Chapter 10 Connor
Connor
It was a moment of weakness that made me suggest such a ridiculous deal with Ryder.
I knew it was a bad idea. Giving in even that tiny amount left the door wide open for trouble to walk right into my life.
Not to mention, Ryder annoyed the piss out of me.
But the way he looked at me when I called him a good boy…
well, that was enough titillation to get me through every jerk off session in my immediate future.
I’ll admit it. The way his face fell when I said no to that kiss was delicious.
I could almost see him imagining my lips on his, the anticipation in his eyes right before I denied him.
That little pout, the flash of hurt quickly covered by determination.
God, it was better than any porn I’d seen in seven years.
And watching him suffer for a month afterwards? Ecstasy.
Ryder was determined, but clearly new to having to wait for anything. I caught him watching me here and there, his eyes lingering on me just a little too long. All it took was a click of my tongue to send him scurrying in the other direction. It was delicious.
But as much as I was enjoying his suffering, I was torturing myself just as much.
Every time he followed my rules, looking away when I caught him staring or keeping his distance when Pete wasn’t around, a strange satisfaction bloomed in my chest. I found myself wanting to reward him, to acknowledge his effort with more than just a nod or a knowing look.
I’d always been a sucker for a boy that listened well.
I tried to focus on my work, throwing myself into ranch duties with renewed vigor. Larry had taken a liking to me, giving me more responsibility than the other guys. I was grateful for the distraction, but Ryder remained a constant presence in my thoughts.
This was my problem, the same one that had gotten me in trouble before.
I enjoyed this kind of exchange far too much.
Since I was eighteen, I realized I got off on being the one in charge.
Now, I knew, technically, that the submissive person was the one making all the choices.
If they called things off, that was it. It was over.
But the illusion was what I lived off of.
And, in some small way, I enjoyed helping them discover their true selves.
Sure, when I’d first started out, I was mostly getting off on being eighteen and ordering guys around that were sometimes ten to fifteen years older than me.
But as I joined the scene and learned what it was actually about, I found myself trying to free people from their own minds.
Kind of ironic considering helping the wrong person landed me in prison.
But even now, that didn’t stop me from loving the exchange of power. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was breaking my own rules. And after seven years I just… couldn’t resist.
One evening, about three weeks into our agreement, I was fixing a section of fence near the north pasture when I heard the familiar rumble of an ATV approaching.
I tensed, expecting Ryder to pull up with some flimsy excuse for being there.
But when I turned, I saw Pete McGrath instead, his face set in its usual stern expression.
“Evening, Connor,” he called, killing the engine.
“Mr. McGrath,” I nodded, setting down my tools. My heart rate kicked up a notch. Pete rarely sought out the ex-cons directly unless there was a problem.
“Larry tells me you’ve been doing exceptional work,” he said, climbing off the ATV with a grunt. “Says you’re the best hand we’ve had in the program for years.”
I shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond to praise from a man who typically regarded us as little more than cheap labor. “Just doing my job, sir.”
Pete studied me, his eyes, nothing like Ryder’s, narrowed slightly. “You were a roper before prison, weren’t you? In some kind of show?”
“Something like that,” I replied carefully.
“Well, we could use those skills at the branding next week. You up for it?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, surprise evident in my voice. Branding was typically reserved for the regular ranch hands, not the ex-cons. They didn’t like to give prisoners branding tools for some reason.
Pete nodded once, apparently satisfied. “Good. Larry will fill you in on the details.” He turned to go, then paused. “One more thing.”
“Sir?”
“My son seems to have taken an interest in your work.” Pete’s voice remained neutral, but something in his posture changed. “He’s been asking about you.”
My blood ran cold. Had Ryder been talking to his father about me? About what?
“Nothing bad,” Pete continued, mistaking my silence for confusion. “Just seems impressed by your skills. Thought I should see for myself what all the fuss was about.”
I forced myself to breathe normally. “I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. McGrath.”
“I’m not usually the kind to give chances to people with your background. Don’t make me regret it,” he said simply, then climbed back on the ATV and drove away, leaving me standing in a cloud of dust and anxiety.
That night in the bunkhouse, I lay awake long after the others had fallen asleep.
My thoughts swirled with confusion over Pete’s visit.
What exactly had Ryder been saying about me?
And why? We’d had a deal. There was to be no contact, and no games.
If he was talking me up to his father, what was his angle?
Then again, if I did a good job on this branding gig, it could get me ahead.
A good reference from Pete McGrath could go a long way when starting a new life after my six months were up.
That’s about the time I caught a hint of light moving through the yard outside. I sat up in my bunk, staring out the window. There, walking into the barn, was Ryder. But what was he doing up so late? It wasn’t like him to go wandering around after dark.
Curiosity got the better of me. I swung my legs over the side of my bunk and pulled on my boots, careful not to wake the others. Joey stirred slightly, mumbling something in his sleep before rolling over. I held my breath until his snores resumed, then slipped out the door.
The night air was cool against my skin as I crossed the yard toward the barn.
Every instinct told me to turn around, to go back to my bunk and mind my own business.
This was exactly the kind of situation I’d been trying to avoid.
But something about Ryder sneaking around in the middle of the night didn’t sit right with me.
If he was up to something that might cause trouble, I needed to know.
I approached the barn quietly, sticking to the shadows. The large doors were partially open, a sliver of yellow light spilling out onto the dirt. I paused, listening. No voices, just the occasional shuffle of hay and the soft nickering of horses.
Carefully, I eased the door open just enough to slip inside. The barn was dimly lit by a single lantern hanging from a post near the tack room. I scanned the space, eyes adjusting to the low light.
That’s when I saw him. Ryder was sitting on a hay bale, his back to me, shoulders hunched.
He was alone. There was no secret rendezvous, no mischief in progress.
Just a young man sitting by himself in the middle of the night.
Something about the defeated slope of his shoulders made me hesitate. I’d seen it before.
I should have left. This wasn’t my business. But instead, I cleared my throat.
Ryder whipped around, eyes wide with surprise. When he saw it was me, a complex mix of emotions crossed his face. There was fear, embarrassment, and something that looked almost like relief.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, quickly wiping at his face. It was only then I realized he’d been crying.
“Saw the light,” I said simply, keeping my distance. “Thought I should check it out.”
He laughed, a hollow sound that held no humor. “Playing security guard now?”
I shrugged, studying him. His eyes were red-rimmed, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere to be found. “You okay?”
“Since when do you care?” he shot back, but there was no real venom in it. Just exhaustion.
“I don’t,” I lied. “But if something’s wrong with the boss’s son, it could affect all of us.”
Ryder looked away, his jaw tight. “Nothing’s wrong. Just couldn’t sleep.”
I should have accepted that answer and walked away. That would have been the smart move. Instead, I found myself walking closer, drawn by the vulnerability I’d never seen in him before.
“Talk to me,” I said. “What’s going on?”
Ryder studied me for a long moment before blowing out a sigh. His shoulders hunched again and he looked more than exhausted, he looked almost whipped.
“Dad found out I’m going to the Nelson wedding next week,” he said. “And he’s pissed. Fucker’s been screaming at me every chance he gets since this afternoon.”
“I heard they were getting married,” I said carefully, taking a seat on a hay bale opposite him. “Evelyn mentioned it.”
“Yeah, and Dad thinks I’m somehow betraying him by going.” Ryder picked at a loose thread on his jeans, not meeting my eyes. “Says I’m ‘endorsing sin’ or some bullshit.”
“But you’re still planning to go?”
He looked up then, a flash of defiance in those green eyes. “Hell yes, I’m going. Cole and Jesse are good people. They’ve been nothing but kind to me, even when Dad’s been an insufferable ass to them.”
I nodded slowly, understanding more than he realized. Standing up to people wasn’t easy, especially those closest to you.
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“That I was going whether he liked it or not.” Ryder’s voice dropped. “That’s when he hit me.”
My blood ran cold. “He what?”
Ryder turned his face slightly, and in the lantern light, I could see it now, the faint shadow of a bruise forming along his jawline. Anger surged through me, hot and immediate. Suddenly I felt like wrapping my hands around Pete McGrath’s chubby neck until the light left his eyes.