“I don’t care,” Samuels declared. “It looked cool. You want another whiskey, cowboy?”
He nodded as the bartender lined up the shots. Steph and Samuels were busy bickering about what to order Williams when Donnelly casually leaned toward Wyatt, voice low and directed only to him. “You actually rode that horse to the edge of the cliff, didn’t you?”
He swayed a little bit closer, voice equally low. “What do you think?”
Donnelly’s eyes darkened, searching his face, before dipping briefly to his lips.
Wyatt licked his bottom lip, stomach tightening in anticipation. Donnelly let out a hard breath from his nose and abruptly sat up, creating distance betweenthem just in time for Samuels to line up two shots in front of Wyatt and Donnelly.
Samuels proceeded to shove two shots in front of Donnelly.
“Two?” Donnelly asked, face pinched in a frown.
“Aw, c’mon, live a little. Besides, it’s not like any of us are working tomorrow.”
“I am,” Steph said, and knocked on the bar top with her knuckles. “Don’t care. Let’s drink.”
“Somebody hand these to Williams!” Samuels shouted and passed the two shots of whiskey through the crowded bar.
This caught a few people's attention, and Samuels raised a loud "congratulations" over the crowd, which was met with a shout of appreciation.
Samuels took his first shot, followed quickly by the second. Steph mimicked him and Donnelly hesitated, but not Wyatt. He knocked the two shots back and felt the warmth heat his insides and calm his nerves as he let his knee brush against Donnelly’s beneath the bar top.
Donnelly's shoulders stiffened.
“C’mon, Donnelly!” Samuels yelled.
Donnelly’s jaw twitched beneath his brown, gray-speckled beard, and finally downed the first shot. Wyatt watched his throat work as he swallowed, his knee rubbing against his. He waited for him to move away, but he didn’t. He shot back the final shot and sighed, hand scrubbing over his lips and beard, looking almost resigned. Defeated even.
Wyatt, blaming it on the heady warm bar and the buzz filtering through his system, reached beneath the bar top, making sure no one was watching as he slowly slid his hand down his own leg, before reaching for Donnelly’s, his fingers gripping his upper thigh. The muscle was strong and hard beneath his touch, and he released a breath.
Fuck, it felt good touching him again.
Donnelly briefly closed his eyes, his elbow on the counter. One hand rubbed his face while the other cradled his beer.
“How did you do it?” Donnelly asked, his voice rough and laced with something… needy.
Sweet Jesus.
Wyatt slowly moved his fingers in a swirling pattern on the inner lining of Donnelly’s jeans, head tilting to the side. “Do what?”
“Riding to the edge like that…” Donnelly’s strained tone was music to his ears. He was getting to him.
Thank fuck.
“Plenty of years of practice.”
“But that was dangerous.”
Wyatt nodded, “That horse and I worked together a lot. She was one of my dad’s staple horses for the ranch. It’s trust that makes somethin’ like that work. She trusted me, and I trusted her. That’s why we caught each other at the very end.”
He watched the tension around Donnelly’s shoulders and felt the weight he carried, wondering how his shoulder was doing.
“It helped that the horse was older,” Wyatt continued, letting his voice drop. “More sure of herself, confident. Had I chosen a younger one, we would’ve gone flying off into that fuckin’ canyon. Riding a horse like that—more mature, more experienced, but still willing to take a risk occasionally—is my favorite kind of ride. Addicting, even.”
Donnelly’s jaw clenched fiercely, and Wyatt flicked his fingers upward, touching the stiffness trapped against the denim of his jeans. His pulse slammed to a halt. He was as hard as a cinderblock.
It took everything not to lean forward and rake his hands through that beard and capture those delicious lips one more time. Wyatt’s cock was damn near leaking in his jeans.
