by Kate Steele
The man was tall, lean and lanky, his six-foot-three-inch frame sleek with wiry muscles. Zeb could see them clearly outlined by the fit of his clothes. A button down shirt hugged his torso, muscles subtly rippling when he reached up to tip his hat to an elderly lady who spoke to him in passing. His cream colored shirt was tucked into tight blue jeans that lovingly clung to slim hips, and long legs that seemed to go on forever. A pair of well worn cowboy boots encased his feet.
When the man resettled his hat, Zeb could see his hair was dark brown and from his current position it looked as though the cowboy’s eye color matched, also a deep, rich brown. The man’s face had a finished, commanding look about it. Angular planes consisting of a strong jaw line, high cheekbones and a clean well-defined brow gave his visage a sharp edge. The cream color of his shirt set off the dark, golden tan of his skin to perfection.
He appeared to be searching the crowd for someone when those brown eyes locked with his. Zeb felt himself drawn to the man, walking straight to him as though lassoed. He stopped a few feet away. The urge to speak was strong, but the words he needed were just plain missing and so he waited silently. He didn’t have to wait long.
“You Zeb Bakar?”
“Yes,” he answered with a nod, relieved that his tongue had finally decided to cooperate.
“Mmm. Jace Freemont.” He held out his hand to Zeb.
Zeb shook hands as he’d been taught. No one told him about the surge of heat that accompanied such a gesture. Surely that wasn’t normal, was it? Especially when it zinged straight to his cock? He released Jace’s hand, fingers curling around the fading flash.
“You got more luggage?”
“One suitcase.”
“Let’s grab it and go, Zeb. I got work waitin’ at home.”
Zeb nodded and went back to the baggage claim, finding his case had been taken off the belt by one of the airline employees. He grabbed it up and walked back to Jace.
“Truck’s this way.”
Jace turned and led the way out the double bank of glass doors and across the passenger unloading zone. A wave of warm air enveloped them, noticeable after the artificial cool of the airport’s interior. Zeb let his gaze take it all in. There was a lot to see. The terminal, people coming and going, planes taking off, vehicle after vehicle parked in the huge lot. And Jace’s backside. He kept winding up with his eyes glued to the man’s ass, fascinated by the firm rounds of flesh that moved under tight, faded denim.
Zeb’s heartbeat increased, his breath sped up and the palms of his hands began to sweat. It’s the heat. Just the heat. Never mind the fact that his cock was stirring, a subtle throb making itself felt with the slow infusion of blood that plumped his flesh.
Jace stopped beside a dark blue pickup truck. “Throw your bag in the back,” he instructed, keying the door locks and settling himself behind the steering wheel.
Zeb lifted his suitcase into the bed of the truck, opened the passenger door and climbed in. He settled his carryon bag at his feet and sat back, taking a deep breath. A subtle scent, rich and masculine, invaded his nostrils. His cock jerked, acknowledging the pleasing aroma. He squirmed a bit in his seat, grateful for the tunic that covered his lap. This is ridiculous! And totally unacceptable. His body seemed to disagree and Zeb tried breathing through his mouth to avoid the temptation of Jace’s scent.
It was then he noted the fact that they were still sitting motionless in the lot. He looked over at Jace. Jace was looking back with one eyebrow raised. “What?”
“Seatbelt, kid. Don’t want to have to pay a fine cause you’re not wearin’ your seatbelt.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Zeb felt his cheeks flush. He should have remembered that. It was part of Rick’s lessons.
Why, after all this time, was his damn libido coming out of hibernation and messing not only with his body, but his mind? Where was the control he prided himself on? Hadn’t he resisted Kiel and Rick’s allure for three days? And they were enough to make the cock on a dead man rise. What was so special about this man? Sure he was tall, sleek, gorgeous and belonged to that masculine, tough and somewhat mythical breed of men called cowboys. So what?
Zeb rolled his eyes and suppressed the wry smile that tugged at his lips. So all right, there was a lot about him that was special.
Jace started the truck and steered it out of the lot. They left the airport behind and merged onto a four lane highway. Nothing was said for a time, but it wasn’t a comfortable silence. Zeb could almost feel the tension radiating from the man at his side. He fleetingly wondered if the reason for it was the same as his own and was disconcerted at the disappointment he felt when logic assured him it couldn’t possibly be so.
Surprising himself, he spoke up. “Why don’t you go ahead and say whatever’s on your mind.”
Jace gave him a quick glance before returning his gaze to the road. “I’m all for plain speaking, so here it is. First off, nothing personal, but I didn’t want you here.”
“I know. I also know it probably won’t help for you to hear this, but I didn’t want to come here.”
Jace snorted. “Well, looks like we both got bushwhacked. You know how to ride a horse?”
“No.”
“Know anything about ranching, about cattle?”
“No.”
“I knew it. A complete greenhorn.”
“Greenhorn, I know that term. A friend explained it to me.” He wasn’t about to tell Jace that it was Rick who’d explained the term while they’d been watching a Western vid. “And yes, according to the definition, I’m a greenhorn but I learn quickly. That’s what I’m here to do. Learn.”
“And just why is that, Zeb? You got a hankerin’ to be a cowboy?”
“They didn’t explain to you why I’m here?”
“Yeah, they did. But I want to hear it from you.”
Zebian sighed. “I’m here to learn ranching techniques so I can pass the information on to the people of an underdeveloped nation. They want to raise cattle and provide beef to the people of their country and those nearby.”
“Mmm hum, that’s what I was told. And just where is this underdeveloped nation?”
“In Africa.”
“Africa.”
“Yes, Africa.”
“And just how are these people, if they’re so poor, gonna be able to afford breeding bulls and heifers to start a herd?”
“They have the financial backing of a more powerful nation.”
“I see. And that’s what hooked my partners. They made a big-assed deal to sell one hellacious bunch of cattle to these people. These people who know absolutely nothing about cows.”
Zeb gave Jace a patient look. “They will know. When I’m done here.”
Jace gave him a speculative look. “I’ll say one thing for you. You don’t lack confidence in the job you do know. I hope you brought more appropriate clothes to wear than what you’ve got on. They definitely don’t look like they’d stand up to what you’re gonna be doin’.”
Zeb looked down at his pale gray tunic and dark gray slacks. The material was light with a linen-like weave and entirely unsuitable for the rough work he’d seen cowboys doing in the Westerns. “I have jeans and tee shirts in my suitcase. My superiors researched as carefully as possible to make sure I was prepared for this task.”
“Well, that’s good. At least I won’t have to take you shopping for clothes. I hate that shit. But I’ll tell you, Zeb, clothes won’t get the job done. You’ve got some hard days ahead of you. I hope you’re ready.”
“So do I,” Zeb answered, letting silence fall between them.
* * *
Jace took the exit off the highway that led to the ranch. The further he drove, the less populated the area became until it was just miles and miles of fenced in range with pockets of cattle scattered across it as far as the eye could see. This was his life and he smiled as the tension eased out of his shoulders. He hated going into the big town. Too much hustle and hurry, and for reasons that just didn�
�t seem to make much sense.
He’d take the quiet of the ranch anytime. Early mornings with a hot cup of coffee in hand, watching the sunrise. Being covered in dust and dirt after a hard day’s work. Nights with the occasional lowing of the cattle and the constant, musical chirruping of the crickets. Stars so bright in the night sky a man could almost reach up and pluck a handful. Now that was living, even if it did get a bit lonesome sometimes.
Yeah, he had the company of the hired hands working with him, good men all of them. But there was no one waiting for him at the house when he came in hot and tired. No one to fix supper with or watch television with. When he’d taken the money he’d saved and the legacy from his granddaddy to buy a third share in Free Plains, things had changed.
He no longer lived with the hands. It wouldn’t be proper or fair to the men to have him living with them. Too restrictive to have the boss man constantly under foot. He maintained enough informality to be invited to poker games and Rusty, the foreman, came up to the house for their Wednesday night chess game, but he’d lived alone in his house. Until now.
The greenhorn kid was staying with him. Jace glanced over at his passenger. Zeb was looking out the window, eyes shining, a small smile on his lips. And nice lips they were too, full but not pouty. The bottom one looks downright edible. Jace frowned. Where the hell did that thought come from? Jeez, Freemont, how long’s it been since you had your ashes hauled? You need to get laid.
Thinking about it, Jace realized that it sure as shit had been a good, long time since he’d gone looking for company. Men were his preference. He was thirty-seven and had never been married. Hell, he’d never bothered to hide his sexuality. It was an accepted supposition by most that he was gay. No one commented on it and Jace didn’t flaunt the fact. When he played, it was out of town, though there had been offers more than a time or two from hired hands over the years.
Those offers he didn’t accept. It made for too precarious a situation. It’d be fine as long as he and the other guy were gettin’ along, but what happened if he decided to break things off? A jilted lover living practically in his back pocket? No thank you.
Jace let his mind wander back to Zeb. Much as he’d objected to the kid coming around, this deal was going to make the ranch his. He hadn’t exaggerated when he told Zeb that a contract for the sale of enough cattle to supply every steak house in Texas had been drawn up between Free Plains and the backers for that underdeveloped country.
For finally giving his permission and giving up his share of the profit in that deal, the ranch was being signed over to him lock, stock, and barrel. All his. No more silent partners to deal with. No more talking himself blue in the face, trying to make sophisticated city types understand why the purchase of a prize bull was necessary to keep the bloodlines clean or why more fields needed to be planted with hay to keep them well supplied through the winter.
The decisions and the consequences were all his. While the decisions had pretty much been his anyway -- the partners usually came around to his way of thinking -- the consequences would have been split three ways. Now, profit or loss, it was all on him. The ranch operated in the black for all the years Jace had been foreman and for the three years he’d been part owner. Barring some disaster, there was no reason to think it wouldn’t continue that way. Jace knew ranching and it showed.
He also knew he’d watch out for the kid. Wasn’t his fault he’d been sent here. Jace’s sense of fair play came to the fore, but he still puzzled over a few things. Like the kid’s name. Zeb, now there was a down-home sounding name. But Bakar? What was that, Greek? And what the hell was the kid wearing? Jace had seen city types in suits but this was something else. Kid must be one of those, whaddya call ’em, yuppies.
“Where you from, Zeb?” Jace asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
“New York.”
“Oh, that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Your clothes.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothin’. I was just wonderin’ where people wore stuff like that. New York City, well, that explains it.”
When Zeb frowned and shrugged, Jace felt a smile tug at his lips. The kid was cute, no doubt. He was distracted from further observation by their arrival at the ranch. “This is it, Zeb,” he said and even Jace could hear the pride in his own voice. They turned down a two lane road and drove under a tall archway that proudly proclaimed this land to be Free Plains Ranch.
Home.
Chapter Two
Jace pulled up in front of the house, got out and watched Zeb pull his suitcase out of the truck bed. “This is the main house, my house. You’ll be staying here with me.” Zeb nodded and followed him up the steps to the front porch. They turned and looked out over the property.
“This is amazing. Everything’s so big,” Zeb commented in awe.
Up close, there were several large barns, some smaller buildings and what appeared to be a second house. The fields close to the barns held horses and a few cattle. Further out was the open range dotted with pockets of cattle as far as the eye could see. Beyond that, in the distance, were mountains. They rose cool and majestic, their tops wreathed with clouds. The sky was one unending blanket of pure, clear blue.
Jace felt a grin tug at his lips. Yep, kid, lots of big things around here. Even some you can’t see. Out loud, he agreed with Zeb’s statement. “That’s why I like it. Lots of room for a man to stretch out.” And didn’t that just bring another wild thought to mind. Jace subtly adjusted his cock. Damn thing was gettin’ ideas, plumpin’ up like it was. Down boy or you’re gonna get a thump. Boss man can’t be walkin’ around with a blue steeler in his britches for the world to see. “Come on in the house. We’ll get you settled in and then see about your first horseback riding lesson. There’s some damage to a section of fence I want to check out.”
Jace led the way in. To the left was a dining room, and beyond, the kitchen. To the right, the living room, his office and further down the hall, a bathroom. Straight ahead, the stairs led up to three bedrooms -- two on one side, the bath and master bedroom on the other.
Jace stopped at the first door. “This’ll be your room while you’re here. Bathroom’s across the hall, that’s my room beyond. The other bedroom’s empty. In case you’re wondering.”
“You live here alone?”
“Yep. Change your clothes, kid. I’ll wait downstairs for you.”
“All right, and by the way, my name is Zeb, not kid.”
Jace shot him an unrepentant grin. “How old are you Zeb?”
“Twenty-four.”
“I’m thirty-seven. To me you’re a kid. Your greenhorn status just makes it that much more apparent. You show me you got some smarts and backbone, and I’ll elevate you to man status.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Zeb replied, his voice tinged with puzzlement and irritation.
“Probably won’t be before your time here’s up. But that’s my opinion. Get changed.”
Without waiting for a reply, Jace clattered his way downstairs to wait. The kid didn’t keep him waiting long and Jace did a double take as he came downstairs. Well now, hmm. Out of that loose-fitting suit, the kid’s body was nice. Though not particularly tall, Zeb’s five-feet-ten-inch frame was nicely proportioned. His navy blue tee shirt set off his dark blond hair and made his frosty blue eyes seem darker. It also emphasized the fact that the kid had some muscle definition to his upper body.
His jeans, obviously new but laundered soft, clung to thigh muscles that bunched with each step. They weren’t skin tight but tight enough to prove it was a man who wore them. The kid had a nice bulge behind that zipper and Jace felt his stomach do an unaccustomed flip at the thought. Zeb had a leather strap over his shoulder that went diagonally across his chest. It held what looked like a small leather saddle bag.
“What’s in the pack?” Jace asked when Zeb took the final step down.
“My F
GDL.”
“And that is?”
“Field Grade Data Link. While I’m out with you I can input data that will go directly to the computer I set up in my room.”
“I see,” Jace commented, his gaze coming to rest on Zeb shoes. He wore black athletic type shoes. “No boots? You bring a hat with you?”
Zeb shook his head. “It didn’t seem right.” His gaze met Jace’s, his look open and sincere. “It felt like putting on a uniform I didn’t earn. I’m no cowboy.”
For some reason, Zeb’s admission struck a cord within Jace. The kid was earning points fast. “I think I got a hat you can use. You’re gonna need it, Zeb. Sun’ll fry your brain and that pale skin of yours is gonna suffer unless you put somethin’ on it.”
“I’ll be okay.”
Jace shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Jace went to a closet down the hall and came back with a billed cap that read ‘Brown’s Tractor Supply.’ “Here ya go. Try this on for size.” Zeb put the hat on and his head was immediately engulfed. Jace snickered. “Seems to need a bit of an adjustment.” He took the hat and reworked the snaps at the back. “There, try that.”
Zeb took the cap and it settled on his head just right. “This is good.”
“All right. Let’s get to it.”
Jace led the way outside and pointed out various barns, out buildings and fields as they crossed the large expanse of ground from the house to the horse barn. There were a couple of men here and there. One was working on a tractor, two more were unloading bags of feed from the back of another pick up truck. They yelled out greetings to Jace that he returned.
“I’ll introduce you to everyone at the bunkhouse tonight. For right now, this is the most important introduction you need.” They entered the cooler, dim recesses of the horse barn and walked along a row of stalls before exiting out the back to a fenced in corral. “This is Miss Molly and Whirlwind. Guess which one you’re riding.”
