“I’ll try.” I made my voice as grave as his, but he merely snorted, sounding exactly like one of the nearby horses. “I will. You’ll see.”

  “Just keep outta the way.” Grayson’s shoulders slumped as if he already knew I wouldn’t. And he wasn’t wrong. I undoubtedly had a few misguided assumptions about cowboy life. But I was ready to learn⁠—

  Oh. Bingo. I had the best idea ever, and enough sense to not blurt it out to Grayson as he determinedly clomped away.

  Chapter Five

  Grayson

  Early October

  “Adler wants to do what?” I gaped at Maverick, not trying to hide my shock. We were in the machine shed for the purpose of me showing Maverick a few things that needed to be replaced. Hadn’t expected Adler’s name to come up.

  For a few weeks now, I’d been able to relax a bit because Adler was back in LA, tying up loose ends there. Maverick had mentioned Adler was having a hard time finding someone to take over his apartment lease, and I’d even started to hope he might change his mind about coming back.

  No such luck.

  “Adler wants to learn more about ranching so he can better help me run the dude ranch side of things,” Maverick patiently explained again. “He’ll be back in a few days, but it’s going to take us a bit to get the visitor side of things going anyway. I’m making a list of renovations⁠—”

  “Renovations is one thing. That’ll be headache enough.” I rubbed my temples as one was already starting to gather from this conversation alone. “But you want Adler to work as a hand?”

  “Only for a few months while we work out the details on the new sideline.” Maverick waved a hand airily before pulling out his phone. “Speaking of, I’ve got a Second Chance Ranch logo to show you too. The new signage will be here soon.”

  “You want me to occupy the greenest city kid I ever met for a few months?” I ignored the logo he was trying to show me in favor of the first part of what he’d said. Months.

  Maverick shrugged. “You’ve said for a while now that you’re short on hands and having trouble finding applicants.”

  “I didn’t mean…” I trailed off on a groan because I had been going on about the need for more help. I still wasn’t on board with Maverick’s plan to bring city slickers in, let alone give them chores to do.

  “And you wanted me to step up and find ideas to help cash flow.” Maverick gave me a pointed look. He had me, and he well knew it. I wanted the ranch to succeed, wanted him to enjoy being a rancher, and absolutely did not want him and his sister to sell to one of the developers buzzing around like horseflies.

  “I did.” I exhaled hard. If a few visitors were the price of saving the ranch, so be it.

  “Then give Adler a chance when he comes back?” Maverick gave me the sort of soft eyes that undoubtedly worked on Colt but did nothing for me. The last thing I wanted to do was give Adler Kelly any sort of chance to screw up the ranch operations or an opening to renew his bid for more fooling around with me. However, Maverick was determined, adding a pleading head tilt. “Please?”

  “Okay.” I said the only thing I could in the face of Maverick’s request. Wasn’t like I could tell him why Adler was all kinds of under my skin and us working together would be bad news, even if Adler were experienced in ranch work, which he wasn’t.

  Damn it. He wasn’t supposed to stick around. I never would have given in at the pond if I’d known this turn of events was coming. And now, he’d be back in a matter of mere days. Hell, I wasn’t sure years would be enough time to prepare to see Adler again.

  Accordingly, I was in something of a foul mood a few hours later at the horse barn when I was going over supplies with Kat and also venting about Maverick’s big ideas to my longtime friend.

  “And then you said okay?” Kat blinked her brown eyes at me. She was a tall, sturdy woman with an unparalleled way with horses and an uncanny ability to see through human bullshit as well.

  “What else was I supposed to say?” I held up my hands. My work gloves were dusty from loading hay in the early autumn chill earlier. “Maverick’s the boss now.”

  “And you’ve got how much more ranching experience?” Kat narrowed those perceptive eyes at me.

  “A bit.” I pursed my mouth. Maverick had grown up around ranching, same as me, but there was also a twenty-year gap where he’d been off in California, living the reality-TV lifestyle while flipping hotels, and I’d been right here, working the dirt. Further, even when he’d been a teen on the ranch, Maverick had done every damn thing to get out of chores. Understandable, too, given the way his old man had rode him hard.

  And Kat, damn her, knew that too. Her expression softened as she put a hand on my shoulder. “Gray, I say this as a friend, you have to let your guilt over how Maverick’s dad treated him go.”

  “I don’t have guilt⁠—”

  “Okay, an unreasonable sense of obligation. Does that sound better?” She shook her head at me. “The whole town knew Melvin Lovelorn was a shitty parent and a miserable person despite being a world-class judge of horse flesh and a decent rancher. You’re not the only one who wanted to save Maverick.”

  “I know.” However, I also knew that not everyone had had a front row seat to the arguing. More than once, I’d walked away from the two of them getting into it in the barn, Melvin lighting into Maverick over this or that minor infraction. I carried that private shame with me. At the time, I hadn’t had much choice as I couldn’t risk my own dad’s job, not when this was his last chance, but that didn’t mean I’d done the right thing by walking away.

  “Do you?” She lightly poked me in the chest of my thick flannel work jacket. “If you don’t want to work with Adler, just tell Maverick he’s too green for you to train.”

  “You think I can’t train him?” I stepped back to stare at her. I didn’t want Adler around, true, but I’d brought any number of lollygaggers up from lazy hands to valued workers, likely to be poached by other operations.

  “That’s not what I said.” Kat waved a hand, but I kept right on frowning at her. “If you don’t want the job, tell Maverick that Adler’s a liability. Guy’s too curious for his own good.”

  “He’s not that bad.” I wasn’t about to tell her Adler’s better qualities included an impressive ability to follow directions with his mouth, but for some strange reason, Kat backing me up on not wanting Adler around made me all protective of him. Maybe I was being a bit hasty and letting my awkwardness over a single encounter make me biased.

  “Nah. Eager puppies have their place.” Kat chuckled fondly. And it wasn’t an inaccurate description for Adler—he was bouncy and happy, like a big lab puppy with no idea what to do with its energy or big feet. Nevertheless, my back tightened as Kat continued, “Not sure my barn is one of them, but he’s friendly enough. Kept bringing me cookies when he’d come by to see Magnolia or the other horses.”

  “Cookies?” I blinked. Adler was so skinny. I’d assumed he was on some Hollywood diet craze that banished butter and carbs.

  “Apparently, he bakes.” Kat shrugged. “No wonder he’s friends with Maverick. They’re both always hungry.”

  “Yeah.” My brain was stuck on the image of Adler in an apron, somehow harnessing all his restless energy long enough to turn out something edible. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

  “Hey, maybe you can get him to bake for us when he moves into the bunkhouse.”

  “What?” A loud bark escaped my throat. I might be wavering on letting him have a try at some ranch work, if only to prove Kat wrong. I could train damn near anyone. The issue was that I didn’t want to, but apparently, I also couldn’t stand to hear the guy talked about in less than glowing tones. However, the bunkhouse was that much closer to my trailer and that much more likely to steal my sanity. The thought of Adler bunking with the other hands, some of whom could be a little rough and tumble compared to the urban hipsters Adler was undoubtedly used to, made my back cinch up tight. “He’s not moving into the bunkhouse.”

  “How are you supposed to give him the full hand experience if he’s living in a guest room at the house?” Kat scoffed and clapped me on the back. “He wants to be a hand, let him have the whole deal. At least we might get some better grub out of it.”

  “Maybe,” I allowed, brain whirring ahead to how quickly I could talk Adler out of this plan of his if I gave him the full hand experience, complete with all the shit chores. Heck, if I was lucky, maybe he’d never make it to the bunkhouse.

  Chapter Six

  Adler

  “Are you sure you want to stay in the bunkhouse?” Maverick asked as I carted my suitcase, pillow, and two duffel bags through the kitchen. He was enjoying his coffee at the island as Hannah had left on the school bus shortly after our breakfast. I’d made it back to the ranch Friday morning, but the weekend had been spent celebrating Maverick and Colt’s engagement. Today was Monday. Time to get to work.

  “How else am I going to advise you on renovations it may need?” I kept my tone cheery despite Maverick asking me some variation of this same question several times since my return. We’d had a strategy session last night, but many details for ranch visitors remained up in the air.

  “True.” Maverick quirked his lips, expression going decidedly uncomfortable. “I…uh…some of the hands might not be the…friendliest folks.”

  “Neither is Foreman Foxy.” I winked to get a groan out of Maverick. “Don’t worry. I’ll get along fine.”

  “You keep calling him that, and I’m going to give Gray permission to use a riding crop on you.” Maverick made it sound like a threat.

  “Please?” Laughing, I batted my eyes.

  “No flirting.” Maverick wagged a finger at me. “No suitable targets around here as I don’t believe any of the hands are openly queer.”

  “Key word there is openly.” I would never breathe a word of what had happened with Grayson to Maverick, but at the very least, there was some flexible in Grayson’s hetero.

  “Adler.” Maverick drew my name out like a warning. “No trying to flip the straight boys.”

  “But if I’m good at it…” I trailed off meaningfully so Maverick could groan again.

  “Behave.” He made his voice stern like he was channeling his sheriff boyfriend. Not done being parental, he narrowed his eyes as he pointed at my bags. “Grayson said to send you over after breakfast, but maybe I should help you carry your stuff?”

  “I’ll be fine, Mother. Promise. My suitcase has wheels.” Decent luggage was a perk of working years in hospitality, and I did a neat pivot on the hardwood floor to show how nimble the rolling suitcase was.

  “All right. Try not to piss Grayson off too much on your first day.” Sliding off the stool, Maverick walked me to the back door. “He’s doing me a favor letting you work as a hand.”

  “Is that code for he didn’t want to agree?” I already knew the answer, but I also wanted to see how much he’d told Maverick when he’d inevitably protested my plan.

  “He agreed.” Maverick looked like he’d licked something sour. “But maybe not happily.”

  I’d expected as much, but I had a stack of plans to change Grayson’s tune.

  “Almost forgot!” I turned back to the counter where I’d left a wrapped plate of gingersnaps. “Maybe my cookies will soften him up.”

  “Maybe.” Maverick sounded far from convinced. Undeterred, I headed off, bag on each shoulder, pillow under my arm, rolling the suitcase with one hand and carrying the cookies with the other. I was maybe a bit loaded down, but I didn’t need Maverick accompanying me like an anxious parent on the first day of school.

  I’d be fine.

  My suitcase kicked up a cloud of dust, wheels more suited for airports than dirt roads. I ended up half pulling and half dragging the thing as the narrow wheels kept catching on stray rocks and gravel. No matter. I’d be fine. And if I told myself that enough times, I might actually start to believe it.

  “What in tarnation?” Grayson sounded like a cartoon character, missing only the smoke pouring from his ears, as he greeted me at the bunkhouse door. The door had swung open before I could knock.

  “Reporting for duty, boss.”

  “I’m not your boss.” He glared at me. His stern tone sure sounded boss-like. “Maverick is both of our bosses.”

  “Well, you’re my temporary boss.” I grinned at him. Boss or not, I continued to find him the hottest thing in a pair of faded Wranglers. I held out the only slightly smushed plate of cookies. “And I brought cookies for the bunkhouse.”

  “Kat did mention you cook.” Grayson took the plate from me and ushered me into my first real live bunkhouse.

  “Cooking might be a stretch.” I was so excited that, as usual, the rambling just happened. “I make cookies. I got into it in high school. Easy way to entertain the younger siblings, make friends, and improve moods. Everyone loves cookies. Try one.”

  “I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” Grayson led me into a combination large kitchen and dining area. He set the cookie plate in the center of a long wooden table surrounded by mismatched wooden chairs from differing decades, taking up much of the room’s real estate. A variety of faded license plates and metal signs with cowboy sayings served as décor, adding to the homey but worn vibe.

  “Somehow I’m not surprised.” Continuing to cart the bulk of my worldly possessions, I rolled my eyes at him. “You probably drink your coffee black, eat your steak barely kissed by a flame, and consider pepper all the spice a dish needs.”

  “You really think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?” He stared me down, not even giving me the courtesy of the barest smile.

  “Am I wrong?”

  “Moving on.” He gestured at a chart on one of two giant refrigerators. “We rotate cooking duties. Used to have a dedicated cook, but Melvin couldn’t keep one around once Maverick was grown, so we make do. Your cookies will get eaten, but be prepared to make and eat some pretty basic grub.”

  “I’m not a princess. I grew up one of nine kids. I’ve eaten my share of simple, crowd-pleasing dinners.”

  “One of nine?” Grayson did an almost comical double-take. “There’s nine of you?”

  “Oh, there’s only one of me,” I said airily. Nothing like a house full of kids and fitting in with all and none at the same time. But people seldom wanted the reality of large family living, so I stuck to my light tone. “But eight siblings, yeah. I’m the middle kid. I like to think of myself as the best of the bunch.”

  “Or the trouble.” Grayson shook his head. “Something tells me your mama couldn’t keep you in line like the rest.”

  “Good guess.” My siblings were indeed better at following rules, whereas I’d chafed at a household with never enough time, money, or attention to go around.

  “Let’s show you to your bunk.” Grayson led me and my parade of luggage through the kitchen to a large room lined with bunk beds on one side and dressers on the other. A hallway at the far end of the room led to more doors, one of which was likely the shared bathroom. “Senior hands get a room, but newbies and seasonal workers get a bunk. You okay with an upper?”

  Grayson pointed to a bunk at the end of the row. If we were going to bring in guests, these Spartan accommodations wouldn’t impress many. Maverick and I had also discussed the idea of tiny cabins or some sort of separate bunkhouse. At least the bunks featured privacy curtains and sturdy construction, but I was already making a mental list of possible upgrades and leaning toward the cabin idea.

  “Sure.” Growing up in the middle of nine kids, bunk beds had been a way of life, but in truth, I hated the upper bunk and had wheedled my way out of it whenever I could. However, Grayson’s glower told me he wasn’t about to let me charm him into giving me a better bunk.

  “And these are your drawers.” He pulled out two empty drawers in the dresser opposite the bunk he’d indicated. “You might find them a bit cramped, but I’m sure Maverick would let you keep some stuff at the house.”

  “It’ll fit.” I projected confidence despite there being no way on earth one of my duffel bags of clothes would fit, let alone all my belongings. No way was I asking Maverick to keep my stuff back at the house, not with Grayson watching to see how long it would be before I found the bunkhouse an uncomfortable fit and ended up back in the guest suite. “If nothing else, I’ve got my car.”

  “That car ain’t gonna survive the winter.”

  My little hybrid was the first brand-new car I’d ever owned, and I’d managed to keep it through the rest of my life falling apart. That I hadn’t lost my license to my very public DUI was something of a miracle. First offense, no one injured, not speeding, but I had parked a hotel van in the middle of a fountain. Keeping my car and license had been an incentive on my sobriety journey. However, I wasn’t about to explain that to Grayson and risk him scoffing further.

  “If I have to change to something with four-wheel drive, so be it.” I tossed my pillow up onto my bunk. “I’m determined.”

  “So you keep saying.” Grayson sounded about as convinced as Maverick had, but I’d simply have to show everyone that I had what it took to cowboy up. The various signs in the kitchen area had made cowboy courage seem easy enough. Grayson gestured at my collection of bags. “I’ll give you a minute to stow your belongings. And is that what you’re wearing for work?”

  “Something wrong?” I looked down at my puffy nylon coat, which covered a thick flannel shirt, not unlike the one Grayson wore. Of course mine was purple with gold buttons, but it was still a serviceable garment even if stylish. I’d paired it with dark-wash jeans. The jeans weren’t Wrangler, but I’d already made a mental note to look for some of those the next time I made it to a thrift store around here.

  “Just checkin’ to make sure you’re good with getting horse shit on your duds.” For the first time since opening the door, Grayson smiled.