THE NEXT MORNING HARLAN walked into the house after feeding and turning out the horses to find Ben and Tanner in the kitchen. He frowned. He’d expected both of them to still be sleeping. Tanner was sitting at his usual place at the island watching Ben hand-beat a bowl of pancake mix. Every few rotations, he paused to toss a handful of fresh blueberries into the mix. Charlie and Cooper lay on the tile floor, raptly watching for any runaway blueberries to roll in their direction.

“Morning, Dad,” Tanner said when he spotted Harlan, and Harlan flashed him a grin.

Ben turned, and a smile lit his face. “Morning. Breakfast is just about ready.”

“You don’t need to cook for us. I, uh . . .” The words stumbled out of Harlan’s mouth much the way he had stumbled out of bed earlier: confused and torn in two directions. He wanted Ben to go, and he wanted Ben to stay. Harlan hadn’t slept well, alone in his bed knowing Ben was just down the hall, knowing how Ben’s skin had felt against his, knowing the taste of him and the intensity of his desire and the guttural sounds he made when pleasure took him over the edge.

Harlan shifted his gaze and headed for the coffeepot. “Thank you,” he grunted quietly. He poured a cup while he tried to gather his wits. He sat down at the island beside Tanner and ruffled his hair.

“Da-aad,” Tanner grumbled. He ducked away from Harlan and smoothed his hair back down.

Harlan grinned. He loved his job as a rodeo pickup man and horse trainer, but being Tanner’s dad was the greatest job in the world. He’d give up anything and everything to make sure his son was happy and confident and knew he was loved no matter what. Much the same as Harlan’s parents had done for him. Being gay hadn’t changed a thing between him and his family, nor with most of the townsfolk. It broke his heart that his upbringing made him one of the lucky ones when it should be the norm.

Harlan caught Ben’s gaze, who was also grinning at him. Warmth spread unbidden into Harlan’s chest, and with it, a sense of rightness. The moment felt . . . prophetic. Like this was the right man and the three of them were meant to be a family.

Except they weren’t and they couldn’t be.

He tore his gaze away from Ben and took a sip of his coffee.

“How many pancakes would you two like?” Ben asked.

“Three for me,” Tanner piped up. He had a fork in one hand and a knife in the other, ready to dig in.

Harlan shook his head. “Two for Tanner,” he corrected, having noticed how large Ben had made them, “and three for me.”

Ben nodded, smiled, and two dimples cut grooves in his cheeks that beckoned for Harlan’s tongue to trace them. The man was far too attractive to be in Harlan’s kitchen making breakfast for them—and he had to stop getting all hot and bothered when his son was sitting right next to him.

Ben plated their meals and sat down on the opposite side of the table. “Bon appétit.”

Harlan cut up his pancakes, took a bite, and barely held back a blissful groan. Tanner didn’t hold back at all, though, and Harlan and Ben both broke out laughing. The sound echoed around the kitchen, filling the lonely corners with happiness.

“These are so good!” Tanner enthused around a mouthful of food. “Thank you, Ben.”

Ben’s smile widened. “You’re welcome.” He met Harlan’s gaze again and winked.

Dammit. It was going to hurt when Ben left.

Ben was already awake the next morning when he heard Harlan moving around the house. He was tempted to reach out his door as Harlan passed by, drag him inside, and wake him up properly. But Tanner would be awake anytime now, too. As much as he wanted Harlan, Ben respected his wishes when it came to his son. Ben understood, but it hadn’t prevented the unexpected hurt when Harlan had said that he wouldn’t risk a chance on him. Sure, he was at loose ends with his life, but that didn’t mean a chance encounter and a snowstorm couldn’t show him the light. Life was a funny thing. He’d only intended on passing through Santa Bella, but Harlan had happened. Now he wasn’t so sure he really wanted to continue on his trip to the coast at all.

Ben waited in his room until Harlan left the house for his morning feedings and then hopped up, got dressed, and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat down for a meal like a family, if ever, and hadn’t realized how much he’d been craving that kind of connection. His parents had given more attention to their quarter-million-dollar horses than their son, but Harlan . . . even though he had a stable of horses, his son was his first priority. Could Harlan and Tanner, their small family, be the purpose he was searching for?

Except when Harlan came in from the barn, he didn’t look happy to see him, and Ben was reminded again that Harlan didn’t want him there, that he was only being polite while Ben’s truck was in the shop.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, and afterward, Ben went out to the barn and started cleaning the stalls while Harlan took Tanner to school. When he came back, he thanked Ben for helping and then disappeared into the arena. As much as Ben wanted to go to the arena and watch when he was done with the stalls, to be in Harlan’s presence, he knew he wasn’t welcome.

Ben was sitting on the bed in his room later that day, strumming the melody for a new song he was working on, when Harlan came crashing into the house. He looked up when Harlan’s robust frame filled the doorway. His solid chest rose and fell rapidly, cold colored his cheeks rosy, and his green eyes were wide.

Ben put his guitar down and stood. “What’s wrong?”

“Doc took a spill.” Harlan pulled a set of keys from his jacket pocket and tossed them to Ben, who caught them easily. “Would you mind picking Tanner up at school? I have to wait here for the vet.”

“Sure. Of course. Is he going to be okay?”

Harlan pursed his lips, his voice tight when he said, “Hope so.”

And then he was gone, his rapid footsteps echoing down the hall.

“Like this?” Tanner asked as he moved his left fingers on the fretboard and strummed the strings with a pick held between his right thumb and index finger.

“Yes, you got it,” Ben encouraged. Harlan still hadn’t come in from the barn. Ben hoped that didn’t mean Doc was hurt worse than he’d thought. To keep busy while waiting, he was teaching Tanner a few chords on the guitar. “You’re a natural.”

Ben had always loved teaching people to play, loved sharing the joy he felt when it came to music with another person. Especially with someone as eager to learn as Tanner was. Harlan’s son had taken to the strings like he was born to play.

“I wish you were staying here so you could teach me more,” Tanner said out of the blue, without taking his eyes off the strings.

Ben found himself wishing he was staying, too, that he was a more permanent part of this small family. His throat tightened and his voice sounded strained when he said, “I’m sure your dad will find someone here to teach you.”

Tanner shrugged. “Yeah, but I like you.”

Ben’s heart broke a little. How had a hookup turned into a family he wanted to be a part of? “I like you, too, but you know I have to leave soon, right?”

Tanner nodded and kept playing the chord progression Ben had taught him.

“Okay, let’s switch up the chords,” Ben said, showing Tanner which fingers to place where on the guitar neck.

Tanner looked up, his gaze flicked over Ben’s shoulder, and his face lit up. “Look, Dad! Ben’s teaching me to play guitar!”

“Sounds really good, buddy,” Harlan said, but his voice was flat. “Have you done your homework yet?”

Ben shifted around on his chair to see Harlan standing in the archway to the living room, but the expression on his face gave Ben pause. His lips were pursed, eyes narrowed, and brows furrowed. The man was pissed.

“No,” Tanner said.

“Can you get to it before dinner, please?”

“Do I have to?” Tanner complained.

“Yes.”

Tanner sighed and handed the guitar off to Ben. “Thanks, Ben.”

Ben smiled up at him. “Anytime.”

Harlan didn’t move other than to give Tanner’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he passed him into the hallway.

“Is Doc okay?” Ben asked cautiously when Tanner was out of earshot. He hadn’t told Tanner that was why he was the one picking him up, in case something serious had happened to the horse.

Harlan nodded, one sharp jerk of his head. “He’s going to be fine after some time off to heal.”

“Good.”

Silence fell between them, thick and uncomfortable, while Ben searched for something to fill the void and Harlan still stood there, rigid and vibrating.

“What are you doing?” Harlan hissed and motioned to the guitar with a flick of his hand.

Taken aback, Ben stood up slowly, as if he were about to face off with a mountain lion. “Just teaching Tanner a few chords,” he said carefully.

“I told you I didn’t want him getting attached to you.” Harlan took a step closer, his body rigid.

“Are you serious right now?” Ben’s chest clenched painfully and anger snapped in his mind. Harlan had asked him to help with his son while he dealt with an emergency. What were they supposed to do? Go to separate rooms and wait until he came home? “Tanner knows full well I’m leaving soon, and he’s not expecting anything from me once I leave. You could try giving your son a little more credit. He’s a damn smart kid.”

“Are you telling me how to raise my son?” Harlan’s voice lowered and the hair on the back of Ben’s neck lifted.

“What? No!” Ben picked up his guitar and gathered the sheet music he’d spread out on the coffee table with jerky movements. “But maybe if you weren’t so hung up on the past that you can’t see a future, you’d stop using your kid as an excuse not to take a chance.”

“What the hell?” Emotions raced across Harlan’s face so fast Ben couldn’t define any of them. Except for pain. His careless words had hurt a man he’d quickly grown to care for.

Ben dropped his head and sighed. He hadn’t meant to say that, but the words were out now. If he’d thought he’d had any shred of a chance coming back here, it was gone now. “Look, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” He tucked the sheet music under his arm and pushed the chair he’d moved in front of the couch back into the corner. “I just . . . I’m sure my truck will be ready tomorrow and I’ll be out of your hair forever. Good night.”

He squeezed past a frozen Harlan, and tried not to run down the hall to his room.