Just as I step up onto the deck, I'm greeted by a rather large goose.
“Oh, there you are, Q.”
He cocks his head to the side, then waddles up next to me, nudging my hip with the side of his bill.
“Don't try to get on my good side, señor. I already know all of your troublemaker ways.”
He honks, flaps his wings, and makes his way off to other parts of the ranch. One assumes a goose like Q has a busy schedule.
The big barn door slides open just as I approach it and Wick leans against the doorframe, his eyes tracking down my body.
“I hear you're the new boss,” he says, winking at me.
It’s a struggle to maintain eye contact with him, and my heart squeezes in my chest.Mierda.
“That I am,” I say, trying to regulate my breathing. We’ve already talked about boundaries and decided it was a bad idea to keep fucking once they announced I’d be the new foreman.
That means it’s been a little over a month since I’ve been able to taste him, to feel him give way under me. I’m usually appreciative—and transient—with my lovers, but I’ve never missed another person’s touch the way I have his.
I refocus on the heart problem in front of me and decide I’m going to stay positive. Despite our slightly unconventional past, I know we agree it’s best to focus on a working, professional relationship.
Besides, I can do this. I’m an adult, for fuck’s sake.
A horny, slightly heartsick adult, but I’ve survived worse than a small case of unrequited sentiments.
Of course, I say that, and then I’m immediately overcome by the heat of his body, the smell of his soap as I near him. A full half of my resolve slips in the time it takes me to walk past the guy.
“Let's get your stuff inside, Joaquin. I'll take you on a quick walk-through of everything.”
“Uh, yeah. Sounds good.”
This bunkhouse is even more unique inside. It’s divided down the middle, with the open kitchen and living room under lofted ceilings to the left and the dining and library area set under the living quarters to the right.
“And nobody pays rent here?”
Wick shakes his head. “It was always her dream to treat the ranch employees like family. She figured you couldn’t work the land or the animals without love and thought the people here should get the same courtesy.”
I know whosheis, even without him saying, because of the secret smile playing at Wick’s lips as his eyes git a bit wistful. My son suspects that Wick’s feelings for Renée went beyond friendship, and simply watching him talk about her confirms it for me. It makes me wonder how much of his attitude around relationships is a result of his own unrequited sentiments.
Setting aside the poetic melancholy of this man, I respond, “Sebastián always told me she was a special lady.”
“That she was,” he says, gesturing toward the stairs. As we walk up, he turns to me. “You call Sparrow by his given name?”
“I’m the one who gave it to him. It’s my middle name.”
He shakes his head. “I’m going to have to get used to that.”
I follow him, and we pass Colt’s and Abel’s rooms, the well-appointed bathroom, his room, and finally arrive at my room at the end.
“This is Sparrow's old room, and it's the largest. Don’t forget, I'm right next door,” he says, adding a flirty smile at the end.
“Sounds good,” I say, walking past him into the space, ignoring his…everything.
Setting down my boxes, I appreciate the small details my son left behind for me. Most important is a small black and white photograph of the two of us, with horses galloping in the background, the shot perfectly framed by the sweeping Texas landscape.
Trip insisted on buying me a high-quality queen-size mattress, which takes up the center of the back wall, with a large window overlooking the wooded area behind the bunkhouse as my headboard. I thought it’d be more crowded, but everything fits perfectly.
The wooden floors are rustic, worn with time. I bet they feel good under bare feet, as do the soft if slightly frayed rugs that adorn the walkways around the bed.
