Page 2 of Stirring Spurs (Rainbow Ranch #1)

WYLIE

Entering the house, I never expected to be greeted by a loaded table and the smell of freshly baked pastries.

I’m used to beans, biscuits, maybe some scrambled eggs if I’m lucky.

I haven’t smelled anything so delicious in years, since I was a kid.

My stomach churns, half-starved after the long walk from Johnson Springs.

The inclination to hesitate hits me when I see the sea of faces staring up at me, and a grumble escapes under my breath as I peel off my jacket and look around the room.

Everyone’s sitting and eating. I’ve clearly interrupted their breakfast. Except for one.

A tall guy—at least a couple inches bigger than me—wearing a dark brown leather apron and matching hat, holds a plate of what I suspect is the culprit for the sweet orangey aroma permeating the room.

He’s criminally handsome. I pull my lips in and do my best to scowl.

Of course, I’d happen onto a ranch with a hot cookie. Just my fucking luck.

He doesn’t seem to notice my scowl as he holds the plate of golden, flaky buns out, practically glowing with warmth. He glances up, all sunshine and good cheer, not intimidated in the slightest at the appearance of a gruff stranger standing in his dining room.

“Morning! I’m Boone. Have a seat. Let me fix you a plate.”

He pulls an empty chair out, and I move toward it. The man who greeted me steps forward, places his arm around my shoulders, and introduces the crew.

“I’m Beau Adams. In case you didn’t notice, Boone and I are twins.

” I take a quick study back and forth, and yeah, their faces are the same.

Unlike his brother's hazel eyes, the cookie’s are more green.

Energy’s all different, too. “And before you ask, I’m older.

He’s taller.” I size him up—got a few inches on me too.

“This is Billie, our sister, and the resident artist. Bennett, our baby brother…”

“Everyone calls me Benny.”

I give him a nod and do my best to smile.

“He also works with the horses,” Beau continues. “And Winnie helps with…”

“Everything.” Winnie brings more freshly cooked eggs to the table and sits.

“That’s Pris, the resident gardener.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says.

I nod and take my seat next to her. She’s got the most beautiful black hair, like billowing clouds. She smiles, and I notice a few wisps of it poking out behind her ears.

Boone, the taller, younger-by-two-minutes twin, grabs a plate.

“Hungry, Mr. Anderson?”

“Please. Wylie.”

The smile on his face hits me like a lightning strike. It could damn near melt frozen butter on a biscuit.

Before I can answer, he begins plating them.

“You look like you could use a little sweetness. ”

My brow furrows as my gaze flicks to the two enormous buns before me.

“They’re not rattlesnakes,” he says.

My stomach makes a noise, either from hunger or that damn way he’s looking at me.

“Uh, I’m not really the sweet type,” I mutter. “Just coffee.”

He reaches for a mug and the carafe and begins pouring. “Sure thing. Cream?”

“Black.”

Boone nods, a twinkle in his eye. “Well, you’re in luck. Best coffee in a twenty mile radius.”

“Only coffee,” Benny clarifies, and Boone cocks his head at his brother. “But also, best.”

Boone pours me a mug and hands it over.

“And if you change your mind, you might be surprised. My buns are famous around here.”

Billie chokes on her toast as she laughs.

“My cinnamon orange buns,” he clarifies.

My eyebrow raises as Boone hands me the cup of coffee. I take a sip—the bitterness hits first, but there’s something smooth underneath like it might just take a minute to settle in.

“You’re the cookie?” I ask.

“That’s me!” Boone replies with a proud, playful grin. “Though I haven’t been called that in a spell.”

The guy smiles a lot. It’s quite annoying.

“I’m pretty sure the universe can’t function without breakfast. Have a bun. No one’s ever died from a little sweetness.”

I glare down at the rolls like they’re about to start line dancing. After another sip of coffee, I set the mug down, and then—because these damn buns smell way too good—I pick one up.

“Don’t mind my brother, Mr. Anderson,” Billie says. “He just wants everyone fed and happy.”

“Not sure it’s my thing,” I grumble, but I break off a small piece and set it on my plate before Boone opens those plump lips again.

My teeth sink into the warm, gooey icing, the intense citrus enveloping my senses, and when my mouth reaches the soft cinnamon sugary insides, my eyes narrow.

“...Huh,” I mutter, trying hard not to smile. “That’s not half bad.”

Boone leans back against the wall, arms folded, watching me like a cat studying a mouse.

“Told you.” He gives a soft, knowing look. “Tough guys need sweetness the most.”

My head shakes, the rich, mouthwatering bun filling my mouth. When I finally swallow, I say, “You’re trouble, aren’t you?

Boone grins even wider, showing a hint of his teeth. “You’ve got no idea.”

“Well, I guess Boone’s buns really are beguiling.” Billie licks the icing off her fingers.

Boone shrugs and winks at me. I almost drop my coffee, but I catch it. Fuck, no need to look clumsy in front of these folks right after meeting 'em.

“Where are you coming from?” Benny asks.

He’s got a baby face, which tracks with him being the youngest of the clan.

“Broken Bow. Worked with some horses at the casino rodeo for a few months.”

“And what brings you here?”

“Never stay anywhere too long. Don’t want to wear out my welcome. Heard you had some horses needing some extra attention.”

“We do. And everyone’s welcome at Rainbow Ranch,” Beau says. “It’s part of our manifesto.”

“Literally.” Billie points to a wooden carved sign on the wall that reads Everyone Welcome .

“Challenging horses are my specialty,” I say. “I do my thing with them, then…”

“Leave.” Boone, the cook with no business being that attractive, moves toward his sister’s empty plate.

“Well, yeah. Do my job. And then, when I’m not needed anymore, move on.”

“Makes sense.” Beau wipes the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Well, you’re needed here.”

Everyone at the table, clearly in on something I’m not, in unison says, “Noodles.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, finishing the last of my coffee.

“Noodles,” Beau repeats. “Finish your breakfast, and I’ll introduce you.”

“Need a warm-up?” Boone holds the carafe, and his face lights up like the stars in the night sky. Not exactly sure why he’s so fucking excited about coffee.

“Sure, why not,” I say. “It’s the best damn coffee in the area, after all.”

I shoot him a wink, and his lips curl into a smile. A dimple flashes, catching my eye. He might just be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. Yup, definitely trouble.

“You came in that way,” Beau says, pointing down the main access road.

Dust still clings to my boots, and I recall the rumble of the trucker’s rig as it dropped me off miles back. Took me near two hours from the main road.

“But if you leave the main house from the kitchen,” he continues, “you’ll find the artery of dirt roads that lead to all the important places on the ranch.”

I follow a half step behind him, doing my best to take it all in while he talks.

“Probably already noticed, but there’s no cell service out here.

Have to wait until you’re closer to town to use one.

We’ve got internet in my office and a landline you’re welcome to use.

Thought about getting one of those boosters, but we actually like the lack of connectivity. Forces us to be a little more present.”

“Don’t have a cell,” I say with a shrug. “Job boards. Newspapers. Word of mouth. Maps. The world existed fine before 'em.”

“Well, nothing to worry about then.”

A cool spring breeze blows the large flags scattered around the property. We walk past the rodeo arena with even more banners flapping at the top of the bleachers, and I imagine it full of folks, watching and cheering.

“Sure do like flags, eh?”

“Pardon?” Beau stops in his tracks and turns to face me, and even only having just met him, I recognize the scowl on the bottom portion of his face.

“Flags.” I nod toward a row of them surrounding the dirt arena, fluttering fast, making a thwapping sound.

“Oh. Yeah. We do. Started collecting them for the kids, but then they added so much to the property, we kept going.”

“Kids?”

“The foster kids. Teens mostly. A few tweens, the younger ones. They come in a van from Johnson Springs on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Rainbow Ranch helps them find their voice, feel at home, and connect with the land and each other. We hope to be part of giving them a fresh start. A few have stayed on after they’ve aged out of the system.

Pris, the gardener you met at breakfast—she started in our teen program. ”

“Teens and animals. What can’t you fix?” I ask.

“Ah, we don’t fix anyone. Nobody’s broken. Some just need a little more time and patience. We want to help. Isn’t that why we’re all here?”

“I mean, I guess. Sure,” I say, but a tightness in my chest tingles.

This guy is full of crap.

I spot the larger barn in the distance. I’m guessing it can hold about twelve horses, or fewer if they’re keeping other animals in the building.

It appears solid and weathered against the sprawling landscape, its wooden beams faded by years of sun and rain.

The roof, a patchwork of rusted tin shingles, slopes gently as dust swirls lightly around the foundation.

As we approach, the wind whispers through dry grasses.

The large doors of the barn are half closed, revealing shadowy interiors, and the faintest movement suggests the presence of its residents.

My mouth curls into a smile when I hear a few soft snorts.