Page 50 of Wrangled

I knocked gently on the door, and he fell silent. “You weren’t kidding, were you?” I called out.

“Excuse me?”

“You really can’t carry a tune.” I paused. “Don’t suppose you’d like a beer while you’re in there?”

“Are you kidding? Nowthat’swhat I call great customer service.”

I laughed and went into the bathroom. Toby lay sprawled in the tub, his head resting on a folded towel, his knees poking through the surface of the water.

He was every bit as sexy as I’d imagined—and a damn sight less hairy. His pecs were smooth, his nipples set in dark bronze discs of pebbled flesh. His abs were well-defined, his torso lean. The only thing missing was a treasure trail leading down to his—

Oh my God.Nowthatwas a thing of beauty.

I averted my gaze, and he laughed. “Dude, we’ve got the same equipment, right? I’m not shy.” As if to reinforce the point, he spread his knees, allowing them to fall back against the sides of the tub, and my attention was drawn instantly once more to his crotch.

“I’ve noticed that about you.” There was something else I couldn’t help noticing too. It bobbed in the water, and I had to wonder.Is he usually this hard, or was he jerking off?Maybe the humming was to cover the noise of splashing.

I held the beer bottle out, and he grinned. “You need to come a little closer. I can’t reach it from here.” He grabbed the sides of the tub, half lifting himself up. “Unless you want me to get out—”

“You stay there.”

He grinned. “If you say so.” He sank back into the water.

I lurched forward, placed the bottle in his hand, then stepped back.

Toby pointed to the stool at the foot of the tub. “Sit a while. I could do with some company. I was getting a little lonesome in here.” His gaze locked on mine. “Unless you’ve got somewhere else you need to be?” His lips twitched. “You might have some… paperwork that needs seeing to.”

I sat, trying not to stare at the sight of Toby’s nude body stretched out before me. “Did you enjoy the trail?”

“Yeah, right up to the point where I fell off Lightning.” He took a drink, then glanced at me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” My pulse quickened. I couldn’t get a handle on this guy. I had no idea what would pop out of his mouth next.

“Is it just you in this house?”

“Yes. Matt sleeps in the bunkhouse.”

He frowned. “He wasn’t in there last night.”

“No, he had to go see his mom. He’ll be back tonight.”

He nodded. “That’s a lot of house for one man.”

“When my granddad built it, he was planning on having a large family.”

“And did he?” He drank some more, and I took a moment to admire the bob of his Adam’s apple, the line of his neck, the flush on his chest from the warm water…

“He and my grandma had five sons. Only one of them stayed around here—my dad.”

“What happened to the rest?”

I shrugged. “They married, they left—the house, the county, the state… Most of them didn’t want a life on the ranch.”

“Except for your dad, it seems.” He cocked his head. “You haven’t mentioned your mom, except to say she died. When was that?”

“When Diana was born. Childbirth complications, they said.”

“So your dad raised you both on his own?”

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