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“Morning,” Finn said back, not trusting himself to turn around. He couldn’t let this man see any more of his weakness than he already had.
“You been up a while?”
Finn casually shrugged, then pulled back from West and unclipped the horse from the cross ties. Rhys didn’t need to know that he’d woken well before the alarm was set to go off and had just lain there while he reveled in the feel of Rhys’ arms wrapped around him or that he’d wondered what it would be like to wake Rhys with a deep, lingering kiss on those firm lips – the ones he’d only gotten a brief taste of two nights ago. Had it really only been two days since Rhys turned his world upside down?
“What’s the plan for today?” Rhys asked as he glanced in each empty stall. “You already cleaned?” he said as Finn turned West around and started leading him out of the barn.
“Yeah. Cal’s horse is gone so he probably already went to check on the herd. The water trough in the main pasture needs to be emptied and cleaned and then we need to start thinning the manure pile. Spreader’s been broken for a couple months so we’ll have to do it by hand,” he called over his shoulder. He smiled at the colorful curse Rhys let out and then walked West to the pasture.
* * *
Rhys knew he’d die a happy man if he never had to shovel another pile of horseshit for the rest of his life. He’d tried to draw Finn into casual conversation throughout the morning, but the young man had remained stubbornly mute. Rhys still had no clue what had happened between their ride yesterday and Finn’s breakdown last night. It was like the good-natured guy he’d met two days ago had vanished and left a hollow shell of flesh and bone in his place. He reminded himself that his plan was to stay out of it, but as he watched Finn work himself to the point that he could barely stand, Rhys bit out a curse and grabbed Finn’s arm.
“Let’s take a break,” he said as he dragged Finn over to the wash stall and turned on the hose.
“I’m fine,” Finn insisted.
“Yeah, I know. So you’ve said,” Rhys said dryly. He cleaned his hands and arms off, then lowered his head so he could run the hose over it. The water wasn’t cold, but it still felt good as it slid down his hair and seeped into his shirt. He shoved the hose into Finn’s hands and gave him a warning look. Several seconds passed before Finn finally cleaned his own arms and hands off, then used his hands to slick some water through his hair.
“You going to tell me what happened last night between you and Callan?” he finally asked.
Finn turned off the water and wrapped the hose up. For a long time, he thought maybe Finn wouldn’t answer him, but then he finally said, “Gave him my notice.”
“Good,” Rhys said.
* * *
Finn was caught off guard by the response. “Good?” he echoed softly. He’d expected some big argument or demand for an explanation.
“Yeah. About fucking time,” Rhys muttered as he went into the barn and started pulling down the individual water buckets from each stall.
The lack of sympathy irritated Finn. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you deserve better,” Rhys said without hesitation or guile, instantly wiping out the building anger that had been growing inside of Finn. He’d been expecting Rhys to berate him for waiting things out as long as he had.
“Better than what?” Finn asked him.
Rhys looked up from what he was doing, his dark gaze pinning Finn’s. “Just better,” he answered before releasing the bucket from the clip holding it in place and stepping outside the stall, his body brushing Finn’s slightly as he moved past him.
Finn didn’t stop to think about the repercussions of what he was doing. Instead, he grabbed Rhys’ free arm and stopped his forward motion. They stood like that for several long seconds before something passed through Rhys’ dark eyes and then that mouth was crashing down on his. The water bucket hit the floor spraying water over both of them as Rhys wrapped his arms around Finn and dragged him up along his body as his tongue thrust into Finn’s mouth.
Nothing had prepared Finn for the overwhelming sensations that crashed through him as Rhys claimed him. Even the kiss from a couple nights ago paled with what was happening to him now. Sparks fired beneath his skin as Rhys’ fingers dug into his hips and that lush tongue explored every corner of Finn’s mouth. Something knotted in his belly and his cock pushed against his jeans painfully. He needed more, though he wasn’t completely sure what more meant.
Finn needed something to hang on to so he wrapped his arms around Rhys’ back and curled his hands over the other man’s shoulders. He felt one of Rhys’ hands stroke his ass and then those amazing fingers were pushing under the waistband of his jeans, the rough skin searching out the small of his back, then gliding lower. Finn moaned at the feel of Rhys’ fingers exploring his crease and he had to rip his mouth free of Rhys’ so he could suck in a breath. Their cocks brushed as Rhys pulled him closer and fastened his lips on his neck and sucked hard. Marking him.
“Finn!”
Finn ripped free of Rhys at the sound of Cal’s voice and looked around frantically. Cal was calling him from outside somewhere so he hadn’t seen what they’d been doing. Relief flooded through him and he turned back to Rhys, but froze when he saw the anger simmering in the other man’s eyes.
“Rhys,” Finn started, knowing he’d just royally fucked up.
“Finn!” Cal shouted again.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rhys muttered as he wiped his hand over his lips as if trying to get rid of Finn’s taste. Pain and disappointment went through Finn at the sight. He followed Rhys to the back door and saw Cal pulling his horse to a stop. A small, black calf was draped over his lap, blood dripping down its sides.
“Call Doc Sanders,” he said to Finn. “Rhys, give me a hand.”
ChapterSeven
