Chapter 8
EIGHT
KAYLA
Collin
What do we wanna do for dinner tonight?
Me
Collin
Damn. Guess we starvin.
Heading up to the house soon.
And dinner isn’t the only thing I’m eating when I’m home
I smile and shake my head as I maneuver my phone into my back pocket.
My feet carry me the short distance away from the barn and into the house where I head directly to the kitchen.
It’s nearing six in the evening, and while I’d love to watch the sun bleed its beautiful colors into the sky…
I must admit, I’d rather prefer dinner and this “eating” Collin is promising.
Maybe I could get him to eat on the kitchen island.
I sigh.
Not with Miles here, unfortunately.
One day.
My phone buzzes again, and I let out a soft groan. The first of the month is always exhausting, and today was no different. You’d think managing a ranch’s social media page would be easy… until you have to network with broody cowboys and brainstorm attractions for the future.
Kill me.
Do I want to leave? Fuck no. But do I want to throw my phone into a rushing ravine sometimes? Yes, absolutely.
I grumble and pull my phone out, blinking in surprise when I see this text is from Miles.
Miles never texts me.
He just hunts me down, like some kind of wolf.
Miles
I need to see you. Now.
Me
Are you okay?
His answer is immediate.
Miles
No.
I blanch and nearly run out the door. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don’t be injured. I don’t like blood,” I mutter to myself.
When I reach the barn, I prepare myself for the worst—only to completely stop short when I see Miles standing there, staring right at me, looking more pissed off than I’ve ever seen him.
His knuckles are white around his phone and his hair is roused and messy, drawing my attention to his hat laying by his feet.
I’m the first one to speak. “I saw you five minutes ago. What the hell happened?”
His dark eyes lock with mine, and his expression says a thousand words.
And none of those words look like they sound good.
Yet, he still doesn’t speak.
I take a hesitant step forward. “Miles?”
His jaw ticks to the side, and he leans down to pick up his hat. “Never mind, Kayla. You can leave.”
I blink in shock, taking a step back at the outright dismissal. “Bu-but you said something was wrong. What’s wrong?”
He turns back to his favorite mare, Macy. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” The word comes out before I can stop it.
His head snaps in my direction, eyes blazing, just as Collin enters the barn behind me.
Collin’s head is down, looking at his phone while he types something.
“Hey, babe. Saw you run in here. I’m thinking we just get a pizza ton—” His voice trails off as he picks his head up and looks at Miles and me. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I say, just as Miles answers, “Nothing.”
Collin’s eyes move between us. “Okay… why does it feel like Zeus is ready to strike in here, then?”
Miles lets out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh before focusing on Collin. “How did you know that you liked men?”
Collin’s face blooms with color.
And I come to the conclusion that I’ve never been more perplexed.
What could that possibly have to do with anything?
“Uhm…” Collin starts. “I just knew… guys were hot… I guess?”
Miles tilts his head, analyzing Collin. “No experimenting, or anything?”
Collin’s eyebrows scrunch together, and he crosses his arms. “No… there was.”
I step closer. “What is this about? What’s going on?”
Miles shakes his head and turns back toward Macy. All of a sudden, he looks tired—albeit still angry. “Just… go. Both of you. Alright?”
My patience snaps. “No! Now tell us what the fuck is going on.”
Miles’ voice is hoarse, and his head dips away, refusing to look at us. “I was sent a video when you left the barn, Kayla.”
I gulp.
That’s a sentence to bring immediate PTSD to the surface.
“What kind of video?” My voice comes out shaky.
“The kind I didn’t know existed—and one that I’m in.”
Collin butts in. “Okay. Miles? We’re gonna need you to turn your gruff persona on. Cowboy mode, alright? Stop talking in circles and start treating us like your staff.”
A hysterical laugh comes out of Miles at that. “Oh, I can’t treat you two like my staff anymore.”
My stomach sinks.
No, no, no. Not again.
But when Miles looks up—it’s not with anger or malice.
It’s with longing.
“Fuck it,” he breathes, and stalks straight toward us. He hands me his phone, long enough for me to see the thumbnail of the glory hole video we posted last night… and then his mouth is slanting over Collin’s as his other hand grips my waist, bringing me into them.
Collins’ wide, surprised eyes gently fall closed as a moan escapes his throat when their tongues swipe at each other.
And it finally hits me.
We sucked our bosses dick at a glory hole.
Holy fucking shit.
We are so getting fired…