Chapter 12 #2
Forgoing his coffee, he made his way outside.
He should have been on his laptop, getting at least some work done remotely after taking the day at home to sort out the Jesse situation, but he knew he’d be unable to concentrate.
Might as well use the uprush of physical energy that instant by the cupboard had left him with.
He expected Jesse’s usual complaint when he offered him a pitchfork to clean the stalls, but Jesse simply took it. In fact, Jesse hadn’t said a word since that moment by the cupboard.
“Only a few stalls to clean this time of day,” Matt said. Not like him to fill a silence, but this one was beginning to unnerve him. “Missy’s staying in, the gray’s still on stall rest, and the two itchy goofs would tear themselves up outside.”
Jesse nodded, which was something.
“You been around horses much?” Matt asked.
“Some,” Jesse answered. “But none that crap like this. Holy shit, Urban—what’re you feeding them?”
The thing that had begun to coil tight in Matt’s gut relaxed. Whatever that moment had been—if it had been anything—it hadn’t changed things between them.
They settled down to work, Jesse bickering amiably with him every now and then. Matt found a new peace in the rhythm of the work, with the quietness of the barn broken only by the occasional rustle and stomp as a horse changed weight, and the presence of Jesse close to him.
Stalls finished, they returned to the house. Matt always thought of the kitchen as its heart. More than the living room, it was the place where everyone headed first, where they all congregated, in good times and bad.
Jesse was a step ahead of Matt through the back door when he froze. “Crap.”
“What?” Matt couldn’t see anything amiss. Jason was chopping vegetables by the stove, Tristan was in the middle of some story that involved a lot of arm waving, and Bryce was drinking coffee.
Jesse turned betrayed eyes on Matt. “You didn’t tell me Bryce is a damn cop.”
His reaction opened up a whole new can of worms Matt hadn’t even thought of. “You got any warrants out on you?”
Jesse scoffed. “I ain’t a fool, Matt. Just had a few run-ins over the years, is all.”
“Imagine that,” Matt marveled. “Who’d have thought, with your smart mouth and oh-so-agreeable attitude, butting heads with the local PD. Speaking of which, you should probably know—Bryce is my deputy. I’m sheriff of Elk Ridge.”
He grinned at the open-mouthed shock on Jesse’s face. Perhaps the first time he’d really taken Jesse by surprise, and it was glorious. His wolf agreed, wanting nothing more than to curl up around Jesse and tease him gently.
At that reminder, Matt abruptly sobered. He couldn’t give in to the growing pleasure he was finding in Jesse’s company. Jesse was leaving, and that was the right thing.
“I need to brief you,” he said to Bryce, and led the way out of the kitchen to his den.
JESSE
Guessing he wasn’t invited, Jesse washed up—after Jason had sent him to the mudroom to do so. “Not the sink where I prepare the food. For God’s sake, Jesse.”
He thought he might have to revise his first impression of Jason as someone who wouldn’t say boo to a goose.
When he came back, he was drawn into helping Tristan set the table. Tristan was tall and rangy, reminding Jesse of nothing so much as a colt who hadn’t yet grown into his frame.
Tristan didn’t seem to have any qualms about sharing everything that crossed his mind as it crossed his mind.
But to Jesse’s surprise, he had enough awareness—or manners—not to pry into Jesse’s presence here.
Although his hazel eyes were full of questions as he looked at Jesse, bright and inquisitive, he merely asked how Jesse’s day had been.
“Sides from getting assaulted by chickens, you mean? I saw Missy’s foal.”
Tristan raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? I’ve been trying for days, but she never lets him come near the door when I’m around. Usually, she’s all over me for treats.”
Jesse narrowed his eyes, assessing him. From what little he’d seen, Tristan didn’t have a mean bone in his body. What he did have was a surplus of energy and a tendency to charge into spaces like an enthusiastic golden retriever. No wonder Missy panicked.
He glanced at Jason, who was at the stove doing something that smelled incredible with garlic and onions, and decided the kitchen was too crowded for what he had in mind.
“You want to come see him?” Jesse asked.
The answer was obvious. Tristan’s grin spread like wildfire, and he stepped on Jesse’s heel in his eagerness as he followed him out.
Instead of heading straight to the barn, Jesse steered him toward the table and benches beneath the big, spreading cottonwood in the center of the yard. There, he coached Tristan into breathing slowly and deeply, until his body relaxed.
When Jesse was finally satisfied, they walked—slowly and calmly—over to the barn.
Tristan knew enough to stay back, and Jesse encouraged him to sit on the floor beside him, where they were even less of a disturbance.
Missy snorted at them, keeping her foal behind her, and Jesse could feel Tristan start to tense beside him.
“Breathe,” he reminded him. “And then you can tell me what it’s like livin’ here.”
Suddenly, he was the one who couldn’t breathe. He’d simply wanted to ask Tristan something unimportant, to get his mind off the foal so he’d calm down again, but somehow that was what had come out.
Tristan’s breath hitched in surprise, as if he were reading into Jesse’s question things he didn’t mean. But before Jesse could think of a way to withdraw the question, Tristan answered.
“It’s home,” he said simply, warmth and sincerity ringing through his voice. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I wouldn’t want to, not now. I mean, I’m not related to them, but it’s like—oh, God, no.”
He bent forward and wheezed with laughter, causing Missy to snort and stamp her foot.
Jesse frowned. “The hell’s so funny?”
“I nearly said Bryce and Matt are like my mom and dad. Ugh. And now I can’t unsee it.” Tristan let out a breath, shaking his head at himself. Then he was quiet a moment longer, considering.
“It’s home,” he repeated finally.
They sat in silence, watching motes of dust float in the shafts of sunlight filtering through chinks in the wooden walls. Tristan was a warm weight against Jesse’s side, but it felt nothing like in the kitchen earlier with Matt. He just felt solid. Grounding. Comforting.
None of which were words he could use to describe how it had felt having Matt’s body touching his.
His throat had dried, his heart had threatened to burst, and as for his dick…
Well, less said about that the better. He remembered his earlier determination to get Matt Urban naked before he left. Might need to move that timeline up.
Though, honestly? If he’d felt that when they hadn’t even been touching skin to skin, Jesse wasn’t sure he was going to survive it.