Page 84 of Where They Belong

He squeezed Colt’s hand and smiled.Man, he’s gorgeous. Not a day went by that Colt didn’t say a silent thank-you to Sheriff Nick Chambers for calling him to take the job protecting Mason. With the dark years of hurt and anger and guilt behind them, the future was promising—a future together.

Music and flickering lights greeted them on the greens. Being that he and Mason were close to an hour late, all the event’s patrons had arrived. Some were standing around chatting on the dance floor with flutes of champagne or bottles of beer; some were sitting at the tables or standing near heat lamps, catching up with people they hadn’t seen for a while. Others were wandering through the tent perusing the info boards with calls to action for the support of stronger wild horse and burro protections and laws; custom-made western tack and clothing; artwork from local Havenridge artists; gift certificates for everything from spa days to ski weekends; and framed photographs from local and western state photographers—including Grayson Bristow, of all people.

That kid had been through the wringer, what with his family behind bars for the threats and attempts on Mason the past year. They’d had to sell the Circle B Ranch to pay legal fees and fines, and with no more home base, Grayson had disappeared. The first they’d heard from him since his dad and brother had been arrested was when the photographs had arrived by courier for the fundraiser. No return address.

After the arrests, John had been given a lighter sentence than Gus and Gentry Bristow, but he wouldn’t be back to work on the ranch once he’d served his time. Even if Mason could somehow find it in himself to trust John again, Colt never would. That man’s actions had nearly taken Thad’s life in place of Mason’s, and that was one situation Colt wasn’t apt to give second chances.

Mason led them to the open bar that had been set up between the tent and the seating area. Thad, Selma, and Dion were manning the bar while Katie and Trina moved through the crowd doing their part to encourage support and donations. Trina was without Brett, having filed for divorce after learning her husband had been in discussions with Gus Bristow about selling off sections of the property. Brett had sworn up and down he’d had no plans to join Gus and pull the ranch out from under them, but the damage had been done.

Mason handed a bottle of Fat Tire Amber Ale to Colt and then held his up and clinked their bottles together.

“To a good night.”

“To a big night.” Colt’s insides fluttered with anticipation. He wasn’t worried about what Mason would say, but he had a big ask planned.

Mason smiled like he had a secret of his own and then took a long draught of his beer. Colt watched the way Mason’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, how his lips glistened, and the curve of his mouth as his smile never faltered. Colt met his gaze, and his heart did a happy swoop in his chest. Mason’s eyes glittered with promise and love, and the jitters that had been building in Colt as the day approached vanished into thin air.

“Mason, honey.”

A woman in her late fifties with lively brown eyes and dressed in stylish Western fashion approached from behind Mason.

“Nadine!” Mason pulled her into a hug. “You’re looking fabulous as always.”

She grinned at him, and her gaze slid to Colt. “So, this is the cowboy I hear has captured your heart?”

“Guilty as charged.” Colt tipped the brim of his hat. “Colt Stonebraker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Such a gentleman,” she said with a smile. “Do you mind if I steal your man for a few minutes?”

“I’ll be right back,” Mason said apologetically.

Colt shook his head. “Don’t worry. Go do your thing for the horses.”

Mason leaned in and kissed him, soft and chaste. “I love you.”

“I know.” Colt grinned.

Nadine hooked her arm through Mason’s elbow and led him to a small group of people, where he was greeted with handshakes and friendly back pats.

Now that Mason had stepped away, Colt’s nerves began to key up again. He sipped his beer and scanned the crowd to distract himself. They had a good turnout, and hopefully, the fundraiser would be a success so that Mason could run more fencing and adopt more mustangs. A local husband-and-wife musical duo entertained the guests with acoustic country favorites on the hay trailer.

“Hey, bro,” Wes said at Colt’s side, fresh beer in his hand and a frown on his face. He was alone. “The barn is ready.”

“Thanks.” Colt rocked on his feet as a wave of nerves washed over him. “Where’s your rock star?”

“He’s not my rock star,” Wes growled and tipped his beer to his lips. He took three long swigs before he lowered the bottle.

Okay. . . Colt looked around and spotted Shane Castle at a table by himself, a tumbler of amber liquid over ice in his hand and his mouth dipped down into a scowl. Shane’s overlong feathered bangs hung over his face and hid his eyes.

Shane was a famous rock star with a stalker problem who Wes had been hired to protect. Wes hadn’t been thrilled about the assignment, but an old friend had called and insisted he was the only man for the job. With a break on the musician’s tour schedule, Wes had brought him to the ranch to keep a low profile and stay out of the limelight for a few weeks. Fortunately, way out in the northern Colorado ranching community and small mountain town of Havenridge, most folks had no idea a famous musician was living in their midst.

“Something you want to share?” Colt asked when Wes didn’t offer anything more in the way of conversation.

Wes shook his head and grumbled, “This job can’t end soon enough.”

Mason appeared out of the crowd, his smile wide. Colt’s heart sang, and the night seemed brighter. He couldn’t wait to make that man his. He slid a hand into his jacket pocket and traced the band inside it.

“Hey, Wes,” Mason said when he reached them. He sidled up to Colt and slipped an arm around his waist. Colt swore his whole body sighed at the feel of Mason tucking into his side. “Where’s your rock star?”

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