Chapter 8
Marcus
Iwasn’t sure how long I’d been walking. My pant legs were scrunched up around the tops of my boots, my shirt was over my shoulder, and the sweat was beading on my skin as the Texas sun beat down on me.
Already my feet hurt from the rigid pavement, but I didn’t care.
I needed to put as much space between me and Xavier as I could.
I couldn’t believe what had just happened. My dick had literally booped him on the nose. On. The. Nose. Like some kind of demented game of sexual whack-a-mole that nobody asked for.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, squinting against the harsh afternoon sun.
The heat was oppressive, but it was nothing compared to the burning humiliation still coursing through my veins.
At least out here on this empty stretch of road, there was nobody to witness my shame.
Just me, the asphalt, and the occasional buzzard circling overhead like they were waiting for me to keel over.
Maybe I should just let them have me. It’d be less painful than facing Xavier again.
My phone buzzed in my pocket for what had to be the tenth time since I’d fled the ranch. I didn’t need to look to know it was probably him. Or Lucas. Or hell, maybe even Beau by now, wondering why the sheriff had sprinted out of their house half-dressed like his ass was on fire.
I pulled out my phone, squinting at the screen. Three missed calls from Beau. Two texts from Lucas asking if I was okay. And one from Mrs. Baxter that just said “???” for a reason I couldn’t comprehend.
Great. Just great.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and kept walking, my boots crunching against the gravel on the shoulder of the road.
The Turner Ranch was a good five miles from town, and I’d maybe made it halfway.
My feet were already screaming at me, blisters forming where the leather rubbed wrong, but I deserved every bit of discomfort.
This was my penance for losing control, for letting my body betray me like some horny teenager.
A vehicle rumbled up behind me, and I prayed with every last fiber of my being that it wouldn’t slow down. So, of course, it did. I felt a surge of relief as it came into view. It was a truck and not an SUV. But as I glanced over, I saw Beau sitting in the front seat, his brows furrowed in concern.
“Hey Marcus,” he said in a voice like he was talking to a scared cat. “You alright?”
I considered lying. Considered telling him everything was fine and I just needed some air. But the look on his face told me he wasn’t going to buy that for a second.
“Not really,” I admitted, stopping in my tracks. The heat radiating off the asphalt made the air shimmer, or maybe that was just my vision going blurry from dehydration and mortification.
Beau pulled the truck over completely, putting it in park. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride back to town.”
“I can walk.”
“Marcus.” His voice was firm but not unkind. “It’s ninety-five degrees out here and you look like you’re about to pass out. Get in the damn truck.”
I hesitated for another moment, then relented.
My pride had already taken enough of a beating today.
There was no point in adding heatstroke to the list of my failures.
I yanked open the passenger door and climbed in, immediately grateful for the blast of air conditioning that hit my sweat-soaked skin.
Beau didn’t say anything at first, just pulled back onto the road and drove. The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I stared out the window, watching the landscape roll by, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to say if he asked what happened.
“Xavier called me,” Beau said finally. “Told me to go after you.”
Of course he did. My stomach dropped. “What did he tell you?”
“That you had some kind of... incident during the fitting. That you left in a hurry, and he was worried about you.” Beau glanced over at me, his blue eyes searching. “He wouldn’t give me details. Said it wasn’t his place. But he said you wouldn’t want him to come after you, so he sent me.”
I felt a flicker of gratitude that Xavier hadn’t immediately broadcasted my humiliation to everyone. Though that didn’t make the situation any less mortifying.
“It was nothing,” I muttered.
“Didn’t seem like nothing if you’re walking five miles in this heat without your shirt on.”
I looked down, realizing I was still clutching my uniform shirt in my lap like some kind of security blanket. “I just... needed some air.”
“Marcus.” Beau’s voice was gentle. “I’ve known you my whole life. You don’t run from anything. So, whatever happened back there must’ve really rattled you.”
I clenched my jaw, feeling the muscle jump.
He was right, and I hated that he was right.
I’d spent years building up walls, keeping everyone at arm’s length, maintaining the careful image of Sheriff Webb.
I was stoic, professional, and unshakeable, just like my daddy had been.
And Xavier had managed to crack through all of it in less than two weeks.
“He was measuring me,” I said quietly. “For the suit. And I... reacted.”
There was a pause. Then, to my absolute horror, I heard Beau trying to suppress a laugh.
“It’s not funny,” I snapped.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
But I could hear the smile in his voice, see his shoulders shaking. “Beau, I swear to God—”
“No, no, I get it.” He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “I’m not laughing at you. I just... Xavier seems to have that effect on people.”
My head snapped toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, Marcus. The man walks around in crop tops and jeans so tight I don’t know how he breathes.
He’s gorgeous and he knows it, and he uses it.
Colt had a boner within fifteen seconds, not that that’s strange for Colt, but you know what I mean.
” Beau kept his eyes on the road, but I could see the knowing look on his face.
“Lucas told me Xavier’s been talking about you quite a bit since you first met. I think he’s got a thing for you.”
“Yeah, well, that’s too damn bad,” I spat, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t swing that way.”
I heard Beau let out a long, slow breath beside me. The truck rumbled along the empty road, and I could feel his eyes on me for a moment before he turned his attention back to the asphalt.
“Marcus,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
My hands clenched into fists on my thighs. “I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are.” His voice was still gentle, but there was a firmness to it now. “And you know how I know? Because I spent years lying to myself too. Telling myself I wasn’t interested in men. That what I felt was wrong or sinful or just... temporary.”
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. My throat felt tight, like someone had wrapped a fist around my windpipe and was slowly squeezing.
“I’m not judging you,” Beau continued. “I’m just saying... I recognize the signs. The trips to Austin. The way you tense up when Xavier’s around. The way you avoid looking at him directly, like you’re afraid of what you might see. Or what he might see in you.”
“Beau—”
“And the way you ran out of my house today? That wasn’t embarrassment over a natural bodily function. That was panic. Fear.” He paused. “Fear of being seen for who you really are.”
I stared out the window, watching the fence posts blur past. My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t get enough air despite the AC blasting in my face.
He was right. God help me, he was right about all of it.
But admitting it out loud, saying the words I’d been swallowing down for years. .. that was something else entirely.
“It doesn’t matter,” I finally said, my voice rough. “Even if I was... even if I felt that way, it doesn’t change anything. I’m the sheriff. I have responsibilities. A reputation to uphold.”
“Your father’s reputation, you mean.”
My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. “He was a good man.”
“He was,” Beau agreed. “But he was also a product of his time. And his expectations for you... Marcus, they’re not yours. You don’t have to carry that weight forever.”
I wanted to argue with him. Wanted to defend my father’s legacy, explain that being sheriff meant something in this town, that generations of Webb men had held this position with honor and dignity.
But the words stuck in my throat because deep down, I knew Beau was right.
I’d been living my life according to someone else’s rules, someone else’s idea of who Marcus Webb should be.
“What am I supposed to do?” I asked, hating how defeated I sounded. “Just... come out? In Sagebrush? You know what that would mean? I’d lose my job.”
“It might mean some changes in your life,” Beau said carefully. “But it might also mean finding yourself. And finding people who accept you for who you actually are, not who you think you have to be.”
I turned to look at him, really look at him, and saw nothing but understanding in his expression. No judgment. No pity. Just... acceptance.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I admitted quietly.
“You don’t have to decide everything today,” Beau said. “But Marcus? That thing with Xavier back there? That’s not going away. And the more you try to run from it, the worse it’s gonna get.”
I let my head fall back against the seat, closing my eyes. He was right. Of course he was right. But knowing something and being ready to face it were two very different things.
We drove in silence for a while, the hum of the engine and the rush of the AC were the only sounds between us.
My mind was racing, replaying the moment over and over.
The way Xavier had looked up at me, the shock in his eyes, the flush spreading across his cheeks.
The way his lips had parted slightly, like he was about to say something but couldn’t find the words.
God, I wanted to kiss those lips. Had wanted to since the moment I’d first seen him in Dolly’s diner, all attitude and confidence and unapologetic sexuality.
He was everything I’d trained myself not to want, not to need, not to even acknowledge.
And yet here I was, half-hard just thinking about him despite my shame.
“I’ll officiate the wedding,” I said suddenly, opening my eyes.
Beau glanced over at me, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “You were right. I’m not gonna let you down. You’re my friend, and this is important to you. So, I’ll do it.”
A smile spread across Beau’s face, genuine and warm. “Thank you, Marcus. That means a lot.”
“But I need Xavier to finish the fitting,” I added, my stomach clenching at the thought. “And I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone what happened today.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Beau said. “All of them.”
I nodded, grateful for his discretion even as anxiety twisted in my gut. I was going to have to face Xavier again. Going to have to stand there while he touched me, measured me, probably made some smart-ass comment about what had happened. The thought made me want to jump out of the moving truck.
We pulled into town, and Beau drove straight to the sheriff’s office. Mrs. Baxter was standing outside, her arms crossed and a worried expression on her face that melted into relief when she saw me.
“Marcus Webb, you had me worried sick!” she called out as I climbed out of the truck. “Xavier called here looking for you, said you’d left the ranch without your—” She paused, taking in my shirtless state. “Without your shirt. What on earth happened?”
“Just a misunderstanding,” I said quickly, pulling on my uniform shirt even though it was wrinkled and soaked with sweat. “But Beau and I got it sorted out, so no harm done.”
She looked between Beau and I for a moment before throwing up her arms. “Men!” she scoffed and headed back inside.
I watched her go, then turned back to Beau, who was still sitting in his truck with a knowing smirk on his face.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered.
“Like what?” he asked innocently, but the grin didn’t fade.
“Like you know somethin’ I don’t want you to know.”
“Marcus, I know lots of things you don’t want me to know. That’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for thirty years.” He put the truck in gear. “But for what it’s worth? I think you’re makin’ the right choice. About the weddin’, I mean.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything else. He gave me a small wave before pulling away, leaving me standing in front of the sheriff’s office looking like some kind of sweaty, disheveled mess. I could see Mrs. Baxter through the window, shaking her head at me while she filed paperwork.
I needed a shower. And maybe a stiff drink. And definitely a plan for how I was going to face Xavier again without dying of embarrassment.
My phone buzzed in my pocket again. This time I pulled it out and looked at the screen.
Xavier: I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention. I still need to finish your measurements though. Let me know when you’re ready.
I stared at the message for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. What was I supposed to say? It’s fine, sorry my dick poked your face? No hard feelings, literally and figuratively?
Instead, I typed something that surprised me.
Me: Tomorrow. 2pm. My place.
At least at my house, I’d have home field advantage. And if things went sideways again, I could lock myself in the bathroom instead of having to walk five miles in the heat.
His response came almost immediately.
Xavier: Your place? How scandalous, Sheriff. Should I bring protection?
My face flushed hot, and I could practically hear the teasing lilt in his voice through the text.
Xavier: Kidding. I’ll bring my supplies. And maybe some coffee that doesn’t taste like burnt sadness.
Despite everything, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. The man was infuriating, but I had to admit—he was also kind of funny. In an obnoxious, city-boy way that shouldn’t have been appealing but somehow was.
Me: Just bring the measuring tape.
Xavier: Oh, I’ll bring more than that. See you tomorrow, Sheriff. ;)
The winky face made my stomach do something complicated that I absolutely did not want to analyze. I shoved my phone back in my pocket and headed inside, ignoring Mrs. Baxter’s questioning look as I made a beeline for my office.
Tomorrow. I just had to survive until tomorrow. And then somehow make it through another fitting without embarrassing myself further.
How hard could it be?