Page 17 of Saddle Studs (Rainbow Ranch #3)

BENNY

An email dinged on my phone, fighting through the bad cell service at the ranch.

It was an email reminding me that there were only a couple days left to register for the big barrel race that was happening soon.

My finger hovered over the link for a moment before I swiped out of it entirely and locked my phone.

As much as I loved riding and racing, I didn’t enjoy losing and feeling less than. Why even risk it?

I got back to the fence I was painting. It was already early evening, we’d already had dinner and most of the family was calling it a day and hunkering down for bed.

But I had gotten a spurt of energy and didn’t feel like burning it off in bed.

I grabbed my paint bucket and my brush and walked out to the perimeter fence, sitting down in the grass and pouring some of the white paint into a smaller container.

I dipped the brush in and got to work. The sun had finished her shift but there was still plenty of natural light offered up by the blanket of stars above me.

It’d been a nice day, very productive, and even exciting since Dusty—named after the dusty road I found him on—graduated from the incubator in my room to his own private nest in the barn.

Not only was I happy for my new feathered friend, but I was also extremely excited to not have him in my bedroom anymore.

My focus narrowed on the brush strokes. I enjoyed painting. It was meditative for me. I liked seeing the wet paint streak across a canvas—whether that’s an old wooden fence or a freshly built wall. I liked seeing the contrast between a worn-down surface and a newly painted one.

It was nice to have these moments, especially lately, when it felt like my mind was constantly running at a hundred miles a minute, ever since Sam arrived at the ranch.

Back when the news first broke that he’d be coming, I remember being worried that I’d get in a fight with him, or that it’d be unbearably awkward and it would ruin the vibes of the entire ranch.

None of that happened, though. I should have been worried about the complete opposite—falling for him all over again.

I hadn’t prepared myself for that possibility. Didn’t even think it was possible, not after how intense a heartbreak I suffered the first time around. I typically was someone who learned from their mistakes.

Apparently not this time. At least not when Sam is my first thought in the morning and my last thought before bed. I couldn’t shake him. Couldn’t shake his kiss, his touch, his laugh, his jokes, his ass, his smile, his dick, his?—

“Benny?”

“Ah!!” I launched my paint brush up into the air. As gravity is wont to do, it pulled the brush right back down, white paint streaking the side of my face.

I blinked and turned around.

Sam stood behind the fence, lit up by moonlight, mouth slightly open like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or apologize.

“Sorry,” he said, eyes wide. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. “You didn’t sneak up. I was just… distracted.”

He climbed through the fence and walked over, squatting next to me in the grass. “You’ve got some right—” He reached out and brushed my cheekbone with his thumb, catching a streak of paint.

His fingers lingered.

My heart kicked against my ribs. He must have just showered. He smelled like clean soap and soft lavender, his hair still a little wet.

“You’re lucky that didn’t land in your eye,” he said, still touching me. His voice was soft. Lower than usual.

I gave a snort. “I’m lucky it didn’t land on my dick.”

He laughed. “Would’ve had to help you clean it off if it did.”

The air between us dropped. Thickened. Shifted from playful to primal in a single heartbeat.

I looked at him. Really looked at him. There were parts of him I still recognized from our youth and others that had shifted and morphed into the man he was today.

He wore a slightly oversized black T-shirt and black shorts, his lean legs on full display.

Legs he had no idea how to use when it came to dancing, but that was totally fine with me.

I enjoyed our line dancing sessions. We had four under our belt already, and I could see the improvement happening.

“You don’t have much left, do you?” Sam asked as he broke whatever spell had been cast between us by looking away.

“Just this part of the fence.”

“Nice, nice.” Sam sat crossed-legged in the grass. A barn owl gave a couple of hoots that echoed out into the quiet night sky. Our knees touched, my body reacting by becoming as taut as a high wire. “You know, I can’t stop thinking about that day in the creek.”

I swallowed audibly. “Oh, really?” This peaceful painting session had taken quite an interesting turn.

Sam spread his hands out in the grass behind him and leaned back, looking up at the stars.

“It was really fucking hot. But also… it felt right . That was the first time I’d ever done anything like that with another guy and, I dunno, I wasn’t nervous or anxious.

I didn’t feel ashamed or bad about it. I just… I wanted more. Is that bad?”

Flames licked at the base of my spine. Not just at the fresh memory of what we’d done, but at the fact that Sam admitted to liking it so much.

I’d been worried that maybe he’d done it once and “gotten it out of his system”—even though deep down I knew that wasn’t how any of this worked.

“It isn’t bad at all.” I’ve been wanting more for years now.

“Society’s bullshit hang-ups teach us what to feel bad about, but sometimes those lessons are built on pure lies and self-hating bigotry.

If your heart, if your body, if your soul feels happy about it, then there’s no shame to be had.

Even if others try their damnedest to project it onto you. ”

Sam nodded at that, head still tilted up at the stars, but I noticed his eyes were closed.

As if taking in my words was more important than taking in the vast expanse of the universe.

“You’re so right. Why do I feel shame about being attracted to you in the first place?

Is it not everyone’s goal in life to share their love with someone they can call their best friend?

It’s like I have the winning lottery ticket and instead of claiming it, I ask if I can return it. How fucking insane is that?”

Is that really what he thought about us? That our relationship had been like winning the lotto?

My heart performed gymnastic routines between my ribs.

“It’s the sad reality of this world, and it’s what keeps so many people miserable and locked up in their closets.

I’m lucky that I was able to get rid of that ‘give a fuck’ muscle early on.

If there are no fucks to give, then there’s no shame either. ”

Sam opened his eyes and found mine. He smiled, the grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You need to start writing self-help books or something.”

“Pfft, I can barely sit at the computer long enough to do my taxes, no way I’m finishing a book.”

“Well think about it. I’d definitely read it, so you’ll have at least one sale.”

“Ah, perfect, I could get a venti green tea lemonade with that.”

“Don’t go too crazy. Stick with a grande.”

That got a hearty laugh out of me. Sam was right about this. Us. How it felt so easy. It’s something I’d felt from the moment I met him. Unfortunately, it took Sam a little longer than me to come to that realization, but hey, better late than never.

The moment of comfortable silence stretched between us, interrupted by another cluster of scattered hoots. Sam’s gaze flicked down to my lips. I felt it. Felt that shift inside him. That “do I lean in for the kiss or do I run for the hills?” tension.

I leaned.

So did he.

We met in the middle, mouths crashing together in a kiss that tasted like mouthwash and sugar and every unsaid word that’d built up over the last few weeks.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tightening in my hair.

I growled into his mouth, pressing forward, crowding him until he was on his knees, back against the fence post.

My thigh pushed between his legs.

He was hard. Thick. Hot. His cock twitched against the zipper of his jeans.

I kissed down his jaw, biting at the hinge where his neck met bone. Sam gasped, rutting up against my leg like he couldn’t stop himself. Like I had flipped a switch and turned him feral.

“Fuck,” he whispered against my lips, his grip tight against my neck. My body was lit up like the stars, a furiously bright heat spreading out through my veins. “Fuck, Benny.”

“Yeah?” I slid my hand down his chest, over his stomach, to where his jeans were starting to strain.

I gave him a squeeze, a rub. He tilted his head back and moaned into the night.

I leaned in and kissed his Adam’s apple.

We were toward the back of the fence, where a large oak tree blocked the view from the house. No one could see us here.

I flicked my tongue against his skin, tasting salt. I was hungry. Famished. I wanted to taste every inch of him. He pulsed against my palm, driving me absolutely fucking wild. A warm, wet spot touched my palm.

I looked down and saw that his cock was leaking through the fabric of his jeans. I palmed him once, slow and hard, and he shivered. “Look at that.”

“Yeah, sorry, I pre-cum a lot.”

“Sorry? Fucking hell, Sam, that’s the hottest thing ever.”

“Really?”

I licked my lips, nodding, kissing him again. “I wanna taste you,” I growled, and his hips bucked against my hand. “But not out here. Too many eyes. Too many goats.”

He snorted, but it came out breathless.

I leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You wanna take this to my room?”

He stilled.

That hesitation hit like a speed bump. Just for a second. His hands were still on me, gripping my shirt like he couldn’t let go.

“I want to,” he said. Quiet. Rough. Honest.

I waited.

He licked his lips. “I just… I want to be sure. I don’t wanna mess this up.”

“You think this would mess it up?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s the problem. I want you. I want this. I’m just… not used to doing things that feel this real.”

His cock was still pressing into my hand, twitching with every word. But even with the primal heat scorching the ground underneath us, I couldn’t help and think: holy shit, is this fucker going to turn me away? Again? .