Page 27 of Boss and Brat

“If you ever need a shoulder,” Carter said, eyes steady on him, “I’m here. Doesn’t matter what it’s about.”

Ethan’s stomach flipped. “Why would you say that?”

Carter shrugged, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Just seems like you carry more than you let on.”

Ethan looked away again, heart thudding. He didn’t understand why Carter’s voice hit him like someone had reached inside him and loosened something he’d kept locked tight.

He mounted up without answering, hoping the ride back would settle him. It didn’t.

Every time Carter rode close, the same pull returned just as confusing, warm, and impossible to ignore. Like something in him kept turning toward Carter without permission.

He told himself it was nothing. Heat crept up his neck, betraying him long before his mind caught up. But the way his breath hitched when Carter looked at him said otherwise. With his luck, Carter was straight, or not remotely interested in a loser like him.

After a while, they rode to the stable. Carter stood beside Storm as if he’d been carved out of the same landscape—broad shoulders, steady stance, hat pulled low enough to shadow his eyes. Sunlight caught the edge of his jaw, turning it sharp and clean. Ethan tried not to stare, but his gaze kept drifting back anyway.

“You ready?” Carter asked, brushing a hand down Storm’s neck. His voice had that low, even tone that always settled something in Ethan’s chest.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, though his voice came out rougher than he meant.

Carter glanced at him, eyes narrowing just a little. Not suspicious—more like he was reading Ethan the way he read horses. “Good. I was thinking…” He stopped for a moment, thumb running along Storm’s bridle. “How would you like to go to dinner with me? Off the ranch.”

Ethan blinked. “Where?”

“Out of Foggy Basin.” Carter gave him a small smile—different from his usual tight, polite ones. Softer. Warmer. It hit Ethan harder than it should’ve.

“Sure,” Ethan said. “I have nowhere to go.”

Carter nodded once, as if he’d expected that answer. “We’ll head out after we get our horses settled.”

They walked the horses back toward the private stable, the one with the new green paint and the old weathervane that squeaked whenever the wind hit it wrong. Once their horses had been taken care of, they returned to the motorcycle and headed for Carter’s cabin.

“You can shower at my place.”

Ethan’s stomach flipped. He told himself it was nerves. He didn’t believe it.

Carter’s cabin sat tucked behind a line of cottonwoods, the porch half in shade. Inside, everything was neat—too neat. Boots lined up inside by the door. Jackets hung in perfect order. The place smelled like cedar and coffee. Without words or thoughts, they removed their socks and boots with Carter removing his first since his boots didn’t have laces.

“You can take the hall bathroom,” Carter said, tossing him a towel and a shirt. “I’ll grab mine in the bathroom in my bedroom.”

“Where did that shirt come from?” Ethan asked.

“I bought it, but it was too small. Never returned it. So, it’s yours now.”

“Thanks.”

Ethan showered fast, trying not to think about Carter doing the same in the next room. When he stepped out, Carter was already dressed—dark jeans, a clean button-down, sleeves rolled once. Simple. But on him, it worked too well. Ethan looked away before he stared too long.

They climbed into Carter’s truck, the old engine rumbling as they pulled out of Foggy Basin. The road stretched wide and empty, sagebrush blurring past the windows. Carter drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console—close enough the man’s warmth reached him even without touching.

“You doing okay?” Carter asked, eyes still on the road.

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “Just… thinking.”

“If you ever want to talk,” Carter said, voice low, “I’m around. Doesn’t matter what it’s about. And it stays between us.”

Ethan’s head snapped toward him. “What does that mean?”

Carter shrugged lightly. “Means I don’t repeat things that aren’t mine to share.”