by E M Lindsey
Without realizing he was doing it, Collin lifted one hand to Spencer’s cheek and cupped it. “You all right?”
Spencer swallowed thickly, nodding. “I…yeah. Yeah.”
Collin opened his mouth to say something else, but the moment was shattered by Max’s voice, high, tense, almost furious. “So, are we going back to the rafts, or do you two want more time to make out?”
Collin winced, pulling his hands away and stepping back. He opened his mouth to give some defense, some excuse, but Max had already turned and stomped off. With guilt settling in the pit of his stomach, Collin couldn’t bring himself to look at Spencer again and took off a few paces ahead. The only clue that Spencer was there was the soft fall of his boots on gravel.
He knew this trip was going to be a disaster, he just hadn’t realized what kind.
Chapter 11
Spencer's greatest disappointment
Being trapped on a rugged mountain trail with Collin wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to Spencer, but being up there with Max reminded him too much of his shitty uncle. Maybe he’d be lucky and a goat would come out of nowhere and slam its head into Max’s balls. It was the least the universe could do for him.
He tried not to whine anymore. He wasn’t a baby. He could handle it. So what if his feet ached like a thousand hot pokers were stabbing him. By now he was sure that his blisters had blisters. The state of his feet had been awful, and Spencer thought they needed a bit more care than they got, but Max was determined to make every moment of this trip horrible.
And he wasn’t making out with Collin. Not that he’d ever turn down a guy who looked like him. All rugged and strong, and that accent had Spencer’s cock twitching in his pants when it wasn’t busy making Spencer miserable by noticing Max’s ass.
Were it not for the agony he was in, he’d have stomped after them, but as it was, there would be no stomping in Spencer’s future. He shoved his hands in his pockets, noticing the chill in the air and the bite to the wind that hadn’t been there when the day started out. Spencer tried not to worry about the storm. Collin seemed unfazed by it, so he told himself that it was fine, even if he wasn’t sure he believed it.
He felt like a little kid, but he couldn’t help asking, when they rounded yet another bend and there was no sign of goats anywhere. Not only goats, but no wildlife at all. It was as if the whole forest had gone into hiding, and Spencer tried not to be spooked by that.
“Hey, Collin,” Spencer raised his voice up over the rustling of leaves. “When do you think we’ll see the goats?” He pointedly ignored whatever it was Max said under his breath.
Collin didn’t look at him. He kept his eyes on the trail as the forged ahead. “Around the next corner.”
The excitement danced up Spencer’s spine. Suddenly his feet didn’t matter and not even Max and his shitty attitude could ruin this for him. In the distance, thunder rolled and everyone stilled. Collin stared off toward the horizon, eyeing the bruised clouds.
“Let’s go,” he said. Spencer picked up an edge to his voice and worry joined excitement. His stomach clenched as he followed Collin. Beyond the trees, more thunder rolled.
“Is that getting louder?” Spencer asked.
“We have time.”
Collin’s answer made Spencer’s skin crawl. He wasn’t the talkative type, but the shorter his answers got, the more Spencer wondered how worried he should be about the storm. When they rounded the next bend, Collin dropped his pack to the ground and started digging around in it.
“Where are the goats?” Spencer scanned the area, but saw nothing. No little faces hid in the brush. Maybe they were good at camouflage. “Do you think they hid because of the storm?”
Then Max snorted. “There’s your goat.” Spencer scanned the area he pointed to. It was a painted goat all right. A giant goat, painted onto the stone mountainside that followed the river.
“You’re kidding.” Spencer whipped his gaze to Collin. “You knew. This whole time you fucking… knew. And you let me babble on and on about how excited I was.” He didn’t know what hurt more. Not seeing the goats, being laughed at by Max, or being made a fool of by Collin. “Well, that’s just great.” His voice betrayed his burst of emotions.
“Uh oh, the princess is mad.” Max said.
“Hey now—” Collin started to say, but Spencer yelled over top of them.
“Oh, fuck you both.” He grabbed the straps of his backpack and stormed away, heading for the rafts he knew would be waiting for him on the riverbank.
Spencer ignored Collin beckoning him to stop. He vaguely heard him snap at Max, which might have made him feel better, but bitter disappointment and blinding rage were the only things he was capable of feeling.
The trail to the riverbank was uneven and his ankle rolled a couple times in his haste to get to the raft. He took his pack off and flung it into the boat and started tugging it toward the water when Collin appeared.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting off this stupid mountain.”
Lightning cracked at the same moment thunder roared and Spencer let out an undignified shriek. The world turned white and that’s when Spencer felt the first raindrop.
“We have to make a break for mine. It isn’t far.”
Spencer’s blood drained into his feet, keeping him rooted to the ground. In the past five minutes the world had morphed into something dangerous and dark. He could still feel the electricity hum in the air as he slid his pack onto his shoulders. Then Collin unfurled a rain poncho and draped it over Spencer, allowing his head to poke through.
“My stuff,” Spencer started to protest, taking a step toward the raft, but Collin held him with a firm hand.
“Leave it, we can come back for it when the storm passes. We need to get going.”
“Where’s Max?”
“Away from the water.” Collin didn’t say it, but the implication that Spencer had been an idiot was there. It rubbed salt in all his open wounds and despite the absolute terror he felt, he shut his mouth and followed Collin up the trail.
Max didn’t breathe a word to Spencer when they met up on the trail a few minutes later. Nor did he look particularly sorry. Spencer turned away from him and followed Collin.
“Where are we going?” Spencer yelled above the rain and the wind.
“Just up the hill. It’s not far.”
Were Spencer not livid with Collin, the idea of going to see his home might have thrilled him, but Collin had let him believe he was going to see goats. He’d let him babble on about it like an over-excited toddler. And so what if he was? People acted like it was a crime to feel things. Spencer had tried not to be like this and it had almost killed him. He’d rather have a few too many emotions than be miserable all the time. He’d get over this like he got over everything else. At least this time, no one could tell what were tears and what was rain.
Everything was harder in the storm. The trail was flat for the most part, but water had already collected in huge puddles. It was slippery and they had to stay far closer together than Spencer would have liked at that moment.
Collin looked back at him, and though Spencer couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, it might have been regret. He practically snorted. The only thing he likely regretted was coming out on this joke of a tour to begin with.
“It’s not much farther. How are you holding up?”
Spencer glared at him, but didn’t answer.
“Oh, finally, we’ve found his off button.” Max snarked from behind, earning him a cold look from Collin.
“Too bad we can’t find yours. I asked you earlier to lay off, now I’m telling you. This storm is coming in fast and it won’t be pretty for us if we don’t get to my place.”
That Collin had stood up for him earlier slightly unthawed Spencer, but it didn’t alleviate all his hurt. Max, thankfully, shut up, and they trudged through the forest. A deluge of rain washed across the trail at one point.
“Watch your step.” Collin called back as he leaped across the stream. He made it look effortless. Probably was if you had legs like his, long and strong and used to all this outdoorsy shit. Spencer made the jump, slipped, and ended up in the mud and rushing water. There were no strong arms to stop him that time. No warm chest to press against. Just mud and dirt and the perfectly shitty cherry on top of what was fast becoming the worst day of his life.
Collin grabbed a hold of his arm and hoisted him up onto his feet and somehow, Max managed not to mock him.
“Are you okay?”
Spencer nodded, but it was a lie. Everything hurt. His feet. His knees. His pride, especially. And his feelings would be bruised for some time yet, but that’s what he got for being sensitive. Collin looked at him as though he could tell Spencer oozed bullshit, but lucky for him, they were in too much of a hurry for him to dwell on it.
“It’s just up ahead. Another three hundred yards or so.” Roaring thunder drowned out anything else Collin might have said. They all jumped, even Collin, and they took off, hurrying their pace. “Keep close.”
By the time they stumbled out of the woods and Collin’s place came into view, Spencer couldn’t feel his face or his hands. His legs were going numb from the ice cold water, but he could still feel his feet.
He didn’t have time to look around at the property. Collin opened the door and herded him and Max inside. The rain still barreled down, a cacophony on the tin roof. Spencer stood and dripped on the wood floor.
“It’s safe to say,” he started, his teeth chattering together. “This day sucked, and I want a refund.”
Max snorted. “You and me both, sweetheart.”
Spencer tore the rain poncho off himself. “At least we finally agree on something.” Spencer turned his head and trained his gaze on Collin. “Now what?”
Chapter 12
Max is just a man
“I need to call my brother.” Collin shrugged out of his coat and shook the rain out of his hair. “I don’t have good service here during a storm, though, so I need to go back a little the way we came.”
“What?” Spencer shrieked. “You can’t leave us.”
“You’re safe here, I promise.” Collin pulled a dry coat off a coat rack and zipped it, flipping the hood up.
“I meant you can’t leave me here with Mr. Crankypants.” Spencer angled a look at Max.
“I’m not cranky,” he protested.
“Fine.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “You can’t leave me here with Mr. Asshole.”
“Also not an asshole.”
“If you say so.” Spencer flopped down onto Collin’s well-worn leather couch. His wet pants squelched against the cushions and he jumped up, grimacing and looking at the puddle he’d left. “We need something to change into. All my shit is still on the raft.”
Max let out a bone-deep sigh. “I ditched my pack when we started running.”
“There’s a bathroom down the hall and a dryer in the laundry room,” Collin commanded. “Go shower and warm up and throw your clothes in the dryer. I’ll be back before you know it.” Collin slipped out of the door and pulled it closed before the sharp wind outside could tear it open.
In the awkward silence of the cabin, Max could feel the weight of Spencer’s stare, and he shrugged out of his jacket and unbuttoned his damp flannel shirt. His undershirt was mostly dry. It would have to do anyway. He wasn’t about to strip down any further.
Spencer huffed and spun on his heel, then retreated down the hallway. Max listened to him strip down, the loud thump of his boots against the floor, and the distinct sound of wet fabric being peeled off of a body. Max closed his eyes until the shower turned on.
He looked around Collin’s cabin, and he wondered what it would be like to live this way, so remote and removed from civilization. He untied his boots and left them near the door, leaving his socks on, then he grabbed his wet jacket and flannel and padded down the hallway to search out the dryer. He was right in front of the bathroom when the door swung open, revealing Spencer with a towel wrapped around his waist and an armful of wet clothes clutched in front of his chest.
“What the fuck!” Spencer startled, his clothes tumbling out of his arms and scattering at Max’s feet.
Reflexively, Max bent over to help Spencer pick them up, but Spencer moved at the same time. Their heads crashed together, and Spencer reeled backward, the small towel he’d secured around his waist coming undone and pooling at his feet.
Max tried to keep his eyes down. He tried to not look. He tried to think of Trent, but at the end of the day, he was only a man and Spencer, while a princess, was too.
His attention had made it to the top of Spencer’s slender thighs when a cold hand flew out and slapped him across the face. Max cleared his throat and grabbed the towel, thrusting it at Spencer.
“Would you cover up?”
“Would you not scare people who have already almost died half a dozen times today?” Spencer re-tied the towel around his waist and gathered up his clothes.
“Maybe quit almost dying then,” Max suggested.
“God.” Spencer puffed out a breath and shook his head, then straightened and shouldered Max out of the way. He dumped all his clothes into the dryer and slammed the lid closed.
“I have some stuff too.” He held out his shirt and jacket.
Spencer glared at him and stomped into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him. Max waited until he heard the shower curtain open and close, then he paused the dryer and added his clothes to the mix. He had half a mind to start a wash cycle just to ruin the hot water for Spencer’s shower, but he didn’t want the kid to come down with pneumonia or anything.
Max returned to the living room and wandered into the kitchen, pulling open drawers and cabinets in an attempt to garner what information he could about Collin. He didn’t know why he cared. Collin was sexy, that was a given, but he didn’t like Max, and Max couldn’t blame him for that. He’d been acting like a dick since they started the trip, and that was his own deal, no one else’s.
A thunderclap rolled outside so loud, it sounded like an earthquake, and Max glanced up at the ceiling, wondering if it would withstand the storm. The lights flickered and something bumped the back of his leg. He swatted his hand behind him and spun on his heel, stumbling back into the refrigerator, hoping it wasn’t a raccoon or a coyote seeking shelter from the storm.
“Mehhhhh.”
It was a goat.
“Mehhhhh.”
With a collar.
“Mehhhh.”
And three legs.
The goat headbutted him again, and Max squatted down, reaching for the collar around his neck. It had a little bell and a heart-shaped pendant attached to it with the name Robert in delicate script.
“Is your name Robert?” he asked the goat, trying not to stare too long at his weird little rectangular pupil in its one remaining eye. He patted the goat’s head and stood up. “Spencer is gonna be thrilled to meet you.”
The water in the shower turned off, and Max glanced down the hallway. No other sound came from the bathroom for a ridiculously long amount of time. Max began to worry that Spencer had managed to somehow kill himself in the safety of Collin’s house. Maybe he’d fallen and tangled in the curtain, or slipped and banged his head.
“Spencer?” he called, not wanting to venture down the hallway for fear of seeing him naked again.
“Uhm…” Spencer’s tentative answer filtered out from the bathroom along with a rush of steam. Max shivered, chilled from his wet clothes and well aware of how much he now wanted a hot shower of his own.
“You all right?”
“I don’t have any clothes.”
Right. Shit. All their stuff was busy being ruined in the storm.
Max scrubbed his hands over his face and looked to Robert for help. Robert did not help.
“Can you just use the towel?” he asked.
“It’s fucking cold and I don’t wan
t to be naked around you.”
“A towel isn’t naked.”
“Max!” Spencer cried. Max thought he might have heard a foot stomp, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Alright, let me see what I can find.”
Max headed down the hallway, and as he approached, Spencer pulled the door to the bathroom closed. Max blinked the pale white skin of Spencer’s chest out of his memory and tried the only other door in the hallway, hoping it was Collin’s bedroom.
It was.
The room was decorated much like the man, with dark earthy tones and little frills. It was exactly what Max would have picked for the serious mountain guide, and he dragged his finger over the top of Collin’s pine dresser, wondering what Spencer’s bedroom looked like.
He thought of his own bedroom and the way Trent had decorated it and picked all the pieces out. It wasn’t him, and it hadn’t ever been him. He made a mental commitment to refurbishing his house as soon as he made it off this godforsaken mountain.
Max didn’t like the idea of going through Collin’s things, but he didn’t see a robe or anything that he could offer to Spencer after minimal intrusion. He took a deep breath and yanked open one of the drawers, then sent up a silent prayer of thanks when it looked like a junk clothes drawer, stuffed to the brim with sweatpants and t-shirts.
He grabbed one of each and shoved the drawer closed, then went back down the hallway and rapped his knuckles against the bathroom door. It cracked open, Spencer’s eye peering out nervously.
“Here,” Max said, shoving the clothes through the small space Spencer had allowed him.
“Whose clothes are these?” Spencer asked.
“Collin’s, I assume, since he’s the only one who has anything dry around here.”
“Where did you find his clothes?” Spencer arched a speculative brow.
“In his bedroom. Do you want them or not?”
Spencer glared at him and closed the door. A minute later, it reopened, Spencer’s hand flitting nervously around his midsection as he held a fistful of sweatpants between his fingers.