Page 6 of Saddle Studs (Rainbow Ranch #3)

BENNY

I genuinely thought I wouldn’t feel a thing seeing Sam for the first time in about a hundred and seventy-five years. I wrongly assumed that the time between him leaving and coming back would be enough to ice over any pools of acidic emotion I had left.

But seeing him—seeing that dumb sexy face and that dumb sexy smile, and that dumb sexy ass—thawed right through any icy barriers I had thought were permanent.

A torrent of emotions came rushing in all at once.

I was happy to be rekindling a connection that had meant so much to me, sad that it had ever fractured in the first place, and confused at the intense physical attraction I still felt for him—even after he’d made it very clear that he would never feel the same way.

Somehow, I managed to keep the wild flood of emotions in check as I led Sam into the house and gave him a quick tour, even though he’d walked through these rooms a hundred times before.

“I like what you guys did to the bathroom,” he said, leaning in and admiring the dark blue walls and eclectic collection of framed art.

“Thanks, that was my idea. I got heavy into Pinterest a year ago.”

Sam chuckled at that. “You always liked design, though. I remember your bedroom was always so clean and cool, and mine was a shitshow.”

“ That … is true. Very true.”

“And clearly your sense of design only got better.”

I tried to ignore the rosebud of warmth that bloomed under both my cheeks. “Thanks. It’s honestly my second love, after the horses.”

“How’s that been going? Is Pickles still here?”

A prickle of sadness replaced the warmth.

“She’s not,” I said. Pickles was my first horse, and taught me all I knew about taking care of those beautiful animals.

She was older when she arrived at the ranch, already retired from racing, and had the kindest and most patient temperament.

A chestnut mare who had quite a few first-place trophies under her belt and the largest heart beating inside her chest. “She passed last year. Around this time, actually.”

“Oh, Benny, I’m so sorry.”

Sam reached out and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. He squeezed. The warmth returned, this time spreading outward, down my back. God. Sam hadn’t touched me since…

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

“Thanks,” I said. His hand remained on my shoulder. I chose to stay put, even though I knew that taking a step back and breaking the connection was the smarter thing to do. Sam’s touch was dangerous. Intoxicating. And something I had to consider forbidden.

Unless…

Could things have changed? It had been eight years since I last saw him.

A lot could have happened during that time.

A couple of dicks could have found their way between Sam’s lips and helped him come out of the closet.

I glanced down at his left hand, not seeing a ring. At least he was still single.

Not that it mattered.

Forbidden. Off-limits.

“Your room is going to be this one,” I said, finally finding the willpower to step away from his touch. I moved down the hall toward a closed door. Directly next to it was another, this one with a saddle hanging on the front. Each of the siblings had something on their bedroom doors.

A saddle was mine.

“Next to yours, huh?” Sam said.

“You remembered.” Not that I should have been surprised, we had spent many summer afternoons in my room playing video games, board games, talking shit, and hanging out.

“I didn’t just wake up from a coma, you know.”

“So, the glassy look in your eyes is just because?”

“Shut up, I don’t have glassy eyes.” Sam craned his neck and looked at his reflection in the glass of a framed painting of a rainbow-bright field of wildflowers. “Do I?”

I laughed, glad I could still get a little rise out of Sam. That was always fun. He could take a joke just as well as he could volley them back. “No,” I reassured him. “Your eyes are as bright blue and sharp as always.”

“Bright blue, huh?”

“Sorry, I meant cloudy blue.”

“That’s…” He narrowed those beautiful golden-brown orbs of his. “I’m going with bright blue. You said that first.”

I chuckled and opened the door to his bedroom. Of course it would be the one directly next to mine, so that only a thin wall would separate us. What could possibly go wrong?

“Cozy,” Sam said. He pushed his busted suitcase into the room. “I love it.”

“I also decorated this room. Chose the paint and bed frame. That lamp is an antique, used to belong to a famous French artist. I know that because there was a note written by his lover and kept in that little pull-out piece at the base. Oh, and those two ottomans are custom made.”

“Damn, Benny, you really do have a talent for design. I’m going to have to hire you to redo my apartment back in the city.

” He walked to the window and spread the white curtains.

Sunlight dappled the bedroom, filtered by the leaves of a tall oak tree that provided near-permanent shade.

Sam took a moment to look out the window, hands resting on the scuffed windowsill.

His blue jeans cupped his ass just right, making my mouth water.

Fucking hell. Why did it have to be the straight guys who always had the biggest asses?

“Where are you living now?” I asked, pulling my attention from his peaches as he turned to face me.

“I’m in Jersey. Moved there after college. I got a job in New York— had a job in New York.” He shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. I cocked my head, sensing something heavy settle into the room.

I sat at the edge of the bed, the fluffy white comforter sinking underneath my weight. “What happened?”.

“I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

Damn. Whatever it was had clearly rocked him.

I flashed back to being in high school together, to having this protective instinct over Sam.

I was usually the one who was more confrontational, more ready to tussle if it meant putting some jackass bully in their place.

It was a way of protecting myself. I always knew I was gay, and I did little to hide that fact once I actually accepted it.

It wasn’t an easy road, and there were a few fist fights and meetings with parents to sort things out at school, but it taught me how to fight for myself.

And fight for others, too.

That same protective instinct from years ago flared up inside me. Who hurt him? And why did I still care so fucking much? Years ago, it was Sam who’d hurt me, and no one else was around to protect my heart. Why was I so eager to jump into the fray and fight for Sam?

Because I’m not a damned asshole.

And because I still care about him.

“Totally fine,” I said. I slapped my thighs and stood back up on my feet.

I wasn’t about to push anything. If Sam wasn’t ready to tell me what he was running from, then I’d give him the space and time to come to me.

And if he didn’t, that’d be fine too. Not like we were still best friends or anything.

Sam was here for a finite amount of time before he’d be gone again, to go live his big city-boy life miles and miles away from me.

Hopefully this departure would include fewer tears and less angst than the last one.

“Let’s keep going with the tour, then?”

“Sounds good to me.” Sam took another long look out the window before turning and walking out of the bedroom.

I followed behind him, needing to squeeze past him in the hall.

It put us close enough together that I got a strong whiff of his cologne.

It was a little fruity and flowery, and hit some kind of neurological button that pushed me over into caveman territory.

“So, where’s the rest of the fam?” Sam asked as we walked out the back door and onto a smooth path that led toward the stables. Midnight Dream, a raven black mare who recently joined the ranch, grazed closest to the fence, her long inky-dark mane falling like silk down her neck.

“Boone went into town for some supplies with Wylie, his new boo. You’ll meet him when they get back. You also have to meet Sky, they’re Beau and Pris’ partner. I’m not sure where Billie ran off to.”

“Oh wow, so I take it everyone’s been doing good?”

Yes, and you would have known that if you stuck around.

I swallowed my bitter little quip. “Yup,” I said. “Everyone’s been good.”

“And how about you?”

Gravel crunched underneath my boots. My cowboy hat helped shade my eyes from some of the sun, but it also helped me avoid Sam’s gaze.

“I’ve been doing alright,” I answered honestly.

“Been stuck in a bit of a rut lately. Feel like it’s the same routine every day.

Wake up, make breakfast, muck stables, feed horses, lunch, nap, clean the ranch, make dinner, go to bed. Rinse and repeat.”

“I thought you always enjoyed the routine?”

“I did, and I do. I just need something to work toward, and I feel like I’ve kind of lost that.”

“Are you still racing?”

I shook my head, that dream and passion having fizzled out over the years. “Nope, not recently. I dunno, I think the spark just kinda vanished for me.”

“Really? Any particular reason why?”

“No,” I said, glancing at Sam before I forced myself to look away. “Can’t think of any one reason.”

I could actually think of a few different reasons. My anxiety over losing a race for one, my lack of drive to get things done for two. And my aversion to taking risks, which seemed to have developed after getting my heart broken and crushed by none other than?—

“Sam!” It was my sister, Billie. She popped up at just the right time. I needed someone to come and rescue me from this awkward situation.

With Billie joining us, I continued our tour of the ranch, introducing Sam to all the horses and the crow I had rescued.

By the end of the tour, the awkwardness had started to diminish, but that only left room for other thoughts. And these thoughts were ones I couldn’t entertain. Not if I wanted to keep my sanity or my heart intact.