Page 20 of The Wild Charge

He’d thought he had that under control, but, well, clearly…

Had things been different, he would have propositioned Ian.

But, well, his stupid ass wasin love. And Reese hadn’t rejected him like he’d been supposed to, like Tenny had hoped. No, far from it. Just last night in the shower, he’d replayed his favorite bits from their night alone together: the short, sharp huffs of Reese’s breath as he’d thrust into him over and over; the kiss of their sweat-slick bellies against one another; being able to dig his fingers into those strong, flexing shoulders he’d only been able to admire while he fucked one of the club girls, their over-the-top moaning and swearing nothing but a distraction.

The prospect of going away together for a day or two had left him something like panicked. Fox would be coming along, but Foxknewabout Tenny’s traitorous love, and he didn’t count besides. Tenny had been very careful to moderate his time alone with Reese, not allowing himself to be too tempted. But off on the road together, on an op – one that required little technical skill, no less…

He’d been desperate for insight.

Which he’d gotten:Don’t worry so much. Be brave.

He pulled over in front of Leroy’s Gas & Groceries and killed the engine. Sat for a long moment on his bike, staring at the sunny reflections off the glass storefront, berating himself internally for acting like an idiot teenager about all this.

He’d lost count of the number of people he’d killed in his short lifetime. He could handle a fucking road trip. With someone he’d already fucked, no less!

“Idiot,” he said aloud, for good measure, and went in to buy a pack of smokes and a candy bar.

His phone chimed with a text alert while he was paying, and he checked it after he’d straddled his bike again, torn open his Butterfinger, and taken a big bite of it.

It was from Walsh’s wife, Emmie:

Still on for 2nite?She’d signed with a smiley face.

Preoccupied with thoughts of Alabama, and Reese, and his own idiocy, he’d nearly forgotten that she’d arranged for him to come help her work the youngsters this evening.

He fired off a quickyes, and then stared at his phone until the screen went black, eating the rest of his Butterfinger, despite the sudden tightness in his stomach, debating. Last time he’d gone riding, he’d invited Reese to come along and watch; he’d been surprised that Reese had accepted. Even more so that he’d stayed; that he’d sat down on a bench by the arena and, every time Tenny snuck a look toward him, been caught staring with something close to wonder. An uncharacteristic rapt attention that had left him nearly slack-jawed.

He’d liked the idea of showing off.See? I’m good at this. I’m good at everything.

But he’d also liked…sharing. Sharing something unlikely, that he enjoyed, that no one else knew about him.

Well, Emmie knew, now. And her working student, and all his biological half-siblings and their old ladies…

Still.

Be brave, Ian had said.

He wanted to howl with laughter. The idea of being anything but brave. Before he’d reached puberty, there had been white-walled rooms, and steam coming through grates, and men in helmets; a voice crackling through the PA system:again.

But there was no denying the nerves that left his stomach squirming as he composed a text and fired it off to Reese before he could think better of it.

Idiot.

He crumpled his candy wrapper up in one fist while he waited for a response. He might not get one. Reese might be busy, or not feel that a response was necessary, or not even know how to text because he was a stupid–

His phone dinged. The screen lit up.

Want to come out to the farm tonight?Tenny had sent.

Reese had sent back:yes.

Notok. Notsure. Butyes.Yes, I want to come.

Tenny stuffed the wrapper in one pocket, his phone in the other, and was afraid he might smile.

~*~

Briar Hall was the sort of sprawling, gently rolling property of green pastures, and black fences, and manicured, but shaggy trees that graced post cards and coffee table books. In his capacity as operative, Tenny had been to beautiful farms – some doubtless even more expensive than this one. But he’d never set foot inside a beautiful stone and tongue-and-groove barn full of sleek, happy horses with the startling knowledge that his brother owned the place. The person who’d greeted him brightly at the doors of those other barns had always been a groom, or a mark, but now it was his sister-in-law, small and no-nonsense, dressed in breeches already smeared with a full day’s worth of horse slobber around the pockets.

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