Page 14 of Whiskey and Wildfire

My breath caught in my throat. We were sitting closer than I’d realized, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. The air between us seemed charged with electricity.

“Dakota,” I started, not sure what I wanted to say, but knowing I needed to say something. The moment felt fragile, like it could shatter if I made the wrong move.

Dakota’s eyes held mine, patient and steady. “Yeah?”

My heart raced. I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I... I’m glad you’re here. With us on this drive, I mean. And... here now.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

We sat there for a long moment, just looking at each other. I felt drawn to him, like a magnet pulling me closer. Almost without realizing it, I started to lean in.

Dakota’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away. My gaze dropped to his lips, full and inviting in the moonlight. Just a few more inches and...

“Logan! Dakota!” Beau’s voice rang out over the prairie.

Then, rising up behind him, were dozens of coyotes howling into the night. Already I could hear the spooked moos of the cattle behind them.

“I fucking hate cattle drives…” I murmured, looking over at Dakota with a grin.

“Come on,” Dakota sighed, pulling himself up and holding out a hand to me. “We just have to keep them alive for a couple of days and then we’ll get to rest.”

I took his hand, my cheeks flushing with heat. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Chapter 6

Logan

By the time we finally crawled into the tent, it was well into the early hours of the morning. The coyotes had harassed the cattle all night, and I was so exhausted from chasing them away that I could barely see straight. All three of us decided to go to bed at the same time considering dawn was only an hour or two away. We didn’t have long to sleep anyway before another grueling day on the trail. The only good news was, we were getting close to home now. Another day or two and we’d be done at last.

The moment I got in the tent, I stripped down to my underwear and crawled into the sleeping bag without a second thought. However, when the tent flap opened and Dakota stepped inside, I realized I’d made a mistake.

In my exhausted haze I’d forgotten all about the fact that we were still sharing a tent.

Dakota paused in the entrance, his silhouette framed by the fading moonlight. For a moment, neither of us moved. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, suddenly wide awake despite my bone-deep exhaustion.

He cleared his throat softly. “Sorry, I can wait outside if you need a minute.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said quickly, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. “I just... forgot we were sharing. Come on in. I can put some clothes back on.”

“It’s fine,” he replied without missing a beat. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

A streak of jealousy flashed through my veins as I imagined him with another man. Then I checked myself. Not only was it not my place to feel possessive of him, but he was probably just talking about his own body. We were both guys after all. How different could we really be?

“Alright,” I murmured, keeping my back to him.

Dakota hesitated for another heartbeat before ducking inside and zipping the tent flap closed behind him. The small space suddenly felt impossibly intimate as he settled onto the sleeping bag beside me. I could smell the scent of leather and sage that always clung to him, mixed with sweat from the long night’s work. None of us had bathed in days and yet, he still smelled pleasant.

“Rough night,” he murmured, his low voice rumbling in the small space.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “Those coyotes were relentless.”

I could hear Dakota shifting beside me, the rustle of fabric as he removed his boots and outer layers. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. I kept my eyes fixed on the canvas wall of the tent, afraid to turn and face him.

“You did good out there,” Dakota said softly. “Not many cowboys could handle a night like that. And you put them all to shame.”

I felt a flush of pride at his words, mixed with a twinge of annoyance at being called a “cowboy.” But I couldn’t deny the truth of it. I’d grown up on the ranch after all. Despite whatever Iwished to be true, ranching was in my blood. I was raised in this life and while I didn’t like it, that’s who I was.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. “I’m just glad it’s almost over. I don’t know how you do this all the time.”

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