8. Seth

Chapter Eight

SETH

Seth wasn't easily embarrassed. Except for the choice to let Aiden drink that night, he'd never felt shame. Aiden could stare wide-eyed at his naked body, and all Seth felt was a brief spurt of alarm when his cock began to respond to the scrutiny. After all, he'd been daring Aiden to look, and Aiden never backed down from a dare. Seth regretted it now, but not out of embarrassment. He just couldn't forget the look on Aiden's face, the way color crawled up his neck, the flare of surprise and hunger in his eyes. Seth kept turning it over in his head, spinning out every possible outcome—what might have happened if he'd dared to reach out and grab him the way he wanted.

It put him in a foul mood while Aiden doggedly trailed him through morning chores.

Aiden wasn't the kind of man who passed judgment, but Seth couldn't stop seeing the ranch through his eyes. It was a shell of what it had once been. Seth had built the herd back from scratch, but local breeders refused to do business with him, so he'd been forced to buy for higher cost out of state. They were solid, healthy animals, fat and glossy-coated even in the dead of winter. They always came first, but everything else was slowly falling by the wayside, one expense at a time. Beneath the dirty slush of snowpack, his pasture needed reseeding. Fences were collapsing faster than he could replace them, and mountain storms had blown shingles off the farmhouse roof. The barn floor was rotting so badly in places that he had to watch his step, or he'd fall right through.

Aiden noted it all with one blue-eyed glance but didn't say a word. He only whistled cheerfully through his teeth and grabbed a pitchfork to muck stalls, just like when he was still learning what being a ranch hand was all about. It felt so familiar, so right, that Seth couldn't bring himself to send him away.

They didn't talk much until late morning when they were breaking their backs loading hay into the trailer Seth had hitched to his tractor. His feed truck would continue to sit like a boulder in the north pasture until he replaced the radiator.

"You've got some premium stock," Aiden commented breathlessly, gripping a bale by the twine and heaving it into the trailer. "You always did spoil 'em."

"Happy cattle are healthy cattle," Seth grunted, sweating despite the frigid weather. The sun blazed down on them, turning the whole world so bright that it snow-blinded them despite their sunglasses.

"The Triple M has some bulls that would love to get at these heifers next breeding season."

"No." Seth didn't look up from his work.

"Why not?"

"Michael Whittaker wouldn't do business with me."

"Sure, he would," Aiden protested. "He's not the type who listens to gossip, and anyway, I'd vouch for you."

Seth took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. Somehow, he kept his tone even when he said, "I don't need anyone to vouch for me. Not in this town."

That shut Aiden up, at least for a moment, but Seth didn't dare believe it would last. Aiden wasn't the type to let sleeping dogs lie, especially when it involved someone he cared about, and Seth had never doubted that he cared about him—even if it wasn't the way Seth wanted. Acting on his feelings would have been taking advantage of their friendship. Aiden was younger, and he'd been so recklessly vulnerable back then, desperate for a sense of belonging. More than anything, he'd wanted to prove himself. Back then, Seth had been the one vouching for him around town. It chafed to realize how their fates had reversed.

Aiden noticed his souring mood, but instead of backing down, he crouched down and started packing snow between his gloved hands.

"Don't," Seth warned sharply, watching him from the corner of his eye.

"Mind your own business," Aiden replied, tongue stuck in the corner of his mouth as he carefully crafted a ball of ever-increasing size. "I'm aiming for that bottle over on that crate, for all you know."

Seth quirked one eyebrow, watching doubtfully as a grown man spent an exorbitant amount of time smoothing and shaping a perfect snowball. The childish glee in his expression tugged at something deep inside Seth's chest.

I could've lost him. The thought came unbidden. It had been tormenting him all week, sucker-punching him when he least expected it. He could have died out there without me, and he'd never have known how much ? —

THWACK.

Cold, crisp snow slapped him in the face and knocked his hat askew, shattering his downward spiral. He'd been so lost in his dark thoughts that he hadn't seen it coming. He froze, jaw tightening, and slowly turned to face a howling Aiden.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said quietly.

Aiden was doubled over, slapping his thigh and laughing so hard that his complexion was starting to turn purple around the edges. "I ain't never seen a man who needs a face full of snow more than you," he hooted.

"You're pissing me off," Seth warned.

Aiden shrugged, still grinning. "What're you gonna do about it?"

Seth knew what Aiden wanted. He was hoping they'd end up scampering through the snow like kids again, shooting snowballs at each other while his father barked at them to get back to work. But those days were long gone, and if Seth got too close, he might?—

He was moving instinctively before he could stop himself, catching Aiden in an iron grip and shoving him against the side of the barn. His hand was there in a flash, cradling the back of Aiden's skull and protecting it from impact. He pinned Aiden's throwing arm over his head, and Aiden's eyes bolted wide open. Aiden gave a full-body twitch as if he'd aborted the impulse to fight, but Seth could feel the coiled tension in his body. It made him want to wring it out of him, one way or another.

"Stop pushing me, Aiden," Seth ground out. Their faces were inches apart, so close that their breath mingled in the space between them. "We're not kids anymore."

He watched the Adam's apple flex in Aiden's throat as he swallowed, fascinated by the movement. Aiden's chest rose and fell with his shallow breaths, like he'd just finished last in a marathon. He licked his lips nervously, and Seth tracked the motion.

"I know," Aiden said hoarsely, "but I don't know how else to be around you. It's like I'm frozen at eighteen, you know? Wondering why you won't return my calls."

Seth's grip on his wrist loosened, but he didn't step back. "I needed some space," he ground out.

"Yeah, well, you got it," Aiden replied bitterly, dropping his gaze. "Years and years, and look at all the good it did."

"I didn't want to hurt you," Seth muttered.

"You did."

It was said so boldly and nakedly that it left Seth speechless and vaguely embarrassed on Aiden's behalf. For a moment, he couldn't reply. He stood there, half-frozen, searching for words and coming up empty.

A spotted towhee warbled from the eaves overhead, and they both glanced up simultaneously, breaking the spell. Aiden's wrist flexed in Seth's grasp. With a heavy sigh, Seth released him and stepped back, putting some distance between them before he did something he'd regret.

Aiden rubbed his wrist where Seth had grabbed him, but Seth knew he hadn't been gripping hard enough to hurt. It was almost like he was rubbing the touch away. Aiden's deep breath sounded shaky, but he mustered the crooked grin that always made Seth's heart skip a beat and said, "Look, I'm not stupid. I know we can't go back to how things used to be. But there's no sense standing still forever, right?"

"You haven't stood still since the day you were born," Seth said. It came out more affectionate than he'd intended, but he was gratified when Aiden's smile warmed into something real. He added, "I thought life was going pretty well for you."

Aiden grimaced. "Can't complain. Work is steady and the beers are cold. I guess I just feel like I'm treading water sometimes. In the end, it's a whole lot of nothin', you know? But you —you're building something up here."

"Trying," Seth muttered.

"So, let me help." Chuckling, Aiden trotted to his shiny Dodge Ram and dropped the gate to reveal rolls of brand-new fencing and a refurbished radiator. Junk, Aiden had called it earlier.

"If that's junk, I'm the easter bunny," Seth said flatly.

"Aw, c'mon," Aiden wheedled. "You're doing me a favor."

"No."

Aiden leaned back against the tailgate, all long and lanky, and fixed him with his best limpid expression. Seth choked. The innocent look didn't suit him. He was born with a devilish streak, bouncing from adventure to adventure with the exuberance of an overconfident puppy. It got him into trouble so many times…but Seth had always been there to save him.

"Look, I understand the pride thing—" Aiden began.

Seth interrupted him. "Do you?"

Aiden paused, stuck his tongue in his cheek, and gave it some hard thought. "Naw," he admitted finally, breaking into a grin, "Everyone knows I ain't got no pride."

Seth didn't want to smile, but his lips curled despite his effort to keep a straight face. Aiden took that for assent and let out a victorious whoop before hauling the fencing out of the truck.

Maybe Aiden was right; they couldn't go back—but for the rest of that afternoon, it felt like old times.