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"Protecting you from the consequences of your own actions," Seth said grimly, finishing with three layers of tape around his ankles. "Just like you wanted."
"You sanctimonious sonofabitch?—"
Seth sliced off a long strip of tape with his teeth and calmly placed it over Aiden's mouth. The truck was plunged into silence. They were both sweating and breathing heavily. Aiden's complexion was a furious red from his jacket collar to his mop of blond curls. Veins stood out in his neck as he strained against his bindings. His hat had been knocked off and nearly crushed beneath their boots in the scuffle. Seth scooped it off the floorboard, slapped it against his thigh to shake off the dust, and set it at a jaunty angle on Aiden's head.
The light in Aiden's eyes was murderous. He grunted beneath the duct tape, blowing a furious breath through his nostrils, and slammed his head back against the seat in frustration. The only thing it accomplished was once more knocking his hat askew.
Seth shrugged. "Have it your way."
He tossed the hat in the back seat and resettled himself behind the wheel, trembling with suppressed anger. He took a deep breath and then finally eased the truck back onto the road, driving much slower this time, mostly so he didn't stomp the pedal and put his boot through the floorboard in his rage. "I must've been out of my mind when I let you talk your way back into my life," he muttered under his breath. "You're going to be the death of me."
Aiden couldn't speak, but he'd been grunting a string of muffled curses behind the tape ever since Seth slapped it over his mouth. Now, the sudden silence from the other side of the truck was chilling.
Chapter Sixteen
AIDEN
"Hold it! Hold it!" Nate Silva shouted around the three long screws clamped between his teeth.
"Move a little slower, why don't ya?" Aiden grunted sarcastically, hoisting a support beam onto his shoulder and holding it in place while Nate drilled.
The Winterfest pavilion was finally taking shape thanks to the efforts of the sweating volunteers. Aiden had rolled out of his bunk at the crack of dawn and hit the ground running. His muscles burned with fatigue, but he refused to take a break.
Punishing his body was the only thing keeping his mind from spiraling. His thoughts and emotions had been chaotic for weeks, a storm of anger, shame, and regret with no outlet except hard work and distraction.
He hadn't spoken to Seth in weeks. Not since that asshole had rolled up to the Triple M with Aiden trussed up like a prized turkey. The other ranch hands had been in no hurry to cut him loose once they spotted him. They gathered around the open door of Seth's truck, laughing so hard they nearly doubled over, until Cal eventually took pity on him and cut him free with his pocketknife. Seth hadn't said a word as he drove away.
Well, that was just fine with him. He refused to be the man's cross to bear; he was already plenty familiar with how it felt to be an unwanted burden. If Seth wanted to spend his life on that mountain like the world's youngest hermit, so be it. Aiden wasn't going to beg to be allowed in his life. He'd done that once already, and all he'd gotten for it was a broken?—
"You still want Tucker to pull you in the competition tomorrow?" Nate yelled over the shrill whine of the drill.
Aiden jerked back to the present so hard his stomach lurched. "What?"
"You said your rider fell through," Nate reminded him patiently. "So, I asked Tucker. You can't find a better horseman than him."
"What did he say?"
Nate grinned. "He agreed as a favor to me. You know he despises participation."
The happiness and satisfaction in his expression made Aiden want to barf. He forced a jovial note into his voice and said, "Despises fun, you mean. He threatened to drop me naked in a snowbank when I covered his truck in silly string a few weeks ago."
Nate lifted one eyebrow and gave him a warning look behind his safety goggles. "What's my boyfriend doing thinking about you naked?"
"You don't need to worry. My ass is fiiiiine, but it ain't got nothin' on this cake." He delivered a hard slap to Nate's ass to illustrate his point.
"Jaysus!" Nate gave a startled jump and fumbled the power drill. "You gotta grow up someday, man."
Seth's voice echoed in his head: you still haven't grown up. What did that even mean? So, he didn't walk around with a permanent scowl. So, he lived in a home with siding that could function as a wrap for a baked potato. At least he showed up when needed and didn't run out on his friends. That was more than most folks.
But he didn't say any of that. He just threw back his head and laughed maniacally. "Not until they make me, ol' son!"
Nate had been speaking the truth; there was no finer horseman in three counties than Tucker Grace. He was an excellent rider and the only man Aiden trusted to break a horse—but he wasn't Seth. After all this time, Seth was still the man Aiden trusted most. The only one he wanted flinging him up a ski jump at high speed.
But nobody ever got what they wanted in life. He’d learned that lesson early and often.
When he dragged himself out of bed the next morning, his enthusiasm was gone. It felt like he hadn’t slept a wink. He groaned and scrubbed his face with both hands, blinking the fuzziness from his vision. Chilly air hit his legs like a slap as soon as he swung out of bed. He pulled his clothes on quickly before anything shriveled in the predawn cold.
The festival had turned Sweetwater into cowboy mardi gras. Locals loved a good party, and the idea of Winterfest had taken hold of them all. The mayor was touting it as the next multi-state rodeo roundup, an event that would someday draw visitors from all over the region and start necessary tourist money flowing into the area. It was a point of local pride to ensure it wasn't some janky small-town production.
