Wild Trail

by A. M. Arthur

  Reyes was up and in the shower, so Mack fisted his erection and started to jack himself. Closed his eyes and imagined that his fist was Wes’s mouth, with that little silver ball that had driven Mack nuts every time it rolled over his dick. Pretty pink lips stretched around him, wicked blue eyes peering up his body. Wes was walking temptation, and he knew it.

  Mack’s balls drew up tight, and he came in his boxers just as the shower shut off. He wiped his hand on the fabric, then shoved his blankets aside. Reyes exited the small bathroom a moment later in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist.

  In all of the years they’d known each other, Mack had never been attracted to his best friend, but he could appreciate the visual aesthetic of the man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with defined muscles and swaths of bronze skin. But more than that, it was the tattoos that he hid beneath his Clean Slate Ranch polos. Intricate, identical tribal patterns decorated each shoulder and upper bicep; similar patterns wove a circle across his chest and pecs, just below his collarbones; a small sun circled his navel, its individual beams of light stretching out several inches from the center.

  In the small of his back was his first tattoo, inked by an older cousin when Reyes was only fourteen. A gang symbol that had haunted him for years, especially once he’d realized that life only led to violence and death. But more than twenty years later, he still hadn’t changed it or had it removed. Mack tried asking why once, but Reyes refused to talk about it.

  He also refused to talk about the swaths of burn scars on his legs and feet, or the incident that had both put him in the hospital and been the impetus for Reyes quitting his dream job as a firefighter.

  “How’d your date go?” Reyes asked as he reached into his dresser for clothes.

  Mack had been fast asleep whenever Reyes got back to the room last night. “A lot better than I expected it to.”

  “Why’s that?” Reyes dropped the towel and slipped into a pair of boxer briefs.

  “I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t expect him to be a bad lay, but it was...more intense than I thought it would be. More chemistry.”

  “Chemistry is a good thing, pal. Don’t sound so morose about it.”

  Mack shrugged, even though his friend’s back was to him as he kept dressing. “Not morose. Just not looking to start something with the guy.”

  “So don’t start anything. Enjoy your chemistry while he’s here, and then say goodbye.”

  Nothing was ever that simple, especially when chemistry and feelings got involved. He liked Wes a hell of a lot more than he ought to. Wes was straightforward and strong, and he was loyal to his friends—all very appealing qualities. He was also a firecracker in bed, and that turned Mack’s crank hard. Mack hated passive partners. He liked it when a guy challenged him. And Wes challenged him like no one else ever had.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Mack said.

  He ducked into the bathroom to shower and trim his beard. Wes had enjoyed it rubbing against his skin last night. He got the impression Wes wasn’t into hairy guys as a general rule, so it was nice to be an exception.

  Reyes was sitting in his chair, sipping coffee, when Mack was finally dressed for the day, boots and all. Even though Patrice had plenty of coffee at the guesthouse, the guy needed his fix first thing.

  “You doing the lake trip today?” Mack asked.

  “Yeah, me and Quentin.” Reyes gazed at him over the lip of the coffee mug. “You taking Arthur out to the ghost town?”

  “That’s the plan. Me, him, Colt and Judson are all going out on the ATVs. Gonna map a road out and take a look around. Colt’s not a licensed contractor, but he can give us a good idea of the structures, see what’s sound and not.”

  “You’re taking Judson, too?”

  Mack nodded. It was unusual that both Arthur and Judson were away from the main ranch at the same time, in case someone had an emergency. “Sure. With all the guests out at the lake, won’t be anyone on the ranch who’ll need him.”

  “Well, be careful out there.”

  “We will. Gonna take a shotgun, just in case.” In all of his years, Mack had fired his shotgun exactly once, and that was to scare a coyote away from a group of campers. He’d never actually shot a living creature on that ranch, and he hoped he never had to.

  Reyes finished his coffee, and they headed up to the guesthouse kitchen for breakfast. Mack had worked up quite an appetite after last night, and a big plate of Patrice’s biscuits and sausage gravy was the perfect thing. He resisted peeking into the dining room for a look at Wes. Mostly he wanted to see how red the beard burn on his face was. No real way to explain that to people, unless he lied about allergies, and Mack kind of liked that he’d left a small mark on the guy.

  Except no, he’d left a very real mark on his lower back. He had been ecstatic to discover a new pleasure spot Wes hadn’t seemed to know existed, and tormenting Wes like that was probably his favorite memory of their night together.

  Good luck explaining that bruise if Wes took his shirt off to go swimming in the lake today.

  “What do you look so smug about?” Colt asked. He sidled up to Mack with a bacon and egg sandwich in one hand and coffee in the other.

  “Not a damned thing,” Mack replied. Telling Colt about last night was the fastest way for the entire ranch to find out, and no thank you. “You excited to see the ghost town?”

  “Definitely. Not every day your friend stumbles into a potential historical landmark.”

  “Technically, Wes stumbled into it. I rode in directly.”

  “Pedant. Whatever. You helped discover it, so it’s half yours.”

  Mack snorted around a bite of biscuit. “It’s on Arthur’s land, so it’s actually his ghost town.”

  “Garrett Ghost Town. I like it.” Colt sipped at his coffee. “So you do the city slicker yet?”

  “You are unhealthily obsessed with my sex life.”

  “That wasn’t a no.”

  “It wasn’t a yes, either. Eat your food and stop yakking, so we can get on the road.”

  “‘Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.’”

  Reyes started laughing, and it took Mack a minute to place the quote to Back to the Future.

  “Ha ha, funny guy,” Mack said.

  They all finished eating and went their separate ways: Reyes to get ready for the lake trip, and Colt and Mack over to the shed where they kept the ATVs.

  Arthur and Judson were already there, checking the wheels and gas tanks. Judson had a video camera with him, the kind that could take still photos while recording. Colt strapped a small toolbox to the back of his machine. Arthur had the shotgun. Mack unfolded a small paper map that he’d drawn yesterday, certain he could follow it and get them to the town butting up to the back forty.

  Once they were ready to go, Mack led the way to the north, careful to keep his eyes off the guesthouse as they passed within range. The beating sun already promised another hot day, and he wiped sweat off his forehead a handful of times as he navigated the terrain. Wouldn’t be too hard to put in a proper road to the town’s location. Probably connect it to the ranch road south of the actual buildings, so ranch guests weren’t disrupted by ghost town guests.

  If the restoration plan was even possible. No sense in getting ahead of the game.

  Mack guessed the trip was about three miles by the time the valley came into view, the remains of the town rising up in the distance under the beauty of the mountains behind it. The back forty was a strange piece of land for someone to want to buy, all rocky terrain and wild vegetation.

  He stuck a question into the back of his mind to ask Judson once they stopped.

  They all parked together near the biggest structure, the weathered old building that hadn’t supported Wes’s weight. He glanced at the hole in the porch floorboards, remembering how smooth Wes’s ankle had been in his hands.

>   Colt let out a low whistle as he surveyed the town. “This is amazing.”

  “Certainly is an unexpected sight,” Arthur replied. “My word.”

  Now that Mack wasn’t worrying about the safety of a guest, he took a minute to really look at the place. To try and imagine it a hundred-plus years ago, with horses on the hitching post, and people wandering the dusty street. He walked to a listing shack a few yards from the big building and shined a flashlight inside. Big iron anvil, rusty old tools on the walls. A pile of horseshoes.

  “Looks like a blacksmith shop,” Mack said to no one in particular. Back then, every town had one.

  Judson wandered over with the video camera and pointed it into the little shack. “This is amazing. Like they just up and left one day, no mind to take their stuff.”

  “Makes you wonder what happened for people to have abandoned it.”

  “It really does.”

  That tucked-away thought sprang forward. “The buyer who keeps offering on the back forty,” Mack said. “Did that offer include this piece of the property?”

  Judson frowned. “If I’m remembering the acreage correctly, the property line is about a quarter-mile farther north. Close, but not part of the package. Why?”

  “Curious is all.”

  All in all, after spending more than two hours exploring, they discovered seven buildings still standing, and the foundations of at least eight more that nature had long since torn down. Even found what had once been the town’s well, a deep hole in the ground surrounded by crumbling stones.

  Colt determined that most of the buildings could potentially be restored and reinforced for safety, but he had no idea what something like that would cost. “You need to get some folks out here, draw up plans, make some bids on the work. Maybe even hire a historian to help make sure this ends up as accurate as possible, if you wanna go the tourist attraction route.”

  “Not sure yet,” Arthur said, absently stroking his chin. “It’s got potential for sure, but the money’s the problem.”

  “What if I told you I knew of an investor who’s willing to put into this plan?” Mack asked. “That they see the potential here to bring more money to not only the ranch, but also to the town of Garrett itself.”

  Arthur gaped at him. “How did you find an investor in less than twenty-four hours?”

  Uncertain how this truth bomb was going to land, Mack went all in and said, “Because it’s me. I have the money.”

  “Dude, this isn’t a ten grand project,” Colt said. “This is up in the six figures, minimum.”

  “I have the money,” Mack repeated. He held Colt’s gaze. “The lawsuit settled last year. I put the money in the bank and haven’t touched it.”

  Colt’s eyebrows shot up. “Fuck, Mack, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone.” He chanced a look at Arthur, who was staring at him with open confusion. “After Geoff died, I sued the city and the department for wrongful death. I knew no amount of money would bring him back, but I wanted to make a goddamn point. I refused to settle out of court, but I did keep it out of the papers.

  “Granddad, I want to do this. I really believe this project could rejuvenate the town. I don’t want to see Garrett die off and become another ghost town. The money is just sitting in a bank account, and I’d rather use it for something good than let it keep drawing interest. And I think Geoff would agree.”

  Arthur’s eyes got shiny and wet, and he let out a loud cough. “Sounds like you’ve got your heart set on this.”

  “I kind of do.” Mack grinned. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’ve got yourself a ghost town.”

  Colt whooped.

  “I’ll call Barney,” Arthur said. Barney Coffey, the only lawyer left within twenty miles. “We’ll set up the paperwork the right way from the start.”

  “Sounds great,” Mack replied. “I’ll do my best to work this project around my duties at the ranch.”

  “Don’t worry too much about that right now. Once you get this project rolling, something tells me you won’t have much time for the ranch, and that’s just fine. Quentin and the boys can handle it.”

  They’d figure out those details later. Mack didn’t want to give up working on the ranch, but Arthur made a good point. And if Mack wanted this done to his satisfaction, he’d need to give it his full attention.

  His life had just taken a big turn toward something new—all thanks to a sassy city slicker named Wes Bentley.

  * * *

  “Incoming!”

  Wes looked up in time to see Miller take a flying leap off the rope and hit the lake with a big splash. Wes threw a hand up to protect his eyes from the spraying water and used the other to keep himself afloat in the roiling lake.

  The whole group of guests had followed Reyes and Quentin down a long trail for a morning at the lake, and Wes was in heaven. The water was just cold enough, with a gorgeous mountain backdrop and big open skies. He’d been excited to swim, even though he did keep his tank top on to hide the spectacular hickey Mack had left on his back last night.

  Joey and Andy were having fun playing at the water’s edge, and watching the brothers goof off was almost as fun as swimming. Wes wasn’t much for kids, but they were kind of adorable. And their moms were supercool and patient with them.

  Everyone had gotten into the water at some point or another, except for Miles. He’d spent an hour wandering within eyesight, snapping pictures, before parking his butt under a tree and staying there.

  Wes’s stomach growled. Reyes said the group would head back at lunchtime, so it had to be getting close. He swam to shore and hauled his dripping self out of the water. Took a second to shake out his hair and wring out his shirt.

  Miles silently handed him a towel.

  “Thanks,” Wes said, rubbing the terrycloth over his head. “I can’t believe you don’t want to swim. The water feels amazing.”

  “Not feeling it today,” Miles replied.

  “You feel sick?” He put the back of his hand over Miles’s forehead.

  Miles swatted his hand away. “I’m not sick, it’s just a headache. Okay?”

  Wes second-guessed waiting until they got home to figure out what was really wrong with Miles, but Quentin blew a whistle.

  “Time to get ready to head back,” he shouted at the people in the water.

  A lot of groans went up, followed by splashing.

  “When we get back,” Wes said, “see if Patrice has any aspirin you can take.”

  Miles rolled his eyes. “Yes, mother.”

  “I’m serious. You’re missing out on fun stuff, dude.”

  Sophie bounced over and shook her hair out, splattering them both with water droplets. Miles yelped and covered his camera.

  “Sorry,” she said as she snagged a towel from the pile. “Oh my God, that was so much fun. I’ve never swum in a real lake before. Ocean and pools, yes, but not a lake.”

  “Water is water,” Miles said.

  “Party pooper. You didn’t even swim.”

  “I don’t like to swim, okay? Geez.” Miles stood and stalked a few feet away, arms over his chest.

  Sophie turned wide eyes onto Wes. “What’s eating him today?”

  “I don’t know. He said he has a headache, so maybe he really does. Hopefully he’ll chill out this afternoon.”

  “I hope so.”

  Wes also hoped that was all that was bothering Miles. His overall mood this week had fluctuated a lot, but today Miles seemed flat-out grumpy and antisocial. Maybe he’d just had too much sunshine and fresh air.

  He found his sneakers. Dried his feet and slipped them on for the hike back to the ranch. He was crazy hungry by the time they all got to the guesthouse. Patrice had a laundry basket for everyone to dump their wet towels into as they came inside. Wes stee
red himself straight for the familiar lunchtime buffet of sandwiches and cold salads.

  He settled at the table with his food, his friends joining him quickly with their own meals. He was halfway through a turkey and cheese on rye when he realized Miles wasn’t at the table. Miles didn’t appear at all for lunch, and after he’d eaten, Wes trotted upstairs to their room.

  Miles was on his bunk, back to the room.

  “Miles?” he asked quietly, unsure if the guy was asleep or not.

  No answer, so he must be napping. Concerned, Wes went back downstairs and found Patrice. Told her his concerns. She promised to check on Miles in a little while with some aspirin and crackers, so he didn’t take them on an empty stomach.

  The ranch itinerary had a voluntary horse trail ride that started at two, which gave Wes over an hour to try and stalk Mack. He hadn’t seen the man all morning, except for a brief glimpse of his back as he rode off on an ATV. Probably to explore the ghost town Wes found. The ATVs had rumbled back into the area while Wes was eating, so Mack was somewhere on the grounds.

  He took his chance on the barn. Mack’s office was empty, so he wandered through, petting the horses who came over to say hello. He stopped at Blizzard’s stall and stroked her long forehead. Let her nibble at his empty palm. He should have brought her a carrot or something.

  “I guess you technically found the ghost town, didn’t you?” Wes asked. “You just dragged me along with you.”

  “Think I should name the town after her, then?” Mack’s voice directly behind him made Wes yelp in an undignified way.

  Wes spun, his pulse racing both from the fright, and from Mack’s general proximity. “A ghost town in Northern California named Blizzard? Think that’ll attract a lot of tourists?”

  “You never know.”

  “Hey, how come you get to name the town?”

  “Because I’m the one investing in restoring it.”

  “You what?” Wes blinked hard at the guy. “Why the hell do you work on a ranch if you’ve got that kind of money lying around?”