Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(74)

“Colt didn’t want to hurt you,” Wes said.

Mack growled. “Please don’t defend him.”

“I’m not.” Wes untangled to pour them each a third shot, which would be enough for him. Dinner had been hours ago, and this shit was strong. He didn’t want to pass out while Mack needed him. “Tell me what I can do for you?”

“This. I know it sounds hokey, but being near you is...calming.”

“It doesn’t sound hokey. It’s sweet. I’m glad you came to me. I mean it.”

“I don’t know what to feel anymore.”

“That’s okay.” Third shots went down the hatch. He took Mack’s empty glass, then squeezed his forearm. “How about a shower? It might help you relax a little bit.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Wes cleaned up the mess and put the corn back in the freezer. Led him down the hall to the bathroom. Once he had them undressed and Mack under the hot spray, Wes used the excuse of soaping Mack up to massage his shoulders and arms. Ribs and waist. Neck and scalp. Slowly but surely, he worked out knots and relieved stress. By the time Wes had rinsed all the soap off, Mack looked like he was ready to pass out in the tub.

They had the whole clean-clothes-that-would-fit-Mack issue again. After toweling them both off, Wes dug up the baggiest pair of boxers he owned. They were a tight fit, but Mack hadn’t come here for sex, so clothes were a must. Wes put on sleep shorts and a sleeveless tee, then tucked them both into bed.

He hauled Wes into his arms, and Wes went willingly, happy to be there for Mack when he was clearly still distressed. Some nameless emotion bubbled up inside of Wes. He hadn’t done this before, but he liked it. He liked it a whole lot, and wanted to reassure Mack he’d be there always.

But love was a fickle bitch, and Wes had been in love once before.

Not like this, though. This is different, and you know it.

Wes snuggled in closer and enjoyed whatever this was while he had it.

*

Mack woke to both the best and worst sensations. The best being the warmth of a slim male body tucked close to his. The worst being the headache and bleariness of both an emotional hangover, and a liquor-induced one. He’d only tried moonshine one other time, and it had singed his nose hairs, so he’d done a single shot. Last night’s apple pie stuff had been dangerously good.

He tried to ignore his headache and concentrate on the pleasant hominess of waking up with Wes. Mack had missed that these past five years, and he liked how natural it felt with Wes next to him. Mack was sleeping on his stomach, which he had a habit of doing, but half of his right side was draped over Wes, who was sound asleep on his back. Wes looked young and peaceful asleep, his blond hair in messy curls across his forehead.

When he’d first arrived on Wes’s doorstep and overheard Wes talking to an older, good-looking guy about favors, Mack had instantly gotten the wrong impression. Assuming Wes was seeing another guy, when it was a coworker borrowing a game. At ten o’clock at night. The confession that Geoff cheated on him twice—both times with an actor—hadn’t relaxed Mack much when he learned the guy was a coworker of Wes’s. No, it had taken Wes’s blinding smile and gentle reassurances to get through to him. And then Mack had felt even worse for assuming Wes was cheating on him, because yeah, that was Mack’s issue.

He still owed Wes an apology for it.

Wes had been so wonderful last night, holding Mack without demanding he talk. Icing his hand, because Mack didn’t have enough sense to do it himself. Listening when Mack did want to talk. Having Wes there for him had been everything. He was able to exist in his emotions, instead of forcing himself to feel something he didn’t.

He ghosted his fingertips across Wes’s pale, bare shoulder, feeling the warm skin, mapping his body by touch. They’d been naked together, sure, but that had always been about getting off. They weren’t naked now—his junk was somewhat uncomfortably smashed between the bed and a pair of too-tight boxers—but Mack took this opportunity to really study Wes. He had a few freckles on his chest and neck, and a small, crescent-shaped scar on his right cheek, just below his eye. A few more pale freckles on his nose, and a mole right at his hairline by his ear. So many tiny things Mack had never noticed before.

I want to know everything about him.

He knew what Wes’s face looked like when he orgasmed, but he didn’t know Wes’s favorite movie. He knew what Wes looked like when Mack was pounding him hard, while bent in half, but Mack didn’t know Wes’s favorite food, favorite color, favorite anything, really. And he wanted to know those things.

That more than anything else told him coming here had been the right thing to do.

Wes muttered something in his sleep and rolled away from Mack.

“Oh no you don’t.” Mack grabbed his waist and pulled Wes toward him, happy when Wes threw an arm around his ribs and snuggled in, facing Mack. Sharing his pillow now, his face inches from Mack’s. Mack kissed the tip of his nose.

Wes scrunched his nose, then blinked his eyes open. His sleepy smile made Mack grin. “Morning,” Wes said. “Time is it?”

“No idea.” And Mack really didn’t care. He didn’t have any specific duties today, other than supervising the horses and guests, but they had plenty of other hands to do that. Reyes would quietly make Mack’s excuses. The only person who’d probably feel slighted by Mack’s disappearance was Avery, and Avery was the reason Mack was gone.