Love in Xxchange: Miles to Go by Bailey Bradford (best e reader for android TXT) 📗

part of that hand, and it didn’t occur to him until he started to lean over a bit, to question why he was so fascinated by what Bo was doing. What was wrong with him? Max pressed his shoulders against the back of the seat. Bo would think he was some kind of weirdo if he kept it up. And he really needed to tune in to what Bo was saying, something about going to a club—

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“…but if you can take a couple of days off, you could drive to San Antonio and we can hang out. I’ll take you down to the River Walk, every tourist has to go there. There’s this great chocolate store there, they have the best toffee and these caramel apples that are bigger than my fist.” Bo held up one clenched hand and waved it around. The man looked so happy and hopeful, but Max shook his head.

“I can’t, Bo. We got a couple mares ready to deliver any time now, I’m sorry.” Max was, but he was also relieved to have a legitimate excuse for saying no. As foreman at the Galloway Ranch, it was his responsibility to make sure the births went smoothly, and even though the vet was on call if she was needed, Max just didn’t want to risk not being there when those foals were born. Seeing those little babies stand up on their wobbly legs was one of the best things Max ever got to experience. And yeah, it got him out of having to leave his comfort zone, but that really was secondary in this case.

Bo seemed to lose some of that sparkle even as he nodded and dropped his hand back to the table. “Yeah, I understand. Maybe another time then.” He didn’t look like he was holding out much hope for it though, and Max just wasn’t up to offering him any. Luckily the waitress arrived with their pie then and the subject was dropped as the two men enjoyed their dessert.

Later that night, as Max laid in bed, he kept puzzling over the way Bo had seemed so disappointed when Max had said he couldn’t go to San Antonio. That bothered him almost as much as the way he’d been so fascinated with Bo rubbing his stomach. Max huffed and rolled onto his back. Behind his closed lids, Max kept seeing that hand caressing Bo’s shirt, pressing lightly to rub against the muscles underneath.

Without really thinking about it, he brought his hand up and mimicked the movement.

He guessed it felt okay, but probably not the same as if he’d been doing it to Bo, or if it’d been Bo’s hand touching him—Max’s eyes snapped open at the shocking thought. It wasn’t the idea of a man touching him that shocked him, Max’s reaction would have been the same if Bo was a woman—which kind of didn’t make sense, but the fact was, he’d never really thought about anyone touching him like that, not for a long, long time. And he didn’t quite know what to make of it now that he had.

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Max was in the barn the next morning when he heard the arguing. Already exhausted from another sleepless night, he tried to ignore the squabbling, because siblings argued, didn’t they? But Rory and Annabelle weren’t getting any quieter, their voices rising and anger edging each word they spewed at each other. It made Max’s stomach roil and his chest tighten, and his fight or flight instincts were trying their best to take over.

A particularly loud shout from Annabelle made Max’s head spin with memories, and his hands tightened on the pitchfork until his grip caused pain to shoot up his forearms. He wanted to run and hide, and therefore, he wouldn’t, though he just might go snap some sense into those two kids.

Setting the pitchfork down carefully, Max took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, pushing away the unpleasant memories that seemed more determined lately to rise to the surface. He pasted a smile on his face and stepped out of the barn, intending to put an end to the bickering. A big hand clamping down on his shoulder nearly made him squeak, and Max glanced behind him to find Chance shaking his head at him.

“They’ll work it out,” Chance murmured, nodding at Rory and Annabelle.

Max looked at the two siblings, who were flapping their hands in the air as if to emphasise that their opinion was the right one. “The hell they going on about?”

Chance squeezed his shoulder then patted it before removing his hand. “Well…”

Something about the man’s hesitation had Max slowly turning to face him. “Well,

what?”

Chance glanced at the scene the two younger people were putting on, grimacing when Annabelle’s loud refusal to cave in to her brother’s demands punctuated the air. “It seems that Annabelle doesn’t feel right about staying in the house any longer—with us.”

That would explain the comment—the loud comment—that Max had heard moments

ago. Annabelle had proclaimed that she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions about where to stay, and Max had wondered what the hell she was talking about. Now he knew, sort of. Then he wondered why.

“She got a problem with you and Rory?” Max glanced at Annabelle, trying to envision that. She’d seemed more than happy about her brother’s choice of a partner when she’d arrived, and the same at the few dinners Max had attended up at the big house.

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“Nah, nothing like that,” Chance assured him. “She just thinks that if she’s going to be working here, she should be treated like any other employee when it comes to her living quarters. Any other employee being you, of course.”

Max thought it might be more than that, like maybe Annabelle didn’t want to impose on her brother and Chance’s privacy, but he wasn’t going to butt in here. Then it dawned on him