Page 9 of Something Unavoidable

Things went more smoothly the second time around. She was woozy, her eyes half lidded and her head drooping, but she was otherwise agreeable. After a twenty-minute soak, Keegan got her hooves packed and wrapped, while Izzy kept her still. Working on a horse so small was awkward with all the bending and crouching, and his back and knees ached by the time he was done. Welcome to forty.

With all three horses in their stalls and fed the limited amount Keegan felt safe giving them, he collected his gear. He would have to restock a few things before he came back. “They’ll need to be fed again around two a.m.,” he reminded Izzy as he made one last check that he had everything.

He caught the face Izzy made out of the corner of his eye.

“Is that going to be a problem?”

Izzy gave a lazy shrug and stuck his hands in his pockets. “What if I have…” He paused, then drawled, “Plans?”

Plans. As if Keegan didn’t know what Izzy spent his nights doing. Hell, most of the town probably knew. Izzy wasn’t subtle with his fuckboy antics.

It had been a long day, and Keegan’s patience had been tenuous for too long. “Cancel them,” he said, flatly. “I’m sure your…friends will survive without you for a few nights.”

Izzy’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t miss a beat. “And waste a freshly waxed asshole?” he asked, laying on the drama. “But then, I guess you wouldn’t understand since rumor has it the only assholes in your bed have four legs and a tail.”

Izzy was probably looking for a dramatic reaction, but instead, Keegan snorted with amusement. “If that was an offer, I’m going to have to pass. You and your waxed asshole are on your own tonight.”

Izzy’s face did something complicated before he schooled it into a mocking half smile. “Trust me, if an offer were on the table, there wouldn’t be any confusion.”

Keegan rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“No need,” Izzy threw back. “I’d pay someone before I let you anywhere near my ass.”

Keegan barked out a laugh. “As if anyone would take your money.”

Izzy sucked in a breath.

It took a moment for Keegan to register how that had sounded. Great. He shut his eyes and scrubbed his face. “I’m too tired for this,” he muttered. “Why do you have to take everything I say in the worst way possible?”

“Is there some other way I was supposed to take it?” Outrage was thick in Izzy’s voice, but Keegan thought he could detect hurt under it.

“How about as a compliment?” Keegan asked. “All I meant was that guys who look like you don’t pay for sex.”

Izzy was eyeing him like he’d grown a second head. “So, what? We’re stereotyping sex workers and their clients now?”

Keegan wanted to bang his head against the wall. “It was a fucking joke, Izzy. Just forget it.” He picked up his bag and headed for his truck. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What?” Izzy yelped, his voice cracking. “Tomorrow? Why?”

Keegan stopped, even though he really wanted to ignore the question, get in his car, and drive home to his dogs—who, to be fair, had probably taken over his bed while he was gone. “Do you want to deal with that little demon without sedatives?”

Izzy swore.

Yeah. That’s what Keegan thought. He could only hope the pony healed fast, because if it went on too long—no matter what Ryan wanted—neither he nor Izzy were going to come out of it unscathed.

Judgmental prick.

Four days caring for the rescues, and Izzy was one sideways look away from breaking shit. Starting with Keegan Reid’s perfect, stubbled jawline.

Why did he have to be so fucking attractive? The guy checked way too many of Izzy’s boxes, from his reddish-blond hair that was always tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed, to his perfect stubble and muscular neck. His broad chest. Trim waist. Big…hands.Fuck. Okay. So Izzy had maybe, accidentally, checked out his package. It was habit. That wasn’t the point. The point was, looking at him was bad for Izzy’s mental health.

He was blaming sexual frustration for any errant thoughts. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone this long without some kind of human contact. It wasn’t even about sex at this point, just someone’s appreciative hands on his skin while they danced, or an arm wrapped tight around him at the bar. Izzy thrived on touch. It was his love language, same as Micah, which was part of why they got along so well.

Maybe he could convince Micah to go out with him later. If Ryan or Nick drove them, Izzy could wrangle a quick bathroom hookup and still have a ride home to feed the rescues before bed.

Problem-solving. He was good at it when he needed to be. And after more than half a week of solitude, he needed to be.

Screw you and your judgment, Keegan Reid.

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