Page 49 of Wrangled

He led us into a large open space, and I had to admit, it took my breath away. The vaulted ceiling made it look almost palatial. Around three sides, about twelve feet off the floor, was a mezzanine gallery, surrounded by a balcony. The gable end of the room was an expanse of glass, letting the light flood into what was a dark interior. There were more windows underneath the gallery on two sides. The balconies above were framed with neat rectangles of wood, but infilled with natural boughs, giving it a rustic feel. Through them, I could see couches and lamps, and paintings on the walls. Some were draped with throws. Below, the heavily varnished floor was covered here and there with warm-looking rugs, on which stood several couches. Lamps sat on small tables, and the huge fireplace dominated the room.

I imagined growing up in this house would have been interesting. Lots of places to hide, to explore. I glanced around me. “How do you get up there?” I pointed to the gallery. “I don’t see a staircase.”

Robert indicated the hallway that led off from the room. “The stairs are back there. That’s where the kitchen is too, and the dining room. I thought I might make some coffee for when you’re done.”

Before I could tell him he didn’t need to go to such trouble, Garrett butted in.

“How many bedrooms does this place have?”

“Five. And three baths.”

“You don’t have to make us coffee, you know,” I informed Robert. I didn’t want to put him out.

He arched his eyebrows. “You think I’m gonna kick you out with your hair still damp?” He led us through the house towards the staircase. When we reached the second floor, he pointed to a door on the left. “Garrett, there you go. Soak as long as you like.”

“Thanks.”

As he pushed open the door, Robert added, “And my apologies for the color scheme, okay?” When Garrett gave him an inquiring glance, Robert smiled. “My dad chose it for my mom. When she passed, he didn’t have the heart to change it, so I hope you like pink.”

Garrett smiled, and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Robert let me farther down the hall and pointed to a door on the right. “And this is yours.”

We went inside, and my mouth fell open. “Wow. I could fit my whole apartment in this bathroom.” The large tub sat in the corner, with windows above it on two sides. The floors were marble, as was the tile surrounding the tub and the sink. “Never mind that—you could hold a square dance in here.”

Robert laughed. “That was granddad. Small wasnotin his vocabulary.” His eyes gleamed. “By the way, if youdidwant some bubble bath…”

I chuckled. “I’m good, thanks. And I won’t let on to Butch. I’ll keep your secret.”

He bit his lip. “I appreciate that. Everyone around here knows too many of my secrets already.” He paused. “I’ll leave you to soak in the tub.” Then he walked out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

I stared after him.And what secrets are those?Not that I was about to learn them anytime soon. Those guys in the bunkhouse were a loyal bunch. And whatever secrets Robert was keeping were none of my business.

I opened the faucet, and undressed while the hot water gushed into the tub and steam filled the air. I don’t know what gave it away, but I had the feeling I was in Robert’s bathroom. I glanced at the tub, and the first thought to cross my mind was that it was plenty big enough for two.

Robert

The coffee machine beeped. I removed three cups from the cabinet and set them on the countertop before shifting to the window to gaze out at the ranch below, inhaling the coffee’s rich aroma.

I glanced up at the ceiling.Why did I make the offer?I’ve never done anything like that before. And I justknewZeeb and Teague would make a mountain out of a mole hill. It was just a kind offer, that was all.

Who was I kidding? I’d wanted to see more of Toby.

Does that include seeing him buck naked, getting out of the tub?

Oh dearLord, the image in my head. An image I had to banish before he came downstairs. I didnotwant to be staring at him, picturing him in the tub, water swirling around his shoulders, his hair wet, drops of water clinging to his beard…

I opened the fridge, gazing at the squat beer bottles I kept in there for when Teague and I hung out. Once a week we’d sit on the porch of an evening, shooting the breeze, talking about the ranch, me with my iced tea, him with a couple of beers. On impulse, I grabbed the nearest bottle, and headed out the kitchen. As I climbed the stairs, my heartbeat quickened.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

He’s a guest.

And since when have I let a guest take a bath in my house?

I walked over to his bathroom and paused outside. I raised my hand to knock on the door, still debating the rationality of such an action. From inside, I heard him humming, and I had to smile.

Decision made.

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