When she had drained her coffee, Grace pushed back her chair and got to her feet. Perfect timing too since Lane and Grant looked like they were settling in to stay awhile as they relaxed casually against the counter.
Rinsing her cup, she placed it in the dishwasher, murmured a good-bye to her father and snuck out the door as fast as her feet would take her.
Grace hadn’t made it far when she heard the screen door slam once more. With her head down, she made a beeline for the barn, hoping like hell someone was there. Because if not, that meant she was about to find herself alone with one, or possibly two, nearly irresistible cowboys.
It’s the way her mornings usually went.
“Grace! Hold up!”
“No thanks!” she hollered back, not bothering to look behind her. “Not interested in what you’re sellin’, cowboy!”
The sexy chuckle that followed belonged to Grant. She would recognize it just about anywhere.
Shit.
Grace stepped into the shadows of the barn about the same time Grant caught up to her.
“What’s the rush?” he asked and thankfully, he didn’t try to touch her, although he was close enough that she could smell the sexy scent of his aftershave.
“Workin’. You might try it sometime. I think it’s why we pay you, right?” Grace was purposely trying to piss him off. It was the only way she could usually put some distance between the two of them.
And she had a damn good reason to put as much space between her and…
“Hey,” Lane called, stepping into the barn just a few feet behind Grant.
… him.
Crap.
Double trouble. That’s what these two were.
“Go on, Gracie,” Grant taunted. “Give Lane your ‘you should be workin’’ speech. He’s waitin’.”
“Shut up.”
Sometimes she felt like a cantankerous teenager when these two were around. Especially Grant. She’d known him for more years than she could remember. He was, at thirty-two, only a few years older than she was, but at the ripe old age of twenty-eight, Grace knew she should be long past the stage where she went on the defensive with these two annoying cowboys. After all, she had managed to fend them off for… Well, forever.
And okay, so they weren’t so much annoying as they were relentless. But just like she had told Grant, she wasn’t buying what they were selling. Mainly because she had no idea what they were selling. Or to who they were selling it. Based on what she’d seen just a few days ago, she wasn’t sure she had the right anatomy to fulfill either one of them.
“She’s back to that?” Lane asked in that laid-back, country drawl that didn’t fool her at all.
Just as she did every morning, Grace moved toward Astro Boy’s stall. It was the first item on her daily to-do list. Astro Boy was her five-year-old paint horse, and he was hers and hers alone which was why she came to check on him every morning and again every afternoon. That was if she didn’t spend part of the day riding him around the ranch.
Although Dead Heat Ranch had a number of horses, most of them were geldings that they used for the trail rides with the guests. And due to the fact the guests were restricted to the more docile horses, no one was allowed to ride Astro Boy. And he knew it, too.
“Hey, boy,” she greeted him with a grin as she pushed open the metal stall door that kept him safely inside. Just seeing him could turn her mood from bad to good in an instant. “Miss me?”
She received a heavy snort and a nudge in response. Grace placed her palm flat on his wide nose and smiled up at him.
“I did,” Grant answered, although her question definitely hadn’t been directed at him.
Grace ignored him; instead, making her way into Astro Boy’s stall as she took his brush and went to work.
All hope of the two men going on about their business died when Lane came to stand beside Grant, both of them leaning casually against the inner wall of the stall. Glancing up, she noticed that Lane was, in fact, standing incredibly close to Grant. She quickly looked away, hoping they couldn’t read her mind.
Because if they could, they would probably realize that their secret was out.
□●□●□●□
Grant Kingsley couldn’t take his eyes off Gracie. Then again, that was a problem he’d had for quite a few years. And it wouldn’t be a problem if the woman would just pay a little attention to him. He knew she wanted to. It was in her eyes when she looked at him. That damn sure wasn’t indifference he saw in her blue-green gaze.
That was lust.
But for the better part of the last few years, Gracie Lambert had successfully dodged every single one of Grant’s advances. She’d dodged Lane’s too, but Grant figured she had no idea they’d knowingly been pursuing her simultaneously. Then again, how could she know? Although it certainly hadn’t started out that way.
It started out innocently enough – if two competitive cowboys, a twelve pack of beer, a game of pool, and an obnoxious bet could be considered innocent. Regardless, that night, Grant and Lane had agreed that, since they were both vying for the pretty cowgirl’s affections, they’d see who could win a date with her first.
That was two years ago.
Yeah. For two fucking years, they’d been trying and failing to get Gracie Lambert to admit to her attraction to them. Neither of them had made it even remotely close to getting a date with the beautiful woman though.
That hadn’t stopped them from trying.
“Look, boys, I’ve got things to do today. So if you don’t mind,” Gracie said without looking up at them.
“I don’t mind. Do you mind?” Lane asked with his usual laidback excitement. “Cuz I could stand here all day and enjoy the view. I don’t mind watching. I happen to like it actually. Unless of course, you’d just like to say you’ll go out with me. Then I’ll back off. And I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Grant glanced over at Lane. He was rambling more than usual and that was saying something. Once he got started, the guy didn’t usually let up. For some strange reason, Grant found that trait oddly appealing.
Gracie clearly didn’t if the frown on her pretty face was anything to go by.
“Lay off,” Gracie bit out, her eyes slamming into Lane’s face before they crashed into Grant’s a moment later.
Crap. They’d gone and pissed her off again.
Gracie wanted them to believe that everything they did pissed her off, but Grant had been around long enough to know that the woman wasn’t mad. At least not at them. She was mad at herself because she liked them. Maybe not enough to fall into bed with either of them, but Gracie certainly didn’t hide her attraction as well as she probably hoped she did. Which was the main reason Grant didn’t back off, even when she insisted.
However, he wasn’t opposed to making her believe she’d won.
“All right, we’ll lay off,” Grant told her. “I really just wanted to ask if you were making a trip into town today.”
Gracie looked up at him, her golden eyebrows downturned. Ever the skeptic that woman.
“What? You said last week that you had to head into town. I happen to know that your truck hasn’t moved since last Thursday, so I thought I’d ask. I just needed a couple of things.”
“Fine. Yes, I’m going into town. Give me a list of what you need and I’ll pick it up for you.”
“Thanks, Gracie.” Grant retrieved a folded piece of paper from his pocket and held it out for her to take while Lane pinned him with a glare. Nope, he hadn’t told Lane about this.
True to form, she didn’t bother reading what was on his list; instead, she stuffed it into the front pocket of her jeans. “I’ll catch back up with you this afternoon. Come on,” he said to Lane, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll help you get ready for today’s ride.”
“What was on your list?” Lane asked when they were back out in the sunlight.
“Nothin’ important,” Grant lied, unable to look at Lane directly for fear the other man would see
just what Grant was thinking. Or worse, feeling.
After what happened Friday…
“You know she’s never gonna come around, don’t you?”
Grant wasn’t about to answer that. He knew nothing of the sort. For as long as he could remember, Grant had been pining away for Gracie Lambert. And yes, he knew just how fucking pathetic that sounded. But there it was. The cold, hard truth.
Grant had first arrived at Dead Heat Ranch thirteen years ago. He’d been a dumbass nineteen-year-old when he stumbled across an ad in the paper looking for summer help on a dude ranch. He wasn’t even sure what a dude ranch was at the time, but shit, he’d been young and dumb and was hoping for some quick cash in his pocket.
Little did he know, but the moment he met Jerry Lambert and his five darling daughters, he was about to embark upon something that would change his life forever. The last thirteen years had been a blur. Somewhere along the way, he’d learned the ropes better than ol’ Jerry had obviously expected, and now he found himself as the head foreman of the second biggest dude ranch in the state of Texas. It was a dream job, one he’d never expected to fall into.
He spent his day doing what he loved. The only downside was the three to four hours a month – and that was the worst case – that he spent behind a desk. He preferred to be outside, in the brilliant Texas sun, sweating his ass off while working with the animals, teaching the new guys the ropes, checking in with the guests, following up on what needed following up on. That was his life. There was no nine-to-five for him. Hell, most of the time he wasn’t sure when he was working versus when he wasn’t, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
So, there he was, going along, day after day for nearly ten years when all of a sudden he looked up and there was little Gracie Lambert. But she wasn’t little anymore. No, she was all grown up and more strikingly beautiful than he’d thought possible. When he first met her, she’d been fifteen and as much of a pain in the ass as her sisters. Don’t get him wrong, they all worked their asses off. Especially Gracie. She’d been doing twice as many chores as most of the wranglers even at that young age, but she’d been a rebellious teenager. All of the Lambert girls were. Rebellious that is. Yet, he had no idea when that had changed. Sure, she was a smartass and quite defensive, but the woman was nothing like the teenage girl had been.
That was about the time her daddy opted to give every cowboy at the ranch a talkin’ to. The one that started with… “Stay the fuck away from my daughters.” And ended the exact same way.
It hadn’t deterred Grant. Well, except for the fact that he now kept his interest on the down low. More so than before.
But it was pretty much irrelevant because, no matter how hard he tried to convince Gracie to give him a chance, the woman hardly looked at him. Then again, that was partly his fault. For the last… God, he didn’t even know how long it had been. The only thing he knew was that about the same time as when he’d been laid for the first time, Grant had been rocked by a shocking realization that he hadn’t expected and certainly hadn’t understood.
Then again, he was still confused by it, but he’d learned to live with it. It was who he was.
Yeah, Grant’s biggest secret was that he was bisexual. Not gay. Not straight.
No, his life wasn’t that straightforward. It would certainly be easier if he swung one way or the other. Not both. But, after spending a few years denying it, then another few years assuming he was gay, Grant had learned he happened to like both men and women. Equally.
What did that mean? If fucking meant that Gracie Lambert made his dick hard. And so did Lane Miller. And wasn’t that just a bunch of fucked up. Not that Grant had been attracted to Lane all that time because at first, they’d just been friends.
Grant didn’t go around sharing his secret with just anyone. So, for the most part, no one knew he was just as interested in men as he was women. He’d learned that lesson early on. Share too much and people look at you sideways.
But Lane knew. Obviously. He knew and he didn’t seem to care. One of Dead Heat’s best wranglers wasn’t shy about who he was either. And strangely enough, Lane didn’t seem at all worried that Grant had ogled him a time or two. Or twenty.
Of course not. Lane Miller was the most confident cowboy Grant had ever met. At six-feet-three-inches, with thighs like redwood trees, an upper body that filled out a T-shirt to its max, and lips that…
Nope, Grant wasn’t going to go there.
Fuck.
Nonetheless, Lane was quite confident in himself. Dark hair, even darker eyes, and always sporting a clean-shaven jaw, the man drew attention without even trying. And when he was drunk, the guy obviously didn’t give a fuck who he was with.
Or at least that’s the impression Grant got.
They hadn’t been close for long. Maybe for the last six months or so. Before then it’d been a competition between them – who could get Gracie first. But during that time, Grant had obviously sparked something in Lane because last Friday night, after they had both spent far too much time with their good buddies Bud and Coors, Lane had kissed him.
Fucking kissed him and given him the best fucking blowjob of his entire fucking life.
“You all right?” Lane asked him now, pulling him – thank God – from that memory.
“Yeah, why?”
“I asked you a question, man.”
Shit. “Sorry, what’s up?”
“What are you doin’ for dinner tonight?”
Grant came to a halt, glancing around to see who was near, praying like hell that no one had heard that question.
“Shit. Relax, man. It’s fucking dinner. Either we eat it out of a fucking can or we stop by the kitchen and grab something with the guests. I wasn’t asking you out on a date.”
For whatever reason, that last part slammed against Grant’s chest as though Lane had sucker punched him, nearly knocking the wind right out of him. A date? Had he really thought that?
“Fuck,” Lane bit out, yanking his straw hat from his head and running his fingers through the unruly dark strands that were just a little too long. A little too sexy. “About last Friday…”
“Nuh-uh. Don’t fucking go there,” Grant bit out, turning to walk away. The next thing he knew, Lane was grabbing his arm hard enough to turn him around.
“Don’t walk away, Kingsley,” Lane growled, his voice low. “Don’t fucking do that.”
“I’m not gonna do this here,” Grant whispered. He wasn’t going to do this anywhere, but he didn’t have to tell Lane that. It was one thing for people to know they were interested in the same woman, but it was something entirely different for people to think they were interested in… fuck. For them to be interested in each other.
Not happening.
Not here on the ranch. No fucking way.
Pulling away from Lane, he glared back at the man. “I’ve got shit to do. I’ll catch you later.”
□●□●□●□
Lane watched Grant walk away. Confusion wracked him at the reaction he had to the other man. So much so, he didn’t hear Hope Lambert, Gracie’s oldest sister, walk up.
“You ready? Or are you gonna stand here with your thumb up your ass all day?”
Forcing his expression to be blank, Lane turned and looked at Hope. The woman looked so much like her four sisters it was eerie. All five sisters sported long blonde hair, usually pulled back in a ponytail when they were working, those fascinating blue-green eyes, and they were all petite. They all were the spitting image of their mother, who had, unfortunately, passed away when the girls were still really young.
But their looks and their ambitious work ethic were about the only thing they had in common. As far as personalities, they were very different.
“Let me pull my thumb out and I’ll be right there,” Lane snarled back at Hope.
“You do that.”
Lane didn’t miss the fact that Hope was looking at him funny.
Taking a deep breath, Lane turned on his boot
heels and followed Hope out to the stable. They’d tasked three of the temporary wranglers with getting the geldings ready for the ride today. Late last week, a rather large group from a local bank had scheduled some sort of team building event. They thought that horseback riding would be an appropriate way to get to know each other better apparently, and they were to arrive… Lane consulted his watch. Shit, they were going to be there in half an hour and he had no clue whether the horses were going to be ready or not.
Catching up to Hope, he tried to force Grant and Gracie out of his head. Easier said than done considering he’d been thinking about the two of them for the last few months. Okay, so that was a damn lie. Lane had been thinking about the two of them for the last two years. Or more. But, until Friday night, he’d also been under the impression that he was the only one who was interested in a little more than seeing who could get a date with Gracie first.
The bottom line: Lane needed to get laid. Pure and simple.
It’d been… Fuck, it had been almost three months since that last fucked up encounter with the bar bunny whose name he couldn’t remember. Just like Friday, credit for that little clusterfuck could be given to a case of beer and no dinner. The perfect blend of mess-your-mind-up-optimism.
Yeah, Lane had sworn off that whole get-drunk-to-pretend-otherwise shit and he’d been doing a damn good job of it until last Friday.
Dumbass.
“Come on, Lane. Get your head in the game. We’ve got shit to do,” Hope hollered.
Yeah, he definitely needed to get his head in the game. Because otherwise… He was going to find himself in way over his head.
Chapter Two
Lane was starving. He’d had the day from hell and at the moment, he just wanted something hot and then maybe a cold shower before he fell into bed. At this point, he wasn’t even going to bother with trying to find Grant.
For the better part of the last six freaking hours, Lane had pretty much entertained a group of horny women all by himself. Oh, yeah, after about ten minutes with the women, Hope had bowed out gracefully, telling them that something had come up but that they’d be in Lane’s very capable hands. At that point, his very capable hands had wanted to throttle her. Those women were worse than a horde of kindergartners with their constant questions. “Have you always been a cowboy, Lane?” “Do you ride horses every day?” “How many cowboys work here?” “Are they all real cowboys?” “Are you currently riding anything else, Lane?”
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