However, he wasn’t opposed to making her believe she’d won.
“All right, we’ll lay off,” Grant told her. “I really just wanted to ask if you were making a trip into town today.”
Gracie looked up at him, her golden eyebrows downturned. Ever the skeptic that woman.
“What? You said last week that you had to head into town. I happen to know that your truck hasn’t moved since last Thursday, so I thought I’d ask. I just needed a couple of things.”
“Fine. Yes, I’m going into town. Give me a list of what you need and I’ll pick it up for you.”
“Thanks, Gracie.” Grant retrieved a folded piece of paper from his pocket and held it out for her to take while Lane pinned him with a glare. Nope, he hadn’t told Lane about this.
True to form, she didn’t bother reading what was on his list; instead, she stuffed it into the front pocket of her jeans. “I’ll catch back up with you this afternoon. Come on,” he said to Lane, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll help you get ready for today’s ride.”
“What was on your list?” Lane asked when they were back out in the sunlight.
“Nothin’ important,” Grant lied, unable to look at Lane directly for fear the other man would see just what Grant was thinking. Or worse, feeling.
After what happened Friday…
“You know she’s never gonna come around, don’t you?”
Grant wasn’t about to answer that. He knew nothing of the sort. For as long as he could remember, Grant had been pining away for Gracie Lambert. And yes, he knew just how fucking pathetic that sounded. But there it was. The cold, hard truth.
Grant had first arrived at Dead Heat Ranch thirteen years ago. He’d been a dumbass nineteen-year-old when he stumbled across an ad in the paper looking for summer help on a dude ranch. He wasn’t even sure what a dude ranch was at the time, but shit, he’d been young and dumb and was hoping for some quick cash in his pocket.
Little did he know, but the moment he met Jerry Lambert and his five darling daughters, he was about to embark upon something that would change his life forever. The last thirteen years had been a blur. Somewhere along the way, he’d learned the ropes better than ol’ Jerry had obviously expected, and now he found himself as the head foreman of the second biggest dude ranch in the state of Texas. It was a dream job, one he’d never expected to fall into.
He spent his day doing what he loved. The only downside was the three to four hours a month – and that was the worst case – that he spent behind a desk. He preferred to be outside, in the brilliant Texas sun, sweating his ass off while working with the animals, teaching the new guys the ropes, checking in with the guests, following up on what needed following up on. That was his life. There was no nine-to-five for him. Hell, most of the time he wasn’t sure when he was working versus when he wasn’t, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
So, there he was, going along, day after day for nearly ten years when all of a sudden he looked up and there was little Gracie Lambert. But she wasn’t little anymore. No, she was all grown up and more strikingly beautiful than he’d thought possible. When he first met her, she’d been fifteen and as much of a pain in the ass as her sisters. Don’t get him wrong, they all worked their asses off. Especially Gracie. She’d been doing twice as many chores as most of the wranglers even at that young age, but she’d been a rebellious teenager. All of the Lambert girls were. Rebellious that is. Yet, he had no idea when that had changed. Sure, she was a smartass and quite defensive, but the woman was nothing like the teenage girl had been.
That was about the time her daddy opted to give every cowboy at the ranch a talkin’ to. The one that started with… “Stay the fuck away from my daughters.” And ended the exact same way.
It hadn’t deterred Grant. Well, except for the fact that he now kept his interest on the down low. More so than before.
But it was pretty much irrelevant because, no matter how hard he tried to convince Gracie to give him a chance, the woman hardly looked at him. Then again, that was partly his fault. For the last… God, he didn’t even know how long it had been. The only thing he knew was that about the same time as when he’d been laid for the first time, Grant had been rocked by a shocking realization that he hadn’t expected and certainly hadn’t understood.
Then again, he was still confused by it, but he’d learned to live with it. It was who he was.
Yeah, Grant’s biggest secret was that he was bisexual. Not gay. Not straight.
No, his life wasn’t that straightforward. It would certainly be easier if he swung one way or the other. Not both. But, after spending a few years denying it, then another few years assuming he was gay, Grant had learned he happened to like both men and women. Equally.
What did that mean? If fucking meant that Gracie Lambert made his dick hard. And so did Lane Miller. And wasn’t that just a bunch of fucked up. Not that Grant had been attracted to Lane all that time because at first, they’d just been friends.
Grant didn’t go around sharing his secret with just anyone. So, for the most part, no one knew he was just as interested in men as he was women. He’d learned that lesson early on. Share too much and people look at you sideways.
But Lane knew. Obviously. He knew and he didn’t seem to care. One of Dead Heat’s best wranglers wasn’t shy about who he was either. And strangely enough, Lane didn’t seem at all worried that Grant had ogled him a time or two. Or twenty.
Of course not. Lane Miller was the most confident cowboy Grant had ever met. At six-foot-three-inches, with thighs like redwood trees, an upper body that filled out a t-shirt to its max, and lips that…
Nope, Grant wasn’t going to go there.
Fuck.
Nonetheless, Lane was quite confident in himself. Dark hair, even darker eyes, and always sporting a clean-shaven jaw, the man drew attention without even trying. And when he was drunk, the guy obviously didn’t give a fuck who he was with.
Or at least that’s the impression Grant got.
They hadn’t been close for long. Maybe for the last six months or so. Before then it’d been a competition between them – who could get Gracie first. But during that time, Grant had obviously sparked something in Lane because last Friday night, after they had both spent far too much time with their good buddies Bud and Coors, Lane had kissed him.
Fucking kissed him and given him the best fucking blowjob of his entire fucking life.
“You all right?” Lane asked him now, pulling him – thank God – from that memory.
“Yeah, why?”
“I asked you a question, man.”
Shit. “Sorry, what’s up?”
“What are you doin’ for dinner tonight?”
Grant came to a halt, glancing around to see who was near, praying like hell that no one had heard that question.
“Shit. Relax, man. It’s fucking dinner. Either we eat it out of a fucking can or we stop by the kitchen and grab something with the guests. I wasn’t asking you out on a date.”
For whatever reason, that last part slammed against Grant’s chest as though Lane had sucker punched him, nearly knocking the wind right out of him. A date? Had he really thought that?
&
nbsp; “Fuck,” Lane bit out, yanking his straw hat from his head and running his fingers through the unruly dark strands that were just a little too long. A little too sexy. “About last Friday…”
“Nuh-uh. Don’t fucking go there,” Grant bit out, turning to walk away. The next thing he knew, Lane was grabbing his arm hard enough to turn him around.
“Don’t walk away, Kingsley,” Lane growled, his voice low. “Don’t fucking do that.”
“I’m not gonna do this here,” Grant whispered. He wasn’t going to do this anywhere, but he didn’t have to tell Lane that. It was one thing for people to know they were interested in the same woman, but it was something entirely different for people to think they were interested in… fuck. For them to be interested in each other.
Not happening.
Not here on the ranch. No fucking way.
Pulling away from Lane, he glared back at the man. “I’ve got shit to do. I’ll catch you later.”
???????
Lane watched Grant walk away. Confusion wracked him at the reaction he had to the other man. So much so, he didn’t hear Hope Lambert, Gracie’s oldest sister, walk up.
“You ready? Or are you gonna stand here with your thumb up your ass all day?”
Forcing his expression to be blank, Lane turned and looked at Hope. The woman looked so much like her four sisters it was eerie. All five sisters sported long blonde hair, usually pulled back in a ponytail when they were working, those fascinating blue-green eyes, and they were all petite. They all were the spitting image of their mother, who had, unfortunately, passed away when the girls were still really young.
But their looks and their ambitious work ethic were about the only thing they had in common. As far as personalities, they were very different.
“Let me pull my thumb out and I’ll be right there,” Lane snarled back at Hope.
“You do that.”
Lane didn’t miss the fact that Hope was looking at him funny.