by E M Lindsey
“They’re too big,” he said by way of explanation.
Max managed a rough nod and turned away before his cock got hard. He cleared his throat and pointed toward the living room.
“There’s something here you’re gonna want to see.”
Spencer shuffled out of the bathroom and followed Max down to the living room where Robert sat obediently beside the couch, heart-shaped collar twinkling in the amber light of the cabin.
“Is that a…?” Spencer trailed off.
“A goat, sweetheart.”
Spencer knelt down and scratched Robert between his horns.
“His name is Robert,” Max said.
Spencer blinked up at him with eyes so wide, Max thought his heart might melt. He knelt down and bumped his shoulder against Spencer’s, hoping it was received as a silent apology.
Spencer smiled at him, and the door flew open. Collin stomped into the house and flung back the hood of his jacket. He was dripping wet and water was quickly pooling at his feet. His attention shifted around the room, landing on Robert, then Max, then Spencer.
His eyes widened and his nostrils flared.
“Are you wearing my clothes?” he grunted, his accent slurring the accusation on a whisper.
“He gave them to me,” Spencer croaked, pointing at Max.
“He needed something dry,” he explained, standing up. Collin’s stare shifted back to Max, moving from his stomach up to his chest and shoulders before settling on his face.
“Did you go into my room?” Collin asked.
“He needed dry clothes,” Max explained.
Collin looked back to Spencer.
“I can change as soon as my stuff is dry,” Spencer managed to say.
“No,” Collin said roughly, holding up a hand. “It’s fine. You look good in them.”
Chapter 13
Collin's mouth betrays him
He knew the risk he was taking when he escaped the cabin and darted off into the rain, but he needed it. He needed to collect himself, to pull it together before he absolutely lost all sense of reason because he had two painfully gorgeous, soaking wet men standing in his lounge, ready to pull all their clothes off. And they both hated him a little bit, which was just as well, because he had no business wanting to do the things he wanted to do. They were just over half his age, just getting started in life, just figuring out who they were.
What would they want with some washed-up old ex-professor with a soft spot for mountain goats? A broken shell of a man who couldn’t keep a marriage together in the easiest of circumstances. Hell, he couldn’t even keep his dad’s old business together, and he knew it showed.
The contempt on their faces said as much the second they walked into his house. He’d hurt Spencer—bloody well hated himself for it—and he hadn’t been as kind or soft with Max as he should have been knowing what he knew. He’d asked Max to go home rather than make him feel brave for taking this step on his own.
He wanted to phone his brother and tell him what a twat he was for putting him in the position to crush the one thing that had given Spencer hope, but instead he stood beside a tree and let the rain soak through his coat until he felt half-drowned.
A crack of thunder came after a bolt of lightning that sizzled, the smell of burning wood saying the storm was upon them. He felt it in the air, felt a sudden and intense wave of wind and wet which meant it was only going to get worse. From this spot, he could see the way the tops of the trees started to tip downward. He’d be lucky if there was a road by morning, and there was no way in hell they were venturing out tonight.
Digging his phone out of his pocket, he covered it with his jacket and sent a text off to Michael, telling him to check on the goats if he was able to get up that far.
Collin: Got the clients up to my cabin, going to wait out the storm. Cancel the bus, see everyone home safely, let me know how the herd is if you can get to them.
He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t expect one. He shoved the little device back into his pocket and headed to the cabin, hoping they hadn’t murdered each other in his absence. Kicking his shoes at the door, Collin was suddenly shoved forward by a gust of wind. The storm shutters were rattling ominously, and he knew it had been a while since he’d serviced them. They’d probably last this one out—probably—but it would be the last.
Then, he realized with a bitter laugh, that’s all he needed. By next season, the cabin would be sold, he would be gone, and it would be the new owner’s problem.
Something painful and uncomfortable twisted in his gut, but this was not the time. He scraped mud off his shoes, then slipped inside and came to a skidding halt at the sight. Max had stripped down to his undershirt, which was damp enough to stick to his skin, showing off every muscled curve of his torso. Crouched next to Robert, who was busy enjoying every bit of attention he could get, was Spencer, looking like every single one of Collin’s wet dreams wrapped up in his too-large sweats.
His mouth went dry, and when he was given the opportunity to speak, his tongue betrayed him. “…You look good in them.”
What the bloody hell?
Spencer’s face instantly went pink, a faint dusting of color across the apples of his cheeks, and Collin determinedly looked away from Max, whose lips turned into a frown. “Um.”
“I mean…it’s…you look fine,” Collin managed, backtracking and feeling like a foolish teenager. Maybe Michael was right all those times he gave Collin shit for how long it had been since he’d gotten laid. A good shag and an aged scotch would cure what ailed him, only he couldn’t have either. One, because he couldn’t find good scotch living in the middle of nowhere, and two, because he currently had two very attractive—and very young—men as his only other option for sex.
“Thanks,” Spencer mumbled. “Our stuff is in the dryer.”
Collin nodded, pushing his tongue between his teeth for a second to keep from clenching his jaw, then he turned to look at Max. “Do you want something to wear besides that? Wet jeans can’t be comfortable. I have joggers that might fit you.” Left over from Grant, but he didn’t say that. Grant had been content to take what little he could fit in two suitcases. Collin just hadn’t bothered to get rid of the rest, and a few things had made it across the pond with him.
Max looked like he was warring with himself, and his hand reflexively moved to his pocket. Collin’s heart twisted because he knew what the younger man was carrying with him, and he knew how heavy the weight of it could be. “Um, I’m good. I mean, I want to be ready to head out when the storm moves past.”
Collin gave him an apologetic look. “Don’t think we’ll be doing much walking tonight. Reckon this beast is going to hit hardest in about half an hour and stay strong until well past sunset.”
Spencer made a noise of protest, but it was subdued as he cuddled Robert close to his chest. “So, we’re stuck here.”
Collin tried not to take offense. “For the time being. I’d offer to take my ATV to the main road, but we’ll be lucky if the road doesn’t wash out entirely. Usually does once or twice a season.”
“Why the hell did you book a tour on a day like this?” Max demanded, his arms crossing over his chest.
Collin’s temper got the best of him, and he took a step forward, pausing when Max took one back. “You signed the waiver. If you didn’t read the risk section, that’s on you. I don’t control the bloody weather, and I only go by what’s in the forecast. Believe me when I say I wouldn’t have taken the likes of you two on this little jaunt if I’d have known we’d be stuck here. This is not how I wanted to spend my last day with my dad’s company.”
Max’s eyes widened and his mouth, which had been drawn in a thin line, softened. “Right.”
At his tone, all of Collin’s anger rushed out of him, and his shoulders sagged. He stepped back until his side touched the wall, and he unclenched his fists. “It’ll pass, and then I can get you both home.” He went quiet, eyes falling closed until he felt a bump against
his calf. Instinctively he knew it was Robert, and he slid to the ground without care for the way Max and Spencer were watching him. His arms opened, and Robert nuzzled against him—a bit more like a cat than a goat.
“Are all goats like that?” Spencer asked.
Collin opened his eyes, a small chuckle escaping him in spite of his soured mood. “No. No goats are like him. Not the ones in the wild, anyway. A friend of mine—goat herder—needed someone to look after him since he wouldn’t have made it without intervention. He was a runt, too small, with a missing eye and front leg.” Collin shifted Robert around, then scratched under his chin as the goat made a soft, contented grunt at the affection. “I bottle-fed him until he was old enough and strong enough to get around on his own. He visits the herd with me from time to time, but I reckon he’s a bit too house-pet for them now.”
Spencer made a soft noise of sympathy, and after a long moment, crossed the space between them and sank down. “Can I…?”
“He loves it, little slag that he is,” Collin said with a half-smile. He shifted to make room for Spencer and pretended like the warm feel of him pressed against his thigh wasn’t everything. His gaze moved over to where Max was watching—wary and a little unsure. “I’d say he doesn’t bite, but he does. Still wouldn’t mind another set of hands petting him.”
Max rolled his eyes, but he finally crossed the room, sitting on Collin’s other side, determinedly not looking directly at Spencer. His hand moved out, and Collin took notice at how delicate and thin his fingers were, and he let himself wonder how they’d feel on his body. They seemed soft, but he had a feeling they were strong enough to bruise.
“Don’t most farmers, like, kill the animals that can’t survive?” Spencer asked.
“Jesus,” Max grunted as he dragged his hand over Robert’s back. “Morbid, much?”
He’s not wrong,” Collin said. “I mean, likely he wouldn’t have been outright killed, but left to die is nearly the same thing.” Collin scratched at Robert’s ears and knew it would be time to sort his dinner. And their own, since they were going to be there a while. “Chaz isn’t in the business of letting his goats suffer, even the ones who might not be long for this world.”
Max hummed, but didn’t ask anything else, and after a bit, Robert started getting restless. It wasn’t long before he squirmed away, bleating as he made his way toward the kitchen, and Max was the first one to stand. He looked down at both Collin and Spencer, then offered a hand to each.
“I’m not an invalid,” Spencer groused.
“No,” Max replied with a smirk, “but you did almost die several times.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“No, fuck you, princess.”
Collin stood, making a physical barrier between the two, and he let out a heavy breath. “I’m going to whip up some dinner—something that’ll keep when we lose power.”
“Don’t you mean if we lose power?” Spencer asked, trailing after him.
Collin shook his head. “It’s inevitable. Storm’s raging now, and it’s going to get worse.” He flicked on the light in the kitchen, then moved to the fridge to pull out Robert’s evening feed. It was a bit early, but Robert bounced happily from the floor to his wooden stool over and over. Collin’s heart thumped at the sound of Spencer’s giggle, and even the quiet huff from Max as they watched the small goat’s antics. He served out Robert’s portion, then set the bowl up high as the goat jumped to gorge himself.
That finished, Collin took to seeing what they had. Plenty of meat for stir-fry if he wanted to take the risk, but the chicken wouldn’t last more than a few hours. He had some left-over pasta which would fill them up, but he was in the mood for something a little more homey.
“Breakfast for dinner?” he offered. “Bacon and pancakes?” If they ate the bacon straight away, the extra pancakes would keep in case they needed some fuel in the morning.
Spencer and Max exchanged a look, then Spencer fixed him with a steely gaze. “English pancakes or American?”
Collin blinked at him in surprise, then laughed. “American.”
“Is there a difference?” Max demanded.
“Yes,” Spencer said, his nose in the air. “They’re like these thin little crepe things and they don’t use maple syrup on them because they’re heathens.”
Collin choked on his laugh. “Maple syrup is for ice cream, but I’ll make the exception tonight since the pair of you have had a shite trip and so have I.” He quickly pulled out a bowl, peering out the kitchen window to see the sky had darkened a heavy, inky grey. His stomach clenched, wondering if he’d misjudged the nearness of the storm yet again.
“Can we do anything?” Max’s voice startled him—both the sound of it and the willingness in his tone. “I mean to help, if the storm hits hard.”
“When it does,” Collin told him. “And yes, actually. If you two wouldn’t mind getting wet again, I want to make sure the storm shutters are locked into place. The ones out front look alright, but I have three along the side of the house.”
As if to remind Collin that nature could be both benevolent and cruel at her own whim, lightning struck a tree off in the distance—not a quarter of a mile away.
“Shit,” Spencer breathed out.
Collin stopped pouring the flour into the bowl and swiped his hands over his jeans. “Better yet, why don’t you two man the food and I’ll do it.”
“I’m not incompetent,” Spencer started to argue, but Collin held up a hand.
“I’m not implying that, mate. But technically you’re still on this tour and it’s my job to make sure you get to your destination safely. That storm out there isn’t going to play nice just because we ask it to. I’ve done this more times than I’d like to count. You two just handle this dinner here, and I’ll be back in a tick.”
He didn’t give them time to argue, instead grabbing his coat once more to venture outside. The rain was cruel, sideways from the wind, stinging his eyes and soaking him straight to the bone, but better him than the two men inside who had clearly been through enough. His fingers ached as he worked the latches, but each one told him that he was keeping those two safer, and whatever happened—however the night ended—it would be worth it to see them to the sunrise tomorrow.
Chapter 14
Spencer the goat whisperer
The sight of Robert and his one eye, his three legs, and his cute little collar was almost enough to soothe the wound caused by Collin’s betrayal. Spencer couldn’t resist giving his head one more scratch before he stood. He washed his hands then started rooting around in Collin’s cupboards.
“How much bacon do you think we should cook?” Max asked.
“I don’t know.” Spencer put the pan on the stove. Thunder rolled and the wind howled, whistling through the trees. Spencer jumped at another, much closer, clap of thunder and glanced at the door. “Should we help him?”
“He was pretty adamant that we stay inside.”
Thunder rattled the windows and Spencer jumped again. He expected Max to start mocking him once more, but Max shrugged. “You want bacon or pancake duty?” he asked instead.
Spencer blinked at him. “Bacon. I’m shit with pancakes. I’m not patient enough.”
Max scoffed. “I’m not shocked.”
Spencer let the comment roll off his back and started laying the strips of bacon in the pan. Behind him, Robert bleated and headbutted his legs.
“You’re a feisty little guy. You probably shouldn’t eat bacon though.” Spencer smiled at the little goat who had already captured his heart. “You remind me of Rusty.”
“Who’s Rusty?”
“My cat. Well… one of them.”
“One of them? How many do you have?”
“Last count, thirty.”
Max’s entire body twitched. “Thirty? Are you the crazy cat lady or something?”
Spencer watched Max pour a perfect circle of batter into the frying pan. “Or something.”
“Come on, Princess
. We’re stuck here, you might you to get thirty cats.”
“They’re rescues. I run a shelter.” Spencer was aware of Max’s gaze, but he focused instead on the bacon and turning it over.
Before he could continue, the front door burst open, and Collin came through. It looked like it took a lot of strength to pull it shut against the force of the wind, but he managed. He locked the door and shrugged out of his jacket.
“All set?” Max asked.
“As good as it’s going to get.” Collin replied.
While Spencer and Max finished cooking, Collin gathered up emergency supplies. Candles. Lanterns. Batteries. Spencer eyed the stack of blankets Collin heaped up on one of the couches, then laughed when Robert jumped up on them and bleated at Collin.
“Get down.” Collin pointed at the floor, but Robert was unmoved by the command. “Those aren’t for you.”
“Aww, it’s okay. We don’t mind a little goat hair. He’s probably just scared about the storm, too.” Spencer said. His own insides were still trembling and it was only the task of not burning the bacon that had kept him from falling apart.
“He’s a pest,” Collin said affectionately as he scratched Robert on the head. “I’ll take care of the bacon now if you want to get off those feet of yours.”
Spencer’s feet were sore, but he had the feeling the offer had less to do with that and more to do with the deception from earlier. Collin didn’t give him a chance to argue, crossing the room and taking the tongs from Spencer.
“There’s a first aid kit on the coffee table over there next to the lanterns.”
Spencer mumbled a thank you, though he wasn’t sure if he was ready to forgive Collin just yet. He’d let Spencer prattle on all day long about the goats. He’d been excited, and Collin had known there were no goats.
He sat down on the couch and some of his anger left him. “Oh, my God. This couch. It’s heaven.”
“It’s just a couch.”
