Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
He inhaled sharply. “I just came from there.”
“Oh,” was all I could think of saying, and turned to go. I definitely didn’t want to see Mac right after he’d screwed this beautiful man. It could wait.
But Robin slipped around in front of me, barring my quick retreat and stepping in close—too close—pressing up against my chest, staring up into my eyes, the scrutiny intense. “Are you the reason I wasn’t allowed to stay?”
“What?” Seriously, the man could have knocked me over with a feather, because what the hell did he think was going on between me and the foreman of the Red Diamond?
“I mean, a man like Mac Gentry…you know he’s not for keeping, right?”
I was stunned, a deer caught in headlights, paralyzed, completely out of my depth because what he was assuming, what he was saying, had nothing to do with me. Well, except for that secret place deep down where my truth lived.
“Mac is just for fun,” Robin was saying. “He’s the guy you fuck around with and throw back, but still, I figured I’d at least get one more night out of him.”
One more night? Was he insane? If he was lucky enough to get Mac into bed, he sure as hell should have kept him there. I most certainly would have, without question.
Of course, if Mac could have—and by the sound of things already had—a man as perfect as the one standing in front of me, why in the world would he ever look twice at me? I was not the stunning creature Robin was.
“Right?” he asked, grinding against me, his hands riding gently on my hips.
I had no idea how to reply to that, but I could now say with certainty that Robin was definitely not the sweet thing I’d taken him for. This was a predator, not a bunny.
“No one ever says no to me,” he purred.
It made sense. I was betting he’d never heard no in his life.
“So I have to wonder,” he continued, narrowing his eyes and looking me up and down, “who are you?”
“I’m no one to him.”
“Are you sure he—”
“For fuck’s sake, Robin, why’re you still out here?” Mac said as he walked out of his tent in sleep shorts and a long-sleeved T-shirt. “You’re drunk. Go sleep it—oh.”
Even though it wasn’t December yet, it was morning out on the range, so still very cold, which was why I had my jacket on. Mac must have been in his sleeping bag. He looked rumpled and sleepy, with his hair standing on end, slitted eyes, and furrowed brow. I’d never seen him look better.
He was stunning, but really, I shouldn’t have been attracted to him. It was supposed to be smaller, delicate, fragile guys like Stef for me. I had a type, and I’d been looking for men who fit that idea in my head. Oddly, when I was propositioned, when offers were made to fulfill my desires, to go to bed with some gorgeous, breathtaking man, I turned them down. And while I told myself the one-night-stand component was a deal breaker, looking at Mac, I had to wonder if there was more to it than that.
The foreman of the Red Diamond had mesmerized me from day one, from the first time I saw him riding up toward the house to speak to Rand. He’d dismounted, and I’d been introduced and made a horrible first impression as my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. I’d been rendered mute just watching him walk, his stride making me wish I could write poetry, and those strong, capable hands of his should have had songs dedicated to them. Mac looked like the kind of guy who would hold me down in bed, so…that was wrong. For me. A man like Mac would never want to…
My brain raced through everything, all the time, all the scenarios, it never stopped, and the worst part was that once I’d come out, told people I was gay—my father, Zach, Rand, and Stef—I’d thought the hard part was over. But it turned out that just because I was gay didn’t make me any less messed up.
“Glenn?” Mac husked. “What’re you doin’ out here?”
I was surprised at the look on his face, somewhere between discomfort and anger. I was going to say something shitty, something about him chasing hot men out of his tent in the wee hours, but then his gaze met mine…and softened.
His eyes warmed in the glow from the safety lanterns hanging on poles, those massive shoulders of his fell, and he exhaled as he crossed his arms over his wide chest.
He calmed.
It probably had nothing to do with me, but as I cataloged every bulging, rippling muscle on his cut, toned form, I saw him curl his bottom lip slowly, decadently, until I realized what I was getting was a trace of a smile.