CHAPTER 08

jackson

T he horses were saddled and ready to go, tied to the fence, but West was nowhere to be seen. While I usually went out at six, I’d woken up earlier to make sure he didn’t fuck over my men. I walked the perimeter of the stables in an attempt to find him, considering he had a fucking job to do.

His truck sat along the back of the building with a motorcycle parked alongside it. Was that all he brought with him? The black Harley was well taken care of while the truck had clearly seen better days with its rust and chipped paint.

Lying in the truck bed with a jacket tossed over his chest was West, passed out. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Hey!” I yelled before kicking the bumper. West bolted upright in a panic, eyes wide. He battled his jacket as he tried to get it off. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” West snarled as he threw his jacket aside. He stumbled to his feet and dropped out of the truck bed, his knees practically giving out on the way down .

“This is your fucking job and you’re passed out drunk—”

“Fuck off. I’m allowed to drink during off hours.”

“This ain’t off hours—”

“Last night, you fucking moron!” he interrupted. “Don’t believe me? Go ask Lenny. He’ll have all sorts of opinions to fucking share. Not sure he’ll share them with the town’s gay bull rider but who knows? Maybe you can fucking kick it out of him too.”

I avoided Lucky Lenny like the plague. Dealing with Lenny’s homophobic rants and bullshit made me want to put his face through the bar.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked instead.

“You! You’re what’s wrong with me!” West ranted. From the liquor on his breath and the glassiness in his eyes, he was still drunk. Just what I fucking needed. “You and your stupid fucking attitude. I did the job! You wanted those goddamn horses taken care of, they are! And I did a damn good job, even with all your stupid ass rules. I figured it out, and I did a damn good job! I know you fucking know it. So why don’t you get the fuck out of my face and let me sleep! Fuck!”

He kicked the wheel of his truck in anger. There was no fucking reasoning with him at this point—not that I wanted to.

“Your ass better be fucking sober when the day is done,” I snapped. “It’s your job to take care of the horses, and I expect you to do your goddamn job.”

“Fuck off,” he muttered again. He ran his hands through his hair and scrubbed them over his face.

“Fuck this up and you’re done,” I warned him. “I don’t give a fuck what the goddamn lawyers say. I won’t have you on my fucking ranch.”

“I said fuck off,” he repeated. “Get off your high horse, you asshole. You’ve proven you don’t give a fuck about those horses.”

Anger boiled my blood. I clenched my fist and seriously considered hitting him. Oh, how I wanted to fucking put him on his ass.

“Don’t fuck this up,” I repeated and stormed away before I did just that.

Year in and year out I poured everything I had into this place, and it only made me grumpier. Some days, I wondered why the hell I didn’t just sell. Take the money and start over. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a solid reason as to why I should—at least not one that didn’t make me sound like a fucking child throwing a tantrum. Family legacy was important. My father and his father before him and all the rest had poured their blood, sweat, and time into it.

I may have been cut from the same cloth as my father, but I wasn’t fucking made for this.

It made the days long—longer than they should’ve been—and by the time I guided Zeus into the paddock for end-of-day maintenance, I was coiled tight. My guys were in a good mood, so that was something. They chatted and made plans that I quickly turned down when they offered.

As they disappeared, I stopped at the fence alongside Mickey to watch West work. Shirtless as he washed a horse .

The universe hated me—was getting in a good fucking laugh—because Jesus fuck, West McNamara had filled out fine. Broad shoulders, a strong back, and a tapered waist. Those dark jeans of his showed off muscular thighs and an ass I didn’t need to be noticing. Black ink covered his tanned skin in a wild array of tattoos. The most prominent was the pair of angel wings coming out of his shoulder blades, covering both arms, and ending in roses on his hands. Barbed wire spiraled down his spine while stars cascaded over his right side.

The nine rough scars etched into his left side piqued my curiosity, but I’d be damned if I’d ever ask what happened. So did the fact that he had barbells through his nipples—but again, things I didn’t need to be noticing.

I hated the man, but fuck me, my dick had other thoughts. Thoughts I tried to shove aside because I didn’t need to be sporting a hard-on while staring at him.

“You keep lookin’ at him like that, boy, and I’m goin’ to start questionin’ if you want to fire him or fuck him,” Mickey commented, ripping me out of my borderline dirty thoughts.

“Jesus fuck, Mickey,” I scoffed. I turned to the old man, but he just had that shit-eating grin on his face. “What the fuck made you think that was okay to say? ”

“Look on back at him and I’ll take you a picture,” he said. “You had that same look on your face with Eli year before last.”

Fucking Eli. Eli was the dumbest thing I’d ever done. I maintained hard boundaries with my employees but Eli got under my skin. I hated the man, but I also couldn’t stop my dick from intervening when I talked to him. Instead of firing him on a Friday like I meant to, I spent a weekend fucking him. That made Monday real awkward when I actually had to fire the insufferable man.

“I’m startin’ to think hate fuckin’ is your thing,” he commented.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mickey! Do you have a filter?”

“Around them? Sure. Around you? Nope.” Cheeky fucking man. “Don’t you worry, boy, all dicks need attention.”

“Mickey!” I snapped. I didn’t need to be talking about my attention-starved dick with Mickey. Admittedly, I only got laid a few times a year while on the road with the League. And I was real fucking careful when I did that. I didn’t fuck around when it came to my employees, and Wood Springs was so goddamn small that I was fairly certain I was the only gay man in town—at least openly anyway.

Except for maybe West, but I didn’t have a fucking clue what he was. And I didn’t want to think about it either.

When he stopped to take a long drink from a black water bottle, I frowned. Why did I have a sinking suspicion he didn’t have water in there?

“How much does he drink?” I asked. That was a matter that needed attention. I didn’t need him drunk and screwing shit up.

“Boy, you don’t know that’s what he’s got in his bottle,” he replied.

“Come on, Mick, don’t think me a fool,” I said. “We both know Harrison was so far down the bottle that he bled whiskey.”

“No reason to think that boy followed in his footsteps.”

“He was drunk this morning,” I told him. “And working on the horses. How drunk is another fucking question, but I can’t have him showing up like that. He’s going to get hurt and then it’s my fault. I’ll be damned if I’m paying out because he’s a fucking drunk.”

“Boy, we need to have a fuckin’ talk,” Mickey announced. He took off his hat, rubbing the brim between his weathered fingers. I leaned against the fence post as I waited for him to collect his thoughts. “I understand you got issues with that boy after him leavin’ you and shit—”

“He didn’t leave me,” I interrupted angrily. “I don’t give a fuck about him leaving.”

“You always were a shit liar, Jackson,” he said. “That boy left you more than he left anyone else here. Don’t think me a fool. I saw the way you two were. It ain’t a far leap to know you had feelin’s.”

“Get to your point, Mickey.” I scowled, hating every fucking sentence coming out of his mouth.

“You need to learn to give people some grace—now more than ever,” he said. “There are just some times in life you need to learn to shut your goddamn mouth instead of lashin’ out with all that anger of yours. This right here… this is one of them moments.”

I considered his words. Mickey was about the only person in the world who could get away with calling me out on my shit. I listened to him too—most of the time. This time, though… this wasn’t one of them. Everything about West’s presence in my space pissed me the fuck off. Without a reason why, I wasn’t stopping until he was gone.

“You going to tell me why?” I asked.

“There are some things you’re better off not knowin’, boy, and should count yourself lucky that you don’t,” he replied.

“Then no, I ain’t going easy on him, Mick,” I told him. Without a word, I left him standing there. I needed a cold shower and something to sear the image of West shirtless out of my brain.