Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(42)

Mack nodded. “I want Colt to go. He has a lot of background in carpentry and can tell us what, if anything, is usable.”

“All right, we’ll make that happen. Head out after breakfast?”

“Sure, sounds like a plan.”

Mack left the office in a good mood, hopeful for this project. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain it would pay off. So certain he was willing to put up the money himself, if he had to. He’d never told Arthur about the wrongful death lawsuit payout he’d received from the city last year, after the case was finally settled—the biggest reason of all that he’d quit SWAT and left the city.

No one with any sense would stay at a job, in a city, when he was suing them both for getting his boyfriend killed by friendly fire.

*

Wes spent the rest of his afternoon lazing around the downstairs of the guesthouse with his foot propped up, while everyone else was watching the horse demonstration. Or something. His ankle didn’t hurt anymore, but Patrice had brought him iced tea and a few cookies to snack on while he listened to music on his phone.

Eventually the Reynolds family came inside, and the little boys wanted to hear all about the ghost town—word traveled fast—so Wes entertained them for a while, adding drama to Blizzard’s streak across the valley and his own fall through the porch. They got all wide-eyed at his bandaged ankle, which was adorable.

After dinner, there was a sunset hike on one of the trails. Wes played off his ankle so he didn’t have to bother. He settled on the front porch instead, and waved to his departing friends. Even Miles, who’d stuck close to Wes since they got there, went with the group, probably to take pictures of what the cowboy guide promised would be an amazing sunset.

Wes watched for Mack. He’d seen the ranch hands coming and going from a line of small cabins a few dozen yards behind the main house, so his best guess was Mack lived in one of those. Not knowing which one had made his earlier question something of a gamble, but Mack had impressed him by saying yes, he’d let Wes in the door.

The idea of future sexytimes with the big bear of a cowboy made Wes’s dick stir, eager to get on board—and out of his pants.

Shadows stretched longer across the yard as the sun continued going down. Wes ignored the colors being painted across the sky, his attention shifting from the main house to the barn, no idea where Mack was. He had half a mind to go hunting for him, when a flash of blue polo near the barn caught his eye.

Mack stood outside the door with Colt, the pair of them in the middle of a conversation. Colt was practically dancing in place, obviously excited by something. A weird flash of jealousy burned in Wes’s gut. Really weird, because why would he feel jealous over Mack spending time with one of his friends? One of his sexy, superhot friends who kept flashing Mack big smiles and bouncing around like a happy puppy.

Don’t be an idiot. You want a blow job, not a proposal.

No room for jealousy in a vacation fling. Nope.

Colt bolted back into the barn. Mack shook his head at the sky, then started strolling down the well-worn path from the barn to the row of cabins. Wes sat up straighter. Mack paused on the path and looked over his shoulder. The hat hid his face, but Wes swore Mack looked right at him. His pulse jumped.

Mack tilted his head in Wes’s directly, and then kept walking.

Oh hell yes.

Wes stood, his ankle giving a slight twinge, but holding firm. Racing after Mack was kind of a dead giveaway, so he forced himself to walk at a steady gait, just a guy out on an evening stroll...right toward the staff quarters. He lost sight of Mack around the back of the main house, and Mack must have slowed down because by the time Wes spotted him again, he was standing outside one of the middle cabins, fiddling with the knob.

Mack opened the door and went inside. Blood racing with adrenaline and excitement, Wes sped up a half-step. A potentially fantastic orgasm was on the other side of that cabin door, and if Mack wasn’t alone, Wes was going to kick something. Maybe someone. He walked with confidence, not giving a shit if any of the other hands saw him, his insides squirrely.

Shit, he should have popped a breath mint.

Too late now. He stopped in front of the door and knocked, two sharp raps of his knuckles.

No answer.

Wes glared at the door. He better not be playing some kind of damned game.

He knocked again, three times and harder, annoyance overtaking his excitement. He was tempted to try the knob and let himself in, but if Mack had changed his mind about opening the door for Wes, then Wes wasn’t going to be the desperate one who rattled doorknobs. Nope. He had way more fucking self-respect than that.

So much for my vacation fling.

Wes turned to go, disappointment burning in his gut.

The door behind him flung open on squeaky hinges, and Wes froze in a half-pivot. Mack stood in the doorway, frowning at him, and delightfully shirtless.

“You said you’d open the door if I knocked,” Wes said, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.

Mack harrumphed. “You can’t even give a man ten minutes to shower the horse off him?”

He hadn’t been stood up. The thought slid Wes from annoyed straight back into eager. “I like how you smell.”

“I haven’t showered since yesterday.”

He wrinkled his nose, then pretended to sniff himself. “Neither have I, come to think of it. Maybe we should shower together.”