Me? I hated the city. It was too loud, too fast, too… plastic. Even when we were younger, I hated it every time Dad made me go. Not because I didn’t love her, but because the silence out here always felt like coming home.
I could breathe. I could think. I could feel connected to something that had been around for centuries.
“You boys need anything before you go off to Denver?” Dad asked.
Carter gave a sharp “Nope. That’s the good thing about the city. It has the best of everything.”
I grunted. Hard disagree.
Dad looked at me through the rearview mirror again. “You’re going.”
“I know I’m going. Doesn’t mean I’m thrilled about it.”
He nodded like he expected that answer. “We do this every summer, Matty. It’s important. Your mom needs to see you too.”
“I know.”
“She’s proud of you, you know.”
I stayed quiet. Mom said a lot of things. But I always felt like she understood Carter better—got him more. With me, it was like we spoke two different languages. With Carter, she had the perfect companion to spend Dad’s money.
“I’m just saying,” Dad dropped, his voice lower, “this land’ll always be here. But people won’t. Be kind. Show up.”
I swallowed hard and looked away. He was right. He wasalwaysright when it came to stuff like that.
We’d lucked out in the dad department. Not only was he tough when needed, but he also raised us to be independent. To fall in love and to break hearts. To fracture bones and to mend them. To walk away from fights and to finish the ones that mattered.
“I’ll go,” I said. “Like I always do.”
“Good man.”
The Jeep crested the last rise, and our home came into view. Not just the sprawling log cabin style house, but the barns, the corral, and the open stretch of land that made up our ranch.
It hit me like a gut punch how much I missed it. The wraparound porch, the old swing creaking in the breeze.
Dad slowed to a crawl as he rolled up the gravel drive. Horses stirred in the distance. Everything was moving, breathing, alive.
Ifelt alive.
A flicker of movement near one of the barns caught my attention. A guy, maybe my age—I couldn’t see his face clearly—walked across the gravel, sweat-darkened shirt slung over one shoulder, jeans slung low on narrow hips. His hair was dirty blond, sun-kissed and wild, and he had this way of walking. Like his boots owned the dirt under them.
Fuck.
He had an amazing body. Not too bulky but an athletic build that was hard all over.
He didn’t look at us. Just kept walking, focused, confident, like he’d worked this land for years, but I knew all the ranch hands, which meant he was one of the new hires. Dad always hired extra hands to help with the dude ranch side of business that we opened up during the summer.
I sat forward, heart skipping as I trailed the man’s frame. He had a roll in his hips that instantly brought sweaty skin, breathy moans, and wild groping and humping to mind.
“Who the hell is that?” I blurted out, my curiosity getting the best of me.
Carter turned, followed my line of sight, and laughed. “It’s been all of five minutes, and Matty already has a newconquest. Dad, you need to lock up your employees from your horny son. You know what Matty is like. Randier than that goat Gertie gave me for my tenth birthday.”
“Shut up. I’ve never seen him around before, is all.”
He wasn’t wrong. Since I got my cherry popped at fourteen, I’d had a high sex drive. It was hard to believe I hated sex back then, but over the years, I’d learned the person you were intimate with could make or break the experience. It was my fault for thinking someone older would make the experience better.
Dad chuckled. “That’s Hudson. He’s new to town and has been helping me out this past month. Although he’s green, he’s a damn good worker, but he doesn’t talk much about his past. Be careful, yeah?”
