Wild Trail

by A. M. Arthur

  And Wes really did need to get out. He’d stopped socializing almost completely, except with his coworkers. He and Miles led a quiet existence in the apartment, chatting about surface stuff only, as if Miles could sense how off Wes had been since the ranch, and he didn’t want to upset the balance by peppering Wes with questions or attention. And, Wes realized as he contemplated his outfit, he’d been so self-absorbed that he’d never bugged Miles about his weird mood at the ranch. But Miles seemed happy again, back at work, so Wes let it go.

  Maybe I’m not the only one allergic to sunshine and dirt.

  “Oh God, you’re not this out of practice.” Sophie stomped into his closet and grabbed a green, sleeveless tee with the word Flirt stitched on it in sequins. “Wear this. Black jeans, and those tie-up boots. Now hurry up, the night is wasting.”

  “For someone who isn’t married yet, you’re getting really good at the whole barking orders thing,” Wes said.

  “And for someone who swore off relationships, you’re really good at this whole pining with a broken heart thing.”

  Wes growled, then started changing his clothes. He even took a minute to style his hair and put on some eyeliner. It always made his blue eyes pop when he lined them, and even though he wasn’t sure he was in the mood for a hookup, a little bit of flirting and heavy grinding might pull him out of his post-Mack funk. Prove to himself he was still desirable, damn it.

  Sophie drove her car, and all too soon they were walking into the techno-beat of Club Base, a familiar hunting ground for queer men of all persuasions. Since Wes wasn’t driving, he ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. Sophie got her usual chocolate martini to sip. She was unusually attached to her phone as they nursed their drinks near the outskirts of the dancing crowd. Whatever. Conrad probably wanted her checking in every hour, on the hour.

  They might be at a gay bar, but it wasn’t totally unheard of for creepy straight guys to hang out and try to mack on the ladies.

  Good God, don’t think the word mack.

  Wes surveyed the pickings, noting a hell of a lot of hot faces and bodies out there, but nothing really got him going. He decided alcohol was the key to getting in the mood, downed his first drink, then went back for a second. Drowning his feelings in the pleasantly strong drinks definitely helped. He’d finished his second by the time Sophie sipped her way through the martini. They both deposited their glasses, and then headed for the floor.

  Dancing came as naturally to Wes as acting, and even though he’d never been professionally trained, he’d busted a few awesome moves during high school musical theater, and it definitely helped at his current night job. It wasn’t long before he and Sophie became the center of attention of a small crowd of men, plus two women. Wes wasn’t sure if they were lesbians or straight BFFs, and he didn’t really care. He danced with whoever was pressed against his front or back at the moment, and he started to lose himself in it. To let go and live inside the music.

  Until Sophie’s shrill “Hey! You guys made it!” startled Wes out of the beat.

  He opened his eyes, and then blinked hard, positive he’d had too much to drink. No fucking way were Mack and Colt standing less than two feet away from him.

  Except they totally were, and Sophie’s words hit him right in the gut. “What the hell, Soph?”

  The instant Colt looked at Sophie with a smug smile, Wes knew they’d been set up. Mack, for his part, was glaring at Colt, hands tucked deep in his hella-tight jeans. Hella-tight jeans that showed off his ass and package, just like his hella-tight T-shirt showed off that broad, sculpted chest and—nope.

  Don’t go there. He’s not interested.

  “You two need to talk and get this mess out of your systems,” Sophie said. “Then either fuck it out, or move on, but you’re driving us both nuts.”

  “Excuse me?” Wes pointed a finger at Mack. “He’s the one who dumped me and acted like an asshole about it.”

  “I sent you an email apologizing,” Mack snapped. “You never responded.”

  For a second, Wes blamed the loud dance music on Mack’s words, but no, he’d said them. “I never got an email from you.” Wait, Mack had tried to apologize? “Why did you apologize?”

  Mack started to answer, but a dancer stumbled into him. “Can we talk somewhere else, please?”

  “Go.” Sophie gave Wes a gentle push. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got Colt to protect me.”

  Wes glared at the big, blond cowboy. “Don’t touch my sister.”

  “Don’t worry, pal,” Colt said with a laugh, “she doesn’t have the right equipment.”

  Wes reluctantly followed Mack toward the front of the club, expecting him to head to the bar or something. Instead, Mack led him outside into the hot summer night. Wes was tipsy enough to simply follow, innately trusting Mack, no matter what came next. Mack led him down the block to an all-night diner that Wes had visited dozens of times for greasy food after a night out clubbing.

  Mack ordered them both coffee and a basket of cheese fries the moment their waiter came over. Wes didn’t say anything, not entirely sure why Mack was here, and completely unbothered by the fact that Mack had ordered for him—which was weird, because he didn’t remember telling Mack that cheese fries were one of his favorite guilty pleasures.

  Whatever. Mack had been pretty clear about his feelings back at the ranch, but an email? An email from the ranch...

  “Oh shit,” Wes said. His stomach turned over. “The Sunday after, I got an email from the ranch address, but I figured it was some kind of ‘did you enjoy yourself’ survey, and I deleted it without reading it.”

  “Well, that explains it,” Mack said softly, his usual gruffness gone. “I figured you’d deleted it because you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

  “I didn’t, because you hurt my feelings. Seriously.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  The waiter arrived with their coffee. Mack dumped sugar in his, but Wes simply stared at the steam rising off his cup, his brain at war with itself. He’d spent weeks thinking Mack was done with him, but he’d reached out to apologize? Wes was tempted to check his email trash folder, to prove to himself Mack had actually apologized in that email, but Mack was here. He hadn’t stormed out of the club the minute he spotted Wes. He was making an effort.

  “Tell me why?” Wes asked. “Why’d you act like that on Saturday?”

  Why’d you make me feel like I’m not good enough for you?

  Mack sighed, long and deep, then leaned his elbows on the table. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. I was so busy with paperwork and ranch business all day long, and I spent half that time thinking about you, so it riled me up. I had a head full of steam when it was time to take y’all back to your cars, and I shouldn’t have been so cold to you. I really am sorry. Hell, I was sorry five minutes after I dropped you off. I didn’t want to breach your privacy by calling the number listed in the guest registration. I thought an email would be less intrusive.”

  “And easier to delete.” Wes fiddled with his coffee mug, kind of wishing it was another Long Island Iced Tea. “You really wanted to apologize?”

  “I really did. I hated that you left thinking you were just a piece of ass I used, and then tossed away like you didn’t matter.”

  Wes’s heart turned over hard as Mack hit the nail precisely on the head. “I did feel that way, and I hated you for it. Okay, I didn’t really hate you, but I did think a lot of nasty thoughts about you.”

  Mack’s lips twitched. “All thoughts I probably deserved.”

  “Some more than others. And I’m not too proud to admit my self-esteem took a big hit. I don’t usually open up to people like that.”

  “Guess we should have tried for a more proper talk on Friday night.”

  “Probably.” That lack of conversation was on Wes, too. Maybe if they’d talked, these past three wee
ks wouldn’t have been so miserable.

  “I really am sorry, boss,” Mack said.

  Boss.

  That word hit Wes in the balls. “Apology accepted.”

  The basket of cheese fries arrived, and Wes’s mouth watered for the crispy, cheesy goodness in front of him. This was the stuff he rarely ordered in front of Sophie, because all she’d do was complain about the calories. Hand-cut fries with actual, shredded cheddar cheese melted over top, not that fake cheese sauce from a can. He picked a fry that had some browned, crispy cheese on it and popped it into his mouth.

  “Mmm, missed these.” Wes ate another one, then realized Mack was staring at him with wide, gleaming eyes. As if watching Wes eat was turning him on.

  Interesting.

  “So Colt and Sophie planned this, huh?” Wes asked.

  “Seems like. He had it in his head today that I needed to get back out chasing tail. I figured on dancing my feelings away. Never imagined I’d find you, writhing around like a live wet dream.”

  Wes nearly choked on a fry. “Sophie did the same thing to me. So what now? You’ve apologized. I’ve accepted. Do we eat these fries, and then go our separate ways?”

  Mack’s soft flinch gave Wes hope that this wasn’t a final, happier goodbye. “That what you want?”

  “No.” He didn’t have to think about his answer. Mack made him feel good in ways no one had in a long damned time, and he didn’t want to lose that again. “You?”

  “Would never have sent that email if that’s all I wanted. I know I said it was just vacation fun, but...” Mack shoved a cheesy fry into his mouth, then washed it down with coffee.

  When he tried to do it again, Wes grabbed his wrist. The physical contact settled some part of himself that had been running at top speed for weeks. “But?” Wes repeated.

  “Letting you go hurt more than I thought it would,” Mack told his coffee, “and it hurt because feelings got involved. I think maybe for both of us.”

  “Yeah.” Wes leaned forward, angling his head until Mack finally met his eyes. “The sex was amazing, but it was more than that. For the first time in a long fucking time, I really connected with someone. With you. And I think maybe we’re both so relationship-shy, that we had a hard time admitting it to each other before I left.”

  “You’re right.”

  Mack has feelings for me. Holy shit.

  “So what now?” Wes asked, surprised by the way his voice cracked. “Do we stay friends, or do we try this long-distance dating thing?”

  “It’s been five years since I dated anyone. Not sure I remember how.”

  The soft, tentative fear in Mack’s voice made Wes squeeze his wrist. Mack turned his hand so they were palm to palm, fingers laced together. The touch felt right. They felt right together.

  “Well,” Wes said, “I haven’t dated anyone in seven years, so I think I win the Sad Sack Award.”

  Mack’s gentle laughter cut through the seriousness of the moment, exactly as Wes hoped it would. “To be fair in handing out that award, your ex dumped you because he was a closeted asshole who couldn’t see a good thing right in front of him.” Wes didn’t have time to preen over the compliment, because Mack dropped the mother of all truth-bombs on the table. “My ex died.”

  Wes’s free hand jerked, nearly tipping over his coffee mug. “Shit, what? You never mentioned that before.”

  “It’s not something I tell most people. Hurts too much. People ask questions, try to offer years-late condolences. It’s easier simply to call him an ex, rather than say he passed.”

  “I can imagine.” Wes squeezed his hand tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks. Everyone is.”

  Yeah, he’d just said he was tired of all the sympathy. “So when you said you left LA because of your ex, you left to escape the pain of his death?”

  “For the most part. And I was pissed because of how he died. It shouldn’t have happened.”

  Wes ventured a guess. “Illness?”

  “No, he was shot and killed because my SWAT team leader fucked up a job.”

  A chill jolted down Wes’s spine at the venom in Mack’s voice. Wes didn’t encourage him, only waited to see if Mack would tell him more, or shut down the conversation. It wasn’t a story Wes had expected to get at a diner, at eleven-whatever at night.

  “Geoff worked at a big bank branch in Culver City, and he’d just transferred to another branch in North Hollywood. I hadn’t told anyone at work yet, because if I had, my team probably wouldn’t have been sent in when we got the call that robbers had taken the place hostage.”

  “Oh shit.” Wes couldn’t stop the remark if he’d tried.

  “Colt and I were on the same team, and when we got there, we both panicked. I didn’t tell my team leader my lover was in that bank, I was too focused on getting him out safely. I also didn’t agree with the tactical strategy we were given to rescue the hostages and take down the robbers. Something in my gut felt wrong the whole time, but we went in. Long story short, two of the tellers got shot by friendly fire, including Geoff.”

  Mack looked up, his dark eyes swimming in grief. “He didn’t make it.”

  “Jesus, Mack, I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

  “Yeah.”

  The waiter breezed by to refill their coffee, and thankfully, didn’t stay long. Wes wanted to haul Mack into a hug and hold him until he felt better, but there was no hugging away that kind of pain. Losing a loved one so violently, feeling responsible somehow for not demanding his superior alter the plan. So Wes stayed put, trying to send Mack his thoughts through their joined hands.

  “Thank you for being honest with me,” Wes said.

  “Figured I owed you that much, especially since you were honest with me about Drake.”

  “Yeah, but... Jesus, no wonder you left and came here.”

  “It’s also how I can afford to renovate the ghost town. I sued the city and county for wrongful death. The settlement money is what’s paying for the project. I think Geoff would be happy about that.”

  “Wow. That’s...wow. Wait, you said friendly fire?” Wes’s grief for Mack turned to horror. “Did they tell you who?”

  “No, the brass kept that under lock and key. We were all on administrative leave while the investigation was under way, and eventually the entire team was reassigned, so there was never any clear-cut answer. Not even the press found out who, because so much of that shit is kept internal.”

  Some of Wes’s horror shifted into anger. “I can’t believe that. Whoever killed Geoff should have been arrested and charged. Jesus.”

  “The thin blue line.” Mack snorted. “Cops protect their own, especially when we fuck up in such a spectacularly public way. Promise me you will never work in a bank.”

  The heavy emotion in Mack’s voice and eyes made Wes’s chest burn. “Promise.”

  Wes’s phone buzzed with a text at almost the same moment as Mack’s. They held each other’s gaze a beat, and then reached for their phones.

  Sophie: Heading home. Have fun and be safe!

  The hell? She’s my ride.

  “Fucking Colt,” Mack said.

  “Let me guess. Colt went home and stranded you here?”

  Mack looked up from glaring at his phone. “You, too?”

  “At least I’m a ten-minute taxi ride to my place. Colt really stranded you?”

  “Yes. Asshole.”

  “Those two put some serious planning into this.”

  Mack grunted. “Guess they figured if we spent more than five minutes in each other’s company, that we’d made up.”

  “They did figure that right, so points to them?”

  “I’m going to kill Colt for this.”

  Wes tried to keep his hurt off his face. “So being stranded in the city with me is that awful?”

&nb
sp; Mack blinked hard several times. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just gonna be fucking expensive to take a cab that far.”

  The words popped out before Wes could think twice. “Then spend the night at my place. I’ll drive you back in the morning.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The offer sounded innocent enough, but Mack saw the flirtation in Wes’s crooked smile and bright eyes. And why not? They were back in a good place after weeks of being silently at odds, and now that Mack had made peace with Wes, he could breathe properly again. He hadn’t brought Wes to the diner with the expectation of talking about Geoff’s death, but he wanted Wes to know about that. In some ways, he’d needed Wes to know, so he could understand.

  Mack was taking a metaphorical leap off a cliff by...dating? By doing whatever this was with Wes, and Wes seemed to get it. They both had very bruised hearts and very real reasons to doubt this would work. But something about Wes drew him in, and hell if Mack didn’t want to try.

  “Okay,” Mack said. “Let’s go to your place.”

  He paid the check, while Wes went outside to hail them a taxi. The ride was nearly silent, Mack’s skin buzzing with anticipation. Neither one of them had said sex was on the table, but goddamn if Mack didn’t hope they ended up naked in Wes’s bed at some point tonight.

  Wes paid the driver, and then led him into a decent building in a relatively safe neighborhood. Mack liked knowing Wes could afford a good place, instead of taking chances living in a more dangerous, if cheaper, area.

  “In case you forgot,” Wes said in the elevator, “I do have a roommate, but he’ll probably be asleep.”

  It dinged like a bell. “Miles, right?”

  “Yeah, we’ve lived together for a little over a year. And he knows about us sleeping together at the ranch, so even if he’s awake, it’ll be cool.”

  “If somewhat shocking to see me?”

  “Probably, yes.”

  Wes led him to the appropriate door and unlocked it. The small living room was empty, a single table lamp left on. An equally small kitchen was to the right, and directly ahead was a short hallway with three doors. One of them was shut. The apartment had a flea market chic feel to it, with mismatched furniture and brightly colored, abstract wall hangings.