Wild Trail Page 13

  “True.”

  They didn’t have a library or an historical society to speak of, but maybe there were some kind of records at city hall. Mack didn’t want to go digging around while he had Wes on his hip, so he’d have to come back to town later on, when he wasn’t busy with the ranch guests.

  “Here you go,” Petey said a moment later. He handed Mack a small paper bag that rattled with pills. “How’s Judson doing with his blood pressure medication?”

  “Seems to be doing much better. I’ll tell him you asked after him. Thanks, Petey.”

  “Take care, young buck.”

  Mack found Wes near the small display of packaged cookies, staring longingly at chocolate-covered shortbreads. “You ready?” Mack asked.

  “Tell me not to buy those,” Wes said, pointing at the cookies. “I’m not allowed.”

  “Why not? Watching your girlish figure?”

  “Hah. No.” Wes stuck his tongue out in a way that was incredibly adorable. “If I buy them, then Sophie will find out, and she’ll yell at me for bringing cookie temptations within her reach while she’s trying to fit into her wedding dress.”

  Mack laughed at the super-serious way Wes said all that. “You could always hide them from her.”

  “Hah! You don’t know my sister. She can smell sugar from sixty paces. And she is constantly complaining that I can eat anything and stay thin as a reed, while all she has to do is sniff a donut, and she gains a pound.”

  “Guess you inherited the fast metabolism.”

  “Don’t know who I inherited it from, though.”

  “Your parents have the same issue with weight as Sophie?” This was a strange conversation to be having in the middle of the grocery store, but Mack liked talking to Wes. He didn’t want it to end yet.

  Wes’s eyes flickered. “No, I meant, I don’t know who my biological parents are. I’m adopted.”

  Mack startled. “Really?”

  “Yeah, when I was an infant. My parents were told by doctors that they couldn’t conceive, so they adopted me when I was only a few days old. Then four years later, boom! Sophie arrives. Surprise!” Wes picked up the cookies and stared at the shiny package. “It was love at first sight. And our parents never treated us differently. Just because my mom and dad didn’t conceive me doesn’t mean they love me any less.”

  “That’s a great mom,” Mack said softly. “Great parents, in general.”

  “Yeah, well, there are a lot of adopted kids who aren’t so lucky, or who never get picked for adoption. I know how lucky I am.” Wes sighed, then put the cookies back. “Come on, let’s get to the ranch. Sophie’s probably convinced herself that my ankle will turn black, fall off, and I’ll have to crawl my way down the aisle as her Best Person.”

  “Can’t have Sophie worrying.”

  Mack paid for the prescription before they left, with half a mind to go back and get those damned cookies. He wanted to do something nice for Wes, and that wasn’t usually Mack’s MO. They walked to the truck side by side, and Mack stopped himself more than once from reaching for Wes’s hand. It was a stupid, reckless idea, but one he couldn’t get out of his head.

  Jesus, the guy was under his skin in a bad way.

  Once they were back in the truck and aimed for the ranch, Wes said, “Tell me something about you.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. I told you about being adopted. All I know about you is that you used to be SWAT and you have an ex you left behind in Los Angeles.”

  “Then you know a lot already.”

  Wes rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, there’s way more to you than those surface things. Can you at least verify if this mystery ex was a man or a woman?”

  So Wes hadn’t totally figured him out? “Man.”

  “I knew it. You totally give off big cuddly bear vibes. Major toppy vibes, too.”

  Mack tightened his grip on the steering wheel and concentrated on the road, so his traitorous brain didn’t assault him with images of topping Wes. Bending that slim body over and—Stop.

  Too late. And he was so not adjusting himself with Wes right next to him. Fine, if Wes wanted to play games... “You’re giving off major vibes of your own, boss,” Mack said. “As in ‘blister my ass with your hand, and then fuck me blind’ vibes.”

  Wes’s cheeks pinked up and his nostrils flared. “And here I thought your earlier comment about spanking me was all bravado.” He leaned closer to Mack. “I’d let you spank me, daddy.”

  Jesus Christ.

  Mack swallowed hard as his dick perked up, straining against his zipper. He nearly pulled the truck over into the grass right then and there, but they were back on ranch land, and he wouldn’t risk getting caught. He did, however, palm his own crotch to gauge Wes’s reaction.

  Wes licked his lips, hands fisted in his lap, probably restraining himself from reaching out. Making the first move. “If I knock on your cabin door tonight, will you let me in?” Wes asked in a strained voice.

  Mack knew he ought to say no. But that place deep down where arousal and need were stirring overrode his common sense on the matter, and instead of being smart, he went with human. He put a hand on Wes’s thigh, then said, “Yes.”

  Chapter Eleven

  As soon as he dropped a smirking Wes off at the guesthouse with his meds, Mack hauled ass to the main house so he could run his new ideas past Arthur. Most of the guests were assembled around the corral. On Tuesday afternoons some of the more experienced riders showed off their roping and riding skills, and even gave guests the chance to learn some tricks. Not something Mack needed to be there for, since the riders used their personal horses.

  Arthur’s office door was wide-open, and two voices drifted out. Judson’s voice was no surprise, but Patrice’s made Mack pause outside. Not one to eavesdrop, he knocked on the doorframe.

  “Come in,” Judson said.

  Mack stepped inside the large, cozy office. Arthur had decorated the walls with different painted horse portraits, and two big bookcases were stuffed with horse figures of all sizes and colors. The desk was an organized mess that made Mack a little crazy, but whatever system they had worked for Arthur and Judson. At least he could see the computer and keyboard clear as day.

  Judson stood near one of the two big windows with Patrice, the two of them clearly in the middle of some sort of conversation.

  “This about Wes?” Judson asked.

  “Partly,” Mack replied. “Just got back with him. Doc took a small splinter of wood out of his leg and put in two stitches. Got some antibiotics, but he should be fine. Not even limping anymore.”

  “Oh good, that poor angel,” Patrice said.

  Angel? Someone had Patrice wrapped around his little finger, all right. “You know where Arthur is?” Mack asked. “I wanted to talk to him about the ghost town Wes stumbled over.”

  “Went to the can,” Judson replied. “Should be back in a minute. I gotta say, I’m curious to see these pictures you found.”

  Mack plunked down in the desk chair, then hooked his phone up to the computer. By the time he had the images up and ready, Arthur shambled into the office. Mack hadn’t seen his grandfather since yesterday, and he looked tired. More worn out than usual. Mack didn’t comment, though. Arthur wouldn’t appreciate it in front of his other employees.

  “I’ve got a radical idea, but hear me out,” Mack said. “Something that will not only make the ranch more money for the horse rescue, but may even bring Garrett out of its economic decline.” He brought up the wide shot of the town, with the best view of the different buildings. “Imagine this restored, with day players walking around as gunslingers, and live shows by trained actors. Authentic clothes, authentic food served in a real saloon.”

  Patrice clapped her hands. “Like an attraction.”

  “Exactly like that.” He clicked throu
gh a few more pictures. “Think of the people from town that we could employ, and the tourist dollars this could bring in. We’re an hour from San Francisco and less than that from San Jose. There’s no access road yet to the location, but there has to be a way to create one. We’re not that far off I-5. This could be exactly what Garrett needs.”

  “It sounds good in theory,” Judson said, “but restoring a town like that, never mind staffing the kind of attraction you’ve dreamed up, costs a lot of money. The ranch can’t front that.”

  Arthur was staring at the computer screen, a strange look on his face. As if the man was caught between excitement over the idea and the downside of financial realities.

  “Granddad?” Mack asked.

  “I don’t know,” Arthur replied. “I love the idea, to be honest. And I definitely want to go see this ghost town for myself, but Judson’s right. Only way we could pony up that sort of money is by mortgaging the ranch, and I’d hate to do that. Owe on something that’s been owned by our family for generations.”

  Mack hated the idea of Arthur doing that, too, gambling the family’s land on his pipe dream. If it didn’t pay off, they could lose too much. A new idea flickered to life in the back of Mack’s mind—a sure-fire source for the cash they needed.

  “You could always take that offer on the back forty,” Judson said.

  “Wouldn’t work,” Mack replied. “Our ghost town is right on the border of that tract of land. The whole thing would go to hell if we ended up with modern condos on the horizon. Kill the experience.”

  “Don’t wanna sell it, anyway,” Arthur snapped. “No sense in arguing money until we’ve seen the town. Distance from here, terrain, if we could even get a road through. Can you show me on the map?”

  “Sure.” Mack stood and walked to the assessment map of the ranch lands, drawn up three generations ago as a gift to the man who would have been Mack’s great-great-grandfather. He traced his finger over the glass-covered surface, moving from the northern-most point of the camping tour to the west. Over the stream. “There. Right in this area here.”

  Three sets of eyes peered over his two shoulders, studying the topography.

  “That valley cuts down through here,” Arthur said, pointing at a mark on the map. “Some trees but not much that would need to come down. Seems accessible. It’s a wonder we’ve never found it before now.”

  “I want to go back into town at some point,” Mack said. “Do some research at town hall, see if there are any records of people settling up there.”

  “Good idea. Why don’t we make a plan to go out tomorrow on the ATVs?”

  Mack nodded. “I want Colt to go. He has a lot of background in carpentry and can tell us what, if anything, is usable.”

  “All right, we’ll make that happen. Head out after breakfast?”

  “Sure, sounds like a plan.”

  Mack left the office in a good mood, hopeful for this project. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain it would pay off. So certain he was willing to put up the money himself, if he had to. He’d never told Arthur about the wrongful death lawsuit payout he’d received from the city last year, after the case was finally settled—the biggest reason of all that he’d quit SWAT and left the city.

  No one with any sense would stay at a job, in a city, when he was suing them both for getting his boyfriend killed by friendly fire.

  * * *

  Wes spent the rest of his afternoon lazing around the downstairs of the guesthouse with his foot propped up, while everyone else was watching the horse demonstration. Or something. His ankle didn’t hurt anymore, but Patrice had brought him iced tea and a few cookies to snack on while he listened to music on his phone.

  Eventually the Reynolds family came inside, and the little boys wanted to hear all about the ghost town—word traveled fast—so Wes entertained them for a while, adding drama to Blizzard’s streak across the valley and his own fall through the porch. They got all wide-eyed at his bandaged ankle, which was adorable.

  After dinner, there was a sunset hike on one of the trails. Wes played off his ankle so he didn’t have to bother. He settled on the front porch instead, and waved to his departing friends. Even Miles, who’d stuck close to Wes since they got there, went with the group, probably to take pictures of what the cowboy guide promised would be an amazing sunset.

  Wes watched for Mack. He’d seen the ranch hands coming and going from a line of small cabins a few dozen yards behind the main house, so his best guess was Mack lived in one of those. Not knowing which one had made his earlier question something of a gamble, but Mack had impressed him by saying yes, he’d let Wes in the door.

  The idea of future sexytimes with the big bear of a cowboy made Wes’s dick stir, eager to get on board—and out of his pants.

  Shadows stretched longer across the yard as the sun continued going down. Wes ignored the colors being painted across the sky, his attention shifting from the main house to the barn, no idea where Mack was. He had half a mind to go hunting for him, when a flash of blue polo near the barn caught his eye.

  Mack stood outside the door with Colt, the pair of them in the middle of a conversation. Colt was practically dancing in place, obviously excited by something. A weird flash of jealousy burned in Wes’s gut. Really weird, because why would he feel jealous over Mack spending time with one of his friends? One of his sexy, superhot friends who kept flashing Mack big smiles and bouncing around like a happy puppy.

  Don’t be an idiot. You want a blow job, not a proposal.

  No room for jealousy in a vacation fling. Nope.

  Colt bolted back into the barn. Mack shook his head at the sky, then started strolling down the well-worn path from the barn to the row of cabins. Wes sat up straighter. Mack paused on the path and looked over his shoulder. The hat hid his face, but Wes swore Mack looked right at him. His pulse jumped.

  Mack tilted his head in Wes’s directly, and then kept walking.

  Oh hell yes.

  Wes stood, his ankle giving a slight twinge, but holding firm. Racing after Mack was kind of a dead giveaway, so he forced himself to walk at a steady gait, just a guy out on an evening stroll...right toward the staff quarters. He lost sight of Mack around the back of the main house, and Mack must have slowed down because by the time Wes spotted him again, he was standing outside one of the middle cabins, fiddling with the knob.

  Mack opened the door and went inside. Blood racing with adrenaline and excitement, Wes sped up a half-step. A potentially fantastic orgasm was on the other side of that cabin door, and if Mack wasn’t alone, Wes was going to kick something. Maybe someone. He walked with confidence, not giving a shit if any of the other hands saw him, his insides squirrely.

  Shit, he should have popped a breath mint.

  Too late now. He stopped in front of the door and knocked, two sharp raps of his knuckles.

  No answer.

  Wes glared at the door. He better not be playing some kind of damned game.

  He knocked again, three times and harder, annoyance overtaking his excitement. He was tempted to try the knob and let himself in, but if Mack had changed his mind about opening the door for Wes, then Wes wasn’t going to be the desperate one who rattled doorknobs. Nope. He had way more fucking self-respect than that.

  So much for my vacation fling.

  Wes turned to go, disappointment burning in his gut.

  The door behind him flung open on squeaky hinges, and Wes froze in a half-pivot. Mack stood in the doorway, frowning at him, and delightfully shirtless.

  “You said you’d open the door if I knocked,” Wes said, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.

  Mack harrumphed. “You can’t even give a man ten minutes to shower the horse off him?”

  He hadn’t been stood up. The thought slid Wes from annoyed straight back into eager. “I like how you smell.”

>   “I haven’t showered since yesterday.”

  He wrinkled his nose, then pretended to sniff himself. “Neither have I, come to think of it. Maybe we should shower together.”

  Mack narrowed his eyes. “Come in.”

  The cabin was bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside with a small sitting area in the front that had two armchairs and a small table, plus a tiny nook that had a mini-fridge, a microwave and a fancy coffee machine. The back half of the cabin was separated by curtains, and a quick peek showed two twin beds on opposite walls, and a door in the rear that had to lead to the bathroom. The whole thing was cozy, quaint, and kind of reminded Wes of a college dorm. The air had an odd mix of coffee and musk to it that he inhaled deeply.

  “I like your place,” Wes said. He wasn’t much for small talk on a hookup, but he paid compliments where deserved. A flash of gold caught his eye. On a high shelf, he spotted a plastic Oscar statue replica, the kind they sold in tourist shops up and down Hollywood Boulevard. He pointed. “Souvenir?”

  “Something like that.” Mack snapped the door’s dead bolt into place, and anticipation rolled down Wes’s spine. “Want something to drink? I’ve got beer and bottled water.”

  Wes had never been a fan of beer. “Water would be great, thanks.”

  Mack fetched two chilled bottles from the fridge. He even earned gentleman points by twisting the cap off Wes’s before handing it over. Wes took a sip of the cold liquid, not really thirsty, but having a prop helped until he’d felt out the situation.

  “Can I ask a personal question?” Wes ventured.

  “Ask away. Don’t promise I’ll answer, though.”

  “It’s not that bad, but I’m curious. How old are you?”

  Mack stroked his short beard with his free hand. “How old do you think I am?”

  He wanted to play guessing games? Fine. Wes raised his eyebrow, adopting what Sophie called his Spock face. “Forty-two?”

  “Brat.” Mack swiped at him, but Wes dodged the playful smack. “I just turned thirty-four.”