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“Yeah.” Barrett’s nod was quick but sure. “Always. That’s how we build this thing between us. Trust, friendship, maybe -”
“I wanted to kiss you. Just crawl into your lap and kiss you until you were all I could taste.” The words fell from him faster than he could stop them and Ambrose slammed his eyes shut. “Fuck. Fuck.”
“Come here, Ambrose.” That voice, the snap and crack of it, made his breath catch. “Is that what you still want?” And all the gods help him, Barrett put the guitar aside to lean back on the couch and spread his legs. “I won’t stop you or say no.”
“You have to…” Ambrose wet his lips. “You have to want it. There’s a line between not saying no and wanting it.”
fuck. The movement made him pant a little but what made his cock throb was that sight. Barrett was comfortable, relaxed on his grey sofa, arms now propped up on the padded back, and a cocky tilt to his chin as he let his gaze lazily stake its claim all over Ambrose’s body and face. Worn black jeans, form-fitting t-shirt molded around thick pecs like he was begging for Ambrose’s hands to squeeze him there.
If he kissed Barrett now, he’d fuck him. And if they fucked, Ambrose would dive headlong into something he probably wasn’t quite ready for. Barrett had been right: wait, build, learn, then if everything lined up, they could take another step forward, the one rickety step past friendship and into somethingmore.
But goddammit.
“We should probably keep going with the lesson?” It was a hedge, not an easy one to make, but the little smile on Barrett’s face made it worth it. Ambrose didn’t feel like he was being tested, made to perform for someone else’s pleasure. And that alone made Barrett so much of a better person than most others who were in Ambrose’s life.
“You got it. And thanks.” The heat dropped from Barrett’s expression.
“For?”
“For taking a moment to check in with yourself before thinking this was the only thing I wanted.”
“Did you?”
“Want it?”
“Yeah.”
“Enough to do everything but ask you to come over and sit in my lap and be a good boy.”
Barrett was joking. But the reaction Ambrose had togood boywas no laughing matter. He had to duck into the bathroom to will away the semi-hard and when he came back, he asked. “Wanna try that one song everyone knows at like one in the morning at the bar?”
Barrett groaned. “No. But yes.”
Ambrose sat down in his chair and pulled the guitar into his lap. “On three. We’ll take it slow.”
Chapter sixteen
Ambrose’swhistlewaslow,breaking the steady silence of the forest around them. “Who does something like that?”
Barrett shrugged. “No idea.”
Always the sharp one, Ambrose leaned on the railing of the overlook as they stared down at the black spot where the ranger storage shed had been. “And it’s in the middle of nowhere. Which I guess would be good for not getting caught. “
“Yeah, except now we have cameras pointed at all the storage sheds and the FLs instead of just a few.” Barrett pointed to the cameras above the spot where the shed had been. “And even then, whoever did it managed to keep us from seeing them.”
“Smart. Or lucky.”
He huffed. “Or they know how we operate.”
There was a light in Ambrose’s eyes, some spark of mischief and interest as he replied, “So an inside job? How very bestselling thriller of them.”
Barrett couldn’t help but laugh. “Honestly, yeah. But I think it’s maybe someone we fired or left in a snit fit.” Ambrose raised his eyebrows and he said, “Call it a gut instinct. One of the first things you do as a rookie is memorize the trail patrols and all the locations of the hiker and ranger stations.” Barrett held up a hand and ticked off the points in a sharp, quick voice. “Two to a truck from Snake River Point and up, one to a truck at sea level. Patrols from 5 a.m. to 11 p.m., never more than eight hours a day on the trails, summers are 24/7. All stations stocked with water and rations and heating and cooling blankets. Never let a station go empty. Never let a hiker stay lost.”
“Couldn’t someone learn that themselves, though?” Ambrose pressed. “I’m not trying to be recalcitrant here.”
“No, no, I get it.” Barrett sighed and leaned on the railing, mirroring Ambrose’s pose. “And you’re right. So the stations don’t move and anyone used to this area would know roughly where to find a ranger. But add in the knowledge of the cameras and the…” Something inside him grated, skidding to a rough stop as anger welled in his chest. “The sabotage of the FL took time. To shove all that metal through the lock, take the time to board up the door and bend the nails? You’d have to be pretty sure you wouldn’t get spotted by a patrol or go out in the pitch dark and operate by flashlight. Getting a truck up there is next to impossible without the right gear.”
Ambrose snorted. “Everyone around here has tire chains.”
