Page 8 of Saddle Studs
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take it to your room.”
“Seriously, I can take it.”
“You’re our guest.”
“A guest who can carry his suitcase.”
Beau looked like he was going to let go. I gave a gentle tug and pulled the suitcase away from his grip. The wheel hit a crack in the driveway and wobbled. A loud cracking sound followed as the handle snapped off. I tried to grab the suitcase but managed to grab the zipper instead. It opened as it fell upside down, spilling most of my clothes onto the ground.
Beau looked horrified. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, so I waved it all off. “This piece of shit was one trip away from breaking anyway,” I reassured him.
“Always making an entrance, huh?” The voice—one I instantly recognized—came from behind Beau.
No, there’s no way. He can’t be here. He’s off in Florida.
Beau turned and stepped to the side, revealing the exact man I’d been wanting to avoid. Benny Adams. The youngest and sassiest and most annoying and kindest and funniest (and did I mention the most annoying?) brother.
Fucker didn’t even have a tan. So much for him living by a beach.
“Benny…”
“I’m, uh, going to head back inside.” Beau must have been reeling in secondhand (and likely firsthand) embarrassment from the events of the last three minutes. He awkwardly dipped his head, as if he were bowing to royalty, then bolted back inside.
Benny’s eyebrows scrunched together. “A bow? Where the hell did that come from.”
A fluttering series of laughs escaped my chest, breaking some of the thick ice that had formed and solidified between us.
He looked...different.He was taller now, a little scruffier, his shoulders broader and chest more defined. He wore a tan cowboy hat that accentuated his dark features. He had a pair of thighs that looked about ready to burst through his bootcut blue jeans. Those damn amber pools of his caught the sunlight and glittered as he looked at me.
I should have asked someone if Benny was still around before coming to the ranch. Then I could have avoided this entire situation. Now I had to pick up my socks and underwear off the ground, stuff it into my busted suitcase, and take my happy ass back to the airport. Fuck this. Going along with this wild inheritance thing was a mistake. I’d email a lawyer oncemy plane touched down to figure out how I could transfer ownership without completing the ninety-day stay.
“It’s good to see you again, Sam.” He shot a glance down at my clothes. “And good to see you still wear the same kind of old man boxers.”
An irrational flush of embarrassment warmed my face. I crouched down and flipped my suitcase right side up. “Don’t worry, I barely wear any underwear nowadays.”
Why did I just say that? Why did I just say that?
“Oh really?” Benny asked, slightly more curious and suddenly less prickly. “Guess that’s more economical.” He lifted up a pair of oversized plaid boxers, eyebrow arched. “God, you’re so straight.”
I snatched the boxers out of his grip and stuffed them into the suitcase. I collected the last couple of stragglers, zipped it up, and stood it on its wheels. Seconds later, and the suitcase flopped over with an audible thud, as if it were giving up entirely.
Same.
Benny chuckled. He quickly bent down and put the suitcase upright again. I grabbed the broken handle and then pulled out my phone, opening the Uber app. I could order a car and get to the airport in an hour. I wasn’t sure if there were even any flights I could take, but I figured I could hang out there or get a room at the hotel next to the airport.
Anything to get me out of this awkward—and painful—blast of memories.
Shouting. Crying. Pushing. I’ll never love you the way you deserve. You broke me. More crying.
Fuck.
I need to go.
“Sorry,” I said as I ordered my ride. “I think this is all a sign. I should be back home, dealing with the bullshit I’m trying to put behind me.”
“What are you doing?” Benny asked with his arms crossed and a pointed stare aimed at my phone.
“Ordering a ride back to the airport.”
