Chapter Eleven

“I think he loves you.”

Shane’s breath caught in his throat, and the soft brush he’d been using to groom Nahawi fell from his hand, landing on the stall bedding without a sound.

He chanced a glance over his shoulder at Dion, who stood in the doorway of Nahawi’s stall. His ever-present smile was bright and infectious, and humor sparked in his dark, friendly eyes. As far as Shane knew, he and Wes were keeping this thing between them under the radar. Had they given themselves away? Had Wes said something? A tiny part of him, once crushed and long buried, perked up at the thought, but Shane shoved it back down.

Sure, he was attracted to Wes. How could he not be? The man was all kinds of gorgeous. They’d spent every night over the past few days in bed—and on the couch, the kitchen counter, in the shower, and once in Wes’s office chair—in a tangled mess of limbs and hands and hungry mouths, their sweat-slicked bodies moving as one. He couldn’t remember sex ever being so incredible and all-consuming. Deep down, a part of himself that he didn’t want to acknowledge knew it went beyond physical. What he felt for Wes was more than sex, but love . . . No. Great like , perhaps. Whatever was happening between them couldn’t be more because once the threat to him was gone, Wes would be too. A month ago, that wouldn’t have even fazed him, but now . . .

Dion raised an eyebrow, his grin crooked and expression amused.

“What?” Shane croaked.

“Nahawi,” Dion said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, waving a hand between Shane and the horse he was oddly drawn to. “He’s never as relaxed as when you’re in here with him.”

Oh . Okay, that was a love Shane could handle—and whole-heartedly return.

“Is that so, big guy?”

Nahawi tossed his head as if to say yes. Smiling, Shane bent to retrieve the fallen brush, and after knocking some shavings off the bristles, resumed grooming.

“He watches the front barn doors.” Dion leaned against the open stall doorframe. “His ears flick forward when he hears someone approaching and turn back when it’s not you. It’s the damnedest thing.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual,” Shane said. There was something magical about that horse. As beaten down as he was, Shane saw a banked fire in the depths of his eyes that grew brighter with each passing day.

“What feelings?” Wes returned from the tack room with a fresh jar of salve for Nahawi’s wounds that his abuser had left untreated.

“Shane and Nahawi are bonding,” Dion said, but instead of the grin Shane expected, Wes frowned.

“That’s good,” he said, but the tone of his voice suggested otherwise.

Shane studied Wes, who didn’t meet his eyes as he stepped out of the stall. Was that on purpose? And why would Wes be annoyed that Nahawi was bonding with him? Wes was the one who had encouraged Shane to help with the horses. Not that Shane needed much encouragement. He loved being around horses again. Helping Mason and his crew take care of the wild ones and Dion with Nahawi’s recovery had given him a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt in a long time. If ever. He couldn’t wait to see Nahawi fully recovered and back to his glorious former self.

Surprise hit him at the thought. He didn’t know where he’d be in the two or three months that it would take for Nahawi to be one hundred percent again, but he saw himself here. Not just for Nahawi, but for himself, too. He felt at home on the ranch—and in Wes’s bed—in a way he hadn’t anywhere else in a long time. As though this was where he’d been heading all along. A place he belonged. That thought joined the growing pile of thoughts he’d been crushing under his mental bootheels since arriving on the ranch. He’d never imagined he’d find somewhere as peaceful as his condo in Malibu. But even there, people still recognized him if he ventured off the private beach. On Haverstall Mountain Ranch he was just another guy, another hand. Nobody looked at him with starry eyes. No one fawned over him or invaded his privacy, and most of all . . . Nobody stalked him.

Nahawi snorted and pulled Shane from his wandering mind.

Dion had sauntered off to take on whatever task was next on his list, leaving Wes leaning against the wall, gaze distant. To anyone who didn’t know him, they might think he was relaxed, but Shane saw the minute tightness around his mouth and eyes, and the stiff set of his shoulders.

Shane paused his brush strokes and turned toward him. “Is something wrong?”

Wes’s gaze shot to his, eyebrows raised. “No. Of course not.”

“Is it the stalker? Did they find me?”

“No.” That one word spoken with a conviction that eased Shane’s worry. Wes stepped forward. “Nothing like that.”

Shane let loose a breath. “Then what’s bugging you?”

Wes waved a hand toward Nahawi. “You’re just getting awfully close. He won’t understand when you leave.”

Oh . Shane’s chest pinched. He hadn’t thought about how his leaving might affect Nahawi, but he would come back. Maybe. If Wes wanted him to?

The distinctive thud-clop of cowboy boots on the concrete laneway stalled his question. Which was probably a good thing. Putting himself out there to get shot down wasn’t something he wanted to experience again. He did that once, and he had a sinking feeling that if Wes were the one to do the shooting, this time he might not recover.

Colt and Levi came into view—Colt looked unsure and frustrated, while Levi wore an amused expression on his face.

“Hey, Shane,” Levi said with a tip of his hat as he and Colt stopped in front of the stall.

“Hey.”

Wes turned to greet his brothers. “Everything okay? ”

“Yeah. So . . .” Colt rocked on his heels and puffed out a breath that, to Shane’s ears, sounded as frustrated as his expression looked. “I’m going to propose to Mason.”

A beat of silence followed.

Okay, not what Shane had been expecting to hear, nor Wes, going by the furrow of his brows. A second later, Wes’s expression morphed from confused to elated, and a tiny kernel of envy popped in Shane’s chest.

“Yes!” Wes shouted. He launched forward and pulled Colt into what looked like a bone-crushing hug. He pushed him back, hands on his biceps, and laughed. “Congratulations, Colt. That’s awesome. And about time. When are you going to pop the question?”

“The night of the fundraiser.”

Wes dropped his arms, his eyebrows shooting up and disappearing under his hat. “That’s this weekend.”

Wes had told Shane the other night over dinner about the fundraiser. Shane hadn’t realized running a sanctuary for wild horses and equine rescue wasn’t exactly a money-making endeavor. While the ranch had avenues to maintain itself—raising bison, fishing licenses, eco-tourism, cabin rentals for special events, and domestic rescue horse adoptions—they relied mainly on donations and sponsorships for the wild horses. Mason was holding a big fundraising event on the ranch that he hoped would bring in enough to help them with the extra expenses incurred over the winter months, as well as for new additions to the wild herds.

Mason had even booked a local musical duo to perform. Shane had perked up at that, thinking he could hop on stage and play a couple of songs, but Wes had shut him down. Lying low meant lying low , even if he was in the middle of nowhere, someone could still film his performance on their phone, share it with a friend, and next thing you know, the media outlets would pick up on it and Shane’s safe place would be safe no longer.

“That’s exactly what I said,” Levi quipped.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Colt waved a hand toward Shane. “You’ve been busy guarding your rock star. ”

Shane chortled and earned a fist bump from Levi, who’d come into the stall to give Nahawi some love.

“He’s not my rock star,” Wes groused, decidedly not making eye contact with him.

Something sharp pricked in Shane’s chest at the dismissal, catching him off guard. It wasn’t like he wanted to be Wes’s, did he?

“I want to do something romantic,” Colt bemoaned, drawing Shane back into the conversation. “But I’m not sure what.”

“And you’re asking me ?” Wes shared an Is he serious look with Levi.

“Right?” Levi agreed. “I told him to decorate the north barn, but he said no.”

Wes was quiet for a second before his eyes lit up. “That’s a brilliant idea.”

Colt looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “No, it isn’t.”

“What’s wrong with decorating the barn?” Shane asked as a long-forgotten memory surfaced, one where he’d imagined himself standing on an altar of stacked hay as he married his dream man in the family barn.

The brothers shared speaking glances with each other before Colt turned to him. He sighed. “Did Wes tell you we lived here when we were kids?”

Shane nodded. “He said that Mason’s dad kicked your family out when he caught you two together.”

“That barn is where he found us.” A fleeting scowl crossed Colt’s face. “Not exactly the best memories there.”

“No, I imagine not,” Shane agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t take it back.”

“Exactly,” Wes said. “Reclaim the barn. Propose to Mason there and make it special. Overwrite the old memory with a new one that you’ll want to remember.”

Levi flapped his arms in the air. “Which is what I said!”

“You’re right. That is brilliant,” Colt said, the air of frustration he arrived with now replaced with excitement, while Levi shook his head and grumbled about the baby of the family never being taken seriously. “How should I make it look special, though?”

“Fairy lights, for sure,” Shane offered .

Both Colt and Wes turned blank stares on him.

“You know . . . Fairy lights? Those little lights you always see hanging on patios?”

“Right,” Colt mused. He grinned, his eyes impossibly bright blue. “Christmas lights, you mean.”

“Sure thing, Cowboy,” Shane teased. “Wes and I will decorate the barn.”

Wes spun around. “We will?”

“Obviously,” Shane said to Wes. Turning to Colt, he asked, “Do you have a playlist?”

“What do I need a playlist for?”

Shane shook his head, mumbling cowboys . Louder, he said, “You need to have some romantic music playing in the background when you propose. It adds to the ambiance. Makes it that little bit more romantic and memorable.”

“I am no good at this.” Colt took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. “I should just throw Mason over the back of Zephyr and elope.”

Wes and Levi laughed while Shane’s mental movie reel began playing the scene. Except his private movie featured himself with Wes doing the manhandling. A thrill shot up his spine.

“You’d never hear the end of that from Mason,” Levi joked.

Shane shook his head. “You’re all a lost cause. But don’t worry. I’ll help you make the perfect proposal playlist.”

“Thank you,” Colt said earnestly. “I appreciate that.”

When Colt and Levi left the barn, Wes turned on him. “Did you miss the part where the fundraiser is this weekend? As in Friday night? Four days from now?”

“Of course,” Shane said, with a nonchalant lift of his shoulders. “We have plenty of time.”

Surprisingly, Shane was right.

In all of two days, he’d outlined a theme, planned what was needed for Colt’s proposal, and compiled a playlist. Wes had tried to help, but Shane shooed him off, taking to it like a dog on a bone. He’d asked Wes’s opinion on a few things, but Wes soon discovered Shane already knew what he wanted. He’d just needed a sounding board to confirm his ideas.

Wes had been attempting to work on his computer, still trying to track down Shane’s stalker but running into more dead ends and rabbit holes than anything else, while Shane went over his notes from his cross-legged position on the office floor.

“Did you want to be a wedding planner at some point in your life?” Wes asked, giving up focusing on his work for now.

Shane laughed and shook his head without looking up. “No. That’s not something that ever crossed my mind. Why?”

“Because it’s only been two days, and you seem to have this thing all figured out.”

Shane glanced at him before dipping his head down so the fall of his long bangs obscured his face. Then he tipped his head to the side and peeked at Wes through the sun-streaked dark veil. Even with only one eye visible, Wes knew Shane was contemplating what, and if, he wanted to share.

“When I was younger, I wanted a barn wedding.” Shane’s bark of a laugh sounded self-deprecating. “Childhood fantasies and all that.”

But the fantasy came to life in Wes’s mind, unbidden. He saw himself in a long-tailed black tuxedo with sky-blue embroidered filigree, and a fancy black cowboy hat with a matching sky-blue band. Shane standing before him in a matching tux, his lips glistening with gloss and charcoal liner highlighting his beautiful, honeyed eyes. He looked down at their clasped hands, and the matching gold bands shining on their ring fingers.

He jolted out of the scene. What the hell ?

Shane was watching him with a playful smirk on his face, his bangs tucked behind his ear. “Thinking of marrying me, aren’t you?”

“What?” Heat charged up the back of Wes’s neck and spilled into his cheeks. “Hell no.”

He turned away from Shane, not wanting to give away the lie, and forced himself to focus on his tracking. Shane’s stalker was doing an amazing job of covering their tracks and giving Wes a run for his money. Whoever they were, they were using burners and VPNs. Just when he had a lock on their IP, it would disappear, and a new digital cluster would surface. If not for Shane’s safety, Wes might have been a little impressed by the stalker’s digital talent. But formidable adversary aside, Wes knew it was only a matter of time before he had them.

He just needed to find them before time ran out on Shane.

“Can we go into town today?” Shane stood and stretched his arms over his head, the bottom of his black T-shirt rising to reveal a patch of creamy white skin. “We need to pick up a few things for Colt’s proposal.”

Wes frowned. Going into town could be a risk for Shane being recognized, even if less than sixteen-hundred people called the mountain town of Havenridge home.

“Can’t you find everything you need here?”

Shane glared at him. “And risk Mason catching wind? No. Besides. I need roses and glass candle holders and fairy lights, to name a few things.”

“We have lights,” Wes countered. Things had been relaxing on the ranch, not having to worry about crowds of people, and constantly changing locations, and the nonstop surveillance for threats. Not to mention, the bonus of his brothers as an extra layer of security. Which, perhaps, might not have been the best move. He’d lowered his guard a little more than he should have. But Shane was safe on the ranch. No one knew where he was, and he was as far from the limelight as one could get.

“Yeah.” Shane cut into his thoughts. “And Mason is using them for the fundraiser.”

Shit . “Right.”

Shane placed his palms together and tucked his hands under his chin, his eyes bright with anticipation and a hint of a grin on his lips. He fluttered his eyelashes and Wes chuckled. He couldn’t say no. Not to Shane. He wouldn’t deny him anything. So long as what he wanted didn’t put his life at risk.

“Okay, we’ll go to town.” Shane jumped in the air and whooped. “But on one condition.”

Shane approached, spun Wes’s chair around so his back was to the desk and straddled his lap. Shane’s voice promised good things when he said, “I’ll do anything. ”

He rolled his hips forward to make the point, pulling a low groan from Wes.

“You can’t look like Shane Castle,” Wes said with effort, and placed a finger on Shane’s mouth to quell any arguments. “We can’t risk you being recognized.”

Shane’s tongue snaked out and Wes followed its movement with hungry eyes, watching as it wrapped around his finger. Shane kissed the tip before pulling the digit into his mouth. Wes shifted in his seat while sparks shot from his groin and the muscles in his abdomen tightened.

Shane popped off and stood up. “I get it. Dress like a regular cowboy.”

“Right.” Wes cleared his throat and adjusted his jeans. “So, uh . . . Wear the cowboy boots and hat Levi gave you, and I’ll see if I can’t find a western shirt in my closet that’ll fit you. If not, we’ll borrow one from Levi.”

Shane grabbed Wes’s hand and tugged him to his feet, not letting go until they reached the bedroom closet. Shane started rifling through Wes’s shirts, pausing when he landed on a snap button shirt with white piping.

“It’s black!”

“Nope.” Wes pushed it away and took over the selection process. “No looking like Shane Castle, remember.”

“But I am Shane Castle.”

Wes snorted at the pout in Shane’s voice.

“You know what I mean.” He reached for a blue-and-gray plaid shirt with pearl snaps. It was older, well-worn, and a touch small for Wes. “This one.”

He pulled it off the rod and held it up in front of Shane, who struck a pose. With his hip cocked out, he tilted his head to the side, revealing the column of his throat, and raised his hands like Vanna White presenting a prize. “Is it me?”

Wes shook his head, and laughing, slipped the shirt off the hanger.

“No makeup, no jewelry, and . . .” Wes crossed to the dressers on the other side of his walk-in closet to pull a drawer open. “Wear these.” He handed a pair of no-name mirrored sunglasses to Shane.

Shane took them and grinned. “Just like a regular cowboy. ”

Except there’s nothing regular about you .

What was he going to do when this job was over? He didn’t want to say goodbye to Shane, but he didn’t see how it could work, either. And after seeing Shane with Nahawi, he knew the horse wouldn’t be the only one missing the man.

“What?” Shane asked, his brows coming together.

Wes snapped out of his thoughts and pulled Shane in for a kiss. He’d meant it to be quick, but when their lips met, electricity arced between them, and he couldn’t help but deepen the kiss until they were both panting and their jeans far too constricting for anyone’s good.

Shane slid a hand down between them, pressed the heel of his palm along Wes’s hardening length. Against Wes’s mouth he breathed, “First things first.”

“Yes,” Wes agreed, his voice low and gravelly in his throat. “Priorities.”

Shane dropped to his knees.

“Oh, believe me. I have my priorities straight.” Shane dropped his gaze as he freed Wes’s throbbing penis from its confines and chuckled. “Well . . . As straight as a man sucking cock can be, that is.”

Wes had a comeback on the tip of his tongue, something witty and funny for certain, but Shane’s mouth closed around him, swallowed him down in one smooth move, and his brain emptied of all thought.

“Yes,” he hissed, scrabbling for the wall to support himself as his knees weakened.

Shane worked him with that smart mouth and agile hands and talented tongue, while Wes watched, mesmerized. Having been on the edge all morning, desire for Shane a steady simmer in his body, his orgasm raced to its peak, teetered on the cliff long enough for Wes to snatch a single breath of air before release hit him with the force of a hoof to the chest. He shouted a curse as he spilled into Shane’s mouth, while Shane watched him with something akin to adoration in his shiny eyes.

Shane let Wes slide from his glistening lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his grin maniacal.

“No words,” Wes breathed .

“I know.” Shane said. His voice raspy.

Wes pulled Shane to his feet and reached for his jeans, but Shane shook his head and took Wes by the hand. “You can worship me in the shower.”

And worship he did. After a long and steamy shower where he’d made Shane tremble and cry out in ecstasy, Wes sat on the bed to pull up his socks. The faint chime of his phone echoed from the other side of the house—the stalker’s ringtone—dousing the sated peacefulness of the morning. He cursed under his breath.

Shane called from the bathroom. “Did you say something?”

Wes shook his head even though he knew Shane couldn’t see him.

“You take just as long to get ready without makeup as you do with,” Wes called back, keeping his tone jovial while apprehension snaked through him.

“Shut up,” Shane quipped without heat.

Leaving Shane to finish getting dressed, Wes marched to his office and snatched his phone off the desk. Holding his breath, he tapped the email icon, and the message popped up. Fortunately, no photos were attached this time, but the email subject chilled him to the bone.

I WILL FIND YOU , it screamed.

“Ready.”

Wes jumped, and his phone clattered to the desk. “ Jesus .”

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Wes lied. “You just startled me, is all.”

“You don’t startle,” Shane accused. His eyes narrowed. “The stalker?”

Wes took a deep breath as he pocketed his phone before meeting Shane’s eyes. He pursed his lips for a second before releasing a sigh as he nodded. Shane’s expression paled.

“Do they know where I am? Did they ki—” Shane swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Kill someone else?”

“No.” Wes shook his head. Shane had left what to share at his discretion when they were back in Ohio, but if Shane wanted to read it for himself, Wes would hand over his phone. “They’re not happy that they don’t know where you are, though.”

Relief was clear in the breathy way Shane said, “Good. That’s all I need to know. ”

“Come on then,” Wes said, hoping the forced cheer he felt didn’t echo in his voice. “Let’s go check out the thriving metropolis that is Havenridge.”