by A. M. Arthur
Also available from A.M. Arthur
and Carina Press
No Such Thing
Maybe This Time
Stand By You
Getting It Right
Finding Their Way
Taking a Chance
Come What May
Say It Right
As I Am
Wild Trail
Roped In
Look out for the next book in the
Clean Slate Ranch series,
Saddle Up,
coming in late 2018.
Also available
from A.M. Arthur
Cost of Repairs
Color of Grace
Weight of Silence
Acts of Faith
Foundation of Trust
The Truth As He Knows It
The World As He Sees It
The Heart As He Hears It
Their Life As They Live It
Here For Us
Sound of Us
Uniquely Us
Saved
Seen
Heard
Found
Body Rocks
Steady Stroke
Hot Licks
Unearthing Cole
Understanding Jeremy
Fractured Hymns
What You Own
About the Author
A.M. Arthur was born and raised in the same kind of small town that she likes to write about, a stone’s throw from both beach resorts and generational farmland. She’s been creating stories in her head since she was a child and scribbling them down nearly as long, in a losing battle to make the fictional voices stop. She credits an early fascination with male friendships (bromance hadn’t been coined yet back then) with her later discovery of and subsequent love affair with m/m romance stories. A.M. Arthur’s work is available from Carina Press, Dreamspinner Press, SMP Swerve and Briggs-King Books.
When not exorcising the voices in her head, she toils away in a retail job that tests her patience and gives her lots of story fodder. She can also be found in her kitchen, pretending she’s an amateur chef and trying not to poison herself or others with her cuisine experiments.
For up-to-date announcements, join her newsletter! (vr2.verticalresponse.com/s/signupformynewsletter16492674416904)
Contact her at [email protected] with your cooking tips (or book comments). You can also find her online (amarthur.blogspot.com), as well as on Twitter (Twitter.com/am_arthur), Tumblr (Tumblr.com/blog/am-arthur) and Facebook (Facebook.com/A.M.Arthur.M.A)
The adventures at Clean Slate Ranch continue in A.M Arthur’s Hard Ride!
It’s wedding season, and with a slew of weddings to attend and a family that won’t leave him alone, city slicker Derek surprises even himself when he suggests that he and cowboy Slater upgrade their relationship from one-night-stand to fake boyfriends.
“[A] passionate, trope-heavy romance…scintillating romantic tension and steamy sex scenes.” —Publisher’s Weekly
CHAPTER ONE
Derrick Massey leaned his shoulder against the porch post and gazed out at the dark shapes of Clean Slate Ranch, barely lit by the tiny thumbnail of a moon somewhere in the night sky. He was probably the only person on the ranch still awake, and that suited him just fine. For all that today had been about joy, love and friendship, Derrick was grateful to finally be alone so he could grump over everyone else’s good fortune.
This was the second time Derrick had traveled from the San Francisco suburb he lived in to the working dude ranch that was Clean Slate for a wedding. The first had been about a year and a half ago, when his little brother Conrad married Sophie Bentley here on the land. Today (or yesterday, since it was technically Sunday now), he’d watched two gay couples get married and profess their love and commitment.
And then Sophie had promptly gone into labor.
Derrick snickered softly at the memory of Conrad’s panic and excitement. Their whole family—Conrad and Sophie, Sophie’s big brother, Wes, and his partner, Mack, Sophie’s parents, and Derrick had all ended up at the county hospital yesterday afternoon. But Derrick, Wes, Mack and Mr. Bentley had been sent back to Clean Slate to get some sleep when the nurse told them Sophie’s progress was very slow and the baby was unlikely to be born before mid-morning Sunday.
For as much as Wes complained about leaving his sister, he’d fallen asleep in the car.
Derrick couldn’t sleep, though. Hell, he wasn’t even tired, which surprised him since it was past three in the morning and he wasn’t usually a night owl. But he was agitated by his own jealousy over the double wedding and the new baby. Seemed like everyone around him was pairing off, getting hitched and settling down, and Derrick…wasn’t. And his confidence had taken a few big hits in the last two years.
A light came on in a second-floor window of the main house. The ranch owner lived there with his foreman and the ranch’s cook. Derrick watched, but the light shut back off quickly. Someone up for a bathroom break, maybe.
Restless and bored, he stepped off the porch of the guesthouse and wandered down well-trodden paths. This one branched in two directions. One went to the row of small, two-man cabins behind the guesthouse where the ranch hands lived. The other path led to the big barn, and Derrick went that way.
The last time he’d been inside the barn, he’d embarrassed the hell out of himself by kissing one of the ranch hands before verifying they were both on the same page. They hadn’t been, and Derrick had been very politely turned down. He and Colt had remained friends, though, and yesterday Colt had married his longtime love, Avery.
I really am happy for them.
Jealous of them, too. Intensely.
The barn was quiet, with a few dim lights giving the long corridor a gentle nighttime glow. One of the horses nickered softly. Derrick watched the nameplates on the stall doors until he found Valentine. He’d ridden her during his vacation here two years ago. He laughed at himself, because Derrick had thought Colt asking if he wanted to “visit Valentine” was code for hooking up.
“Wishful thinking, girl,” he said to the horse, who blinked big brown eyes at him. “You wanna be my Valentine?” Cheesy but whatever. He was alone. As usual.
His little brother was married and having his first kid. His brother-in-law, Wes, was happily settled down and living with his partner here on the ranch lands. Every single person he worked with was either married, engaged or making new baby announcements. Not that Derrick was jonesing to raise a litter of kids, or to even get married, but a long-term boyfriend or girlfriend he trusted would be nice.
Except trust…yeah. Derrick no longer trusted easily. Hadn’t for a lot of years. Not since his first serious girlfriend in college cheated on him and gave him a case of the clap, courtesy of the dude she was fucking on the side. And while that had been nearly a decade ago, Derrick seemed to have developed a neon sign on his forehead that said “Cheat on Me,” because it had happened two other times before he gave up on dating.
Pump-and-dumps scratched an itch and didn’t break his heart afterward. Except for Robin, yet another ranch cowboy Derrick had gotten involved with. But that had been Derrick projecting and seeing more into their frequent hookups than had ever been there for Robin, who was happily in love with his own boyfriend, Shawn.
Seeing them together at the weddings had hurt more than it should have. But Derrick and Robin had been hooking up regularly for about a year, and their sexual chemistry had been off the charts. The fact that they rarely had anything in common to talk about after the sex was over should have been a big clue to Derrick not to get attached. But he had. And when Robin officially said he was off the market and their arrangement was over, Derrick had hidden his hurt. Derrick hadn’t had a clue Robin had been dating Shawn for weeks, and the omission, deliberate or not, had dinged his honesty button hard.
No more cowboys for me. Nope.
/> “No more,” he whispered to Valentine. “Maybe I’ll give one of those dating apps a try. What do you think, girl?”
Across the way, another horse nickered. He glanced over his shoulder at the nameplate. Zodiac. Sophie had ridden her during their vacation, and she’d looked so tiny up on that horse. Well, she had been to begin with, and Derrick had teased her throughout her pregnancy about falling over if she wasn’t careful. She’d simply blow a raspberry at him and go back to work, and she had worked all the way up to this Friday.
And sure, she was about two weeks early but incredibly healthy, and the nurses kept assuring their family she was doing great. Derrick wanted to text Conrad and see if there were any updates, but Conrad would wonder why Derrick wasn’t asleep and his brother had enough to stress about. Derrick’s niece or nephew would be along soon.
The barn was peaceful at night, so he wandered and visited with the horses until boredom set in. He explored a bit more, his bravery increased by the silent buildings and quiet land, broken only by the occasional rustle of air through the trees. On the other side of the main house was a big, barnlike building that Wes once told him was a garage for employees to park their personal vehicles in, so they didn’t have cars parked all over, ruining the aesthetic of the ranch.
Two big barn doors probably opened to let cars in and out, and Derrick found a regular door a few yards down. It wasn’t locked, so he went inside. Sure enough, a handful of cars were parked in various spots, including Robin’s familiar red convertible. Because Saturday was the one night a week the ranch didn’t have paying guests, a lot of the employees went into the cities for fun and entertainment. It had certainly been Derrick’s favorite night of the week for a while, and he had many fond memories of that convertible…
A muffled clang from the rear of the building caught his attention. Derrick wandered closer, curious. The back wall had several doors and light shined from beneath the one farthest to the left.
Someone besides him was awake.
Were they allowed to be here this late? Not that Derrick exactly had permission, but no one had expressly said the garage was off limits. What if they were stealing from the Garrett family?
Derrick approached the room on silent feet, glad he’d put on his sneakers in favor of the dressier shoes he’d worn for the wedding. The closer he got, the more distinct sounds filtered through the shut door. Grunting. Metal grinding. Some thumping. Was there some sort of machine shop in that room? And who was using it at zero-dark-thirty?
Derrick knocked sharply, then twisted the knob. Pulled it open. The glare of an overhead florescent light made his eyes water for a few seconds before clearing. The simple, white drywall reflected the light and showed off a home gym. A treadmill, a heavy bag and speed bag, a set of free weights and a bench, and a stationary bike.
A man glared at him from the bench and put the set of weights he’d been using on the ground. Tall, familiar, with very muscled arms displayed nicely by his white, sleeveless tee. Muscles covered in tattoos and the tan skin of someone used to working outdoors. Thick, wavy brown hair and eyes that, even from a distance, were bright blue. The glare slipped away, and Derrick tried to remember the guy’s name but failed.
“Wedding party,” the man said in a gruff tone that tickled down Derrick’s spine. “The brother-in-law. Sorry, I can’t remember your name.”
“Derrick Massey, man. Sorry if I startled you.”
“Slater.” He didn’t give Derrick anything else to indicate if that was a first, last or nickname. Slater simply reached out and snagged a water bottle off the floor. Squeezed some into his mouth. “I heard Wes’s sister went into labor up at the ghost town. Congrats.”
“Thank you.” Derrick wasn’t sure how gossipy this crew was, but Robin had frequently said the ranch hands were like a family. “Looks to be a long labor, so some of us were sent back to get some sleep.”
“You don’t look to be doing a very good job of it.”
Derrick laughed. “Busted.”
Slater tipped his water bottle in Derrick’s direction. “I’d ask if you came here to work out and wear yourself out, but most people don’t work a treadmill in black jeans and a button-up shirt.”
“I was exploring the place and heard you in here. I didn’t know the ranch had a gym.”
“It’s something a few of us have pitched in on over the years.” Slater stood and stretched, and no, Derrick did not stare when that tee’s hem slipped up and showed off washboard abs.
Holy moly, this guy’s smoking hot.
And unlikely interested in unwinding Derrick’s favorite way. The odds of everyone who worked here swinging his way were impossible. Right?
Except Slater caught him staring and winked. “The ranch is a physical job but some of us like to get some gym time in, too, and this is more practical than driving all the way to San Jose to find a good one.”
“Makes sense,” Derrick replied. “So you lift?”
“Depends on my mood.” Slater crossed his arms and shifted his weight, which cocked his hips ever so slightly. “Sometimes I’m in the mood for lifting some weights, getting an upper-body burn. Other times I want to run on the treadmill, get some leg action going. You?”
“I’m a big fan of diversity in exercise.” He wasn’t completely sure if Slater was flirting or not, so Derrick played along. No more cowboy flings for him, but this was more fun that staring at the sky by himself. “Switching it up keeps things interesting.”
“Agreed. Sometimes I almost feel bad for the folks who only like one or the other.” Slater’s expression was mild but something twinkled in his eyes. A subtle teasing Derrick played along with.
“You figure you’ll ever pick one over the other? Settle down?”
Slater shrugged. “Doubt it. Tried that once and it blew up in my face like a phosphorus grenade. You?”
“Same.” Good. He liked knowing Slater wasn’t looking to date. Maybe Derrick could scratch his cowboy itch one more time before he left the ranch tomorrow. One last hookup for nostalgia’s sake. “I’m a big fan of testing out new equipment, too. Seeing what’s out there.”
Slater’s expression became more intent, and that blue gaze very blatantly cruised up and down Derrick’s body. “See anything in here you’re curious to test out, Derrick?” The heat in Slater’s eyes when they met Derrick’s sent blood rushing to his dick and arousal burning in his gut. The front of Slater’s sweatpants rose, tenting with what looked like a very nice package.
“Could be,” Derrick hedged. “So long as we’re both in it for the exercise and not because of any particular…model color?” Back in the heyday of his using hookup apps to find “dates,” he’d gotten so many private messages asking if the whole “do all black guys have huge dicks” rumor was true that he’d eventually deleted his profile.
“Don’t care much about the outside as long as I’m attracted to it in some way,” Slater replied. “And since I’m running out of exercise metaphors, I think you’re hot as hell, rumor is you’re bi, and I am very much in the mood to get my dick sucked.”
Derrick laughed. While flirting was fun for a while, he preferred blunt people who got down to business. Probably why he liked Colt and Robin so much. “Then we are absolutely on the same page. And if you’re up for more than just swapping blow jobs, I’ve got stuff in my wallet.”
Slater considered him for a beat. “Club fan?”
“You only live once.” And Derrick was only a few short weeks away from turning thirty. While his clubbing days were nowhere near over, some nights his body told him that his habit of going out every weekend was no longer the best idea in the world. “I like to be prepared.”
“You got a preference?”
For a split second, Derrick thought he meant being with men versus women—and then his brain caught up to positions. “Nah, I’m vers. You?”
“I top but I’m open to new things.” Slater jacked his thumb at a pile of blue mats in the corner of the room. “You wrest
le ever?”
“Tried my hand at it in high school but the first time I sprang a boner during practice, I quit.” He’d been picked on mercilessly for that until he finally hit the growth spurt that shot him from a skinny five-seven to his current six feet. Then the bullies had backed off. “Why?”
“Take your pants and shirt off. Let’s exercise a bit before we get down to the fun.” Slater whipped off his sleeveless tee, showing off swaths of sunkissed skin and more tattoos on his chest and back. Derrick had never been with a guy with so much ink, and he was fascinated by all the different images. Words and cartoon characters, animals and a sunset.
They made Derrick wonder why Slater had chosen some of those particular tattoos as he shucked his own clothes, leaving himself in boxer-briefs and a white undershirt. He palmed his erection as he watched Slater lay down four of the blue mats in an empty corner of the room. Not a lot of space but they were kind of crowded by the other equipment.
“Let me guess,” Derrick asked. “You were a high-school wrestler who got a wrestling scholarship to a great school, but an injury forced you to quit and work with horses for a living?”
Slater laughed so hard he doubled over. “Man, you are not even close to my backstory. I learned how to wrestle from a guy I met in Basic Training.” He stood straight and went perfectly still, expression flat, as if shocked he’d admitted such a thing.
And the confession intrigued Derrick. He’d flirted with the Armed Forces before getting a hard-on for charity work after a childhood neighbor’s house burned down, leaving a family of six with nothing. “How long were you in the Army?”
“About six months. Wasn’t a good fit. Discharged.” His tone indicated the conversation was over. Slater cracked his knuckles. “You still into this?”
“Definitely.” Slater definitely struck him as a guy with a lot of secrets and stories worth hearing. But this was a fling, not a date. Derrick strode toward the mats. “How do we start? Neutral or referee’s position?”
