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“I got a case ofdéjà vu,” Butch told him. “Doesn’t matter. I guess we’re sharing the bed.”Wouldn’t be the first time, right?He had to ask himself if he would have batted an eyelid if he’d had to share it with Paul.There was no difference, right?
Except there was, and he knew it.
“Then how about we go into town and find somewhere to eat?”
Butch could get behind that plan. Anything to put off the hour when he had to get into that bed.
Sol went into the bathroom, and Butch shook his head. Somewhere, Race Prettyman was laughing his ass off.Big enough to build a pillow fort in the middle.He could almost hear Race’s voice.
“It’s real easy. You strip off, get in, cover up, turn out the light, and go to sleep. You won’t even know I’m there.”
Butch doubted it would be that easy. Because things had changed. Sharing a bed with Race had been fine, right up to the point where he’d woken up with a boner.
He was afraid he’d be hard as a rock justthinkingabout slipping between the sheets with Sol. And hiding a hard-on wasnotthe easiest of tasks.
It was time to face the truth.
Sol Davenport turned him on, and there wasn’t a damn thing Butch could do about that.
Butch rinsed his toothbrush. “Damn, that was good. The cook at that place could give Matt a run for his money.” Matt made fajitas now and then, but the chimichangas and the delicious fried ice cream at Vaqueros had been unbelievable, not to mention the Mexican spicy shots.
Lord, I hope I don’t let one rip in the night.
Then he figured Sol would probably be doing the same thing. Dear God, being in the bunkhouse after Matt made beans one time had been like a scene from that movie his dad used to watch, where all the cowboys sat around the campfire, adding their own musical accompaniment to the crackle of the firewood.
“What time do we collect the horse in the morning?” Sol called out from the bedroom.
“Eight. Then I aim to drive back so slow, it’ll make a careful little old lady look like a Grand Prix racing driver.” He wasn’t going to take any chances.
“Hey, could you come in here a minute?”
Butch dried his mouth on the towel, and went into the bedroom. “What’s up?”
Sol stood beside the bed, his toiletries unpacked. He held a small bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.
Butch grinned. “Now that’s what I call great planning. You kept that quiet.”
“Except I didn’t pack it. I just found it in my bag.” He frowned. “Didn’tyouput it in there?”
“And when would I have done that?”
“When I asked you to put my bag in the trailer.”
“But I didn’t—Toby did, remember? He turned up to wave us off.” Butch chuckled. “Wow. Remind me to thank him when we get home.” Sol removed a folded piece of paper from his bag. “What’s that?”
“The bottle was lying on it.” Sol scanned it, his brow furrowing. He jerked his head up. “Do me a favor? Call one of the guys and ask how Paul is, will you? Just don’t call Toby.”
“Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?” Butch pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans.
“When you’ve finished the call.”
Butch scrolled through his contacts and called Zeeb, who answered after three rings.
“You’re missing us already? Aw. We didn’t miss you at supper. Some of us even got second helpings.”
Butch ignored the barbed comment. “How’s Paul?”
“That’s kinda sweet, but you’ve got no cause to be concerned. He was back in the stable about an hour or so after you left. Said he was absolutely fine, and it must’ve been somethin’ he ate. Then he got on with his day as normal.”
