Chapter 17
Colton
‘Come on,’ I sign quickly to Remi, finding him still out on the dance floor. ‘We have to leave.’
He looks concerned but nods immediately. “Gotta go,” he appears to call to the guy he’s dancing with. He pats him on the chest before heading my way. Remi doesn’t notice the guy’s confused questioning at his back.
My brother’s hands cut swiftly through the air as he approaches. ‘What’s going on?’
I just shake my head, waving him toward the door, needing to escape as quickly as humanly possible and praying we don’t pass Noah in the parking lot.
The air outside is like a shock to my overheated system, even though I’d only been back inside for a couple minutes at most. I scan the area quickly, ridiculously relieved when I don’t spot a certain small-town farrier I can’t believe I ran into all the way out here.
Except—it’s not that preposterous, is it? This is the closest gay club to Darling unless, maybe, you cross up into Canada. If Noah was looking to test out his attraction, same as me, it makes sense that he’d come here.
A stone fills my gut.
Was he attracted to other men? Did he… like that guy touching him before I came along?
I dismiss the hypothetical outright, not willing to entertain notions of Noah fucking King and the men he might be attracted to.
He’s attracted to you, a little voice inside my head pipes cheerfully.
I swat the thought away.
Remi catches up to me as we reach the truck. He turns his processor back on, blinking a couple times as he acclimates before asking, “What’s wrong?”
I tug the driver’s side door open, and Remi gets in opposite me. “I just… I needa go.”
“Okay,” Remi says slowly, the word nearly swallowed by the turn of the engine. “Care to share why?”
I bite my lip, looking behind us and easing out of the parking spot. I startle when Remi’s fingertip touches my neck.
“Holy shit,” he says, tone shifting from concern to bemusement. “Were you making out with someone?”
“What?” I nearly screech, rubbing the spot on my neck before putting my hand back on the wheel. I get us safely out onto the road. “No, I…”
“You have a hickey,” he states plainly. “Who was he?”
“It’s nothing,” I answer. “It was no one.”
When I glance over, Remi’s wearing an incredulous expression. “Really? ’Cause you didn’t have that when we went inside the club. So unless you’re going to convince me a ghost was snacking on your neck, try again.”
I groan. “Really, it was no one. Just…some guy I met.”
I nearly wince at the blatant lie, hating that I’m being dishonest with Remi of all people. But what would I possibly say? How the fuck would I explain I ran into Noah King outside of Darling and that he was the one snacking on my neck?
It doesn’t make sense. Not even to me. How am I supposed to make it make sense to him?
“Colt,” Remi says softly. “If you’re freaking out about kissing a guy, it’s okay. I know it probably feels like this big thing, and in some ways, it is. But none of it changes who you are at your core. You’re still you .”
I shake my head, trying to figure out what to say to my younger brother. “It’s not that,” I tell him truthfully. “It doesn’t bother me that it was a man, it’s just… This was the wrong man, Remi. Just trust me on that. But he was the only one in that club I even…” Fuck . “He was the only one I wanted to kiss. So what does that say about me? What the fuck does that mean?”
Remi is silent for a moment, the headlights from oncoming cars my only distraction before he speaks again. “Being bi isn’t always a fifty-fifty split. It doesn’t mean you automatically like as many men as you do women, or vice versa. Attraction is different for everyone. So if it’s only a guy here or there…”
He lets the sentiment hang, but I fill in the blank. “That doesn’t make me less bi.”
When I glance Remi’s way again, he has a calm, almost proud look on his face. Which, coming from my baby brother, is just plain weird. Sweet, but weird. “You think you are?” he asks, tone devoid of judgement. “Bi, I mean?”
“Yeah,” I say, letting out a breath as I signal to turn onto the highway. “I guess I am.”
But why the fuck does the man I’m attracted to have to be the one who’s worst for me in every single way?
“Will you tell our brothers?” Remi asks, his voice again lacking judgement. “And our parents?”
“Nah,” I say nonchalantly. “Figure I’ll just wait until the wedding invites go out and let them clue in for themselves.”
“Ass,” Remi says lightly, punching my leg.
“Jesus. You been moving hay bales? That fucking hurt.”
“Did not,” he says.
Kinda did.
After another sigh, I add, “Yes, I’ll tell ’em. Just have to figure out what to say.”
“You will,” Remi says. “You’ll figure it all out.”
I sure fucking hope he’s right.
When we get home, the hour late, Remi heads to bed. I find my feet carrying me toward one of my most trusted companions.
The horse barn is closed up and dark when I arrive. I flick on an interior light, the dimmest one in the hallway that won’t wake the horses. Clementine’s ears twitch when I lift the latch to her stall, but she doesn’t get up.
“Sorry, Clem,” I say as softly as I can, easing her door open enough to step through. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
I find a clear area near her head to sit down, the straw crunching under me, and Clementine shifts enough to bump me with her nose. I dutifully rub along her head and behind her ears, the swell and ebb of her ribcage as she breathes soothing.
“So, uh, turns out I’m kinda messed up,” I tell my confidant. “Apparently I have a thing for my archnemesis jacking me off? I don’t get it, Clem. I don’t like the guy. Never have. He’s rude and clearly thinks he’s better than me. Little Colt . Pft.”
I ignore the way my chest heats at the memory of that nickname falling from Noah’s lips, the phantom of his voice, his touch, his everything searing. Like fire.
Dangerous, is what it is.
“He’s a dick,” I mutter, voice rough.
Clementine huffs softly as if in agreement.
“And he has a dick, which is just…”
Different, I decide on. It’s really fucking different than what I’m used to. And I touched it. I spat in my hand and stroked the moisture down Noah’s cock. And I didn’t hate it? Not like I hate the guy, at least. His dick was really fucking pretty, actually, which is not something I’ve ever thought about a penis before. But his…
It was straight. Thick in my grip. Hot. And the head…it was almost intimidating, like the man himself. Demanding my attention.
Christ , even the guy’s cock is cocky.
“Fucking Noah King,” I mumble. “It’s not gonna happen again, Clem. I never needed dick before. I certainly don’t need it now.”
I nod swiftly, lowering my hat over my face as I sink down into the straw.
Before I fall asleep, the image of me down on my knees flits hazily through my head, Noah standing in front of me, his hand curling in my hair and little Colt falling like a whisper from his lips.
Only in the safety of my mind can I admit to the thrill I get from imagining him putting me there.
Messed up, indeed .
The sharp clang of a bell has me jackknifing into a sitting position, my hat falling to the ground beside me as light assaults my eyes. Clementine is already standing, fully awake. It takes me a moment of blinking heavily to locate the source of the ungodly noise.
My mother, positioned in the doorway of the stall, sets down her cowbell. “Oh good. You’re up.”
“The fuck?” I mutter, looking around, trying to get my bearings. “What time is it?”
“Eight-thirty,” she tells me, passing over a thermos of what I assume to be coffee. “Better get a move on. You’ve already missed breakfast.”
“It’s the weekend,” I groan, closing my eyes again.
Something thwacks me lightly on the head. I glare at my mom, who’s smiling much too cheerfully. “Don’t know how you slept through the morning crew saddling up, Colton dear. But you best get yourself in gear. Unless… Don’t tell me you forgot about the trail ride you agreed to lead?”
Yes .
“No,” I answer, groaning as I pull myself more upright. “That’s today?”
“Mhm. Here.”
My mom passes me a covered plate. I peel the corner of the foil back, mouth pooling with saliva when I see the sausage links next to a rolled-up omelet and a couple dry pancakes.
“Thanks,” I mumble, snapping a link off in my mouth.
She hums again before clearing her throat. “You, uh, see Evelyn Jacobs again last night?”
It takes me a second—a long second—to figure out what she’s talking about. I cough around my bite of sausage, slapping a hand over the goddamn hickey Noah left on my neck. “What? No! It wasn’t…”
My mom’s lips twitch, and I heave a defeated breath.
“You know what? Nuh-uh,” I tell her. “I’m not discussing this with you. My business is my own.”
“And every sighted individual’s within twenty feet of you,” my mom shoots back.
“You’re a mean person,” I say evenly. “Very, very mean.”
“Sure, dear. Lemme know if you wanna borrow some of my coverup,” she says, already walking away, laughing as she goes.
I shove another sausage link in my mouth with a grumble.
It doesn’t take long to finish my breakfast, and then I head to the ranch house to wash up. I manage to avoid my family as I go, which I appreciate greatly.
Not that I don’t love them.
I just don’t need their teasing right now.
Once I’m dressed and ready, my shirt collar hiding my bruised neck, I head back to the stables. I get the horses prepared for today’s riding tour, something we do only on the weekends. It’s rare for me to cover the trail rides, but I’m grateful for the distraction today. It leaves me less time to think about a certain dark-eyed farrier with stupid tattoos and even stupider lips.
Fuck .
I find my trail ride group waiting near the petting farm and lead them back to the horses, giving the usual spiel about our ranch and how long my family has lived here—which is precisely since the time the town was founded. I talk a bit about my grandparents and how the ranch ran differently a couple generations back, both the beef side of things and the dairy operation.
The parents seem more interested in our history, whereas the kids are just excited to see the horses.
I can’t blame them.
After making sure everyone is on a suitable riding companion, stirrups are sitting in comfortable positions, and folks know how to hold the reins, I lead them off. Being an advanced rider isn’t a necessity for this. The horses follow one another, and with me at the helm, our visitors can sit back and simply enjoy the ride.
We head across open land until we reach the trees, settling into a slow pace along the well-trodden paths in the woods. And it’s…nice. Really nice. To ride with Clementine, pointing out some landmarks along the way and describing a few of the tree species and other plant and animal life we encounter. It forces me to slow down for a minute. To clear my head and let my pulse meld with the steady cadence of hoofbeats.
Nothing is ever going to come of this… thing with Noah. We’re both clearly just releasing some tension. And maybe the way we’ve found to do it is better than the alternative, like a black eye for either of us. Preferably him.
Like Remi said, finding out I like Noah’s infuriating smirk when it’s accompanied with his hand on my dick doesn’t change who I am underneath it all. It just means I’m discovering something I didn’t know about myself before.
Maybe I’m not a masochist. Not really.
I’m just curious . And Noah happens to be curious, too. Something we finally have in common, apart from our jobs.
I’ll just have to find somebody else I can shift this curiosity onto. Because no way in hell will I give Noah King the satisfaction of pulling my reins.