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“Yes! It was a wedding present from Landon. Have you seen it?” Montrell asked as he got to his feet. I nodded. His handsome face lit up. “Where?”
“A week or so ago. I came early to return a cookie tin, and the house was quiet. I slipped in and scared Roxie, who was toting around the dish. She said she served you and Landon jam in it for breakfast.”
Montrell looked as if someone had said his music was just a bunch of random notes.
“That was a Baccarat Mille Nuits candy bowl. Not a damn jam bowl,” he snapped, his gaze darting to Landon.
“So too expensive to dump some Smucker’s into then I take it?” I enquired and got a curt nod from Landon.
“Mona, will you find Roxie and tell her we’d like to see her,” Landon said, his voice cool, his gray eyes lacking emotion. Perhaps that was the “goalie look” Montrell teased him about at times. Whatever it was it brooked no bullshit. Mona hurried off. “Perhaps it’s simply been put in the wrong cupboard.” He walked over to his husband to rub his back.
“I hope so. That little dish has so much sentimental value.” Montrell sighed. Several tense moments passed. Montrell began pacing, cradling his cat Lady Marmalade. The sound of flat heels hitting hardwood told us of Mona’s speedy return. Montrell’s dark brown gaze flew to Mona when she hurried into the room.
“Did she tell you what she did with the candy dish?” Montrell questioned the harried woman, and she shook her head.
“I can’t find her anywhere in the house,” Mona replied, strands of short black hair stuck to her cheek. She thumbed them away smartly. “Her car is gone.”
We all looked at each other, dumbfounded.
“Could she have been called away on an emergency?” Nate asked. I shrugged. Mona grabbed her phone from where it lay atop her ever-present tablet and poked at it.
“I’m calling her now. This is unacceptable behavior to simply leave in the middle of a meal. Her duties are to cook and clean up afterward. This kitchen is far from tidied up.” Mona’s frown was deep as she waited, phone to ear and tiny foot-tapping, for Roxie to answer. After a long minute or two, she lowered the phone. “She’s not answering my call. I am sorry, Mr. Reece. I hired her, and this behavior reflects poorly on me as well as Roxie. I will track her down and she will explain why she ran off like she did.”
Nate and I said nothing else. The candy dish issue was a domestic one, and we weren’t household employees. We were dusty old ranch hands. The missing cabbage crystal or whatever the hell it was did take some of the fire off me for the bar fight. Landon was too worried over his husband’s distress to give me more than a “Don’t beat up the neighbors” comment as we were leaving. Shame Nate wasn’t as upset over a candy dish as the owners were. He followed me to my truck, resting his ass against the driver’s side door and folding his arms over his old Carhartt coat.
“You know generally I don’t pry into the private lives of the men here…” he opened with and I lifted a hand to cut off the rest of his sermon.
“He’s leaving for Cheyenne at the end of next week,” I informed my foreman. I kept how much it hurt me to think of Shepherd being six or so hours away from Nate. He didn’t need to know how hard I had fallen.
“Oh. Good.” I gave him a look from under my second favorite brown cowboy hat. “Not that he’s not done a hell of a job here the past couple of weeks. The man knows ranching.”
“Yep.” And how to steal hearts. He was good at that too, the good-looking shit.
“But him being gone is the best thing for everyone.”
“Yep.”
Nate grabbed the back of my neck and gave it a squeeze while I studied the busted zipper on my grimy chore coat.
“I know it hurts now, but you and Shepherd are like oil and water.”
“Thanks, but I’m good. It was just sex.” I gave Nate my most sincere smile. His hand fell to his side. “So yeah, no preaching is required. I’m heading to the barn now.”
“Kyle…”
I shook my head. He moved, and I climbed into the cab, rolling over the engine in a big hurry and rolling away from the big house that sat tucked into the trees. Now I felt bad for not reassuring Nate more, but I was feeling too raw to make him feel better. I needed to make myself feel better. Somehow. As the day wore on and more calves came into the world, I decided to simply end things with Shep now. Clean slice, sharp knife, all that happy horseshit. Decision made, and I headed to the guest cabins.
Shepherd was sprinkling oregano into a pot of canned tomato soup when I burst into his cramped cabin. He threw me a confused over-the-shoulder look as I stomped up to him.
“You smell like a barn,” he informed me.
“Well, no shit.” I grimaced inside knowing that I’d clomped all over the floor in shitty work boots. “I just wanted to tell you that we’re through.”
“Okay. Good decision.”
We stood there staring at each other. “Should we fuck one more time?” I asked. He nodded, tossed the spoon into the pot of soup, turned off the fire under the pot, and latched onto my head like a bear trap on an unwary hiker. Both hands on either side of my skull, he jerked my mouth to his. And boom! There went all my resolve. Fuck that sharp knife and clean cut nonsense.
We began ripping at our clothes, mouths melded, hands sliding over skin, groping, grasping, probing, stroking. We fell into his bed, me on top of him, and within moments I was slicked up, covered with a condom, and pressing slowly…ever so slowly…into his hot, tight ass. Shepherd linked his heels behind my back, his hands gripping my forearms as I sunk in inch by inch.
