Chapter Eleven
Ethan tightened Storm’s cinch and swung into the saddle, the leather creaking under him.
Carter mounted up beside him on his horse, moving with that controlled ease that got under Ethan’s skin.
The guy looked like he’d been born in a saddle—straight back, steady hands, hat pulled low enough to shadow his eyes.
“Lead the way,” Carter said.
Ethan nodded and nudged Storm forward. The trail behind the stables wound through a stretch of open pasture, the grass brushing their boots as they rode.
The sky hung wide and pale, clouds drifting slowly.
Carter rode a little behind him, but Ethan felt his gaze now and then from the quick glances he pretended not to notice.
Every time Ethan looked back, Carter looked away just as fast.
They reached a small rise overlooking the creek, the water cutting a thin silver line through the land. Ethan guided Storm down the slope like he’d done a hundred times with tourists—steady pace, easy turns, letting the horse pick his footing.
“You always ride like that?” Carter asked.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re leading a group.”
Ethan shrugged. “Old habit.”
Carter’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Not a bad one.”
They kept riding until they reached an old apple tree near the fence line.
The branches hung low, heavy with fruit.
Ethan swung down first, boots hitting the dirt, and reached up to pull an apple free.
Carter dismounted beside him, close enough that Carter’s warmth radiated through the breeze.
Ethan tossed him an apple. Carter caught it one-handed, the movement smooth, practiced.
Marine reflexes. The thought made something tighten in his chest.
They leaned against the fence, eating in comfortable silence. The apples were crisp, sweet, and juice running down Ethan’s wrist. Carter wiped his thumb across his own wrist, then glanced at Ethan again—another quick look, gone too fast.
“So this is the ride you give paying customers?” Carter asked.
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “Pretty much.”
Carter nodded slowly, eyes on him instead of the view. “Bet they loved it.”
Ethan snorted. “They liked the horses. Not me.”
“That’s not true,” Carter said, voice low. “You’ve got a way of making people feel safe out here.”
Ethan froze for half a second. No one had ever said anything like that to him. Not about him. Not about something he did well.
He looked down at the apple in his hand, trying to hide the heat creeping up his neck. “It’s just a trail ride.”
“Maybe,” Carter said. “But you make it feel like more.”
Ethan didn’t know what to do with that. Compliments from Carter hit different—heavier, warmer, like they landed somewhere he didn’t have defenses built.
He risked a glance at Carter. And Carter was already looking at him. They both looked away at the same time. Storm snorted behind him, shaking out his mane. Carter’s horse pawed in the dirt, impatient to move again.
Ethan cleared his throat. “We should head back.”
“Yeah,” Carter said, but he didn’t move right away. “Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever need a shoulder,” Carter said, eyes steady on him, “I’m here. Doesn’t matter what it’s about.”
Ethan’s stomach flipped. “Why would you say that?”
Carter shrugged, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Just seems like you carry more than you let on.”
Ethan looked away again, heart thudding. He didn’t understand why Carter’s voice hit him like someone had reached inside him and loosened something he’d kept locked tight.
He mounted up without answering, hoping the ride back would settle him. It didn’t.
Every time Carter rode close, the same pull returned just as confusing, warm, and impossible to ignore. Like something in him kept turning toward Carter without permission.
He told himself it was nothing. Heat crept up his neck, betraying him long before his mind caught up. But the way his breath hitched when Carter looked at him said otherwise. With his luck, Carter was straight, or not remotely interested in a loser like him.
After a while, they rode to the stable. Carter stood beside Storm as if he’d been carved out of the same landscape—broad shoulders, steady stance, hat pulled low enough to shadow his eyes.
Sunlight caught the edge of his jaw, turning it sharp and clean.
Ethan tried not to stare, but his gaze kept drifting back anyway.
“You ready?” Carter asked, brushing a hand down Storm’s neck. His voice had that low, even tone that always settled something in Ethan’s chest.
“Yeah,” Ethan said, though his voice came out rougher than he meant.
Carter glanced at him, eyes narrowing just a little. Not suspicious—more like he was reading Ethan the way he read horses. “Good. I was thinking…” He stopped for a moment, thumb running along Storm’s bridle. “How would you like to go to dinner with me? Off the ranch.”
Ethan blinked. “Where?”
“Out of Foggy Basin.” Carter gave him a small smile—different from his usual tight, polite ones. Softer. Warmer. It hit Ethan harder than it should’ve.
“Sure,” Ethan said. “I have nowhere to go.”
Carter nodded once, as if he’d expected that answer. “We’ll head out after we get our horses settled.”
They walked the horses back toward the private stable, the one with the new green paint and the old weathervane that squeaked whenever the wind hit it wrong. Once their horses had been taken care of, they returned to the motorcycle and headed for Carter’s cabin.
“You can shower at my place.”
Ethan’s stomach flipped. He told himself it was nerves. He didn’t believe it.
Carter’s cabin sat tucked behind a line of cottonwoods, the porch half in shade.
Inside, everything was neat—too neat. Boots lined up inside by the door.
Jackets hung in perfect order. The place smelled like cedar and coffee.
Without words or thoughts, they removed their socks and boots with Carter removing his first since his boots didn’t have laces.
“You can take the hall bathroom,” Carter said, tossing him a towel and a shirt. “I’ll grab mine in the bathroom in my bedroom.”
“Where did that shirt come from?” Ethan asked.
“I bought it, but it was too small. Never returned it. So, it’s yours now.”
“Thanks.”
Ethan showered fast, trying not to think about Carter doing the same in the next room. When he stepped out, Carter was already dressed—dark jeans, a clean button-down, sleeves rolled once. Simple. But on him, it worked too well. Ethan looked away before he stared too long.
They climbed into Carter’s truck, the old engine rumbling as they pulled out of Foggy Basin.
The road stretched wide and empty, sagebrush blurring past the windows.
Carter drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console—close enough the man’s warmth reached him even without touching.
“You doing okay?” Carter asked, eyes still on the road.
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “Just… thinking.”
“If you ever want to talk,” Carter said, voice low, “I’m around. Doesn’t matter what it’s about. And it stays between us.”
Ethan’s head snapped toward him. “What does that mean?”
Carter shrugged lightly. “Means I don’t repeat things that aren’t mine to share.”
Ethan didn’t know what to do with that. No adult in his life had ever offered that kind of privacy.
They reached a small Mexican restaurant on the edge of the next town—bright yellow walls, string lights across the patio, the smell of grilled meat drifting out the door. Inside, the booths were cracked vinyl, the tables mismatched, the salsa too spicy. Ethan loved it immediately.
They ordered enchiladas and chips. Carter didn’t talk much, but he listened—really listened—whenever Ethan said anything. Ethan kept catching himself watching Carter’s hands, the way his fingers curled around his glass, the way he leaned in when Ethan spoke.
He didn’t understand why his chest tightened every time Carter looked at him. Didn’t understand why he wanted Carter to keep looking.
Halfway through the meal, Carter nudged his hand. “You’re quiet tonight.”
Ethan shrugged. “Just… figuring stuff out.”
Carter nodded, eyes steady. “You don’t have to figure it out alone.”
Ethan’s breath caught. He didn’t know what Carter meant. He wasn’t sure Carter knew either. But the offer sat between them, warm and confusing and too big to name.
He looked down at his plate, heart thudding. He told himself it was nothing. He didn’t believe it.
“I know. It’s just that I don’t know if a man like you would understand me and my lifestyle.”
“A man like me? Explain.”
“If I had to rate you from one to ten on how manly, you’d rate ten, the tops. Most masculine man on the planet.”
“Really.” Carter grinned. “Why do you think that?”
“Everything about you shouts alpha male. You look it, walk it, and talk it.”
“That’s odd coming from you to look at me in those terms. I don’t see men on a spectrum. You’re who you say you are.”
“Who are you, then?”
“Why does that question feel too personal? What are you actually asking me?”
“Do you date men or women?” Ethan realized his question slipped out without a filter. Damn, he hated when he just asked shit that was none of his business.
“Woo! You want to know this? Why?” He looked directly at Ethan, expression unreadable.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s normal to ask when you’re my age and live in the city. I forgot for a minute who I was talking to and where I’m at.”
“So, my age separates me?”
“It does. You’re old school.”
“I see. How about I ask you this? Do you date men or women?”
“I don’t trust you enough to tell you, and anyway, I’m sure that file on me tells you everything about me.”
“It would tell me if your father knew.”
“I don’t know what he knows about me. He probably knows less than he thinks, or I’d be dead by now.”
“If you ever feel threatened by him or anyone, come to me and I’ll protect you.”
“Why would you protect me from your boss?”
“You’re under my watch, and I take that seriously. I want the best outcome for you.”
After dinner, Carter dropped him off at the barn.
Carter’s promise hung in the air long after the words faded. I’ll keep an eye on you. Simple. Steady. Nothing dramatic. But it hit harder than anything Ethan’s father had said.
The barn waited behind him, dark and drafty, the kind of place that swallowed sound and made a person feel small.
Cold air slipped through the gaps in the boards, brushing his ankles like a warning.
The cot sat in the corner, thin mattress sagging, springs showing through the fabric.
A space built for someone temporary. Someone who didn’t matter.
He stepped inside anyway.
The plywood walls rattled when the wind pushed against them, each shudder reminding him how exposed he was out here. Anyone walking by could hear every breath he took. Every restless shift on the cot. Every crack in his voice if he lost it.
But somewhere outside, Carter moved to his truck with that calm, grounded presence—boots steady. The sound carried through the thin walls, faint but unmistakable.
Ethan sat on the edge of the cot, hands braced on his knees. The cold from the metal locker seeped into his side. The mattress groaned under his weight. Not safe here. None of it felt like home.
And yet… the idea of Carter sleeping in his cabin by the lake eased something sharp inside him. Not enough to admit anything. Not enough to make sense of the pull in his stomach. Just enough to keep him from falling apart.
He told himself it was because Carter seemed competent. Reliable. The kind of man who didn’t lose control or walk away.
Not attraction, he insisted, jaw tight. Just relief. Just exhaustion. Just… something else. The lie wobbled, unsteady as the cot beneath him.
The barn settled into silence again, thin walls creaking around him.
Being under Carter’s watch should’ve felt like another punishment. Instead, it felt like the only thing keeping the night from swallowing him whole.