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“Is the new guest sleeping here or up at the house?” Walt asked Zeeb, shimmying down under the sheets.
“He’s with us. Toby said he’d send him here right after supper, but I think they probably got to shootin’ the breeze on the boss’s porch. Nice night for it.”
That remark did nothing to calm Butch’s already fraying nerves.
Paul came into the bunkhouse and hung up his hat. “Rusty’s worrying me. He didn’t eat much tonight, and he drank more than usual. If he’s still like that in the morning, I’ll call the vet.” He paused at the threshold between the living area and the bunks. “What’s going on?” His brow creased in faint lines.
“Nothing,” Butch muttered. Paul looked from Butch to Zeeb as if for confirmation, and Butch scowled. “He’s gonna give you the same answer. It’s time to sleep.”
The four guests traipsed into the bathroom and Butch breathed a little easier.
Paul held his hands up. “Whatever you say. I’m just pointing out that there’s an atmosphere in here. Felt it the moment I stepped inside.”
“Paul, leave it,” Zeeb urged. “Have you picked out horses for the guests for the morning? I know Frank, Max, and Eric are newbies. Not so sure about the other two.”
“Yeah, Teague’s already given me the lowdown. Daisy, Ryan, and Elmer will do just fine. They’re all three gentle as a lamb. And Teague came by the stables just now,” Paul said in a low voice. “He said Sol wants to go for a ride first thing. Apparently he was around horses a lot when he was a kid. I’ll make sure he’s okay, then I’ll give him Bailey. He shouldn’t have any trouble with him.” Paul unbuttoned his black shirt.
“How come he didn’t eat with you guys?” Butch demanded.
Zeeb regarded him with mild surprise. “How comeyoudidn’t? Not like you to miss a meal.”
Butch sat on the edge of his bunk. “Lost my appetite.”
He jerked a thumb toward the living area. “There’s a couple pieces of fried chicken in the fridge if you get the munchies.” He stripped down to his shorts. “Seems like Sol and Toby already know each other. Toby said Sol’s a friend from San Francisco.”
Butch froze. “You don’t say.”
The likelihood of the three of them discussing stuff Butch would rather leave buried in Wyoming had just increased, and the chances of him getting more than a few hours’ sleep were shrinking by the second.
The bunkhouse door opened, and Butch averted his gaze.
Show time.
“So where am I sleeping?”
Sol’s voice was a helluva lot more gravelly that Butch remembered, but more than thirty years would do that to a guy. He stared at the wooden floor as Sol strolled into the bed area.
“I put your stuff over there,” Zeeb told him.
Butch hadn’t even noticed, and a trickle of unease worked its way through him when he saw which bunk Zeeb had allocated to Sol.
It was the one across the room from his.
Not that he could say a damn word about it. What excuse could he give?‘Hey, you can’t put him there because I’ll be able to see him’?
They’d think he’d lost it.
Sol walked over to the bed and faced the wall. Butch watched as he removed his dark blue shirt.
Holy fuck.
It was as tantalizing as a strip show.
Sol was still lean, but Lord, justlookat those muscled shoulders, not to mention his arms and back. The crop of light brown hair was gone, and Sol’s bare scalp gleamed in the light. He was slim across the waist and hips, the dark band of his briefs showing above his jeans.
The jeans he was in the process of removing.
Butch didn’t want to notice how firm Sol’s ass was, how his briefs clung to round cheeks. He didn’t want to stare at Sol’s muscled, hairy thighs, but he couldn’t look away. And hedefinitelydidn’t want to see Sol’s ass revealed as he lowered his briefs to the floor, stepping out of them before reaching into his bag for a pair of white shorts. Butch took in Sol’s long naked body, his tanned skin, his sculpted back, but all too soon those firm globes covered in a light brown fuzz were hidden from sight.
