Patrick tips his hat, gets back into his vehicle, and leaves us staring at each other in the parking lot.
“I'm gonna need the backstory on all of this,” I say, laughing as I get into the truck.
“I'm glad to see you laugh,” Wick says, elbowing me lightly in the side.
I look down, realizing I haven't necessarily been hiding my displeasure with the arrangement.
“Hey, man. We good?”
I nod and give him a smile. “Yeah. Why wouldn't we be?”
“Been a little strange since the wedding.”
You mean since you railed me and then went about your business like you always do?I keep that thought to myself, knowing damn well he’s never lied about his intentions and that I’d be better off trying to change the universe than changing Warwick’s mind about relationships.
Get it together, Colt.
“It's just been a little weird. Lots of change. You forget that I'm used to living out on the road with Luke, going from place to place. Been a minute since I've been in one spot for more than a week or two.”
“Makes sense.”
“And now that Joaquin's here, I'm just trying to get the lay of the land.”
Wick nods, ignoring the subject.
“Well, figuring out a long-standing problem on your boss’s first day on the job is a pretty good way to get in his good graces,” he says, laughing to himself.
Yeah, so is letting him fuck you in the ass in the tack room.Even though I don't say that out loud, I think my snort makes my point for me.
Warwick goes quiet and I pull onto the highway. I sigh, hating how awkward it's become between us.
7
JOAQUIN
The last two days have been insane. My previous ranch was larger, but the Goodnight’s overall operation is more involved. I've been too busy to give a whole lot of thought to what Wick and I did the other day in the stallion barn.
Colt has remained a little awkward around me, but he also seems to be the kind to mind his own business. Still, I can't get over the suspicion that he knows what Wick and I were doing the other day.
It's near the end of a very long day, and Wick has asked me to meet him in the stables.
“Wick? Where are you?”
“Over here,” he says and waves his cowboy hat, which I see over the stable partition.
Unlike most of the guys, who generally wear baseball caps on these bright sunny days, Wick is old school, which I can appreciate. He wears an old broken-in George Strait cowboy hat during the day, and he has several fancier cowboy hats for evening time.
Honestly, doesn't matter if he's wearing a hat or not, he’s still one of the sexiest men I've ever met.
Stifling a yawn, I make my way over to the stall.
“Alright, so what do you have going on—”
I stop short. His shirt is off, hanging from the hook on the stall wall. His belt is unbuckled, his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, and his bright green briefs are peeking out.
He still has on his cowboy hat.
“Wick…”
