Page 9 of Wrangled

I wasn’t going there to live in the lap of luxury—I wanted to drive Tyler from my mind.

Two weeks since the break-up, and it still hurt, goddammit. Ineededthis trip.

I pulled out my phone to recheck the pickup time. They’d said a truck would take me to the ranch. Then I noticed two guys standing in front of the hotel, both with luggage, both checking their phones. They appeared to be in their late forties, although one had a lot more gray going on than the other.

I wonder…

I picked up my bag and strolled over to them. “Excuse me, but are you going to Salvation?”

The older-looking guy extended a hand, and I shook it. “Declan McCarrick. And yes, we’re headed there.” His hands were smooth, he had a manicure, and he was an immaculate dresser.

I had no room to talk. My clothes weren’t exactly Nordstrom. But this guy seemed to belong behind a desk, not riding a horse.

Maybe my incredulity showed in my face, because he smiled. “Son, I’ve been doing this every summer for the past six years. Driving cattle might be a long way from Wall Street, but it sure drives the cobwebs away.”

“Good, because that’s exactly what I’m hoping for.” I had one big cobweb to clear from my mind, in the shape of an early-twenties pretty guy who went by the name of Tyler.

The other guy held out his hand and we shook. My first impression was that he seemed unsettled, maybe even a little nervous. “I’m Garrett Evans. This is my first time.” His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure about this, I have to say. I’m only here because I’m following advice.”

It was on the tip of my tongue.Your therapist’s advice, right?He had the appearance of someone badly in need of breaking the cycle. Lord knew I’d seen enough of those kinds of guys turning up at the club.

I didn’t push. It was none of my business.

I gave them a friendly smile. “The name’s Toby Merrow. I’ve never done anything like this either.” Except that wasn’t true.

Hey, that was a long time ago.I’d been nothing but a kid.

A black truck pulled up, with the wordSalvationpainted on the door in yellow. When it opened, the biggest cowboy I had ever seen got out.

How did he fit behind the wheel?

He was maybe in his fifties, tall, and just as wide, clad in jeans and a plaid shirt, and boots that looked as if they could stomp the shit out of anyone if he chose to do so. A wide-brimmed brown hat was perched on his head, with leather stitching around the edges. His beard was several different shades of gray, but man, those eyes…

And we were being studied.

He peered at us for a moment, then lines wrinkled around his eyes. “You folks for Salvation?” he said, addressing Garrett and myself. When we nodded, he leaned in through the truck window and grabbed his phone. He scrolled, then peered at the screen. “Garrett Evans, Toby Merrow?”

“That’s us.” I was about to introduce Declan, when the cowboy grinned and thumped him on the arm.

“I knewyou’dbe here. You’re nothing but a bad penny.” He gestured toward the truck. “Throw your luggage in the back.”

We did as instructed and got into the truck. Declan headed for the front seat.

Our driver got behind the wheel and twisted around to greet us with that same grin. “I’m Butch Buchanan. You’ll be seeing a lot of me.” He turned to Declan and clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Dec, how’s it hangin’? Good to see ya. How’s the big city treating you?”

“Still hanging on in there. You should come visit. I’d show you the sights.”

Butch laughed. “No, thank you. I’m not a city boy.” He twisted once more to glance at me. “Butyousure got the look of one.”

“San Francisco,” I replied, keeping my tone polite. “Didn’t know it showed.”

Like hell I didn’t. Designer jeans, Gucci shirt… I might not waste money on flights, but I saw nothing wrong in dressing well.

Then it hit me. It was my choice of footwear. I guess nothing screamed outsider like a pair of brand-new fancy cowboy boots.

And maybe I should’ve chosen a more toned-down outfit.

Butch started the engine and pulled away from the curb. “So, you boys ready for some hard work?”