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“Aww, that was sweet.” Hollie knuckled a tear away from her eye. “Can we talk length, girth and thrusting power now? Please?”
All three women laughed.
* * *
Once the ladies had disappeared into the house and Geraldine had temporarily run out of awkward questions, Wade descended the steps.
“Can I have a minute with you?” he asked Colt. “Alone,” he added when Drake stepped forward.
“Yeah, sure.” Colt glanced at his buddy, conveying it was no big deal. He could handle his brother. He didn’t really want to right now, but he could do it. “Let’s take a walk out back to the gulch.”
Wade moved forward to kiss Geraldine’s cheek. “Excuse us. We’ll be back in a few.”
“You boys be careful out there. Watch out for snakes.”
Colt smiled and patted her arm. They’d been watching out for snakes—and hell, playing with them when they were boys—their whole lives. “Go on up and tell Mama we’ll be right in soon.” He glanced at Drake. “You probably should head back to the ranch, make sure Steven and Larry didn’t have any trouble this morning. Misty has that sore foot.”
Drake’s eyes narrowed. It was definitely a good idea for him to make sure everything with the horses was running smoothly, and they had a twelve o’clock with Mrs. Feeney and her daughter Allison to ride Culpepper, but his best friend was no fool. He knew when he was being dismissed.
It wasn’t as rude as all that, but Colt really didn’t need to get into the whole threesome business with his family with Drake there. Bad enough they were suspicious. Having Drake standing around looking like he was ready to go to battle at a moment’s notice on Colt’s behalf wouldn’t help matters.
Besides, he’d make it up to him later. Take him out for those flame-your-lips-off wings he liked and a couple of beers, maybe shoot some pool down at Pitchers.
“Yeah, yeah, sure. If you’re certain you’re cool.”
“Definitely.” Colt smiled thinly and clapped his buddy on the back. “Everything’s just great.”
Lies, lies, lies.
“All righty then.” Drake tipped a hand to his head. “Wade, sorry about missing the wedding, man. I’d hoped to be back in time, but traffic was a bitch.”
“No worries. I really appreciated your gift. Charli did too.” Wade smiled and stuck out his hand to shake.
“Sure thing. Hope you have a great honeymoon. Don’t have too much fun and forget to come back here to be miserable with the rest of us.” Drake grinned and pulled Wade in for a quick one-armed hug, then took off, heading back out to his truck.
Wade glanced at his brother. “You good?”
“Yeah.” Colt set off around the house, not bothering to check his stride.
Wade was only a couple of inches shorter than him, and in damn good shape, but physically, Wade’s long hours in the music studio couldn’t compete with the backbreaking work Colt did on a daily basis. He made sure to take on a lot of the hardest tasks himself—mucking out stalls, exercising the horses, working the land. He remembered all too well when everyone in town, including Wade, had thought him to be some kind of lazy pretty boy because he hadn’t been as interested in farming back in high school. In those days, he’d been all about football.
Football, yeah, right. And what had that gotten him? A bum knee that liked to flare up when it rained and being cut from the Vanguards after probably one of the shortest NFL stints in history. His medical out had been more of a relief than a disappointment.
Nothing like washing out on the dream you’d spent your whole life imagining to really sour your perspective. And it had, for some time. Until he’d come back home and gotten married and discovered he loved working with horses. Talking to them, being around them, watching them grow confident and serene even after a troubled start. That work made him happier now than football ever had, even back in his glory days in high school on the legendary championship team.
But that didn’t mean the old injury didn’t flare up from time to time. Didn’t mean the old hurt couldn’t still get its hooks into him and make him feel worthless all over again.
Wade ate up the ground at his side. They dodged balloons and hanging lights and the streamers that were hanging every-damn-where. He waited until they’d made it halfway to the gulch to speak. “You’re pissed.”
Colt didn’t stop walking. “Who says?”
“That glare you just gave me, for one. You’re ready to pound someone’s face in, so I figured why not let it be mine.”
They stopped and Colt reached up to grab a partially deflated pink balloon, crushing it in his fist with a satisfying pop. “I have no reason to be pissed.”
“Because you spent the whole night getting laid?”
Colt lifted a brow and wished he had another balloon to pop. He might make it his mission to personally pop every one of them before this conversation was through. “You’re overstepping, little brother.”
