She looked up from her computer. “Sure thing. Maybe swing by Lake Sports on your way home. Jackson has those papers ready for your signature.”
I nodded and headed out, pulling into the lot in front of the sports store before walking past the colorful row of kayaks to head inside. As usual this time of year, the place was hopping. Snowmelt made for big water, which brought kayakers and white water rafters out earlier than the hikers and climbers. Thanks to snow sports, river runs in the spring, and the summer tourist season with Yellowstone visitors, Lake and Jackson managed to do good business most of the year.
Past a rack of new Majestic and Yellowstone T-shirts, Lake McNair was unboxing sporty water bottles with a familiar cycling company logo on them. When he saw me, his face lit up. “You didn’t need to come down. Jackson was going to bring the papers by in a little bit.”
“I’m on my way home and figured I’d stop by. Is he in the office?”
“Yeah. This way.” He directed me toward the back and walked with me. “Saw your handsome husband a little while ago. He was in here buying us out of footwear.”
My heart did its usual little blip at the use of the word husband in relation to me. In relation to Silas. “Oh?”
He nodded. “Got a nice pair of Zamberlans for hiking. For riding…” He glanced sideways at me. “I hope you don’t mind, but I talked him into a proper cowboy boot. He wanted something short, but…”
I winced. “No. Too many snakes and brambles and shit.”
“Right. That’s what I said. Told him you’d tear me a new one if I sent him home with shitty boots.”
I wondered if it really mattered. If Silas would stick around long enough to get any good use from a pair of good boots. Even though his interference in town had been bugging the hell out of me, the thought of him going back East made me feel slightly nauseous.
When we entered Jackson’s office, he was frowning at his computer. Lake gestured me to the chair opposite the desk. “Babe, Waylon’s here to sign the papers for AdventureSmash.”
Jackson’s entire face transformed when he shifted his attention from work to his husband. I’d always been a little envious of their relationship, assuming I wished for the same passionate devotion someday. But now I wondered. Was there something about the fact both of them were men that made me envious? Had my subconscious somehow known I had an attraction to men that went deeper than mere curiosity? Was I envious of their relationship, or could I be attracted to one or both of them?
I shifted nervously while doubts and confusion tumbled helplessly through my brain. Thankfully, the paperwork for their shop extension during the AdventureSmash exhibition was simple enough not to require multiple read-throughs. I signed it quickly and stood up.
“You’re all set,” I said stupidly.
Jackson frowned. “You okay?”
“Yeah, ’course.”
He and Lake exchanged a look, but I didn’t stick around long enough to interpret it. “Sorry, I’m due at the ranch,” I mumbled on my way out.
For once, the drive home was too short. I wondered for the hundredth time whether asking Silas to stick around had been the best idea ever or the worst. The addition of my mental stress with him here seemed to have multiplied my responsibilities. Maybe it was time to face facts and admit that Foster was right: my divorce was going to cause drama regardless of when it happened. Why not go ahead and bite the bullet so I could get past this confusion and frustration that much quicker?
When I pulled up to the barn, the first thing I saw was Silas’s broad back and muscular shoulders, golden brown in the sun. He was wearing one of my utilitarian tank tops, shoved haphazardly into a pair of jeans. Unlike the pair he’d worn when he’d arrived in Majestic, these jeans fit him as perfectly as if they’d been tailored by the god of ass and thigh.
I stared at him for a full minute as he leaned against the fence, watching Natana work in the ring with Letty. Bunny stood close to him inside the paddock, nosing his biceps periodically to remind him she was a good girl who deserved treats and kisses.
He reached out to run teasing fingers along her cheek and down her nose without taking his eyes off Natana as she moved to stand on Letty’s saddle. It was obvious Silas was comfortable with horses, which made little sense for a man from the city.
My annoyance with his meddling melted like spring frost in full sun. For some reason, just looking at him had the capacity to completely derail me.
Was this what it was like to meet a cult leader? Where suddenly your rational brain, a lifetime of lived experience, and even your gut completely abandoned you, leaving you at the mercy of a charismatic stun gun?
I watched as he let out a loud whoop as Natana successfully jumped from the saddle, somersaulting in midair before landing on her feet. She turned and grinned at him before taking a dramatic bow with her hands outstretched. Natana Whiteplume really was a beautiful woman, and maybe I’d missed an incredible opportunity by never asking her out. But watching her flushed and happy, enjoying her biggest passion in life, was nothing compared to the feeling I got from simply glancing at Silas Concannon’s back.
If I’d ever found Lake McNair or Jackson Painter attractive, it was nothing compared to how I found Silas. I was stupid for him. Completely and utterly in thrall. Lust was a stronger power than I’d ever imagined or experienced before.
As I stepped out of my truck and began walking toward him, a warm breeze brought with it the familiar scents of hay, horse, and sunshine. Despite my annoyance, all I could think about was taking Silas home and getting him naked. Licking every bare inch of him and sucking his cock into my mouth. Grabbing his ass and grinding into him until I could mark his belly with my cum. Leaving his mouth raw and red from beard burn and yanking his hair until it stood on end.
When he turned around, his easy smile faded instantly to a neutral expression. “Hi.”
My stomach curdled with nerves. “Hey.”
Silas’s eyes flicked briefly toward Natana before he moved toward me and pulled me into his arms and kissed me. It was awkward and performative, stiff and meaningless.
I wanted to scream and rail. Hell, I wanted to punch him in the fucking face.