Chapter 17 – Clay
“What crawled up your ass and died?” Wylie hollers at me from across the stables as I fill the water trough for his horses.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I want to hear after pulling another double shift at the station, skipping sleep, and dragging my ass out here to help you,” I shoot back, shaking my head.
I shut off the valve for the hose and run my hand down the silky mane of the old white mare beside me, admiring the way it shines in the dim barn light since I’ve brushed her.
She used to be my mom’s favorite. She’s way too old for roping and riding now, but Dad insisted on keeping her in the family.
None of us boys would have dared argue with him anyways. We like her, too.
Wylie makes his way over to me, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder—one of those brotherly grips meant to show affection but hurt just a little too much.
I flex under his grip, reminding him without my words that I’m not the scrawny kid he used to tower over and push around.
Ten years of muscle has leveled the playing field between us now.
“Do you actually work at the fire station? Or just sit there and gossip while you lift weights?” he pounds his fist against my chest firmly, right where I’d taken a hit a few weeks ago. I clench my jaw, concealing the fact that it’s still bruised and tender.
“I don’t think an old man like you has any room to talk. When was the last time your hand held something other than your cock or Stevie’s ass?”
Wylie throws his head back, barking out a laugh before smiling up at Snowball and giving her an affection pet. “You ever talk about my wife’s ass again, I’ll kick yours. Now tell me what you’ve been thinking about. You’ve been wearing a scowl since you got here this evening.”
“I’ve had a long day. I’m tired. It’s hot as shit, and I’m hungry.”
And I can’t get Maggie Hollister out of my head.
“Stevie made meatloaf and green beans for dinner if you want some. You know Georgia’s on this new vegetarian diet and won’t eat anything but fruit and veggies. There’s a pitcher of iced tea and you can rest on the couch before you make the drive home.”
“That sounds like the least you can do considering I don’t take a pay roll from you or Nash anymore.”
“We like to think you enjoy working for us for free. Miss seeing us,” he shoots me a wink.
I snort, even though he’s partly right. Between pulling shifts at the station and training with Dallas, the only way I see my brothers—and my niece and nephews—is by pitching in at the ranch now and then when they need extra help.
But it’s just another thing wearing me down, sapping the energy that I’d rather save for fighting.
There’s a tournament around the corner, and right now, I’m sitting in second place.
If I can lock in two more wins, I’ll be contending for first. That means better fighters, tougher competition—the kind I need.
It’s not about the meager five hundred bucks I’d win: that’s nothing.
It’s about proving to myself that I can achieve something on my own, without anyone else’s help.
The problem? My training’s been garbage ever since the fight where Maggie showed up.
No matter how hard I try not to think about her, all I can recall are the little sighs and groans that she made when I ate her sweet pussy.
And what I’d said to her was true. It was a downright crime that no one had done that for her before, though the satisfaction in knowing I was the first made me want to beat my chest like some sort of cave man.
That’s probably where most of my frustration this evening was coming from.
It’s been nearly a year since I’ve had sex, and the first chance I get to let off some steam, I’m turning it down, choosing to finish in my own damn fist in a dingy locker room shower instead.
Because the thought of ruining her the way I want to is way too much.
Wylie changes the subject as we start to exit the stables. "We'll see you at the wedding next weekend, right?”
“Whose?” I flip through my mental rolodex of engaged people that I know who might be getting married this June. I know I’ve been locked in and focused on training, ignoring invitations to hang out and off social media so it could be anyone from our small town.
Wylie shoots me a look and arches a brow, “Savannah’s.”
I scoff, “I didn’t realize that was next weekend.”
He comes to an abrupt stop, leaving me a few steps ahead of him now just shy of the Cameron Ranch house. I let out a groan and tilt my head up to the sky.
“What now, Wylie?”
“That’s too bad, because you RSVP’d,” he responds.
I laugh and fold my arms across my chest, “No, I didn’t. That’s something I’d remember doing.”
He shrugs, “Invite was sent to the house here. I RSVP’d for you.”
“You did what now?”
“Don’t you think it’s time to bury the hatchet?”
I shake my head, of course my brother would think it’s up to him to decide when it’s time for me to move on. Mid-forties yet still trying to orchestrate what’s best for me as the oldest of the family.
“I have buried the hatchet. I’m happy for her. I don’t feel any ill will towards her. I hope her and…” I wave my arms around in the air, forgetting the name of the guy who she cheated on me with almost seven years ago.
“Devin Keiffer.”
“Right, Devin. I hope she and Mr. Keiffer are happy. I’m glad she’s pregnant and starting a family. It was seven years ago. We’ve all moved forward with our lives, but that doesn’t mean she needs to invite me to her wedding and that also doesn’t mean I need to attend.”
Wylie shakes his head, “It’d be really mature of you to show up. I bet it’d mean a lot to Savannah, too.”
“Why would it matter to her? She doesn’t need my validation and approval to marry the guy, just like she didn’t need my permission to sleep with him when we were still together.”
Wylie chuckles and steps towards me, squeezing my shoulder, “No, she doesn’t need your support, but it would show real growth in you to do it.
She’s pregnant, due with twins soon, probably in a vulnerable head space and I know she regrets what she did.
If you’ve really forgiven her and moved on, maybe you should tell her that?
It may give her some closure she’s seeking, or she may really not care, but it obviously means something that she invited you to it, so I think she wants you there. ”
“It just means that we’ve been friends since we were teenagers and our families are close. She invited you, Stevie, Nash and Jovie. I’m sure I was an afterthought.”
“Welp, that afterthought is taking up a seat at table number six along with a plus one date so unless you want to feel fucking horrible making her pay for two plates of some expensive ass wedding food that won’t be eaten, you’ll find a date and show up next weekend.”
He starts walking again, and I glare at the back of his head, half-seriously wondering if I’ve built up enough muscle and speed to get him in a headlock and pin him to the ground.
He’s forty-six now—an old man by my accounts—but still pulling the same tricks he used to play on me when he was thirty-five.
I shake my head, frustrated. Just because I’ve forgiven Savannah and moved on doesn’t mean I want to be the guy who shows up at her wedding with a gift and a smile, pretending to be all cool about things.
“Whatcha got going on tonight?” he tosses over his shoulder as our feet hit the deck of Cameron ranch.
It’s been a few years now since I’d moved out of Cameron, but being back always reminds me of the simple times growing up and causing trouble with my brothers.
The warm summer weather, the view off the deck that leads down to a large, grass yard where we used to throw a football.
Cameron ranch will always feel like home.
I have no idea what Wylie’s about to proposition me with now, but I have a feeling it’s not going to be something I want to participate in.
“Nothing. I have the next two nights off, so I figured I’d probably go over to Ashwood and hang with Nash and the twins for a bit. Cody said he wanted me to watch some tapes of his latest football game.”
“Spoiler alert, they lost.”
“Damn,” I chuckle shaking my head, “I thought it sounded nice.”
Wylie smiles. “I have a better idea. Double date with me and Stevie. We have a sitter. Georgia has a date for you.”
Just the mention of a sitter reminds me of Maggie and the way her pussy clenched around me when she came all over my tongue a few weeks ago.
“Isn’t Georgia old enough to be at home by herself?”
Wylie waves his hand dramatically, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to leave her here alone. She’s been super grumpy lately.”
“Say no more…” I hold up my hand, knowing Wylie means well and loves teenage Georgia more than life itself but is probably struggling with my wild niece. “Who’s the woman?”
“Someone Stevie said came into the co-op and looked like she’d be your type. She’s new in town.”
I groan audibly. I don’t have a fucking type, and I guarantee whatever Wylie and Stevie think is my ‘type’ isn’t what I’m into anymore. Especially after tasting Maggie.
“Come on, Rex’s Rode House Bar. A few beers and that permanent scowl you wear all the time might turn into a smile. Maybe you’ll break out of your dry spell and find a wedding date. You need one of those for next weekend, remember?”
I hesitate for a second before following Wylie into their house for dinner.
It’s not like I have anything better to do tonight, and the noise at the town bar might be the perfect distraction to stop me from doing something stupid—like tracking down Maggie.
She doesn’t need my hot-and-cold nonsense, and she’s smart, probably so fed up with it by now that she’s forgotten all about me.
She hadn’t acted fazed when I’d told her to drive home and leave the fighting facility.
By the time we reach the front door of Cameron ranch, Wylie’s talked me into it, and a few hours later, I’m back at my apartment, showered, and heading to the most famous bar in our small town.
I’m hoping this blind date Steve set up is just wild enough to agree to be my plus-one for next weekend’s wedding, and to distract me from Maggie.