Wild Trail Page 8

  Mack shrugged and took another bite of his pickle. Colt didn’t like camping, period, but it never hurt to tease. “Just don’t blame me if I end up tying him to a tree and leaving him out there.”

  Colt’s eyebrows jumped in a weird way at the tying up comment, but Mack didn’t press. He really didn’t want to know about any of Colt’s hidden kinks. Especially not over lunch.

  Mack finished eating, then washed his hands free of pickle juice. In a way, he was both eager for the trip and dreading it. Forced proximity with a slim, sexy blond that he couldn’t get out of his mind?

  I may have to dunk myself in the damned creek.

  “Come on, man,” he called out to Reyes. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Or rather the horses on the trail,” Colt said.

  “Don’t you have work to do somewhere on this property?”

  Colt flipped him off as he bolted out the back door.

  Mack rolled his eyes, then followed him into the hot afternoon sunshine. Time to, as Colt so elegantly put it, get the slickers on their horses, and then get the horses on the trail. He had a camping trip to lead.

  Chapter Seven

  Even though the website had said to bring a hat to the ranch, Wes didn’t own a hat, so he hadn’t bothered. Even in winter he didn’t wear a hat, because they fucked with his carefully styled hair. Conrad and Derrick had been smart enough to toss 49ers caps into their bags, but he, Sophie and Miles were lacking. After lunch—goddamn Mack and that pickle, he’d nearly popped wood right then and there—he dragged both into the main house to check out this canteen.

  The main foyer had a big “Welcome to Clean Slate Ranch” sign smack in the middle, along with an arrow pointing to the right with Canteen printed inside it. The two doors to the left were shut, so he followed the arrow through an open doorway. The canteen reminded Wes of any hotel gift shop, with a few rows of candy bars, gum, mints, toothbrushes, mini toiletries like soap and shampoo, and everything was priced with a sticker gun. It also had two racks of cheap cowboy-style hats in several shades of brown, plus small sizes in light blue and pink, ostensibly for the kids.

  Wes plucked the small pink one off the rack and popped it onto Sophie’s head. “There, perfect.”

  “Shut up.” She snatched it off and replaced it with a light tan hat. “What do you think?”

  “Like you’re ready for reverse cowgirl.”

  Sophie giggled. Miles, the poor thing, looked confused. Wes would explain later. They all picked out hats, but then another problem presented itself: no cashier.

  “Oh here, look.” Sophie pointed at a sign on the wall. “Sign out what we took and the cost, and it’ll be charged to the credit card that paid for the trip. Cool.”

  Oh yeah, supercool, I get to buy everyone hats.

  Oh well, small price to make his sister happy. Wes wrote down his name and the three hats. He also added a tin of mints, just in case he needed them in the near future. It was almost too bad the place didn’t sell condoms, but maybe Mack kept one in his back pocket for emergency wilderness fucking.

  A city boy could dream.

  On the walk to the corral, Wes turned the Wi-Fi off on his phone. He needed to preserve the battery life so he could get pictures and video, not waste it searching for a signal. Miles had his ever-present camera strapped around his neck, but Wes couldn’t imagine him letting go of the reins long enough to snap even one shot. Even though he had more riding experience than anyone, the guy was not comfortable around horses for some reason. And not for the first time, Wes second-guessed needling him into the trip.

  Outside of the corral, a small wagon had been attached to Hot Coffee, who seemed totally comfortable with the new gear. Reyes was milling around, double-checking the buckles. Seeing him fussing over his horse made Wes smile. Miles tried to be discreet, but Wes caught him snapping a photo in that direction—whether of Reyes or the horse, he didn’t know.

  Probably the wagon, but Reyes looked up as they passed. Wes waved, but Reyes wasn’t paying attention to him.

  Somebody’s taken a liking to Miles. Maybe I won’t be the only one who gets a vacation fling.

  Except Miles didn’t seem like the one-off kind of guy, falling into bed with a stranger just for kicks. He was more of the hearts-and-flowers, let’s-date-for-a-while-before-we-have-sex sort of gay. To each his own. Not everyone was a slutty stereotype like Wes.

  Wes impressed himself by flinging himself into Blizzard’s saddle without a single hitch in his giddy-up. The horse seemed to like him, anyway, which was good as they’d be traveling companions for the next twenty-four hours. Next to him, Miles sat atop his horse, Tango, a plain brown horse with a white spot on his forehead. Miles clutched the reins so tight he was going to break his knuckles if he didn’t relax.

  “Dude, calm down,” Wes said. “Your horse looks like it had a few Xanax with its hay. You’ll be fine.”

  Miles gave him a wan smile. “Sorry, it’s just I’ve never been camping before. Not even fake camping in the backyard.”

  “We went once when I was ten and Sophie was six. I hated it and complained so much about the bugs that our parents promised we’d never do it again.”

  “Now why does that not surprise me,” Mack said somewhere behind him.

  Wes angled his upper body around. Mack sat in Tude’s saddle like he’d been born there, reins loose in his big, meaty hands, scowling slightly under the wide brim of his cowboy hat. “Because you’re under the assumption I’m some sort of dirt-phobic princess.”

  “You are a dirt-phobic princess,” Miles said.

  Mack chuckled, a lovely, rumbling sound that Wes wanted to hear more often. The man probably had a fucking sexy belly laugh, too. He urged Tude forward, then turned the horse to face their group. “All right, we’re about set to leave. Remember, your horses are trained. They know these trails, so once we get started, you shouldn’t have to lead too much. You start to wander too far from the path? Gently guide the horse back in line. Questions?”

  “Are there going to be bobcats out there?” Miller asked.

  “Yes, but probably not where we’re camping. In case anyone’s worried, we’ve got shotguns in the wagon as a precaution. We’re heading out into Mother Nature’s territory. Always expect the unexpected.”

  Always expect the unexpected.

  Mack met Wes’s eyes, and Wes’s heart leapt. The words had a double-meaning, he was sure of it. Mack didn’t say anything else, simply turned Tude toward the corral gate, and then let out a sharp whistle. Tude ambled forward, and the other horses started moving, seemingly on their own. Blizzard fell into line next to Sophie and Zodiac. Wes tried to keep his body rolling with each step so the big animal didn’t jostle him too much.

  This whole horse-riding gig was weird and totally unnatural, but also sort of fun. They crossed the main yard, heading toward the line of trees east of the big house. A well-worn path wound its way into the trees, which cast shadows all over the ground. The air was cooler, a little more dank with the oppressive scent of wet dirt.

  Ugh.

  Pretty, though, with all kinds of vegetation and swooping birds. He glanced behind him. Sure enough, Miles was still holding tight to his reins, his camera unused against his chest. He’d be sore as hell later if he didn’t loosen his posture a little, but Wes was too far ahead to tell him so without embarrassing his friend.

  After a peaceful walk through the woods, the trees thinned out to reveal rolling countryside. Distant mountains that reached toward the heavens. Blowing grass, scrub trees, and so much open sky that Wes suddenly felt very, very small. He spent so much time as the center of attention, watching the world revolve around him, that he’d never considered how tiny he really was in the grand scheme of the world.

  I’m such a selfish prick sometimes.

  The thought depressed him and dimmed some of the beau
ty of the landscape. Not even Mack pointing out a pair of elk in the distance cheered him up. This week was for Sophie. No more complaining about dirt or bugs, or anything else about the trip. He could stop being a queen for five more days and enjoy himself.

  He hoped.

  * * *

  Two hours later, the group had reached a gorgeous valley with a narrow creek running through its center. Mack called for a break, and Wes nearly wept with relief. He didn’t mind a sore ass as long as an orgasm or two was involved, but this was ridiculous. How did people sit in saddles for hours on end? Why the hell weren’t they more padded? Cushioned saddles had to be a thing, didn’t they?

  His entire backside ached as he somehow got off Blizzard without falling down. Inner thighs, too. Jesus Christ, why had he thought this was a good idea?

  Sophie’s laughter drifted over to him. Conrad was helping her climb off Zodiac, and she was all smiles and giggles. Clearly enjoying herself, even though she had to be as sore as him.

  “Let your horses drink if they’re thirsty,” Mack said. “And make sure you stretch. We’ve got another two hours to go before we reach the campsite.”

  Wes groaned. Trusting Blizzard not to run away, he did a few squats to warm up muscles that had gone stiff sitting bowlegged for so long.

  The dude-bros were saying something about digging around for gold, which got them a sharp reprimand from Reyes about respecting the land. Hah. That was probably why those tools had come on the camping trip, instead of staying behind at the ranch. Hoping to strike it rich based on a stupid ghost story. Idiots.

  Wes wandered down to the creek, enjoying the soft burble of water over stones. Less than two feet wide, but pretty deep into the ground, Wes jumped over it with no real effort from his long legs. Short trees dotted the land, casting small areas of shade. The high sun cut down on them, but his cheap hat provided a surprisingly effective shield against the heat. He toed at a few loose rocks, trying to imagine those same rocks being there a hundred years ago, stomped on by horses long dead and cowboys long forgotten.

  Forgotten just like a young actor named Westin Bentley, who’d seen brief stardom on a hit Western series, right before both his career and his love life exploded all over the place. And at pretty much the same time, seeing as the two were totally entwined with each other. Wes had wanted to be a star, to be remembered for a moving, award-winning role in a movie, or even a long-running series.

  Instead, he’d been blacklisted and run out of Los Angeles, only to go home to San Francisco and lick his wounds doing dinner theater.

  I suck. I need to get a real job and stop being a princess about acting.

  Except acting was his one true love. Falling into a role was more intoxicating than any liquor or club drug could ever be for him. Embracing the stage gave him a bigger shot of ecstasy than any orgasm. He didn’t want to break up with acting. Not yet.

  Footsteps scuffled in the dirt. Wes turned, expecting to see Sophie or Miles. Instead, Mack’s broad body filled his vision. He smiled at Wes from beneath the tilted brim of his hat—a smile less friendly, and slightly more predatory. Wes’s skin prickled with awareness.

  “Doesn’t seem like you to not be sociable,” Mack said.

  “Stretching my legs,” Wes lied. Okay, so that was partly true. He glanced around, startled to see he’d wandered a good ten yards from the creek and the other campers.

  “Don’t stretch too far. You might get eaten by a mountain lion.”

  “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  Mack shrugged one muscled shoulder. “Can’t say as I’ve seen one myself, but I’ve seen their tracks.” Wes must have had some kind of terror on his face, because Mack added, “They tend to stay to the north, though, higher up in the mountains. Shouldn’t be much of a bother to us.”

  “Good.” He took a breath to calm his suddenly racing heart, which could have been from the mountain lion scare as much as the way Mack had taken a protective step closer. Close enough that he could smell sweat and horse, and something deeper that was all Mack. Not cologne. He doubted Mack wore that shit around the horses. But whatever the smell was, it was damned intoxicating.

  “You not enjoying the trip?” Mack asked out of the blue.

  “Sure. Not used to riding on a horse.”

  Mack tilted his head, that smile dimming. “You sure that’s it? A few times on the trail, you looked... I don’t know. Sad?”

  Mack had been checking him out while they were riding? “I’m not sad, exactly. Sometimes I get inside my own head and it isn’t a pretty place to be. All the regrets and bad choices. It’s why I usually am the center of attention in a crowd. Talking and entertaining people lets me not think about my problems.”

  “I hear ya.” Mack shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, pulling the material tight across his crotch. Wes couldn’t help taking a peek at the package, nicely outlined even under denim.

  Dropping to his knees and blowing the tour guide for being kind was probably frowned upon by management, so Wes forced his gaze back up. Mack watched him with open amusement in his eyes, even if his lips were still flat. Curious, Wes poked out his tongue and clacked the ball of his tongue stud against his teeth. Mack’s nostrils flared.

  “Ever felt one of these against your—” Wes glanced at Mack’s crotch “—skin?”

  Mack growled. “You’re trouble.”

  “In the flesh.”

  “Troublemakers like you deserve spankings,” Mack retorted, his voice low and growly.

  Wes’s dick perked up. “Please, daddy.”

  “Fuck.” Mack took a deliberate step backward, big arms crossing over his chest.

  “Was that an invitation?” Wes purred, cocking his hip just so.

  His only response was another growl—the kind that made Wes’s belly tighten in anticipation of action. Instead, Mack threw his shoulders back and said flatly, “I don’t fuck the guests.”

  “Then how about after checkout on Saturday? I won’t be a guest anymore.”

  Mack’s silence said loads to the fact that he was actually considering Wes’s offer, and hell yes, Wes would love to bend over for Mack—a big, stallion of a man who probably fucked like a champion.

  “So, why acting?” Mack asked.

  The non sequitur had Wes flailing for a second.

  Way to deflect, big guy.

  “I’ve always loved performing,” Wes replied. “My mom loves to tell me that when I was three years old, I made my parents sit on the couch while I acted out scenes from Sesame Street with hand puppets I’d made out of socks. I don’t remember it, but apparently my first performance was a rousing success.”

  “Can’t rightly picture you as a toddler.”

  Wes laughed. “Imagine me only two feet tall, with darker blond hair and a whole lot of baby fat. I’m also told I hated clothes and liked to run around the house naked.”

  Mack’s eyes narrowed. If he wasn’t undressing Wes in his mind right now, Wes would eat his damned hat.

  * * *

  The unwanted mental image of naked Wes did funny things to Mack’s insides. Funny things that were sending blood to his dick, and the last thing he needed was to try and ride Tude with an erection. The kid had him all sorts of turned around. Although he couldn’t really call him a kid. Wes looked closer to thirty than he did to twenty, so they couldn’t be too far apart in age.

  Then again, Mack felt a lot older than most other thirty-four-year-olds he knew, thanks to how his life had imploded in Los Angeles five years ago. And his old life was a great reminder about why getting involved with Wes was a terrible idea. He wouldn’t let his heart be broken again by another attention-seeking actor—even if said actor had a sexy smirk, a killer body and a firm ass that Mack seriously wanted to see covered in his handprints.

  Not happening.

  He shouldn’t have come over here t
o talk to Wes. He’d known better than to engage, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how somber Wes had seemed on the trail. Or the quiet way he’d walked away from the group to stare at the ground. Something had compelled Mack to go to him. To talk and suss out the root of the problem.

  Naturally, Wes had to start flirting, and if they’d been alone, Mack wasn’t so sure he’d have turned down Wes’s advances. The fact that seven other people and nine horses were nearby helped Mack keep his wits about him. He had to avoid being alone with Wes for the rest of the week, that was all. Public interactions only, so they’d both keep their hands to themselves.

  Naked Wes. Ass red with handprints.

  Nope.

  Mack took a step closer to Wes. “You keep up that teasing, and I’ll dunk your skinny ass in the creek. And just so’s you know, riding a horse in wet denim ain’t comfortable at all.”

  Wes opened his mouth to say God knew what, then shut it again. He smirked at Mack, instead, aware that yeah, he’d gotten under Mack’s skin. “So what made you quit SWAT to play with horses for a living?”

  The intrusive question nearly had Mack shutting down and turning away. But Wes seemed genuinely curious, and not in the usual rubbernecking way. People wanted to hear the dirty details of a career change, and Mack had dirty details, for sure. But those were details for close friends and lovers. Not a maybe-fling.

  “Needed a change from the city,” Mack replied. “Got tired of seeing the worst side of people. Needed the sky more than I needed the freeway, you know?”

  “I’m starting to. I’m city born and bred, but the country definitely has its own appeal.” Wes’s shy smile made Mack’s heart turn over. The guy was ten times more appealing when he was quiet and playful, rather than directly flirtatious. “San Fran, obvi, but I spent a few years in LA. Wanted it to be home, but it didn’t work out.”

  “Acting?”

  “That, too.” Wes frowned, the unhappy shadow from the trail returning. “Career implosion plus relationship implosion created a toxic work environment, so I went home. Wide-open spaces like this remind me of my ex and about failing to make it in Tinseltown, so I get a little maudlin sometimes.”