Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(59)

“I didn’t really tell anyone, for a lot of reasons, and it’s all water under the bridge, right? Past is past. Let’s think about the future. Like about how in six hours, we’re going to be in the city, in a club, trying to get laid.”

Mack groaned. He’d put off going out on their usual Saturday night trip to San Francisco for the past three weekends, and Colt wasn’t going to let him say no again. And part of Mack did want to go out, get off the ranch for a few hours. Even if he didn’t get laid, he could drink and have a little bit of fun. Pretend he wasn’t still hung up on a guy he’d known for a week. A guy who’d taken a piece of Mack’s heart when he left.

“No excuses this time,” Colt said. “You need to get Wes out of your system.”

“You’re right.”

Colt opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Wait, what?”

“I said you’re right. I need to go out.”

“Well, damn. I had a whole speech prepared in case you resisted.”

Mack chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint. Maybe use that speech on Reyes? Get him to come with us?”

“Nah, won’t work. That speech was tailor-made to you. Oh well. Be ready to leave at eight?”

“Sure thing.”

After Colt left, Mack pulled the slip of paper out of his desk drawer and stared at the name written in Colt’s doctor’s scrawl. It seemed odd to have known Colt for so long and to have never heard about this guy before. The whole thing made Mack’s curiosity about Avery buzz, so he took a chance and typed Avery’s number into his phone. Hit send.

“This is Avery Hendrix,” a soothing voice said after two rings.

Mack’s hand jerked, surprised the guy had answered. “Hi, my name is Mack Garrett, and I got your contact information through a mutual friend. Colt Woods.”

Avery didn’t respond right away. “I see. How is Colt?”

“He’s fine, fine. I’m not calling on his behalf or anything. He told me you’re a historian and you might be a good fit to lend your knowledge to a project I’m getting under way up here in Santa Clara County.”

“What sort of project is it?”

“My grandfather owns a good parcel of land up north here, and a few weeks ago we stumbled over the remains of an old ghost town and—”

“I’m in.”

Mack blinked. “You are?”

“Ghost towns are one of my obsessions, Mr. Garrett. They’re what drew me to American history as a major. I can send over a resume, if you like, along with personal and professional recommendations. I’ve consulted on numerous TV shows and feature films, as well as—”

“Mr. Hendrix, you sold me on yourself already, thank you.” Mack nearly laughed at Avery’s enthusiasm. He hadn’t expected the call to go so well. “How about I arrange for you to fly up here and see the town before you make any long-term plans to join the team? It might not be as amazing as you’re imagining.”

“You’re right, thank you.” Avery’s voice had calmed a bit, but the guy still sounded excited by the find. “Why don’t you email me any photos that you have. That way, I know what materials of my own to bring.”

“Sounds good.” They exchanged email addresses. “I really appreciate this, Mr. Hendrix. The few people I’ve reached out to have turned me down.”

“Colt was smart to recommend me to you. Ghost towns are my catnip.”

“Good to know. I’ll be sure to thank Colt for putting us in touch.”

“You do that.” Avery made a soft, breathy sound. “Is Colt well?”

Mack didn’t want to gossip about his friend, especially not to an ex, but he didn’t want Colt to be some sort of giant elephant in the room when Avery arrived at the ranch. “He is well. I’ll tell him you asked after him.”

“No, please don’t. It’s just...he left town so abruptly. I only want to know that he’s well. He deserves to be happy.”

The wistfulness in Avery’s voice made Mack question exactly how mutual their breakup had been, but it also wasn’t his business. “Okay. I’ll email you more information on the ghost town. I appreciate this.”

“Me, too. I look forward to the distraction.”

Odd phrasing, but Mack let it pass and hung up. Now that he finally had a historian on the hook, the restoration could continue moving forward. And, thanks to his plans out tonight with Colt, so could Mack.

*

“I hate you.”

Sophie scowled at him over her phone, in the middle of a text when Wes tossed off his snappish remark. “No, you don’t. Get dressed.”

“I really do hate you for this.” Wes glared into his closet, determined to be as bratty as humanly possible about Sophie’s unexpected visit. She’d completely spoiled Wes’s plans to drown his sorrows in red wine and dark chocolate, just as he’d done for the past three Saturday nights after work. It was stupid, mourning a vacation fling, but damn it, he’d felt something for Mack, and he wanted to sulk.

His sister had other plans. She’d interrupted his plans to binge-watch Torchwood for the third time—hello, Captain Jack!—by banging on his door at ten o’clock, announcing she was taking him out to Club Base, no excuses. When Sophie put her mind to something, nothing was going to change it.