He was scowling.
Dad said something to him I couldn’t catch, then clapped him once on the shoulder. Hudson stalked off, not once glancing back. Dad wore a scowl the same way he’d done that day he’d walked in on me jerking off inside the foreman’s ass.
“What did you say to him?” I demanded, staring after Hudson.
“What the hell did we talk about yesterday, Matty?”
“I can explain.”
He held a hand up. “It’s not me you owe an explanation.”
I stared after Hudson’s back. Maybe Dad was right, and Ishould forget about the ranch hand. My actions could affect the ranch if we ended up with a lawsuit on our hands. The foreman had tried to sue Dad but hadn’t won.
Fuck that.
I dismounted Junebug and threw the reins at Dad. “Hold on to her for me, will you? I know you don’t understand, but I have to do this. There’s something about him, Dad.”
“For fuck’s sake, Matty, why can’t you ever find guys your age to start a thing with?”
Ignoring him, I took off running after Hudson.
1
HUDSON
The sun was sinking fast behind the hills, painting the barn in long gold stripes and heavy shadows. End of the day, and I was ready to get home, shower, spend some time playing with my little girl, then after putting her to bed, maybe grab a beer, sit on the porch, and let my spine unkink.
That was the plan. The same plan I had six days a week. Predictable. But the way I liked it. Thank fuck this year Gray had decided not to have the dude ranch on account of his son getting married. Without the additional work, my eyelids were already heavy, and I was looking forward to the rest of my evening.
Right up until Matty Magnuson appeared in my line of vision.
Fuck.
Everything was always extreme with Matty.
He stomped down the barn aisle like something out of a storm, boots hitting the floor hard enough to leave dents. Hay was in his hair, and the glare on his face could’ve dropped a full-grown bull.
Even pissed, all I could think about was shoving him into a stall and riding him.
So, business as usual.
It’d been four years since we were last together, and given I’d broken up with him, I should be over him. But Matty wasn’t the sort of guy you got over. He was the one who got away. Pain in my ass as he was, he should have been sharing my bed every night, raising my daughter with me, unwinding after a long day.
But I broke Matty’s heart, and now he hated me with the same intensity he’d put into what should have been just a summer fling between us.
“You gonna slam that gate every night, or just when you see me coming?” he snapped, arms crossed, jaw locked tight.
Good.
The last time I held the gate for him, the fucker walked through without so much as a thank you. It’d reminded me how he was the perfect fucking gentleman while we fooled around, holding doors for me, always picking up the tab.
The Matty I’d known four years ago, I’d ruined him. Now I got the asshole version who did everything possible to make my life a living hell.
I didn’t turn around at first. Just finished latching the last stall and gave it a good tug to make sure it held.
“Didn’t want to get accused of slacking off again.” I should have left it at that. “But as I recall, you’d rather open doors yourself.”
As soon as I said the words, I regretted them. I tried never to mention our dating history because that usually set him off even more than usual. And I didn’t like to think about those memories.
