Page 36 of Wrangled

“It’s okay, I get it. You’re the strong silent type. That’s fine. I’ll talk to Lightning instead. Except the conversation could be dull as ditch water, because I suspect all he’ll want to talk about is hay, flies, and when his next feed is.”

That broke the ice. I laughed. “And he’ll also say ‘don’t forget the oats.’”

Toby grinned. “He only gets those if he’s a good boy.”

Dear Lord. I had to bite my tongue.And what doIget if I’m a good boy?Then I smiled.You need to meet my sister. She has a few words to say about strong silent types.

His eyes gleamed. “Is this you appreciating my sense of humor, or did I say something funny?”

“You just echoed something my sister said on the phone last night.”

“Would that be Diana?”

I stared at him. “And you know that how?”

“Butch mentioned her when we were driving here. Married to some guy called Newt, I think he said?”

I gave him another hard stare. “Did Butch give out any other information while he was driving you? My shoe size, for instance? The combination to my safe? The size of my—assets?”

We stared at each other for a minute, then both of us laughed.

I couldn’t believe I’d said that.Since when do I dabble in double entendres?Especially with a guy I’d just met.

“He was just passing time, I think. I have to ask, though. His parents named him after Newt Gingrich?”

“No idea, but when he was a teenager, the name really suited him. It was more of a size thing. You should’ve seen him when he and Diana first started dating. He’s got bigger since. Thank God.” I peered at him. “You’re from San Francisco?”

“Yup.”

“What do you do there?”

He bit back a smile. “Yeah, that wasn’t one of the questions on the form I had to fill in online. Because good Lord, it wanted to know everything else. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had asked for my… measurements.”

Looks like I’m not the only one talking in sexy riddles.Because yeah, I was thinking about his dick. And when was the last time I’d done that?

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m half-owner of a club.”

“What kind of club?”

“Just a… social club, for guys only.”

I arched my eyebrows. “I see. And do you let someone run it for you, or do you like to get your hands dirty?”

His eyes glittered. “I like to get dirty.”

Yeah, there was nothing ambiguous about that statement, and we both knew it.

Heat flooded my face, and I was thankful we were almost at the ranch.

Toby cleared his throat. “So… Maybe we might meet up one of these mornings and ride the trail together?”

“You never know,” I said with a shrug. “Anything could happen.”

“In that case, maybe I’ll makesureit happens.”

And maybe I’d make sure of the same thing.