Page 20 of Daddy’s Firm Hands (Saddle Up)

MILO

C oming back to Ironhide after breaking up with Stone feels weird, like I don’t belong here anymore.

When we got home yesterday, I went through his house and packed the meager belongings I brought, then moved them into the larger bunkhouse Lucky lives in.

He wasn’t kidding. The bunk above him is empty, and I spent the entire day today laying down, trying to figure out what I can do once I leave.

I don’t have a passport or license. But I can buy a bus ticket or take a train somewhere. Maybe I’ll play location roulette and see where I end up.

I check the work phone Stone gave me, and he hasn’t called or texted. Not surprising, since he doesn’t want to be with me anymore.

“You know what would make you feel better?” Lucky asks me from his bunk below me.

“Never having accepted the job from Stone in the first place?” I respond, even though I know it isn’t possible.

“No, silly. A night out. Let’s go to Willy’s, it’s a local queer bar. We’ll have some drinks, dance.” I can hear the excitement in his voice, but it does nothing for me. He shouts across the bunkhouse, “Y’all, who wants to go to Willy’s?!”

He’s met with a chorus of yeses. “I guess you need to come too, since I can’t leave you here alone. Come on, sad-pants. Get dressed. Think of it as your last hurrah in Montana.”

I guess it will be. Stone is obviously busy, since he can’t manage to call me and ask if I’m okay. Maybe he’s already at a bar somewhere, trying to meet someone new.

“Alright. Give me a few,” I murmur, gently getting down from the top bunk.

“Nice, let me text a few people to meet us there. Be ready in twenty.”

I throw on a nice shirt and jeans, with a pair of boots. Nothing fancy, but something nice enough to look decent in. The green Ironhide shirt Stone gave me is at the bottom of my bag, and I pointedly ignore it, even though I don’t have the heart to give it away yet. It still smells like him.

Fuck, I’m such a loser.

When we arrive at Willy’s, it’s exactly what I thought it’d be like.

It very much has the bar aesthetic, but with some rainbow flags to liven the place up.

There are posters on the wall of queer icons, with famous quotes and fun facts.

Corny, but cool. They have pool tables, pinball games, and a stage called the Drag Corner.

“They have two shows a week, and the one on Saturday is themed. Last week, the theme was Historical Hoes and one of my favorite comedy queens, Boxa Da Serial Killer, dressed up as Rosie the Riveter. The routine was hilarious.”

I nod along, to let Lucky know I’m listening.

The truth is, I’m not too talkative. Having a broken heart doesn’t lend itself to making stunning conversation, unfortunately.

He and Stew take my hands, leading me to the dance floor on the other side of the room.

Neither of them can dance, but watching them come up with these moves is entertainment enough.

I almost don’t feel like a walking zombie.

“Oh! I see a smile!” Stew shouts as he tries to twerk with his pancake ass. He gets an ‘A’ for effort. Then he drops it low, but he can’t pick it up again. I lend him a hand to help him off the floor as he laughs his ass off.

I see movement from the corner of my eye and whirl around to see the last man I expected.

Lucky didn’t tell me Stone would be here. He’s standing at the bar, a cold bottle of beer in one hand as he rests his other arm on the bartop. He’s talking to some guy wearing a Stetson hat, white tee, and jeans so tight his peach-shaped ass makes them look like a second skin.

Seriously, is his circulation okay? Can Cowboy Coochie even fit a finger between the fabric and his skin? He better not try to bend over, because I can’t see a fabric, even one as strong as denim, stretching any further.

No wonder Stone is laughing with him, acting like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He obviously doesn’t miss me.

He did say there was no us and that being together isn’t possible, because I’m keeping secrets from him. He gave me an ultimatum—an impossible choice. I guess he’s entitled to talk to some man-hoe at the bar if he wants to…

I care enough about him that his safety means something to me, but he obviously moved on pretty fast. So maybe this is for the best. Stone touches Cowboy Coochie’s arm, and I can feel my heart splitting right down the middle all over again.

“I didn’t know he’d be here,” Lucky says, rubbing my shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, that’s a friend of his who manages a ranch nearby.”

“He can talk to whoever he wants…” I sniffle, trying to hold back tears I didn’t even know I had. How am I not in the ER for dehydration with how much I’ve cried in the past forty eight hours?

Lucky takes my hand, pulling me further onto the dance floor. “Come on, slick. You’re dancing with me before you head out tomorrow. We’re going to have a fun time, get rip-roaring drunk, and cut this dance floor into timber!”

“Yeah. And maybe I’ll see that guy again,” Stew says as he follows us to the center of the floor.

“Hunny, it’s been over a year. I don’t think your one night stand is coming back. He was probably a tourist.” Lucky and I lock eyes, and something unspoken passes between us. I think he knows more about Stew’s one night stand than meets the eye.

“Yeah, Stew. Think of all the new one night stands out there! Life is a buffet, get another helping.”

The three of us dance for five minutes before some guy takes Stew’s hand and leads him away. I see Stone turn slightly out of the corner of my eye again. I’m not sure if he sees me, but the thought of him watching me have fun without him makes something green and malicious inside me roar to life.

Fuck Stone Hannigan. Fuck his strong shoulders and the way his forearms flex when he’s knotting rope. Fuck his smirk and the stupid things he says that make my insides melt. Fuck his pretty lies and the way he promised me I’d always be his.

If he can move on so damn fast, I can too. He doesn’t seem the least bit put out over me, so I’m not wasting my energy on him.

The DJ plays some country/pop dance mashup, and Lucky wastes no time dancing to the beat of his own drum.

His moves are so fluid and in sync with the music, I can’t help but break out into a two-step.

We laugh as we dance, until I lose track of what song is playing.

A woman around his age comes over to dance with us, and if my heart wasn’t shattered, I’d be all over her—tall, thick, with curves like an hour glass and big red hair.

“You boys look like you’re having fun,” she says in a sultry voice. I recognize her accent. She’s probably from the NYC suburbs or Connecticut.

“My guy is leaving tomorrow. I gotta send him off right,” Lucky says, smiling at me like we won the lottery. He did tell me once that a lot of rich people come out here to vacation and ski. She may be one of those divorcees he mentioned.

“I’d love to show both of you a good time,” she croons. “I’m here for a solo vacation and want to cut loose.”

It’s this moment I clock how her boobs are pushed in and up, almost to her chin…and that she’s not wearing a wedding ring.

She’s one hundred percent a recent divorcee. I’m sure anything the three of us do would be delicious, with no strings attached. I’d leave here tomorrow feeling a little lighter after having my heart ripped out and stomped into the floor.

But I’m not feeling it. A threesome wouldn’t make me feel nearly as good as I feel with Stone. And as handsome and fun as Lucky is, he’s just a friend. He’ll never take me to the level Stone can.

A place where time stills and I can feel everything and nothing at the same time. Where I can just let go and exist , despite having death looming over me.

“Why don’t you two—” I start to say before I feel a strong, warm hand on my shoulder.

“Milo, it’s time we head home,” Stone says, his firm tone rooting me to the spot.

I turn and sure enough, it’s him. The circles under his eyes are darker than they were a few days ago. His beard is a little longer, and he seems unsettled. Not sure why. He’s the one who wanted to end the relationship we didn’t have.

“I don’t have a home,” I hurl the words at him. He flinches as if they struck him like an arrow through the heart. Good . I hope they hurt even a fraction of how much his words at Saddle Up hurt me.

“Can we please talk on the ride back to the ranch? In private…” he says carefully.

His hand on my shoulder burns through my clothes, like a hot brand. The weak part of me wants to go home with him so badly, but when I look at him, I think about how easily he broke my heart. And how hard it’s been to get over him.

“No. I have nothing to say to you.”

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” my new redheaded friend asks me as she eyes up Stone like a predator. I barely know this stranger, but I have no doubt she’d hand him his ego on a silver platter. “Do you need a place to stay for the night?”

“He has a place to stay,” Stone cuts in before I can answer. “Milo, please don’t leave. Not until I have a chance to apologize…”

“Maybe you should hear him out. Remember, you can have the bunk above mine as long as you need.” Lucky aims a shit-eating grin at Stone. “The guys and I agreed you’re welcome to it.”

Stone scowls at him as he clenches his fists, and I get whiplash from all the mixed signals. He doesn’t want me, but it bothers him if I sleep in the bunkhouse?

“Fine. You have the car ride to the bunkhouse to say your peace. Then you can drop me off so I can get some sleep before I leave tomorrow morning.”

He takes my hand, rubbing the back of it with his calloused thumb. “Then I’ll drive extra slow.”

He pulls me through the bar, all the way out to the truck. I pull my hand from his to open the passenger door, but he beats me to it. I draw the line at letting him put my seatbelt on.

“I got it,” I say as I fasten the belt. He still tugs it tight before walking around the front of the truck and getting in.