Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Nate and Juno moved at a slow pace away from the house, making their way through the deep snow. Gabe had told a lot of stories at dinner, and Nate hadn't failed to notice that he spoke an awful amount about Ashley, the new marketing guy's sister. He said she was skittish, sported a bruise on her face, and by the end of dinner he'd guessed at reasons why the blonde—because, yes she was blonde—carried such marks on her.

Nate wanted to know about this Jay guy. He was still on the edge of being pissed that Marcus had hired him without general consensus. He, Gabe, and Luke deserved a vote. Come to think of it, the Strachan family, wherever they were, were eligible to have a say-so.

Nate and Juno emerged from the trees by the creek and walked smoothly among the empty Creek Cabins. Nate still hadn't made a decision about whether they were opening them come March. That was in the hands of the new business and marketing guy, and the not knowing was driving Nate screwy. He'd worked with Gabe and Luke on the remedial work that needed to be done but had focused on the River and Forest Cabins. They really needed new staff, but Nate wasn't sure where the money would come from to pay for them.

He gave Juno her head and they flew across the familiar landscape, the mountains lost in the darkness and the sky glittering with stars. He reined her in at the top of Ember Bluff and sat there for a while, simply breathing in the fresh air. In daylight he would have been able to see the layout of the commercial side of the ranch, behind him was the roundup canyon, in front of him the accommodation for the people who came here for the genuine pretend-cowboy experience.

This was his life, and he wanted it to carry on, to weather the storms and survive so that Gabe's and Luke's kids would have something to inherit in the future. Nate resolved to be patient with the new guy and open to new ideas. He would forget that Jay Sullivan and his sister and her kids were "city." It didn't mean the man wouldn't slot into the Crooked Tree just fine and bring new ideas to the table.

He turned Juno around. They took the return a little more slowly. The air was icy cold. What would probably be the last snowfall before spring was threatening to fall tonight. They broke into a canter when they reached the flat plain toward the river, then splashed through a shallower part that Juno knew well.

With a nudge, Nate encouraged her up the bank on the other side, and with a burst of speed, they jumped the small ridge to the pathway—straight into a flashing, glaring light and loud yelling. Juno reared and instinct kicked in for Nate.

"It's okay," he crooned as he settled her.

The yelling was still going on, and Juno wasn't that impressed as she shied away and shook her head. Nate slid from the saddle, taking the time to settle Juno before tying the horse off loosely. Juno was a solid horse, not prone to spooking, but Nate wasn't taking any chance. He stalked to where the yelling was coming from. A figure lay prone in the snow with their hands over their face and curses dropping from their lips. A male voice. A flashlight on a dropped phone sent up a beacon into the dark night. Nate blinked with the sudden blindness, then kicked the phone over so it was dark.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the owner of the voice that had dripped with curses spluttered. "You could have killed me."

"I could ask you the same thing, you idiot," Nate snapped back.

The man cursed loudly, "I'm the idiot? Fuck. I was walking, and suddenly your devil horse mowed me down."

Nate looked pointedly at Juno, who, in the light thrown by the moon, was standing still and docile by a tree. "You're the idiot, 'cause you don't go crawling around in the dark on a freaking ranch."

"I'm on a cleared path, and there should be lighting here."

"Jeez, get your ass off the ground," Nate snapped. He didn't have all night to be talking to whom he guessed was the guy from the city himself, Jay freaking Sullivan.

"Help me up," Jay ordered quickly.

"Get yourself up," Nate offered in return. "You fall over, you get yourself up and standing. The rule of the ranch."

"The ranch with no freaking lights. There should be a rule about that . Where's my damn phone?"

Nate's eyes had gotten used to the dark again after being blinded by the blue-white light of Jay's phone. He kicked the phone closer to Jay's hand, and Jay fell on it like a starving man. He pressed buttons and the damn flashlight shot a beam of bright light into the trees above them. What the light illuminated was an image Nate was going to remember for a long time. This guy—the new man who was going to whip the ranch business into shape—was all slim and blond and sexy and ruffled. Covered in Montana snow, he was messed up, but he wore the damp well. Nate's body fought warring emotions: instant appraisal of a fine piece of meat, and abject horror that Jay Sullivan was a complete moron. A shivering moron.

"Turn off the light, you idiot." Nate grabbed the phone from Jay's hand and turned it over, wondering how the hell he was going to turn the light off. When he couldn't immediately work it out, he pocketed the cell.

"What the hell, asshole? Give me back my phone."

"No," Nate said steadily.

Jay stumbled quickly to stand toe-to-toe with Nate. "Give me my damn phone."

Turned out Nate's first assessment of the guy being shorter than him was right. A good three or four inches less and skinny to boot. He looked strong enough if you liked the soft, gentle curves of a man stuck behind a desk. Nate found himself contemplating what color Jay's eyes were, then caught himself, and immediately stopped thinking of anything inappropriate.

Jay lunged for the phone and Nate sidestepped the move, catching Jay's arm and preventing him from face-planting in the snow. With temper in his stance, Jay shrugged off the grip and rounded on Nate.

"My. Phone," he bit out.

"I'm keeping the phone," Nate said perversely. He realized he was enjoying having five ten of slim, sexy man, all roiled up and temper driven, standing in front of him. It had been far too long since he'd seen temper this unbridled in anyone.

"You're an asshole," Jay snapped and lunged again.

This time, Nate didn't move. Instead, he allowed Jay to fall into him and enjoyed the feeling of a male form pressed against him. Shame it was all about the temper.

Nate pushed Jay away; he was enjoying this teasing play far too much. Jay clearly wasn't seeing it as teasing or playing—he was spitting mad. "I'm not the idiot making himself blind by staring into a light," Nate said. "We deliberately don't have lights this side of the river, so you'd best get used to using the moon."

"I'm not a fucking idiot. I value my life, Cowboy, and a no-light situation is stupid."

Nate ignored the whole "fucking idiot" and "cowboy" reference. "What's stupid is stumbling around in the dark on your first night here with no idea of where you're going."

Nate watched as Jay purposefully brushed himself down and appeared to take the time to get himself together. Again Nate wished he could see Jay's expression clearly, but his eyes were still adjusting after being blinded by the damn light. Seemed as if Mr. City was calming himself down and consigning Nate to some kind of group of people he had to deal with in a special kind of patient way.

Finally Jay held out a hand. "Jay Sullivan." Nate took the hand. "And you are?"

"Nate Todd."

"One of the Todds. Gabe's brother."

"Big brother."

"The horse guy?"

Nate raised a single eyebrow. That was what he was being labeled as? "The horse guy," he confirmed.

They released the grip, and Jay held out his hand again. "My phone," he said very deliberately. "Please," he added firmly.

Some stubborn streak in Nate had him contemplating throwing the space-age junk in the river. That would stop Jay from frightening horses. Then common sense prevailed. Juno was fine, he was fine, and thankfully no one had died. He held out the phone but snatched it back just as Jay's hand reached it.

"What the fuck," Jay cursed.

Some small part of Nate loved that Jay's practiced civility had dropped and the cursing was back.

"No more sneaking around until you know the ranch."

Nate could see well enough by then to notice Jay's mouth opening and shutting like a damn trout. Then the guy pulled himself straight and upright. "I wasn't sneaking around. I was learning the place."

Nate released the phone to Jay. "This side of the place isn't yours to know," he said simply. "You stick to your side of the river and away from the private cabins."

"I didn't realize there was a private side."

Nate ignored the sarcasm in Jay's tone. Clicking his tongue to get Juno's attention, he clasped her reins and led her away.

But not before he left with a parting shot. "Well, now you know. See you at breakfast."

Nate fumed all the way back home, and it took him one hell of a long time to calm down. Not only had his cock stood to attention, he hadn't been able to stop the damn thing. He was in need of getting some action, and soon. So instead he focused intently on the emotion he could handle—temper.

His anger, which began with Jay crawling about with a flashlight—albeit on a phone—and scaring Juno, began to morph into anger toward Gabe. His brother should have explained that the Sullivans must stay put until they'd had the proper guided tour and that the three houses up on this side of the river were private property.

By the time Nate had stabled Juno and made his way indoors, he was itching for a fight. He'd asked Gabe to do one thing, and one thing only—get the Sullivans and hole them away in the old staff cabin until the meet-and-greet tomorrow.

The inside of the house was dark. Gabe and Luke were asleep, but that didn't stop Nate from shoving Gabe's door open. The noise of it crashing on the wall had Gabe upright in his bed in fright. The book he'd fallen asleep reading fell to the floor with a crack .

"What's wrong?" Gabe said immediately. "Is it Luke?"

Remorse broke into a little of Nate's anger but not enough to stop him. He hadn't meant to make Gabe think the worst. "Next time I tell you to do something, for God's sake do it right," he shouted.

"What?" Gabe flicked on his bedside lamp. He looked dazed and unfocused. "What's wrong?"

"I only found Jay Sullivan creeping around in the snow near the Strachan place! Damn fool flashed a light at Juno and near got me thrown."

"Okay," Gabe began. "That's my fault how?"

"You should have told him everything beyond the stables is off limits."

Gabe sighed and rolled onto his side to reach across and shut off the lamp. "Go to bed, Nate."

"We need to talk about this."

"No. You don't want to talk, you want a fight, and I'm asleep. So go away."

"Gabe—"

"Jesus, Nate, will you go and get laid and work out some of this testosterone! You're freaking Luke and me out with all this arguing shit."

"Gabe—"

"Just fuck off."

Nate felt oddly drained and deflated. He hated it when he and Gabe or Luke argued. Hell, he had to face it, what had happened hadn't been an argument because his freaking brother hadn't risen to the challenge. Just spouted some shit about getting laid. Grabbing his keys, Nate decided that his brother might well be right. Ever since he'd confronted the fact that the ranch was heading toward meltdown and accepted his part in it, he'd been frustrated and antsy. Months of no sex and tension mixed with worry left him with a hair trigger. He was in his truck and off Crooked Tree in less than five minutes.

Before he could really settle into driving, he had reached town and continued through. He pulled up outside Carter's, a biker's bar in the back of beyond, and parked. He was out of the truck before he could change his mind.

Pickings for a man with his appetites were pretty slim in town—no such thing as a gay bar there—but at least here he could get some easy sex without repercussions. He pushed open the door and was greeted by a wall of sound. No one turned and looked at the door; no one in here cared who he was or what he wanted. The place was heaving with men and women alike, a good proportion of them bikers from various towns this side of the mountains.

A mix of needs walked side by side in this place: gay, lesbian, bi, het, ménage, rooms where the doors shut and no one asked questions. He didn't see familiar faces—hell, he wasn't really looking—and he made his way to the bar. Holding a bottle, he turned to face the crowd and leaned back against the bar. Nate crossed his legs at the ankle and waited. He didn't have to wait long. The first couple of advances were girls, and he dealt with them politely and firmly and waited for word to filter out to their friends.

He had his eye on a couple of guys old enough to be legal, and soon enough one of them approached him. No words were spoken, but they moved through the crowd and into the corridor behind the bar. Paying a cover charge had them legitimately hiring a room, and the blue-eyed blond assumed the position as soon as the door shut. He pushed down his jeans, laid a condom and lube on the table, then tilted his ass in the air with his hands on the bed. This wasn't about foreplay; this was about stretching the guy out enough to fuck him through the mattress.

No emotions involved, but Nate felt the familiar wash of peace flowing through him. He needed this. Gabe was right, and wouldn't his brother be crowing about it tomorrow? Fucker.

Nate spent some time stretching the man, but everything was clinical and quick. When he was balls-deep and fucking Anonymous Guy into the mattress, he gripped the guy's hair and turned his head so he could see the expressions on his lay's face. Need, lust, and greed took their turns flowing across the guy's face.

"Tighter," the guy said. "Grip it tighter."

Pushy bottom, but Nate didn't hesitate. He pulled at the guy's hair and held tight. His rhythm became erratic as an orgasm built inside him. He bottomed out with each shove of his cock into this warm and willing body. "Use your hand," he ordered.

The pushy bottom complied. Nate guessed he was fisting himself by the keening noise he made and his shouts as he came on the bed. Nate followed him over and grunted as he lost it.

He didn't hang around. As soon as the last pulse of come left him and he softened, he held on to the condom and pulled out.

"Fuck, that was hot," Anonymous Guy said. "I'm Liam?—"

"No names," Nate said firmly. "Thanks for the fuck."

Without a backward glance, he left the room, made his way back out of the bar, and headed immediately to his truck. In seconds he was back on the road, but as soon as he rounded the bend before the main road, he pulled the truck to the side and cut the engine.

Sitting in the dark, Nate crossed his hands on the steering wheel and buried his head in them.

What kind of life was he living here? That Liam guy had been cute. Nate didn't have to be so fucking closed off. He could go back, see if Liam wanted more—a drink maybe, or a chat? Just because he was gay didn't mean he couldn't have a lover, a real one. Add to that the worries he'd allowed into his head about Crooked Tree and suddenly he was exhausted.

How long he sat there, he didn't know. His only thought was that Gabe was right. No wonder Gabe had told him to get his head straight. He was fucked.