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“Sure. Even if Josiah hadn’t been there that night to help Brand, Brand still would have helped Josiah because he was a friend of Michael’s, and Michael works for him. You don’t get that kind of loyalty from your manager at a big box store or grocery outlet.”
“I guess you’re right.” Wyatt’s handful of managers from his college jobs hadn’t cared about his personal life, only that he showed up, did his job, and clocked out on time so they didn’t go over expected payroll hours.
“If you’re gonna land somewhere, Wyatt, Woods Ranch is a good place to be. I hope things keep working out for you.”
“Me too, thanks.”
“No problem.” The coffee maker spat out its final dregs. “So this guy you spent the night with. You gonna see him again?”
“Yep.” He’d obviously see Jackson at work tomorrow, but he took her other meaning to heart. Wyatt absolutely wanted to see Jackson again socially. To fuck him again and maybe even swap positions. He was curious how it felt to be fucked, and he trusted Jackson to be careful with him. To not hurt him.
He got the impression Jackson had been hurt enough in the past to be careful with his current partners.
A weird jolt of annoyance wiggled down his spine at the wordpartners. He didn’t like the idea of Jackson being with anyone else while he was doing this thing, whatever it was, with Wyatt. Was the jealousy irrational? Absolutely. Did he care? Not much. He’d never felt such a close connection to someone after only knowing them for a week, and it was as scary as it was intriguing.
And something he definitely wanted to keep exploring.
Wyatt was only twenty and a relationship at his age was unlikely to last, but by God, he’d have some fun with it while he could.
“This nameless dude must have made an impression,” Ramie said. “You just drifted off to la-la land for a little while. Good lay?”
“He was a great lay, actually.”
“That’s good. But here’s some unsolicited big-sisterly advice, okay? Try not to get too attached if you aren’t sure you’re sticking around the area. Make sure you’re both clear on what this thing between you is so feelings don’t get hurt. Yours or his.”
“I will.” They hadn’t made any promises, other than to keep their fling off the ranch, and Wyatt was cool with that. The last thing he wanted to do was get fired for fucking in the hayloft. Then again, if he did get fired there was nothing stopping him from asking Brand point-blank if he’d given up his parental rights twenty years ago.
Not that there was anything stopping him now. He didn’t like lying to Jackson. Mostly lying by omission, but lying was lying.
Then again, telling the truth only got you hurt. Bad things happened if you told. Keeping things to yourself was better.
“Thanks, Ramie,” Wyatt said. “I appreciate the advice.”
“Not a problem.” She winked as she poured a mug of steaming coffee. “I also don’t want any drama landing on my doorstep if this fling goes sideways.”
“Understood.” He stood, put his fork in the dishwasher, and headed toward the kitchen door. “Get lots of tips at work tonight.”
Ramie pulled the hem of her already low-cut red top down a quarter inch. “Count on it. Mama needs to fix her roof.”
He laughed. “See you tomorrow.” He really, really liked her, and as he walked down the short hall to his room, battled a pang of guilt for what he wasn’t saying to his landlord and friend about Brand. He truly hoped that if—when—the truth came out, she was able to forgive him for lying to her.
Monday was nowhere near as awkward as Wyatt anticipated and that was largely due to the fact that he and Jackson spent most of the day riding the line. Getting Wyatt used to the different pastures, the places in each where cattle could occasionally get lost or stuck, checking for fence damage, and doing everything except being in close quarters with each other.
As much as he missed how it felt to rub his naked body all over Jackson’s, Wyatt appreciated the man’s professionalism. He was doing exactly what he said he would do, which was leave their personal life off the ranch. Wyatt’s libido wasn’t happy about that, but his work ethic appreciated Jackson’s restraint.
Tuesday, Wyatt was on barn duty by himself. Brand and Rem were both off for the day, because Wayne was having outpatient surgery on one of his hands. It was a fairly simple surgery, but because of his age and previous complications with anesthesia, the family was anxious, and none of the Woods kids wanted their mother to be alone in the waiting room. Plus, it was a fifty-minute drive to the surgery center, which meant a long day for everyone.
Wyatt didn’t mind doing the grunt work of mucking stalls, feeding the horses, polishing saddles, and keeping everything as clean and organized as a barn could get. He ate his lunch alone, which kind of sucked after being used to eating with Jackson (even if all Jackson usually did was grunt in response to Wyatt’s attempts to start conversation).
His shift ended at five thirty, but Wyatt hung around the bunkhouse porch with Jackson, Hugo, and Michael, waiting until the Woods family finally returned a little after six. Rose and Rem stuck close to Wayne as the trio went inside the main house. Brand headed straight for them and pulled Hugo into a hug.
“Everything went fine.” Brand kissed Hugo’s cheek, then took a step back to address all the men on the porch. “Had a slight reaction to the anesthetic, but the surgery went fine. He just needs to take it easy and let his hand heal, which means supervising only. He goes anywhere near a shovel or a bridle, y’all tell me so I can yell at his stubborn ass.”
A round of acknowledgments went around their small circle of coworkers. Brand’s protectiveness over his father struck an odd chord for Wyatt because it butted up against everything he’d been told his bio dad was—so maybe Brand wasn’t his Maybe Daddy and his intelligence was all wrong. He could live with that.
He just couldn’t empathize with Brand’s protectiveness over his father, because he’d never experienced anything like it. Wyatt loved his stepfather in his own way, but he’d hardly been sick or injured a day in Wyatt’s life, so he’d never really worried over his health or future. Not like Wyatt had worried over and pampered his mom during her final few painful months. Sitting by her side as she succumbed to the disease ravaging her body. Holding her hand as she took her last breath. Watching nameless people take her away.
The funeral had been a surreal kind of hell he still had few clear memories of. Mostly he remembered the emotions. The overwhelming grief and loneliness.
