Page 142 of Wrangled

He wasn’t going to budge an inch.

I sat on the arm of the couch. “It’s… less of a business, and more of a family. Some of the hands have been there for decades. You get the feeling they all have a story to tell.”

“These guys have names?”

I pulled up the photos on my phone, and showed him each man, with the exception of Robert. “They’re a mixed bunch. And maybeBrokebackMountainwas on the button, because most of them are queer.”

“Seriously? You mess around with any of them?” He pointed to Paul’s picture. “Becausethatguy is fucking hot.”

“No! Nothing like that. They… they were fun to be around. We had a laugh. I only fell for one of them.”

“Wow.” I gazed at him inquiringly, and Sean smiled. “Sounds to me like you connected with these guys.”

I rolled my eyes. “Iconnectwith people,” I air-quoted.

“Sureyou do—and you’re usually wearing leather at the time. This sounds like a wholenewset of connections, one that doesn’t involve D/s. What about Robert? What does he look like?”

I hesitated before scrolling to a photo of Robert I’d taken at Mirror Lake. Sean studied it for a moment. “How old is he?”

I stared at him. “Does it matter? BecauseIdon’t care how old he is, so why should you?”

And suddenly he was studying me. “You really do feel something for this guy, don’t you? Which reassures me I’m doing the right thing.”

“What are you talking about?”

He reached into the pocket of his jeans, and removed a folded envelope. He handed it to me. “This is for you.”

Frowning, I opened it and removed its contents. I unfolded the sheet of paper and gaped.

What the everlovingfuck?

“But… why would you do this?”

“Because you needed a push in the right direction. Call it my good deed for the day. However, you do need to move fast.”

I looked again. “You’re not fuckingkidding.”

He grinned. “Then don’t waste time talking to me. On second thoughts, I’ll skip the coffee.” He got to his feet, and patted my arm. “Good luck. Let me know how things work out.” And with that, he walked out of the apartment.

My heart pounded.

This is crazy.

This isreallyfucking crazy.

And Sean was right. I didn’t have time to waste. I had stuff to do.

Saturday, July 16

Robert

I called Teague on the phone. “Have all the guests arrived?” We were expecting four, all keen to spend a week or two riding the trails.

“All but one.”

“That the guy who didn’t want picking up from the airport?”

“Yeah, that’s him. He said in his email he was renting a car. He’s not late yet, though. Wait… Hang on…”

---