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  He’d barely been able to get Wes out of his damned mind all day long, and the sassy monologue had only made him more appealing. He really was a talented actor, maybe even more than Geoff had been. Geoff had never had a recurring role on a popular TV show, like Wes. And after Miller mouthed off about Drake and being outed by the press, Mack realized why Wes had seemed so damned familiar.

  Geoff had been a huge fan of Quick Draw, which had aired when their relationship first started, so Mack watched new episodes with him like a dutiful boyfriend. He’d liked the show well enough, and the Wes he knew now was definitely the gawky blond blacksmith’s son who kept accidentally getting himself into trouble. He’d actually been sad when the character was killed off in the season three premiere. Geoff was all over the scandal that broke a few months later, when pictures of Drake and Wes making out in a car had leaked into all the gossip papers.

  Mack hadn’t paid much attention to the whole thing. He’d never given much thought to celebrities and their personal lives. But he’d hated the way Wes had gotten upset when Miller threw the scandal in his face. He’d nearly followed Wes to the creek to talk to him, but the last thing he needed was for Miller and Liam to start rumors of their own. Wes had friends to comfort him.

  Didn’t stop Mack from thinking about him all damned night, though.

  He’d volunteered first watch. Four hours awake, while their guests slept and Reyes rested in preparation for the next watch. The two shifts usually got them until dawn, when the big, bright sun would wake everyone up for breakfast.

  Mack was sitting with his back to one of the wagon wheels, a shotgun across his lap. The view gave him a good line of sight for the guests and the wide-open plains. The closest they usually came to wildlife interference in these trips was a distant coyote yowl, or a curious raccoon, but they never wanted to take a chance on some rabid beast running up to someone in the middle of the night.

  He glanced at Wes, whose shock of blond hair was barely visible over the top of his blanket. Wes hadn’t said much to anyone as they’d all settled in, his mood dour, like it had been on the trail earlier. And Mack didn’t have a clue what to say to the guy in order to cheer him up, so he kept his mouth shut, in case what he did come up with made it all worse.

  The whole thing made Mack respect Wes. This entire ranch experience had to remind him painfully of that scandal, but he’d agreed to spend a week out here because his sister wanted it. Not a lot of people would put themselves in that kind of position. Wes had.

  Smart, loyal, and that ass.

  Mack really needed to stop thinking about Wes’s ass. That taut ass sticking out when Wes stretched after riding for two hours...a horse! Riding a horse. Except the mental image of Wes above him, gleefully riding Mack’s dick while wearing a cowboy hat and boots, slammed into Mack’s head and didn’t let go. His jeans got painfully tight, and Jesus, he’d never sprung wood over a guest before.

  Wood he couldn’t do a damned thing about, not with eight people sleeping fifteen feet away. He bit his thumb hard, hoping the sting would ease his erection. All it did was make him imagine Wes biting that thumb, then sucking on it.

  Mack shut his eyes.

  Get it together, Garrett. Shotgun shells, horse dung, bedbugs, unsexy things, man.

  Fabric rustled. Mack opened his eyes to the best and worst sight possible: Wes standing up and stretching. Showing off his ass.

  Hell.

  Wes turned, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He walked over to Mack, his face rumpled. “I have to pee,” he whispered.

  Mack handed Wes a flashlight, then pointed toward the rocky area with a few thick scrub trees that they’d designated as the watering hole earlier in the evening. “Go for it.”

  “Alone? What if a coyote gets me?”

  “There ain’t enough meat on your carcass for a coyote to enjoy.” A horny cowboy, on the other hand... Thank God he had that rifle across his lap.

  Wes pouted, and that was not sexy as fuck. No way. “Can’t you come with me and keep watch?”

  Why did he have to say come?

  Mack’s body hadn’t betrayed him like this in years, reacting like he was a lovesick teenager instead of a grown man with a lot more self-control. And even though he’d only known Wes for two days, Wes wasn’t going to relent on Mack going with him, so arguing was pointless. He stood, careful to keep the shotgun low across his groin while pretending the pose was totally casual.

  Wes grinned, then sashayed his way down to the watering hole. He literally sashayed, swinging his ass like a rabbit enticing the wolf to pounce. And dear God, Mack wanted to pounce. Pounce and devour and wipe that smirk right off Wes’s face. Make Wes fall apart and beg.

  None of that was helping ease his boner, so Mack tried to focus on watching the land around them. Not on the sound of Wes moving around in the bushes. Or the sound of a zipper going down. He definitely didn’t wonder what Wes’s dick looked like, because that was seriously not stopping more blood from going south.

  This is ridiculous. I got laid two nights ago!

  Mack bit his tongue hard enough to bring tears to his own eyes, and that helped kill his boner a little.

  Wes finished his business and came back around the bushes. “My hero.”

  “Uh-huh.” Mack inclined his head toward the campfire. “Let’s go, scaredy cat.”

  “What’s the rush?” Wes flicked off the flashlight, then tilted his head to the sky. Angling his long, pale neck. A neck that needed a mark or two on it. “I love that you know the constellations. It’s very unexpected.”

  “No sense in being a stereotype.”

  Wes met his eyes, hurt reflecting back at him. “Is that what I am to you? A stereotype? Sassy city slicker who’s scared of dirt and occasionally wears eyeliner?”

  Mack blinked, stupidly turned on by the idea of Wes wearing liner. “No. You do you, pal. I don’t think you’re a stereotype. I was talking about me not being a dumb cowboy.”

  “Oh.”

  “You really wear eyeliner?”

  “Sure. I like how it makes my blue eyes pop, especially if I go out clubbing.”

  Mack could definitely see Wes out in the clubs, shaking that ass in tight jeans, attracting every bear and gym rat like catnip. “You ever been to Belladonna?”

  “Sure, every few months. I prefer Club Base. When do you find time to go to the clubs in San Fran?”

  “Most Saturday nights. Hard to find tail out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  Wes cocked his hip and grinned. “I don’t know, I think you found something worth catching.”

  Mack’s heart tripped at the deliberate come-on. It would be so easy to grab Wes, go behind the bushes, and get that pretty mouth around his dick. Too easy, and entirely too inappropriate. He was out here to do a job, not get laid. “Maybe so,” Mack said in a deliberately low voice, “but I ain’t hunting tonight.”

  “Shame.”

  Big damned shame, but nothing Mack could do about it. He really needed to stop thinking about having sex with Wes, so he latched onto the first thought in his head. “That scandal on your TV show, that was the reason you left Hollywood?”

  Wes flinched, shoulders hunching. “Pretty much. And no, I did not leak those photos.”

  “Didn’t figure you had. You said earlier that you didn’t, and I believe you.”

  “Thank you. No one else does, except my family. I would never out somebody on purpose.” He cut his eyes at Mack. “Or by accident, if I can help it.”

  Mack smiled at his hesitation. “I’m out. Don’t usually share it with the guests, but everyone who works here knows. No sense in hiding it.”

  Relief lit up Wes’s eyes. “Good. I mean, I didn’t figure you on being bi-curious, but I don’t like to assume someone’s sexuality, and you were really vague.”

  “Old habits. Like I said, it isn’t rea
lly something I share with the guests each week.”

  “So what makes me special?”

  Every damned thing about you, up to and including that fine ass.

  “This doesn’t seem like the kind of place you’d enjoy,” Mack said, “but you’re here because you love your sister.”

  Wes beamed. “She’s my best friend. I’d do anything for her, even suffer through a week of dust and horse smell to make her happy. And it isn’t as if I’m completely suffering.” He inched closer to Mack. “I met you, didn’t I?”

  Mack refused to look at the pink lips Wes just licked. “Tell me more about the show. If you don’t mind.”

  “Meh. It was my first and last big Hollywood break.” Wes kicked at a loose stone. “I auditioned for a role in the pilot and didn’t get it, but a few months later, I got a callback for a new part. It was supposed to be for one episode and in the script draft I got, I died very tragically in the end. But I guess the showrunner liked me so much, they let me live and expanded the part. Said I brought much-needed humor to the show.”

  “I remember.”

  Wes startled. “You watched it?”

  “My ex loved it, so I watched it with him. Never did connect you with the show, though, until Miller said something earlier. You really were good.”

  “Thanks. I loved it. We shot a lot on location, which was amazing, and the main cast was great. Drake Sellers was obviously gorgeous, and I was a little bit in lust with him from our first scene together. He was so subtle about flirting with me that I wasn’t entirely sure he was, until the season one wrap party. He invited himself back to my place, which turned into a vigorous fuck-fest.”

  A flash of protective irritation burned hot in Mack’s gut.

  “We kept seeing each other in secret during the hiatus, and then again when season two started filming. My role expanded into recurring, instead of just guest, so we got to spend more time together. But Drake didn’t want to come out until he’d really cemented his career, and I understood that. I mean, I didn’t exactly go running around waving a rainbow flag, but anybody who’s met me can see I’m queer. Drake was crazy good at passing, though.

  “But by the end of that year, I was getting tired of being a dirty secret. I’d fallen head-over-heels for Drake, and Drake intimated he felt the same without coming out and saying ‘I love you,’ but we were both still in the damned closet. The show was renewed for season three and had steady ratings, and I was tired of being a booty call.”

  “You gave him an ultimatum?” Mack asked when Wes went silent.

  “Yeah. I said I needed to be acknowledged by him or we were done. I never threatened to out him, or to tell people about us if he didn’t come out, but I put my foot down. I was worth more than that. I deserved a boyfriend who’d take me out in public, instead of hiding away in my crappy apartment.”

  “What did Drake do?”

  “He dumped me.” Wes sounded so forlorn that Mack was glad he had the shotgun to grab onto, so he didn’t do something stupid like hug Wes.

  “Sorry.”

  Wes shrugged. “I kind of expected it, but it still broke my heart. And I figured it would be painful to see him every day when we started shooting the new season. Except the producers informed me my character was dying at the end of the season premiere in the heartbreaking way I should have died after my first appearance. That was the line, anyway, but I knew Drake had done it. He was the star and he got whatever he wanted.”

  “He got you fired?”

  “Pretty much. That’s why, when those photos of us got leaked, everyone assumed it was me getting revenge.” Wes’s cheeks darkened. “Except I didn’t, and I would never, but the press ruined us both. I got blackballed. Drake got a lot of attention he didn’t want. Middle America decided they hated that their manly-man lead was gay, so the ratings dropped. Show got canned halfway through season four.”

  “Damn. None of that was your fault, though.”

  “I know, but our relationship tanked both of our careers. Well, Drake still pops up in low-budget made-for-TV rom-coms, but whatever. I couldn’t get work anymore, so I went back to San Francisco and moved in with Sophie for a while. Nursed my wounds and got myself back together.” Wes threw his hands up in a dramatic flourish. “And that is my sordid tale. What’s yours?”

  “What’s my what?” Mack said, playing dumb to buy time. He was enjoying this conversation with Wes way more than he should have, but he wasn’t in the mood to share his own secrets.

  “What’s your story, duh. I told you why I left La La Land. Why did you? Was it because of your ex?”

  You have no fucking idea.

  “It was a mix of things.” Mack could tiptoe around the truth without sharing too much. He didn’t want to lie to Wes, but his tragedies weren’t fair game to everyone. “Biggest thing was a SWAT job that went south. Team leader’s plan didn’t feel right to me going in and I tried to speak up. Got shut down. People died when they didn’t have to, and I raised holy hell with the brass after that. And then I quit. Came out here to clear my head, and I never left.”

  “I’m sorry,” Wes said softly, almost reverently. “Not that you’re here and never left, but that those people died.”

  “Me, too.” Sorrier than Wes would ever know, and old grief squeezed his heart tight. “SWAT’s intense, and it can break you if you let it get to you. It got to me, so I got out. And I’m happy here, with the dust and horse smells.”

  Wes smiled. “The ranch does seem to suit you. What about your ex?”

  His heart twisted harder. “Still in LA.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. He just hadn’t specified where in Los Angeles Geoff was, and he didn’t plan to unpack that particular suitcase of guilt tonight.

  Even if the beauty of the starlight made Mack want to spill all his secrets.

  “Have you always been this way?” Wes asked.

  “What way?”

  “Hard to get to know? A mystery wrapped inside of an enigma? You’re driving me nuts.”

  Payback for giving me a boner.

  “Sure have,” Mack replied. “Ask Reyes.”

  Wes rolled his eyes. “I would, but he seems to like talking even less than you.”

  “You aren’t wrong about that.”

  Reyes had always been the more serious of their duo growing up, but his quiet streak had only gotten worse since moving to the ranch. He’d left a piece of himself behind in Los Angeles, still trapped in that burning building that had come down on him and a rookie. Mack didn’t know what to say or do in order to pull Reyes out of that fire, so he stuck close to his friend. Listened whenever Reyes wanted to talk, which was rarely.

  Wes glanced over at the pile of sleeping campers. “He does seem to like talking to Miles.”

  “You noticed that, too, huh?”

  “Hard not to. Miles isn’t much of a talker, either, which makes us great roommates, because I can talk enough for two people.”

  The self-deprecating joke made Mack smile. “You don’t say?” Wes punched him in the shoulder, barely hard enough to feel, but Mack still let out a soft “Ow.”

  “Aww, the big bear can’t take a little jab?”

  Mack growled. “I’m more interested in how many smacks your ass can take.”

  Wes’s eyes shot wide, lips parting. Mack realized what he’d said too late to take it back, and damn it, he meant it. He wanted to bend Wes over his knee and spank that ass cherry-red before sinking his dick between those cheeks.

  A dick that was still painfully hard in his jeans.

  Wes leaned in close enough that Mack could smell his sweat from the day and an odd sweetness on his breath. “My record is ten on each cheek. Daddy.” With that feisty comment, Wes sauntered back to his bedroll.

  Mack gaped at his departing backside, too stunned to react—and certain his goddamn erection wasn’t going do
wn anytime soon. Not with that image firmly planted in his head.

  He needed a drink.

  Chapter Nine

  Last night’s delightful starlit conversation with Mack had made sleeping on the hard ground a little more bearable for Wes, despite waking up with a sore lower back. He’d finally fallen asleep to thoughts of Mack spanking him while he knelt over a horse’s saddle, then woke up with a stiffy so intense he was glad he’d slept on his side. The sun was up and others were stirring, so he couldn’t do anything about it.

  He’d untucked his shirt and popped the fly on his jeans so he’d be more comfortable sleeping, so he could use the shield of his shirt’s hem to hide the problem until it went away.

  Something started sizzling in a pan nearby, and he was pretty sure he smelled coffee. Coffee always got him out of bed. Or a bedroll. Whatever. He buttoned his fly and sat up carefully so he didn’t strangle his problem boner with his zipper. And said problem boner was not helped by the sight of Mack crouching next to the fire pit, one muscled arm reaching out to stir something in a big, cast-iron frying pan.

  Jesus, that’s a sexy thing to wake up to in the morning.

  He really wanted a chance to wake up to Mack making him breakfast on the morning after. Maybe needing to sit on a cushion from the previous night’s spanking. Wes rarely let his kinky side out to play, because he only went there with guys he trusted. And club hookups were usually short on trust. It said something about Mack that Wes already trusted him on a gut level—a trust he hadn’t experienced this quickly with anyone. Not even Drake, and Drake was the one who’d helped Wes discover his kinky side.

  Mack turned his head and looked right into Wes’s eyes. Wes’s face burned, positive Mack could hear the dirty thoughts in his head.

  On Wes’s left, Derrick sat up and started complaining about his back. Wes used the distraction to focus on his future other brother-in-law, and it did wonders for his erection. By the time Derrick had hauled ass to his feet, Wes could follow him over to the watering hole and relieve himself without worrying about blasting off. The snickers and snerks coming from Liam and Miller, directed at him, killed the last of his residual arousal.