Page 12 of Wrangled

Now that he mentioned it…

“I’m pretty hungry too.” Not only that, I wanted to get a glimpse of more cowboys. If they were anything like Paul—and into guys—maybe the next two weeks wouldn’t be the sexual desert I’d anticipated.

Chapter Four

Toby

The bunkhouse was bigger than I’d expected, comprising three sections. The front part was where the hands watched TV, and ate around a huge table. Every wall was covered in pine cabinets, and there wasn’t an uncluttered surface to be found—there were hats, spurs, gloves, even boots… An enormous fridge took up a lot of wall space.

The bunks were in the next section, which pretty much merged with the front part. There were ten bunk beds, four against the outer walls and two at the rear, of which six or seven bunks were in use. Butch told us to grab anything that was going.

“Except that one,” Paul said, pointing to a lower bunk on the right as he strolled toward the bathroom. I guessed he was done for the day. I gave him a quizzical glance, and he grinned. “Butch’s bunk. Don’t touch his stuff. He doesn’t like it.”

“Quit trying to make me sound like an asshole,” Butch groused.

“He doesn’t have to try too hard.” One of the ranch hands hooted, and Butch gave him the finger.

I dumped my bag onto a lower bunk, then took in my surroundings. It was as if I’d wandered onto the set ofYellowstone.

Hey, at least I was prepared.

At the rear of the bunkhouse was the door to the restroom. There were two showers that were nothing more than tiled trays with dark blue curtains across, hanging from plastic hooks. Three sinks lined one wall, and above each was a shelf, loaded with toothbrushes, toothpaste, shaving foam, razors, and combs.

“Do we have time to unpack?” I asked Paul on his way back from the bathroom.

“Not really. That can wait till after supper.” Paul smiled. “This lot are like a pack of wolves when they get hungry, and right now they’re ready to chow down.” He pointed to a chest of drawers next to the bunk I’d chosen. “You can put your stuff in there.” He lowered his gaze to my feet, and coughed. “Nice… boots. They look perfect—for a square dance.” He cocked his head to one side. “They the only ones you brought with you?” When I nodded, he patted my arm. “Just be ready to clean ’em every night. Because they are going to get covered in shit—literally.”

“Grub’s up!” Butch hollered. The door to the bunkhouse opened, and a guy came in, maybe my age. His boot heels clicked on the wooden floor. He carried an insulated bag that he set down on the table.

“It’s stew tonight, boys. And there’s cornbread too. I’ll be back later.” His gaze met mine briefly. “Welcome to Salvation.” Then he walked out.

I gazed after him.Well, hel-lo. I loved a scruffy beard on a guy, and his was dark, matched by his piercing blue, sexy-as-fuck eyes. Muscled thighs too, that stretched the denim so it clung to them. I couldsoimagine them wrapped around me. I hadn’t gotten a good glimpse at his package, but what I’d seen thus far was already floating my boat.

Things weredefinitelylooking up.

Whoa there, cowboy. Who’s to say he’s even into guys?

I grinned to myself. I could dream, couldn’t I?

“He’s not going to eat with us?” I strove not to let my disappointment show.

“That’s Matt,” Butch told me as he took a seat at the table. “He does the cooking around here.” He opened the bag, and the delicious aroma of cornbread filled the air.

If it tasted as good as it smelled, Matt was obviously a treasure.

A hot as fuck treasure.

Then a thought occurred to me. I stared at him. “You have a cook just for the ranch hands?”

Paul laughed as he returned to the table. “Matt cooks for everyone, including the boss.”

Damn, he sounded good when he laughed, deep, and musical.

I could tell the eye candy around the place was going to proveallkinds of distracting.

The guy who’d spoken a moment ago snorted. “Andsomeoneneeds to make sure that man eats.”

I extended a hand to him. “Toby Merrow. And you are…?”