Page 5 of The Earl’s Wrangler (Cowboy Nobility #3)

RANDALL SHOOK his head and sighed as he worked the leather bridle with his fingers.

It was old and in desperate need of some care.

He’d worked on a number of other pieces and had set them aside.

One thing he could say: the room was meticulously organized, with every horse’s gear clearly labeled.

It was plain that for the most part, everything had been well cared for, even if some of the tack needed more than cleaning.

Sawyer hadn’t been back, but Randall heard him moving around outside.

Occasionally wood slid along concrete, and Randall wondered if the man was building something or tearing it down.

Not that it was any of his business. He was here because he’d been stupid and lost a bet.

If it was Alan’s goal to show him how great Wyoming was, it wasn’t working.

All Randall wanted was to return to England and his home, where he’d spend weeks washing the crud off, enjoying proper tea, and spending his afternoons on the estate, playing lord of the manor to the hordes of tourists who visited the home built by the second earl during the Restoration.

He was damned proud of it and the work his grandfather, father, and he had done to restore and preserve it.

The dragging came again, the sound grating up his back. Randall finished the bridle and put it back where he’d found it before poking his head out of the room. “What in bloody hell are you doing?”

Sawyer continued dragging the old piece of furniture out of what had once been a stall.

“What does it look like?” he snapped. “There are three colts coming in. I only got two stalls, so I need to clean out the one that everyone has filled with shit over the last decade.” He continued dragging the old kitchen sideboard out of the stall.

“I was thinking I’d toss this on the burn pile out back.

” He continued dragging, and Randall waved his hand.

“No.” He drew closer as Sawyer stared at him like he was crazy.

He licked his finger and brushed it over the dry wood.

“This has seen a hard life, but it’s not junk.

” He needed more time and better light to really see, but even without getting into the detail, he knew this was not something to be broken up and burned.

“Is there a storage place, somewhere dry?”

“There’s the workshop,” Sawyer offered.

“Then let’s take it there. I’ll help you.” He looked it over and lifted at the top, which separated from the base. “It’s in pieces.”

“If you say so. This is just junk. It’s been in here forever.

” Sawyer took the other side, his arms bulging as he lifted.

Randall let him lead the way, and they carried the sections out of the barn and into the work shed, then put them back together along the one wall.

Sawyer stepped back, looking at it. “I still say it’s not worth any time. ”

“We’ll see,” Randall told him.

Sawyer shrugged and left the shed. “There’s plenty of work to do.”

Randall’s stomach rumbled. “When do you eat?” He realized it had been hours.

“It’s only four in the afternoon. We’ll have dinner when it starts getting dark. Once the work is finished.” He strode back into the barn, and Randall wanted to throttle him, but he still couldn’t help admiring the way he filled out those damned tight jeans.

“I see you’re helping Sawyer,” George said as he approached, handing Randall a mug. “I thought you might need something.”

“The man is a pain in the ass,” Randall said, then hummed at the lovely tea. “Reminds me of home.” He closed his eyes, letting the smooth, warm liquid slide down his throat.

George chuckled. “Yeah, but you keep watching him.”

Randall rolled his eyes. “The wrapping may be pleasant, but the inside is filled with asshole. No thank you.”

“It isn’t like you’ve been at your most pleasant.

” George swept his arms around him. “Look at this place. The mountains are so beautiful, and just breathe. The air is fresh and clean. Every morning, I step outside and see this and I’m just happy.

” A pack of dogs hurried over, all of them settling around George, who petted and spoke to each of them. “How can you be so sour?”

“I was the one who was happy to stay at home.”

George lifted his gaze upward to the clear blue sky. “You’re here, so make the most of it. This is a totally new experience for you. Let yourself enjoy it, rather than being a Debbie Downer.” He grinned.

“Those American sayings…,” Randall said flatly.

“I know. Don’t you love them?” He sipped the last of his tea.

“These people say what they mean. If they like you, they will move heaven and earth for you. They live off the land, and it’s a hard life, but they’re strong people.

” George leaned closer. “And I can tell you that strength is sexy as all fuck. Look at Alan.” Goerge grinned.

“Heck, bloody look at Sawyer,” he said just as Sawyer came out of the barn with a barrow full of junk.

It had to be heavy, judging by the way his muscles flexed.

“See what I mean?” He nudged Randall, who shook his head.

There was no way in hell he was going to get involved with anyone.

He was here for two weeks, and that was bloody well it.

“Doesn’t matter,” Randall said with emphasis that he knew was too quick and forceful.

“I’m staying a couple of weeks and then I’m going home, never to return.

” George snickered like a kid. “And don’t bring up Haferton.

He came over here because he was tired of England and wanted to meet someone like Alan. I personally don’t see the attraction.”

“Then you aren’t looking in the right direction, my friend.

Most of these men are the strong, silent type.

They know who they are, and when they see something they want, they go after it.

” George turned to watch him, and Randall could almost feel the intensity in his gaze.

“Most of the time. You see Dusty over there? That man rides bulls. Every year he represents this ranch in the local rodeo. He wins too. And Kevin over there? His specialty is cattle roping. He can tie up a calf faster than you can say ‘holy shit.’ Okay? They have no fear… until it comes to the people they like. Dusty is currently dating a girl in town, but it took him six months to get up the courage to ask her out.”

“Why? Dusty is a good-looking man,” Randall said. “I’m surprised he isn’t beating them off with a stick.”

“Well, it’s part of that silent thing that these guys have going on. They can do shit that would break their necks and love every second of it. But when it comes to the heart….” George shrugged.

“What is it you’re trying to say?”

“That you’re just like these guys, only louder.

You talk all the goddamn time, but you’re just as stunted as the rest of them.

I’m not saying that you should jump Sawyer’s bones, but stop being a dick and you might find out that these men could end up being the best friends you’ve ever had in your life. ”

“George!”

“Who is that?” Randall asked.

“Chip, Alan’s brother.” George waved, and Chip hurried over.

“I need your help. Got a calf that needs pulling, and I could use some help keeping Mama calm. This one is a nervous Nellie.” George handed Randall the mug, and Chip practically pulled him away. Randall set the mugs on the back stoop before returning to the tack room to finish what he’d started.

“You need help?” Randall asked as he passed where Sawyer was working to get the stalls cleaned out and ready for their occupants.

“Shit,” Sawyer swore as the stall door fell off its hinges, nearly landing on his foot. “Just the fuck what I needed.”

Randall knelt down. “The hinge gave way. You got fresh ones?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s take the door off so it doesn’t break the other one and we can fix it. Get on the other side and we can lift together.” Sawyer huffed but did as he asked, and they got the door off and set it aside. “Where are the hinges?”

“In the equipment shed where we put that piece of furniture you wanted to keep.”

“Then I’ll hold the door while you get what we need,” Randall offered, and Sawyer stepped away and hurried out of the barn.

Randall looked around and sighed. How in the heck had he let himself get roped into all this?

He had plenty that he needed to do back home.

The estate manager could handle the day-to-day running of the tours and the boutique, but the rest of the estate required someone to watch over it.

He had plans for the grounds that needed to be overseen.

He also had an idea to add a distillery to the property.

They had crops they were selling, but he figured that some of them could be used to create an estate whiskey they could sell to the visitors, and if they got the mix right, it might even become known beyond the immediate area. Instead, he was here and….

“I found one,” Sawyer said as he strode toward him, and Randall momentarily forgot about all the things back home, swallowing hard as the cowboy drew closer.

“Great,” Randall said quickly. Sawyer had also brought tools, and they got the old hinge parts removed and the new ones installed. Then came the hard part: sliding the stall door back into place. “Lift it from the other side.”

“I have it,” Sawyer said, moving the door too far his way. Randall tried to guide it back and the bottom slipped in, but the top hinge missed. “We need to lift it again.”

“Okay. I’ll lift and you guide,” Randall suggested. Sawyer grew quiet, and Randall held the door. “Which way do I go?” He was still quiet, tapping his hand on the gate. Randall began to lower the door simply because his arms were getting tired.

“Not yet. I almost got it.” Sawyer finally told him as his arms began to ache.

“Then say something, please,” Randall said.