By the time I pulled up at the ranch, it was nightfall. The lights were bright on the front porch.
“Hey, Slim.”
Out the window, I saw Ret—all five feet ten inches of him—walk to the back of the truck to get the sacks of feed. I got out and closed the door behind me.
“Ret.” I walked up to him and wrapped an arm around his trim waistline, kissing him lightly on the mouth. He turned it into a mini make out session that curled my toes. Damn, he was good at that.
When I could catch my breath, I cleared my throat and said, “We have a guest for a while. This is Daniel.”
The man in question had slowly gotten out on his side of the truck, and now swayed slightly, dead on his feet. That he barely responded to the intimate exchange between Ret and me was telling, except for his slightly raised e
