Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(65)

Mack.

The night before came flooding back in a rush of surprise and joy. The apology. The amazing sex. Wes’s own words, whispered through a haze of bliss, about falling for Mack. Mack not saying it back, but as Mack rolled away toward the offending phone, those words showed themselves in another way: Wes had been cleaned up before being put to bed. He’d dozed off so fast, he’d expected to wake up crusty with lube and come, but nope. Clean and dry.

Mack silenced the phone, then slid back into bed. Tugged Wes closer for a long, sensual kiss that had Wes’s dick stirring. “Didn’t want to oversleep,” Mack said. “Need to be back for the new arrival check-in.”

“Good thinking.” Wes threaded his fingers in Mack’s chest hair, leaving swirls and whorls behind. “Can’t we stay here forever?”

“Wish we could. I mean that.”

Wes saw the truth in Mack’s half-lidded eyes. “I know.”

“You sore?”

He clenched once. “A little.”

Mack’s expression went from seductive to intent. “I woke us up with plenty of time to fool around, if you’re up for it.”

Wes reached between them to clasp Mack’s morning wood. “Oh, the boss is definitely up for it.”

Round two didn’t last nearly as long as round one had last night, but they both came hard. Wes tried not to flinch when Mack slipped out, but the guy was big, and they’d gone hard both times. Not that Wes regretted a thing. He might when he was facing down a ninety-minute round trip drive to Garrett and back, but he’d worry about that later.

They shared the shower, which wasn’t really big enough, but that just made it more fun. Wes loved soaping up Mack’s chest and making designs in his fur. Mack spent a lot of time washing—and playing with—Wes’s ass.

As they dried off, Wes said, “I’d offer to let you borrow clean clothes, but we are nowhere near the same size. Maybe a sweatshirt?”

“In June? I’ll wear my own shirt, thanks. Didn’t end up dancing, so it’s not like it got all sweaty.”

Good point.

Miles was watching TV when they finally emerged, dried and dressed. He glanced their way, but showed no actual emotion when he said, “Morning.”

Wes stared at him a beat, then said, “Sophie texted you, didn’t she?”

“Yes. After her diabolical plan to get you two back together worked, she texted with an overabundance of emojis. So I wasn’t totally surprised by your bedroom door slamming shut. The headboard was a little much, though, don’t you think?”

Mack chuckled. “My fault.”

Wes had zero regrets about that. “I’m not much of a breakfast person, so I don’t really have anything to offer you,” he said to Mack. “Want to grab something on the way out of the city? I know a great little coffee shop that makes the best scones.”

“Scones?” Mack scowled. “Please tell me they have muffins or bagels, or something less froo-froo-y.”

Wes poked him in the belly. “Yes, they do, you wimp. Scones are amazing. I dare you to eat one.”

Mack totally fell for his needling. “Fine. I’ll eat a damned scone.”

“Good.” Wes grabbed his keys, wallet and phone, and then slipped into a pair of boat shoes. “Let’s go, so you aren’t late to play with your horses.”

“Ha ha, funny guy.”

The drive to Garrett was more entertaining than Wes expected. After getting their coffee and scones, they hit the highway and chatter came easily to both of them. Mack told him stories about other guest incidents more outrageous than Wes losing control of his horse, and some of his progress with the ghost town restoration; Wes told stories about dinner theater life, and a few about Los Angeles, and his hope to still be a real actor one day. Even when the conversation dropped, the silence was never awkward.

Mack even admitted he liked the maple and cinnamon chip scone Wes told him to order.

The closer they got to Garrett, though, the sadder Wes became, because it meant this was ending. For now. He had no doubt in his mind that he’d see Mack again, but their schedules didn’t exactly mesh. Wes worked evenings, Mack worked days. Plus Mack had the restoration project starting soon. Wes had never done a long-distance relationship, and he knew he could be needy.

This was going to be...interesting. But totally worth it for the sex and for the closeness Wes felt to Mack. He hadn’t felt that in a very long time, and he didn’t want to lose it.

A few miles outside of the town of Garrett, Mack started texting with someone. After a couple of minutes, he said, “Listen, Colt’s going to meet us at the parking lot to pick me up.”

Wes frowned. “Not interested in being seen with last night’s hookup?”

Mack turned in his seat, startled eyes boring into the side of his head. “Not at all. I thought it would make you more comfortable, in case any of the other hands are around and recognize you.”

“I’m not ashamed of us being together, Mack.”

“Neither am I. That wasn’t why—never mind. I’m sorry, I’ll tell Colt not to pick me up.”

“No, don’t do that, it’s fine.” Colt deserved the extra chore for his hand in last night’s subterfuge. “Besides, it’ll save me from driving over all those potholes. My ass can’t take it.”