by A. M. Arthur
Colt couldn’t hold back a sharp flash of jealousy at their happiness. Sophie, the new bride, beamed up at her husband Conrad Massey. Next to the bride, her brother Wes was dabbing away tears, his usually pale cheeks flushed bright red.
Their obvious love for each other made Colt’s chest hurt more. He had siblings of his own, a thousand miles away in the dusty heart of Texas. Siblings he never saw or spoke to because of the choices Colt had made. Choices he was still living with today.
Colt glanced at the front row of seated attendees, his heart lurching when he spotted Mack’s grinning profile. Familiar dark hair and a trimmed beard Colt would know anywhere, thanks to his eight-year friendship with the man. He longed for Mack to turn his head, seek him out, maybe offer a friendly smile.
Yeah, right.
Despite Colt’s plan to leave Clean Slate, Mack had approached Colt the day after he learned the truth about Geoff’s death. Colt had expected another fight, but Mack told him cowards ran from their problems. Brave men dealt with the consequences. So Colt had stayed. For the last ten weeks, though, Mack had barely said more than hello in passing, and Colt missed his best friend so badly he had trouble sleeping some nights.
Other nights were plagued by nightmares of Colt getting shot in the back two months ago in this dusty old town.
“You know, you’re supposed to smile when people get married,” Robin whispered from his seat next to Colt.
“Fuck off,” Colt whispered back.
Sophie had invited the entire ranch staff to the wedding up at the ghost town. Most of them had RSVPed that they’d go, which had guilted Colt into attending, as well.
Even though being back in that damned ghost town made his skin crawl and his lower back ache. Nearly dying tended to sour a place for a guy.
Derrick, Conrad’s brother and best man, slapped Conrad on the shoulder. Then he and Wes high-fived behind the married couple’s backs—the same kind of camaraderie Colt had once had with Mack.
Music started playing, and everyone rose to clap and cheer as the wedding party walked down the makeshift aisle to the hitched wagon that would take them on a leisurely ride back to the main house. They were all going to change into more comfortable clothes for the outdoor reception. For mid-September the temperatures were still plenty warm.
“Seriously, dude, don’t look so glum,” Robin said as he clapped Colt gently on the shoulder. “Or are you just jealous?”
“Not the marrying type,” Colt snipped back. He’d always been friendly with Robin. Hell, Colt was friendly with every single person who worked at Clean Slate, and he used to be the first one to suggest a poker night, or a trip into the city on a Saturday night to de-stress.
Used to be. Key emphasis.
But ever since Colt’s shooting, he had stuck close to his own cabin, and Robin had made it his life’s mission to engage Colt every chance he got. Colt liked having a friend who regularly sought him out, but sometimes he just wanted to be left alone to wallow, damn it.
“Or the relationship type, I take it.” Robin cracked his knuckles. “In the two years I’ve worked here, I’ve never heard you talk about dating.”
“Too busy being a hero and getting shot, I guess.”
Robin snickered. “You might want to find a less dangerous hobby.”
The wedding guests began to mingle in the ghost town. It was a Saturday morning and a skeleton crew was still at the ranch to see to guests, so there was time for everyone else to explore a bit. Colt would never forget the wonder and awe he’d felt the first time he saw this old town, built in the shadow of a looming mountain.
And discovered by a ranch guest who couldn’t keep control of his horse.
A flash of sleek brown hair snared Colt’s attention. Avery was chatting with Mack and Derrick near the porch, with Avery doing most of the talking. Colt’s heart lurched in that funny way it did on the rare occasion he crossed paths with Avery. The same way it had lurched two weeks after that first guesthouse conversation with Avery, when Colt woke up the day after he was shot in the back protecting the ghost town from vandals, and saw Avery watching him with a tender look on his face.
A look so tender it had nearly broken Colt. A look he’d come to cherish from his Sir, especially when Colt’s skin was alive with the press of rope wrapped up in those beautiful, intricate knots.
A look he longed for still, and one that had also torn open barely healed wounds inside, because it had been so fucking familiar. In that moment—and slightly high on painkillers—he’d wanted Avery back. If he hadn’t just been shot, Colt would have gotten down on his knees and begged Avery’s forgiveness for every sin Colt had ever committed.
And that was exactly why Colt had refused Avery’s offer of friendship. When Mack hadn’t accepted Colt’s resignation and it became clear he and Avery would be working for the same person, Avery had offered a proverbial olive branch. But Colt couldn’t stop at mere friendship. He’d want it all again, and Avery deserved better than a liar. So they’d gone their separate ways again, doing their best to avoid each other now that Avery was at the ranch full time for work.
So far, they’d been successful, but the wedding had thrown not only Mack, but also Avery directly into his path. They were chatting away here at the reception like Colt no longer existed, and that hurt. A lot. He could try to approach them, but a public snub would be embarrassing.
He was still openly staring when Avery glanced up, and he looked right into Colt’s eyes. He looked immediately away, though, and that only fueled the bitterness in Colt’s heart.
Social events like this used to be Colt’s specialty. He’d introduce himself to strangers, chat them up, flirt if appropriate, and entertain himself. Today, he wanted to melt into the ground and pretend the party wasn’t happening. A small tent with drinks and refreshments, as well as relief from the blazing sun, had been erected near the work trailer.
Unlike a traditional reception, guests were getting snacks here, before they’d be taken back to the ranch to hang out until that night’s big barbecue celebration. Not only for Sophie and Conrad’s wedding, but also for Wes, who was a dinner theater actor who’d just scored a small part in a gay zombie movie being filmed in Georgia.
Colt missed his usual Saturday nights of prowling the gay bars of San Francisco, looking for someone to fuck or fuck him, depending on his mood. He hadn’t gone out since before he told Mack the truth. Now, he wasn’t sure his back could take the strain of dancing, or even of the fast, hard fucking he preferred.
The wound had healed perfectly, his doctor had said, but most days Colt still felt pain.
He left Robin behind—I don’t need an escort, thank you very much—and wandered toward the tent to get a drink. No alcohol, but he contented himself with a cold diet cola. A handful of people he didn’t know approached and asked him about the shooting two months ago. Mack and Colt had stumbled over hired goons trying to burn down the remnants of the ghost town to deter Mack from restoring it. Colt politely gave his canned response to that question—“Mack’s a friend; I’d have done it for anyone; at least now we know why the vandals did it”—and tried not to scowl too much.
Scowling was Mack’s thing, anyway, not Colt’s.
Colt cast around the tent, hoping in vain to see Reyes Caldero among the strange faces. Reyes was his only current best friend, and even their relationship had been strained by Colt’s secret. Their easy camaraderie was gone, replaced by polite jokes and casual conversations. Colt didn’t take it too personally. Reyes and Mack had been friends since they were twelve, and of course Reyes would side with Mack in this…non-fight they were having.
But Reyes wasn’t there, because they still had guests at the ranch for a few more hours, and Reyes was head cowboy.
“Hi, Colt,” a soft, masculine voice said.
He turned to look into wide green eyes and a familiar face. Wes’s friend fro
m their vacation stay. Quiet, anxious thing whose name started with an M. “Hey, there.”
“Miles.”
“Right, of course.” Colt pretended to smack himself on the forehead to keep things light. No sense in taking his mood out on Miles, who looked relieved to have found a familiar face. “Enjoying the wedding?”
“It’s fine.” Miles fiddled with a can of orange soda. “I just don’t really know anyone here all that well, except for Mack, and I’m not much of a social person. I work in a kitchen so I can mostly avoid people.”
“I understand. Usually, I’d be out there wooing the crowd with my sparkling charm, but I’m not feeling it today.”
“You must be really sick of people asking about the shooting.”
For a quiet guy, Miles was perceptive. “You have no fucking idea. I just want to forget it happened, and people keep wanting to know the details.”
“I get it. Not being shot, but not wanting to talk about something. Something you want to go away.”
Colt studied Miles a little closer, positive he’d lost some weight since the last time Colt had seen him. Already slender, he looked like a harsh whisper might knock him over, and his eyes carried a lot of shadows. Shadows that were none of Colt’s business. “Then how about we be each other’s wingman,” Colt said, “and pretend we’re having a conversation so the nosy people leave us alone?”
“Deal.” Miles sipped his soda. “Wes is happy that the wedding is finally over, I think. He’s been stressing about it for the last six weeks. Sophie was changing her mind like crazy until she saw pictures of the ghost town getting fixed up. Then she begged Mack in person to have it here. I saw it.”
“Did she hug him when he said yes?”
“Yup.”
“Bet Wes thanked Mack in private later, too.”
Miles’s cheeks reddened. “Our apartment has thin walls.”
Colt laughed. “Tell me more.”
“I’d rather not.” Miles glanced to his right. “Um, Wes told me a little about you and Avery knowing each other in Los Angeles, but is it normal for him to be staring at you so much? He keeps looking this way and seems kind of annoyed.”
“He’s what?” Colt angled his head and his peripheral vision caught that shiny brown hair. Avery and Mack had entered the tent together at some point, and Avery was staring right at him. Eyebrows dipped low, frown line creasing his face. He schooled his features the instant he realized Colt was watching him, but it didn’t erase the memory of that expression.
Was Avery jealous that Colt was talking to Miles? “Just friends” didn’t get to be jealous, did they?
Curious, Colt nudged a little deeper in Miles’s personal space. “So, with Wes leaving the state for a few weeks, you’re going to have your apartment all to yourself.”
“Yeah,” Miles replied, showing no excitement over the idea.
“At least Mack and Wes won’t be keeping you up at night. I swear, when Wes visits, I can hear him moaning between two cabin walls and five feet of dead air.”
Miles snorted laughter. “I don’t doubt it.”
He wasn’t interested in Miles, but the flirting was coming naturally, just like old times. “So are you seeing anyone? You’re too cute to be single.”
Miles’s eyes went wide. He sputtered a bit, and Colt realized he’d embarrassed the kid somehow. Okay, not kid, somewhere in his twenties, but that still made him younger than Colt.
“I’m sorry, your love life is none of my business.” Colt flashed his best smile. “Forgive me?”
No one could resist Colt’s smiles, not even Miles. He visibly relaxed. “Yeah, okay. I’m just…private, you know?”
“I hear you. Promise.”
“Colt.” Avery’s voice directly behind him sent wonderful little shivers up Colt’s spine. He turned, drawn by the gentle command in a voice that could turn him on with only a word.
Avery’s expression was flat, bordering on annoyed, and Colt fought back a smirk. Maybe Colt had been the one to say no to a friendship, but this proved, in its own small way, that Avery was still territorial over Colt.
So much for just friends. Maybe he still has feelings for me, too.
“Hello, Avery,” Colt said in his most polite tone. “Have you met Miles yet?”
Avery took a step to the side, creating a triangle. He assessed Miles with that cool Dom gaze Colt loved so much. For a quiet bookworm, the man gave off serious top vibes when he wanted to. “I haven’t had the pleasure, no. Avery Hendrix.”
“Miles Arlington,” Miles replied. “Wes has mentioned you.”
“Oh?”
“I’m his roommate in San Francisco.”
“I see. Bride’s side, then.”
“Huh? Oh, for the wedding? Yeah, I know Sophie through Wes.” He glanced at Colt. “So how do you guys know each other?”
“Ex-boyfriends,” Colt said, just to see Avery’s eyes flash with annoyance. “Mutual breakup, so we aren’t going to start a cat fight or anything.”
Miles blinked several times. “Oh. Okay.” He didn’t ask anything else, and they all stood there in awkward silence.
“So are you staying until the barbecue tonight?” Colt asked Miles. “I hope to see you there.”
“For a while, yes, but I want to get back to the city before nine. I was invited to share the guesthouse rooms with the rest of the families, but it wasn’t easy getting off on a Saturday night, and I don’t want to waste it.”
“Clubbing?”
Miles laughed. “God no. Treating myself to a movie.”
“Want a movie buddy?”
Avery’s eyes narrowed, while Miles’s went wide. Colt was enjoying winding Avery up, but Miles seemed like a sensitive guy, and Colt didn’t want to embarrass him again.
“I’m kidding,” Colt said with a friendly grin. “Thank you for the conversation, Miles. Enjoy your movie and your alone time.”
“I, uh, thanks,” Miles replied.
Time to make his escape. “I’ll see you guys around later, then. Gotta go talk to someone.” Colt nodded to them both, then walked toward the other side of the tent where two of his fellow ranch hands were chatting with members of the Massey family. He didn’t join the conversation as much as stand there and listen, his back to Avery.
The one time he glanced over his shoulder, Avery was staring right at him.
Just friends, huh?
Two could play this game. Colt winked.
* * *
That crafty bastard is baiting me.
Avery squinted at Colt, then turned back to the conversation he was now having with Miles and Mr. and Mrs. Bentley. But his skin prickled with awareness, having come so close to Colt again without being able to touch him. Colt was the one who’d denied them a friendship, so what the hell was up with the flirting?
Two months ago, when Avery returned to the ranch for his three-month job, he’d been shocked to learn that not only had Colt not resigned from the ranch, he’d been shot trying to protect the ghost town site from vandals. All his old protective instincts over Colt had kicked in, and Avery had gone to see him. See for himself that Colt was alive and mending.
Their brief conversation had given Avery hope that they could at least become friends again, and Avery had offered that olive branch. Colt had batted it away, leaving Avery unsettled and annoyed. But he’d gotten over it, thrown himself into his work on the restoration, and avoided Colt as much as possible.
The conversation he was currently in had fallen silent and both Miles and the Bentleys were watching him expectantly. “I’m sorry, I zoned out,” Avery said. “What was the question?”
Mr. Bentley tilted his head to one side. “I was asking about the history of the town that’s been named after our family. Quite an honor, that.”
“Yes, well, Mack thought it best to name the town after
the man who discovered it.” Avery also thought Bentley Ghost Town had a nice ring to it. “Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to discover any maps or other historical documents that contain mentions of this particular location. So many settlements opened and closed during the California gold rush, and there are probably hundreds that were never recorded and have since faded into the wilderness.”
“That’s rather sad to think about,” Mrs. Bentley said. The woman was the spitting image of Sophie, with only a bit more gray in her auburn hair. “Entire towns forgotten by history.”
“It’s the fate of the American west, ma’am. But every new settlement we discover teaches us a little bit more about the people who lived there.”
“Well, what you’ve done so far looks amazing. Mack must be thrilled with everything you’ve contributed to the project.”
Avery smiled politely. “It’s been a mutually beneficial project, believe me.”
“You’ve got to be relieved your contract is almost up.” Mrs. Bentley’s coy smile put his senses on alert. “You’ll be able get home to the life you left behind.”
“Now, Leta, don’t be nosy,” Mr. Bentley said, placing a hand on his wife’s forearm.
“I can’t help it, honey.” She grinned at Avery again. “You’re just so handsome, there must be someone missing you at home.”
Avery hated these questions. They assumed that anyone who was good looking or mildly successful was either beating off potential suitors with a stick or happily settled down with someone. What was so wrong with being single? Not everyone needed a partner or constant sex to live a complete life. “Not even a houseplant missing me,” Avery replied. “I travel far too often to bother with dating, and I have a very black thumb.”
“That’s such a shame.” She cast a coy look at him. “You know, Miles isn’t seeing anyone right now, either.”
Miles flushed bright red.
“Leta,” Mr. Bentley said. “Why don’t we go get some food and stop bothering these two young men?”
The pair wandered off, and Avery wasn’t sure who was more relieved—himself or Miles.
“Well, that was suitably embarrassing,” Avery said.
