Page 24 of When The Dust Settles

I was stunned, a deer caught in the headlights, paralyzed, completely out of my depth because what he was assuming, what he was saying, had nothing to do with me except for down deep in the secret place where the truth lived.

“Mac is just for fun,” he continued. “He’s the guy you fuck around with and throw back, but still… I figured I’d at least get one more night out of him.”

One more night? Was he insane? If he was lucky enough to get Mac into bed, he sure as hell should have kept him there. I most certainly would have, without question.

Of course, if Mac could have—and by the sound of things had already had—a man as perfect as the one standing in front of me, why in the world would he ever look twice at me? I was not the stunning creature this man was.

“Right?” he asked, grinding against me, his hands on my hips.

I had no idea what I was supposed to say, but I was certain of one thing. He was not the sweet thing I’d taken him for. This was a predator, not a bunny.

“No one ever says no to me,” he purred.

It made sense. I was betting he’d never heard “no” in his life.

“So I have to wonder,” he said, narrowing his eyes, looking me up and down. “Who are you?”

“I’m no one to him.”

“Are you sure he—”

“You’re drunk, Robin, go sleep it—oh,” Mac said as he walked out of his tent in sleep shorts and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

Even though it was summer, it was early in the morning out on the prairie, so still very cold, which was why I had my jacket on. Mac must have been in his sleeping bag. He looked rumpled and sleepy, with his hair standing on end, slitted eyes, and furrowed brow. I’d never seen him look better.

He was stunning, but really, I shouldn’t have been attracted to him. Beautiful, delicate like Stef, guys who were fragile were what did it for me. I had a type and I’d been looking for men who fit that idea in my head. What was odd was, when I was propositioned, when offers were made to fulfill my desires, to go to bed with some gorgeous, breathtaking man… I turned them down. And while I told myself the whole one-night stand component was a deal breaker, looking at Mac, I had to wonder if there was more to it than that. The foreman of the Red Diamond had mesmerized me from day one, from the first time I saw him riding up toward the house to speak to Rand. He dismounted, and I was introduced and made a horrible first impression as my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth.

I was rendered mute just watching him walk. His stride made me wish I could write poetry, and those strong capable hands of his should have had songs dedicated to them.

Mac looked like the kind of guy who would hold me, or whoever, down in bed, so… that was wrong. And it was stupid, because when I looked at Rand and Stef it was clear, just spending a few minutes with them, that there was no way Stef was topping in the sack. But maybe I was wrong and they switched it up. But with a man like Mac….

My brain raced through everything, all the time, it never stopped, and the worst part was that once I’d come out, told people I was gay—my father, Zach, Rand and Stef—I’d thought the hard part was over. But it turned out just because I was gay didn’t make me any less messed up.

“Glenn?” Mac said softly. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

I was surprised at the look on his face, somewhere between discomfort and anger. I was going to say something shitty—something about him chasing hot men out of his tent in the wee small hours—when his gaze met mine… and softened.

His eyes warmed in the lantern glow, those massive shoulders of his fell, and he exhaled as he crossed his arms over his wide chest.

He calmed.

It probably had nothing to do with me, but as I cataloged every bulging, rippling muscle on his cut, toned form, I saw him curl his bottom lip slowly, decadently, until I realized what I was getting was just a trace of a smile.

He wasn’t pissed at me. The frustration, irritation, or whatever it was—had nothing to do with me. It was, in fact, focused on the other man in our midst. That was good, because I’d gotten a glimpse of gentleness in Mac, and God… how easy would it be to get used to seeing that every day?

“Maclain?” I breathed out.

His heated gaze hit mine. “Come here.”

Without thinking I dropped my hands from the pretty man pressed up against me and would have taken a step toward Mac, but Robin stopped me as he clutched at my shirt.

“Wait.”

I could not take my eyes off Mac; I’d never seen him look so warm and inviting with a trace of danger all at the same time. A current of need ran through me and I had to keep myself still and not go to him.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Robin whispered.

It took a concerted effort to drag my eyes off of Mac’s delectable form to meet Robin’s gaze.