18. MATTHEW
Chapter eighteen
MATTHEW
A TRUE FAMILY
The Stuarts, a young couple spending their honeymoon traveling to as many small towns in the United States as they can in six months, sit beside Peter and Fran Miller, regulars at the ranch since they started taking guests.
They’ve brought their seven-year-old grandson this time.
There’ll be another three families checking in tomorrow.
It’s a good thing they aren’t here now too, because if they had arrived today, we’d not have had enough chairs to seat them all at dinner.
Preston’s van pulls into the driveway, and everyone stands.
“Happy Birthday,” we all cheer as he steps out of the passenger side with a huge smile on his face.
“I knew you were up to something,” he tells Preston, wagging a finger in Poppy’s direction. “You too, miss.”
“You did not. We’re the best at keeping secrets, aren’t we, Dad?” she replies, and Preston hugs her to his side.
“You bet, kiddo. This looks amazing, guys, great job.”
Nial shoots a hand into the air.
“It was my idea, you’re welcome, bestest brother award remains intact,” he laughs.
Alan gasps. “No way, that’s not fair. I traveled the furthest just for his birthday, I should be the bestest brother,” he complains, and Sally-May shakes her head in disapproval.
“It was a group effort,” she says, and everyone waits for Dean to sit at the head of the table in the biggest chair we could find.
Nial got this wild idea to make Dean sit on a throne for his birthday, and the high-backed, ornately carved mahogany piece was just sitting in one of the unused rooms upstairs in the main house.
The thing weighed as much as a horse too.
I helped carry it down before we joined Atlas in spreading the last of the crushed quartz for the new trail.
As soon as he’s seated, we all find our seats. Atlas stands between two up at the end and makes eyes at me like he wants me to sit beside him. At least that’s what I hope he’s doing, because my feet already have me halfway to him.
“Is this seat open?” I ask him.
“Sure is, take a seat,” he says, and I almost fucking swoon when he pulls out the chair for me, tipping his hat just a little, and throwing me a wink from under it.
I scan the table, hoping no one is watching me because my cheeks are on fire. I quickly down a glass of water as he takes the seat beside me.
“Good work today,” he says, nudging my leg with his, and just like before, he doesn’t move it away.
“It was great getting everyone out there to help. I just wish it was still light so Dean could have taken the first ride down it for his birthday,” I reply, and he scrunches up his nose in an adorable way, shaking his head.
“We should make sure it’s perfect before anyone else heads down it. Will you be back in the morning?”
“You want me to ride it with you?”
“Sure, you helped put it all together.”
“Can I take Loki?”
His eyes soften, but I can totally feel a no coming.
“He’s been doing really well, and I know you have this bond with him that, well, even surprised me, but I just don’t think he’d let you saddle him, let alone get on afterwards.”
“We’ve been practicing.”
“You’ve saddled Loki?” he asks, and my smile spreads across my face, but before I can fill him in on all the things I’ve been working on with Loki, Preston clinks his glass from the end of the table with Dean, and all attention shifts to him.
“I want to thank all of you for being here tonight to celebrate my second favorite person in the entire world,” he says, and his daughter Poppy is smiling and nodding beside him knowing she’ll always be his first. Not that Dean would ever ask for it to be any other way.
“Will family, old friends, and new ones, all please raise a glass to the most generous, kind-hearted cowboy, my fiancé, and soon-to-be husband, Dean. Happy birthday. I love you.”
Everyone raises their glasses.
“To Dean,” we cheer, and I take a sip as Dean stands and gives Preston a short, sweet kiss.
Gramps claps his hands together three times.
“Let’s eat,” he says, and Sally-May lifts the lid from the first covered dish and puts a piece of chicken onto Perry’s plate.
Just like before, it’s the signal to dig in, and everyone reaches across the table, uncovering dish after dish, sending flavored steam billowing up and surrounding us in its deliciousness.
My stomach grumbles, and I reach for the spoon resting in the baked potatoes.
Atlas reaches for it at the same time, and my hand closes over his instead of the spoon. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the way my body vibrates whenever we touch.
“Sorry, you go,” I say, pulling my hand back.
He reaches over with his free hand and picks up my plate.
“Here you go,” he says, scooping a large spoonful onto my plate before doing the same with his own. “What’s next?”
“Whatever you want,” I say, and his lips pick up on one side in that cheeky smirk of his, and my heart flutters.
“Really?”
I chuckle and lean in to whisper, “I meant from the table. But I’d love to explore where your mind just went after dinner.”
I lean back, and his cheeks are flushed with a warm, rosy glow.
“Are you too warm up there?” Perry asks, and I try to hide my smile by reaching for the rolls Nial just placed back down. “I can move the heaters, or we can turn them off if you like,” he says.
“We’re good,” Atlas calls back, and his knee shoves against mine again under the table.
“If you’re sure,” Perry replies, and I catch Sally-May watching us with a small smile on her lips. No way she knows.
***
“Dinner was amazing, sitting at that big table listening to them all tell stories about Dean when he was young and when Gramps was raising the four of them here on the ranch,” I say, as Atlas and I walk together along the path through the cabins.
“There were fewer quirky animals then. A lot more cows, though, and that’s when they used to have to milk by hand,” Atlas replies, nudging my side with a chuckle.
“I bet the guys had super strong hands back then.”
“Horsemen have strong hands too.”
“I’ve noticed,” I reply, and he stops and turns to face me.
“Will you stay tonight?”
My heart does this fluttery thing as he takes my hands in his.
“If you want me to.”
He leans down, tilting his chin up so the brim of his hat doesn’t clock me in the forehead, and kisses me soft and slow. The scruff around his mouth scratches slightly in the most delightful way, and I grip his waist and pull him close.
His groin is hard pressed against me, and my cock responds with a throb.
I go to pull away, but he slides his arm all the way around my back, and he lifts me up, my chest hard against his. He starts walking toward his trailer’s quiet corner of the ranch. I bring my legs up to circle his waist, and his hands move quickly to my ass.
“Hmnh,” I groan. He clenches my ass in his fists, and I grab him around the back of his neck, fingers sliding up the nape into his hair. I deepen the kiss. He slides me down over his bulge and back up.
“Oh, fuck,” I say, pulling away, and then I bury my mouth into the crease of his neck and suck the soft, salty skin.
I fumble with his shirt buttons between us as he lifts and lowers me down again, and when I finally get it undone and pull it over his shoulders, he lets out a sigh of relief like he’s finally been freed from a straitjacket or something, and I guess, given the way he describes his need to be naked, it might actually be like that for him.
Only now that his shirt’s off, I don’t know what to do with my hands.
I want to take them on a journey of his body, but when we’ve been together in the past, I’ve avoided directly touching his scars whenever I can.
He says that when I’m near him, when I touch him, he doesn’t feel the same gross feeling he does with clothes or other people, which is good.
Great even. But what if this time he does?
“Hey, you okay?” he asks, and I suddenly realize I’ve stopped kissing his neck and I’m basically just holding my mouth open against his soft skin like a guppy fish.
I push up, keeping one hand on the back of his neck and the other on my leg, still wrapped around him.
He tilts his head back to see me clearly. “What’s wrong?” he presses.
“Nothing,” I say, trying for a reassuring smile, but he sees right through me and scrunches up his adorable nose and gently shakes his head.
“Tell me what’s up, or nothing else will be going that way tonight,” he says, glancing between us.
“Urgh, you found my kryptonite.”
“I like the idea of my dick bringing you to your knees,” he replies, and I laugh. “That’s better. So, now tell me, what were you spiraling about just now?”
“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to touch you,” I say, my voice almost a whisper.
“I’m pretty sure my massive hard-on is screaming at you to touch me.”
“I don’t mean there, I mean…” My gaze goes to the silvery scars that glisten slightly under the moonlight and move up his outer arms and over parts of his shoulders.
“I told you it’s different with you,” he says.
“Yeah, but what if that changes?”
“Then I’ll tell you, and we’ll work it out,” he says, brushing the back of his fingers lightly over my cheek. It’s so hard not to just melt into him when he looks at me like this, all small smiles and dreamy, sparkling eyes. I lift off his hat and run a hand through his slightly damp hair.
“You need a shower,” I say, and his brows pick up.
“Have you ever showered under the stars?”
“No, but I think you might have found another way to bring me to my knees.”
***
I kissed him all the way to the trailer, holding his hat behind him as he carried me.
Only he didn’t go inside. When he asked if I’d showered under the stars, I admit I was thinking he had some sort of setup inside his trailer under the giant skylight, but given most of that space was taken up by his bed, this makes way more sense.
“Ohh, this is cool,” I say, lowering my legs to stand. He spins me around, his hard, warm chest against my back as he unbuttons my shirt and kisses up my neck until he reaches my ear, and he sucks the lobe into his mouth. It sends a shiver through me, and my cock throbs.
“Fuck, you know how to drive a guy wild,” I say, pushing my ass back against his groin. He’s still hard as a rock, and I love that I’m the reason.
He gets my shirt off and then steps to the side, kicking off his boots and stripping out of his jeans before turning on the shower that’s jutting out the back side of his trailer.
Beside it is a silver water tank that kind of gives him a little cover from the side, not that anyone would really be able to see through the thick row of trees he’s planted around it over the last couple of years.
He moves under the water, and it glistens down his chest, and I’m out of my pants in record time and rushing toward him. Our bodies clash together, hard cocks leaking between us, and he sucks in a sharp breath, groaning into my kiss.
“Fucking kryptonite,” I sigh, and then I drop to my knees.