where in Los Angeles Geoff was, and he didn’t plan to unpack that particular suitcase of guilt tonight.

Even if the beauty of the starlight made Mack want to spill all his secrets.

“Have you always been this way?” Wes asked.

“What way?”

“Hard to get to know? A mystery wrapped inside of an enigma? You’re driving me nuts.”

Payback for giving me a boner.

“Sure have,” Mack replied. “Ask Reyes.”

Wes rolled his eyes. “I would, but he seems to like talking even less than you.”

“You aren’t wrong about that.”

Reyes had always been the more serious of their duo growing up, but his quiet streak had only gotten worse since moving to the ranch. He’d left a piece of himself behind in Los Angeles, still trapped in that burning building that had come down on him and a rookie. Mack didn’t know what to say or do in order to pull Reyes out of that fire, so he stuck close to his friend. Listened whenever Reyes wanted to talk, which was rarely.

Wes glanced over at the pile of sleeping campers. “He does seem to like talking to Miles.”

“You noticed that, too, huh?”

“Hard not to. Miles isn’t much of a talker, either, which makes us great roommates, because I can talk enough for two people.”

The self-deprecating joke made Mack smile. “You don’t say?” Wes punched him in the shoulder, barely hard enough to feel, but Mack still let out a soft “Ow.”

“Aww, the big bear can’t take a little jab?”

Mack growled. “I’m more interested in how many smacks your ass can take.”

Wes’s eyes shot wide, lips parting. Mack realized what he’d said too late to take it back, and damn it, he meant it. He wanted to bend Wes over his knee and spank that ass cherry-red before sinking his dick between those cheeks.

A dick that was still painfully hard in his jeans.

Wes leaned in close enough that Mack could smell his sweat from the day and an odd sweetness on his breath. “My record is ten on each cheek. Daddy.” With that feisty comment, Wes sauntered back to his bedroll.