Chapter 5
When I get back to the table, the woman with the red ponytail is leaning over, collecting empties, and Wade watches her walk away with appreciation in his eyes. I slide into my seat, the taste of Sam still on my tongue, my knees aching from that floor, and take a long swallow of beer.
“She’s been runnin’ this place on her own for eight years since her husband took off,” Wade says, nodding after the bartender. “Tough as old leather, that one.”
Malik leans back in his chair, grinning. “You seem to know a lot about her, boss.”
“Been comin’ here long enough.”
“She single?”
“Why? You interested?”
“Not my type.” Malik laughs. “But you, on the other hand.”
“I got a ranch to run,” Wade says. “And a handful of fools I can’t turn my back on for five minutes.”
Sam slides back into his seat a minute later, his face still a little flushed. “Any trouble while I was gone?”
“Wade was just telling us about the redhead behind the bar,” Malik says, grinning. “Apparently she’s been single for eight years.”
Sam gives Wade a sideways look. “Sounds like an opportunity.”
Wade scowls. “I’m done with all that. Do better on my own.”
“A man’s got needs,” Malik says.
Wade rolls the whiskey glass between his palms, staring into it. “I know,” he says, so quiet I almost miss it. Then he clears his throat.
“Doesn’t mean you have to put a ring on it,” Malik adds.
“Don’t you worry about me.” Wade picks up a peanut, cracks it open. “Worry about that calf with the sprained leg.”
I watch him crack another peanut, tossing the shell aside.
This is a different Wade. Not the hard-ass boss who works us until our hands are raw.
Seeing him like this, hearing him admit he has needs, feels intimate.
What’s he like behind closed doors, away from all of us?
I wonder how long it’s been since he got his dick wet.
Longer than the last rodeo, that’s for sure.
Rex drains his beer and sets the bottle down with a heavy thud. “A man’s got his right hand for his needs.”
It’s such a random thing to say, for Rex of all people, who never says more than he has to. Malik laughs. Wade shakes his head. But I sit up a little straighter, something cold moving through my chest, because Rex is looking straight at me when he says it.
Then he adds, “Or he finds other ways to scratch the itch. Right, Justin?”
Sam goes rigid beside me. Malik stops laughing.
I pick up my beer, my knuckles white. “Not sure what you mean.”
“Sure you don’t.” Rex’s eyes are locked on mine. “Seems like you’ve found ways to keep yourself entertained.”
Wade’s eyes narrow. “What are you gettin’ at, Rex?”
Rex shrugs those massive shoulders. “Just an observation.”
“I think you better be clearer,” Wade says. “You know I hate riddles.”
Rex pushes his chair back. “Never mind. Need a piss.” He stands and makes his way toward the back, bumping into a chair on the way.
Malik watches him go. “Damn. Two beers and the big man’s on the moon.”
Wade leans back in his chair, looking from Rex’s retreating back to me. “Any idea what that was about, Justin?”
My throat tightens. I think about coming clean.
This is going to explode eventually. Too many people know.
Flynn, Sam, Rex. I could say it right here, right now, get it over with.
Yes, sir. Rex is right. I’ve been letting Flynn and Sam fuck me.
In the barn, in the showers, in your bathtub.
I was on my knees in that bathroom not ten minutes ago with Sam’s cock down my throat.
Not in those words, obviously. Something more dignified.
But then I catch Sam’s face. The panic in his eyes. He looks like a man about to be hanged. And I can’t do it. It’s not just me I’d be throwing under the bus.
“Beats me,” I say, and take a long swallow.
Wade holds my gaze. Then he nods. “Rex has his moods. Can’t blame him. The guy did two tours by the time he was twenty-two. Came back and couldn’t settle. That kind of thing leaves a mark.” He sets his empty glass down. “Best not to prod it.”
A lot of things click into place about Rex. The buzz cut. The way he carries himself. The bulked-up physique. The way nothing gets past him. He isn’t just a quiet guy who keeps to himself. He’s a trained soldier. Someone who’s been wired for high alert so long he probably can’t turn it off.
It still puts me on edge. But at least it explains that feeling I always get when he looks at me. Like my threat level is being assessed.
Wade stands up, already reaching for his wallet. “Another round. Then we get back to it. Sun’ll be up before we know it.”
When we pull up to the ranch, it’s past midnight.
The place is dead quiet under a pale moon.
Wade peels off toward the main house, the porch light clicking on as he goes.
The rest of us cross the yard to the bunkhouse, where Flynn is on the floor doing push-ups in just his jeans. He keeps going when we come in.
“How was it?” he says between reps.
“Damn, look at you,” Malik says, dropping his jacket on his bunk. “Working off some frustration?”
Flynn finishes the set, rolls onto his back, and grabs a bottle of water from the floor. “Something like that.” He takes a long swallow, then wipes his mouth. “Boring as hell out here on your own.”
Rex strips off his shirt and throws it on his bunk. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you helped yourself to the boss’s bathroom.”
Flynn sits up. “Good night to you too, T-Rex. The hell’s your problem?”
“He’s a little wound up tonight,” Malik says, stepping between them. “Had a few too many. Let it go.”
“I didn’t have too many,” Rex says, squaring up. “I had exactly enough.”
Malik holds up his hands. “Just trying to keep the peace, bro.”
Flynn gets to his feet and steps around Malik. “You got something to say to me, Rex? Say it.”
Rex looks him up and down. “You think you’re special, hmm? You think you’re the only one with a loaded gun in your pants? You’re not.”
Flynn’s jaw tightens. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“There’s a whole bunkhouse full of men with the same needs,” Rex says. “Only we have something you don’t.” He taps a finger against Flynn’s temple. “Self-control.”
“Alright. That’s enough.” Sam steps forward.
Rex doesn’t back down, his dark eyes fixed on Flynn. “We’re here to do a job. Not turn the place into your personal fuck farm. But you don’t get that, do you? You decide you’re the one who gets to play around in the middle of the day. Taking what you want.” He pauses. “Including the new guy.”
What little blood is left in my face drains away. Across the room, Sam goes very still.
Flynn just smirks. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between them, until they’re chest to bare chest. He’s got a good inch on Rex in height, but Rex is built like a damn brick wall. There’s no way Flynn could win this fight, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“Jealous?” Flynn asks. “Is that what this is? Because you’re not on the list? Don’t worry. I could put in a good word for you.”
It happens so fast I barely register it. One second, Flynn is smirking at him. The next, Rex has his hand wrapped around Flynn’s throat, slamming him back against the wall hard enough to shake the bunks.
“Unlike some people, I can keep it in my pants,” Rex growls, his face inches from Flynn’s. “I’m not out here humping everything in sight like a dog in heat.”
Malik and Sam are on Rex in a second, grabbing his arms, pulling him back. “Easy, Rex, easy,” Malik says. “Let him go.”
It’s all hands and bodies and raised voices. Rex holds on, pinning Flynn against the wall, squeezing hard enough to make his face go red. Then, with a disgusted shove, he releases him and stumbles back as Malik and Sam pull him away.
Flynn rubs his throat, coughing. “Psycho,” he rasps, but he doesn’t push it further.
Malik looks around the room. At Rex, still breathing hard. At Flynn, leaning against the wall. At Sam, eyes fixed on the floor. Then at me.
“Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?”
There’s a long beat of silence. The only sound is Rex’s ragged breathing. All that courage I felt earlier tonight, in the bathroom stall with Sam, is gone. I’ve made a mess. A big, stupid mess, and there’s no clean way out of it.
“I’ve wanted to tell you, Malik,” I say. “You’re a good friend. And I haven’t been one back, keeping this from you.”
“Keeping what from me?”
I take a breath, the words feeling like glass in my throat. “I’m gay.”
He blinks. Waits for me to say more. When I don’t, he looks around the room. “Okay. That’s it? That’s the big secret?” He shrugs. “So? My cousin’s gay. Who gives a shit?”
“Flynn and I. And Sam. We’ve been… messing around.”
Malik’s face goes completely blank. He looks from me to Sam, then to Flynn, who’s still glaring at Rex. I can see the cogs turning behind those warm, friendly eyes.
“Oh,” he says finally, turning to Flynn. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
He looks at Sam. “You too, huh.”
Sam gives a tight nod, not looking at anyone.
“Wade’s bathtub?” Malik whistles softly. “Damn. That’s bold.”
“Look, I’m really?—”
“You all have this little club going, and I’m not invited? After all those afternoons teaching you how to throw a rope?” He laughs. “That hurts, J. That genuinely hurts.”
I stare at him. It’s the last reaction I expected. I was prepared for disgust. For disappointment. For him to look at me like I was tainted, the way my father did when he found my search history.
“Wait,” I say. “You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad?” He shrugs. “I’m just bummed I didn’t get an invitation.” He pauses. “I mean, I live here too.”
“You... what?”
“I’m messing with you. Mostly.” He looks over at Rex. “Isn’t that what you’re actually mad about? Not that it’s happening, but that nobody knocked on your door?”
Rex’s jaw tightens. “I’m not here to play games, Malik. You know me better than that.”
“Yeah, I know you’ve been a walking knot of tension ever since you got here,” Malik says. “And I know you work harder than any man on this ranch and never let yourself have a damn minute of fun. Most of the time, you don’t even talk.”
“I went to the bar, didn’t I?”
“And spent the whole night brooding and picking fights.”
Rex runs a hand over his buzz cut. “It’s my past, man. Two tours. I came back a different person.” He looks at the floor. “Couldn’t hold a job, couldn’t sleep right. What I like about this place is it’s simple. You work, you eat, you sleep. Nobody needs you to talk about shit.”
“Sounds lonely,” Flynn says. He rolls his shoulder, testing it. “I’m just saying. If you’re so wound up you’re choking people out, maybe it’s not working as well as you think.”
For a second, I think Rex is going to go for him again. But he doesn’t. He walks over to his bunk and sits down, his bare chest heaving. The tattoo on his forearm ripples as he braces his hands on his knees—a worn eagle, stretched tight over muscle.
“I shouldn’t have put my hands on you,” he says to Flynn.
“No shit.”
“Sorry. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re part of the crew. I was out of line.”
Flynn tilts his head. “Well. Apology accepted, you giant brute. Now, can we put this behind us and get some sleep?”
“Sleep?” Malik scoffs. “After all that? I’m wide awake. And I think we’ve established we’re all carrying a little… tension. Seems a shame to let it go to waste.”
“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Flynn asks, grinning like Christmas just came early. “Because I’m all for it.”
Malik ignores him. His eyes find me instead, and the warmth I’m used to seeing in that face is gone. Replaced by something rawer. All my fantasies about him out by the creek come rushing back at once. He walks over and stops in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat off his skin.
“That time on Haywire,” he says, dropping his voice low. “Me showing you how to hold the reins, you pressed up against my chest. What were you thinking about?”
I swallow.
“I could feel your heart going, Justin. Thought you were just nervous about the horse. But it was more than that, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Were you hard?”
“Yes.”
“Did you fantasize about me after?” He steps closer. “Be honest, J.”
“All the time.”
“Yeah?” He opens his fly, one-handed, and pushes his jeans and boxer briefs down just enough to free himself. “Show me.”