“I don’t see how,” Colt grumbled, even as he knew Wes was probably right.
“You need to talk to Mason, get his side, and clear the past.” Wes stepped up into the trailer first and spoke softly to his horse, Merlin, as he clipped a lead rope on the halter and backed him out. Louder, to Colt, he said, “You’re never going to be able to move forward if you don’t.”
“Ihavemoved forward,” Colt groused as he stepped into the trailer once Merlin was clear and ran a hand over his horse’s back. “Hey, Zeph. My brother is annoying.”
“I heard that,” Wes called over his shoulder.
Colt ignored him as he led Zephyr from the trailer, glared at Levi just because, which earned a raised eyebrow that asked,What did I do?and walked toward the barn. The very same barn he and Mason had been caught in. The runs off the stalls were new, and the red-painted exterior with white trim looked relatively fresh. It had been bare wood when he’d lived there.
He stepped inside and couldn’t help but zero in on the spot where he’d pushed Mason up against the stall door all those years ago. When he’d been young and foolish and thought what they’d felt together was a love that would last the ages. When the course of his life had changed dramatically in that one careless moment.
His lips tingled with the ghost of frantic kisses they’d shared right there. The echo of Mason’s greedy hands clutching at him pebbled his skin as though he was there again, summer hot and river damp, rutting together like the hormone-driven teens they’d been. His heart had been so light and full then. So pure.
He shook his head and exhaled the loss of what could have been.
Sure, Wes was probably right that he needed some sort of closure with Mason. Every relationship he’d had since had ended as soon as things started getting too heavy. He couldn’t trust anyone enough to move beyond casual dating, to believe that they weren’t lying when they’d said they loved him, that they wouldn’t turn tail and run if push came to shove. The only people he could trust to have his back were his family. But he’d never given any of the men he’d taken interest in the chance to let him down. He knew, down in the dark corners of his heart, that it was because of Mason Hayes.
Hoofbeats and bootheels thudded behind him on the hard dirt of the courtyard and then echoed a pitch higher when they hit the concrete pad inside the barn—a new addition since Colt had last seen it. The back of Colt’s neck itched and heated, knowing one of those footsteps belonged to Mason.
“These are some gorgeous horses you guys have,” Mason said from behind Colt, admiration clear in his voice. Levi followed, leading his horse, Ranger, and Nick brought up the rear with the two dogs trotting at his heels.
Goose bumps broke out over Colt’s forearms at the soft timbre of Mason’s voice. Smooth as velvet and warm as whiskey. He’d never imagined what Mason would sound like all grown up, but now, an annoying part of him wanted Mason to keep talking just to keep hearing it.
“Thanks,” Levi said, his chipper tone grating on Colt’s heightened senses. “Mine and Wes’s are full brothers.”
“Really?” Mason sounded intrigued, and Levi launched into the two geldings’ pedigree.
Colt knew all their horses were stellar representations of the quarter horse breed. Colt’s horse, Zephyr, was a black overo pinto stallion, though other than a small streak of white in his mane and forelock and a teardrop-shaped snip on his nose, he was pure black. Merlin was a big liver chestnut with a blaze and one hind sock, and Ranger was chestnut with two hind stockings and a wide blaze—and a big personality that matched Levi’s.
“The three stalls on the north side are for your horses,” Mason called out, and another shiver stampeded over Colt’s skin. He ground his teeth together as he led Zephyr into the middle stall—Wes had taken the end stall—leaving the first one for Levi.
Colt took off Zephyr’s halter and ran a hand along his muscular neck as Zeph went directly for the hay that had been put in the stalls for their horses beforehand. As much as he’d prefer to stay there all day, eventually, he was going to have to face Mason.
He stepped out of the stall, slid the door closed, and nearly collided with Mason when he turned around. An enticing whiff of leather and oakmoss tickled his senses. His stomach swooped, and his heart did an annoying flutter in his chest. How could he still find Mason so incredibly attractive? Sure, he could admit that he was overreacting, maybe—probably—but the hurt and the anger had been visceral and lasting.
He took his hat off to run a hand through his short hair and stepped to the side, away from Mason. He needed to cut the thread that somehow still connected them. Less than half an hour back at Haverstall Mountain and already he couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.
“Right, so . . .” Mason took a step back. He paused, cleared his throat, but didn’t continue.
“Let’s get our bags into our rooms,” Wes said as he came up beside Mason, always saving the day. He put a hand on Mason’s shoulder and threw a quick glance at Colt. “Then we’ll all sit down together and go over everything.”
Mason nodded, relief clear in his exhale. “Just come up to my house when you’re ready. Same one as when you all lived here.”
Without speaking again, Mason gestured with a tip of his head for Colt to follow him.
Great. Resigned to the inevitable, Colt fell into step behind Mason as he led the way from the barn and waited while Colt grabbed his gear from the truck. The silence between them was so thick he might as well have been wading through quicksand. Colt sighed and sent up a silent plea to the universe that this would be the shortest job ever.
Colt stayed a step behind Mason so as not to encourage any kind of conversation. The swirling vortex of memories and emotions that he couldn’t stop made coherent thought impossible anyway. The only thing that was certain was the tension that filled the space around them like a living thing.
A dirt-and-gravel-mixed path led from the yard, between a barn Colt didn’t remember from his youth and a building he remembered that held tractors and various farm equipment. They walked past a small kidney-shaped lake with a two-person rowboat tethered to a weathered dock that he and Mason and his brothers had played in during the hot summer days. Beyond the lake and protected by a cluster of aspen and maple trees stood the main house, with its burnt-red roof and stone chimney rising above the trees. A rustic zigzag split-rail fence outlined the front yard, and the house was dark-stained wood paneling with large windows trimmed in burnt red. It looked inviting and homey, not like the aged gray of untreated wood when Grant had owned the ranch. A veranda stretched along the front of the house, flower boxes graced the railing, and conversationally arranged outdoor furniture sat off from the front door.
Mason stepped up the veranda stairs in two strides. His movements were jerky and tense as he opened the front door, and a tiny, petulant part of Colt reveled in the fact that Mason was uncomfortable. Mason held the door open for Colt, who angled his body as he passed, careful to prevent their bodies from brushing against each other. He stopped just inside the foyer and looked around. He’d never been inside the main house before. They’d always played outside or in the barns when they were kids, and if the weather was bad, they played in the dining hall.
The entry area had a wall on one side with hooks for jackets and hats and a closet on the other and led to a large, open living space with soaring wood-beamed ceilings. The living room screamed comfort with soft leather furniture the color of cracked wheat and accented with cherry red and warm orange pillows and throw blankets. A towering floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace was the focal point of the room, and he could practically hear the water rushing over the river-rock hearth. Large, west-facing windows cast a warm hue over the space. An image of him and Mason snuggled up on the couch after a long day, feet up on the honey-gold coffee table, flashed in his mind.
He quickly stomped that down with a mental bootheel. He needed to keep his focus on the security and safety of the house and not imagining how Mason lived in it. Andespeciallynot imagininghimselfin it with Mason.
He turned his perusal to the kitchen area. Red paneled cabinets, white appliances, a window over the sink, and a white granite island with red-cushioned barstools tucked under one side that saidpull up a seat, let’s eat. A few feet from the island stood a farmhouse-style dining table that could easily seat a large family, with french doors off the dining area that led to what looked like a large patio.
