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Still, it was disorienting for a man like Aiden, who was always the center of a crowd. People responded to his easy laughter; they sought it out and never noticed its almost manic edge. He hated being isolated.
Seth was different. He'd never worked to make people like him and wasn't afraid of being alone. He marched to the beat of his own drum, and for a while, Aiden was lucky enough to be allowed to march beside him—whatever the music.
Even Seth wasn't impervious to the whispers, though. Nobody liked being an outcast, not even someone as independent as Seth McCall.
"Having second thoughts, Princess?" Calvin Craig teased, strolling up with two cans of beer tucked under his arm. He leaned an elbow on the tailgate and passed Aiden a can, remarking casually, "You've been over here primping for so long that the other teams already finished their practice runs."
"Just saving the best for last," Aiden said with a wink, but he took the hint and started pulling on his snow gear.
Cal laughed and sipped his beer, gazing out at the competition with a wistful expression. Aiden figured he'd probably give his left nut to be out there with them. A bull rider never completely stopped thrill-seeking, even one who was happily retired like Cal. He and Aiden raised hell together back when they were kids, but a busted knee and protective lover had slowed Cal considerably over the past couple of years. He was a good man, a fellow ranch hand at the Triple M, and one of the few people to greet Seth by name and offer a handshake. But then, Cal had dropped out of high school and left town, so he'd missed the scandal and the aftermath. He hadn't been part of the seemingly unanimous decision to shun a man whose skills and knowledge had always put everyone else to shame. Even if he'd heard the rumors, and how could he not, Cal wasn't the type to let it change how he treated someone. After all, if anyone understood what it meant to be an outcast, it was Calvin Craig, the boy who ran off to join the rodeo.
"When was the last time you went skiing?" Cal asked dubiously, watching Aiden adjust the bindings on his borrowed skis and experiment with clipping into them.
"It's been a few years."
"And you think you're going to make that jump?" Cal jerked a thumb toward a slope that had been launching skiers into the stratosphere all morning. "Christ, you're an idiot."
"Right back atcha, buddy," Aiden said good-naturedly. "I'm not the one who tried to ride a bull named Coffin Maker."
Cal grinned like he'd been reminded of a particularly fond memory and saluted with his beer. Aiden saluted back and then drained his own can in a few practiced gulps. He tossed the empty can to Cal, who caught it one-handed.
"Better lay off the booze, Doyle," Mitch Ackerman cautioned, heading toward his truck with his skis hitched over one shoulder. "You'll need to keep your wits with a guy like Seth McCall pulling you."
Aiden's grin turned sharp. "Worry about yourself, Mitch, and the slack jaw doing the riding for you."
Mitch gave a dismissive snort through his nose. "Buck's been riding since he could walk."
Aiden bared his teeth and put an exaggerated, smug twist to his words, drawling, "If that's what you call riding, I feel sorry for your wife, ol' son."
Mitch's smirk faded. "I was just giving you a friendly warning."
"Yeah? Well, you can stuff it," Aiden said in his friendliest tone. "You wish you were half the cowboy Seth McCall is. He can ride circles around any man here."
He tried to step up to Mitch, but he'd forgotten that he was clipped into his skis. The only thing that saved him from falling on his ass was Cal's quick reflexes.
"Whatever you say." Mitch belted out a condescending laugh. "Just don't end up like his animals."
"What an asshole," Cal said, amused, watching as the other cowboy sauntered away. "You think he realizes he's not fooling anyone? We all shared the same locker room in gym class, so everyone already knows about his pea-sized balls."
Aiden gave an obliging laugh, but he couldn't shake off the rush of anger so easily. His skin itched with the overwhelming desire to stroll through the crowd bashing heads until the skeptical chatter died off and folks remembered how to mind their own business. Jealousy was a large part of the town's overreaction; it had to be. Seth had been out-working and out-cowboying grown men since before he'd hit puberty. It stung a man's pride to be schooled in his own industry by a kid whose voice was still cracking. But Aiden didn't have any pride, and Seth had been the cool, self-assured older boy when they met, so cowboying with him had been a dream come true. He didn't deserve to be treated this way. It was just…such a damn tragedy.
Cal looked at him kindly and said, "Don't let it get to you. Guys like Mitch think this town was made just for them, but it wasn't. The people who matter know that."
Aiden nodded grimly and tightened his gloves, but awareness was starting to prickle along the back of his neck. He glanced up and was instantly snared by Seth's watchful gaze. It wasn't a choice to go to him; he was drawn by a gravity stronger than he would ever be.
"You ready?" Aiden asked, clomping through the snow with his skis tucked under one arm and a fresh can of lager in each hand.
"It's not too late to change your mind," Seth said, standing beside a sorrel quarter horse and giving the tack one last check. He tugged at the cinch strap on the spare saddle he was using while his father's gear was in the shop.
"Sure, it is," Aiden said, patting the mare's glossy neck. "I want to see what this beauty can do. What's her name?"
"Diamond."
"What happened to Esta?"
"She was old. She died." Seth looked out into the distance and squinted in a way Aiden instantly recognized as a man struggling to keep his eyes from misting.
"Damn." Aiden gave Seth's shoulder a squeeze and mostly managed to ignore the sudden shock of hard muscle beneath his palm. "I'm sorry, Seth. I know you loved her just as much as I love Bandit."
