Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(89)

“They can carefully rip up the existing floors, pour a new foundation, and then finish and replace the original wood,” Mack explained. “They’ll save as much of the exterior walls as possible, but since the interior needs to look like it’s modern to the time period, they’ll use new wood on the walls, so it’s all weatherproof and sturdy.”

They gazed at the hulking shape of the saloon and sipped their drinks. Wes glanced down at his feet once, probably remembering falling through that porch.

“Avery has found a few references to there being a settlement up here, north of Garrett,” Mack continued, “but so far, nothing specific. He’s tenacious, though, and a really good researcher.”

Naturally, thinking about Avery made him think about Colt and their strained friendship. They’d spoken once, completely professionally, about the electric work, but mostly Colt was going to the foreman for those things. Mack still felt unfiltered rage whenever he saw Colt in person, so they’d taken to avoiding each other. Colt never tried to force the issue, which Mack did appreciate. This wasn’t something he could get over in one goddamn week.

“Mack?”

He looked at Wes, who was frowning at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing, you just got this angry bear look on your face.” Wes slipped his free hand into Mack’s. “Happy thoughts only tonight, okay? Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

“Deal.”

They wandered a bit more, then paused to watch a beautiful sunset. The hills and valleys of Garrett land stretched ahead of them to the east. Slowly the sun touched the horizon, and then began to sink below it. Bathing the sky in burnt orange, red and purple, that eventually melted into blue decorated with millions of twinkling stars.

Back at the blanket, Mack opened a second beer to drink with the spread Patrice had picked out for them. Sliced cheeses and hard salami, crackers, a bunch of grapes, strawberries, a few cucumber sandwiches—Patrice said they were romantic—and a couple of wrapped brownies.

They settled next to each other, the food in front of them. Wes was still nursing his first glass of wine. “This looks great,” he said. “Did the world stop when you told Patrice you were seeing me?”

“Ha ha. No.” Mack swiped gently at his ass. “She was very polite about it and encouraged us to enjoy ourselves.”

“I knew I liked her.” Wes honed in on one particular plate. “Oh my God, I love cucumber sandwiches!”

Score one for Patrice.

“I’ve never had one,” Mack said.

“Then here.” Wes shoved one at him. “They’re simple but really tasty. Basically seasoned cream cheese, sliced cucumbers and white bread. The flavor is all in how you season the cream cheese.” He took a bite of his. “Oh yum.”

Mack chanced it and bit into the sandwich. The cucumber had a nice bite next to the soft cream cheese, which also had a slightly garlicky flavor. And something tangy he couldn’t place. “It is good. Huh.” He finished the sandwich, then held up his bottle of beer. “Here’s to trying new things and taking chances.”

Wes tapped his plastic cup against the bottle’s neck. “Here here.”

*

They nibbled at the food for a while, taking turns feeding each other bites of cheese and salami, teasing like an old married couple—and it was one of Wes’s new favorite memories. Being silly and romantic with a partner wasn’t something Wes had a lot of experience with, so he treasured these moments when Mack really let his guard down. Mack had an alpha streak a mile long, but with Wes...he softened.

When Mack had talked about his plans for the site, his excitement hung in the air like electricity. Even when all he was doing was showing Wes stakes in the ground where a building would go, it was the best thing ever. The energy and excitement had climbed beneath Wes’s skin and still clung to him. It made him want to work here with Mack, to act for him and his guests forever.

But the chance to be in a mid-budget film? How was he supposed to choose?

“I thought we said happy thoughts only.” Mack brushed a lock of hair from Wes’s forehead. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry.” Wes put his wine on the top of the picnic basket. “I let myself get sidetracked by different things.”

“Like the movie?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. This is a huge deal for you if you get it. I know how huge.”

“But it makes you sad.”

Mack hung his head. “A little, yeah. I mean, I’m a city-boy transplant turned ranch cowboy who lives in the middle of nowhere. You’re an amazing actor whose talent deserves to be shared and celebrated, and Hollywood would be lucky to have you. It’s hard to feel like I compete.”

“It’s not a competition.” When Mack flinched, Wes cupped his bearded cheeks and forced Mack to raise his head. To look Wes in the eyes. “Acting is my job, but it isn’t my life. I’m in this with you, Mack, and I’m not going to run off and forget about you. I couldn’t. You’ve stolen a part of my heart that I’ll never get back.”

Mack’s eyes glimmered in the dim, starlit night. “You’ve stolen a part of mine, too, Wes Not-the-American-Beauty-actor Bentley. I guess I’m scared you’ll get famous and forget about me. That you won’t need me anymore when I’m falling in love with you.”