Edgard’s eyes narrowed. Again, she feared he knew the direction her thoughts had taken. Her face heated. But he didn’t stop touching her. And she didn’t mind.
Trevor barked, “Chassie. You goin’ back to the house? Or doin’ the mornin’ feedin’?
’Cause it’s too goddamn cold out here to be standin’ around cryin’ about a dead horse while lettin’ the cattle starve.” He stomped to the tack room and slammed the door.
“I see he’s still a total asshole when he’s upset, huh?” Edgard muttered.
“Yeah.”
“He’s always been that way when something happens that he can’t control.”
“I figured. He was probably an asshole to you a lot, huh?”
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Edgard shrugged. “I got used to it.”
“Well, that makes one of us ’cause I sure as hell wouldn’t put up with it.” She sniffed. “Luckily it doesn’t happen often.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to kick his sorry ass for being mean to you.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“In a heartbeat, darlin’,” he drawled, mimicking Trevor.
Chassie smiled. Edgard smiled back.
“Get your chores done, Chass, and I might have a surprise for you later.”
“Why?”
“Just because.” Then he leaned forward and placed his warm, damp lips on her cold forehead, letting the less-than-platonic kiss linger before he entered the stall.
Three hours later Trevor and Edgard disposed of the horse, a nasty, depressing job every rancher hated doing but was a natural part of life on a ranch. Stock deaths never got easier—Edgard knew that held true not only for him, but for all folks who made their living from the land and were entrusted with the care of animals.
They rode in the truck after fixing the heat pump that’d frozen overnight in the stock tank in the north pasture and Trevor was brooding.
Edgard preferred moody Trevor to standoffish Trevor. He’d been involved with Trevor long enough to know the events of last night were not a topic for discussion. He knew better than to offer Trevor a show of physical comfort.
That’d been another issue between them, Edgard’s need for casual affection and Trevor’s refusal to give it to him outside the bedroom. Edgard hadn’t been looking for deep kisses, or walking arm in arm as they’d sauntered down the sidewalk, just an occasional touch when they were alone.
It’d taken him a year to realize the only time they’d truly been alone were those nights on the road after they’d checked into a motel. Colby, while not necessarily 144
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homophobic, only agreed to stay on—after he’d literally caught them with their pants down—if they kept their relationship strictly professional in front of him. At all times.
Edgard also knew Trevor’s reluctance to even simply hold Edgard’s hand was practical: if they became accustomed to touching in semi-private spaces such as the truck, or the horse trailer when they were getting ready to compete, it’d be easy to slip up and touch in public.
So rather than strike a balance, Trevor instituted a strict “hands off” policy. A policy Edgard hated and mocked at every opportunity, but it was a policy Trevor didn’t bend on.
Trevor’s private affection had been worth it.
For a while anyway.
Dwight Yoakam droning in the background didn’t mask the edgy stillness hanging in the air. Edgard took a sip of his coffee as Trevor hit a bump and warm liquid sloshed everywhere. He muttered and stripped off his leather glove with his teeth, mopping up the spot on his jeans.
“Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s okay.” He drained the rest and shoved the cup in the cup holder. “Been drinking coffee since the crack of nothin’ anyway. Probably had enough.”
Trevor shot him a look. “Why’d you get up so early?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Edgard didn’t elaborate.
It surprised him when Trevor admitted, “I wasn’t sleepin’ either. I heard you.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. Now I’m thinkin’ if I would’ve gotten up when you did maybe we coulda saved that damn horse.”
Edgard frowned. “But you told Chassie—”
“I told Chassie what she needed to hear so she didn’t feel guilty,” Trevor said irritably. “If anyone’s gonna be takin’ on the brunt of the guilt around here, it’s gonna be me, not her.”
“Which is noble, Trev, but you didn’t have to be so cruel to her.”
“You tellin’ me how to handle my wife, Ed?”