Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Jay's heart skipped a beat. Nate led him to Diablo's stall, and suddenly Jay was faced with the irrational fear that stalked him every time he went near Central Park. Horses were not his friends. They were big and unwieldy and scared the life out of him. Luckily, unlike Ashley's fear of spiders, it was unlikely he'd ever find a horse in his bath. Still, he hadn't needed to confront his fears until then.

"He's well behaved and extremely friendly," Nate was saying. Jay attempted to listen carefully—he needed all the reassurance he could get. "He's a good trail horse with plenty of experience riding alone and also with larger groups. He's been trained for a rider to open gates while on horseback."

Nate opened the gate to the stall, and they slipped inside. Jay couldn't help himself—he half hid behind Nate. Nate clearly wasn't having any of that and moved so that Jay was abruptly face to face with a million tons of horse. Diablo snorted and shook his head. Jay stepped backward and only stopped when he heard Nate chuckle. The fucker. Squaring his shoulders, he held out a hand and, at the last minute, remembered to turn it over so that the horse could sniff his palm. He'd watched the TV shows. He should have an apple or something.

"Juno is a black quarter horse mare. She stays jet black even during the hottest time of the summer. She was foaled 1994." Nate continued talking. "Diablo here is a paint. He was foaled in 1997 and is what we call a gelding."

"Oh, you poor guy," Jay murmured. He might not like horses, but he knew what the horse had lost to be a gelding. He was talking nonsense, but at least it was centering his thoughts. He continued, "Never mind, it's not like I ever see any action either." He stepped to the right of Diablo and scratched behind his ears. The horse seemed to like that and butted his hand. More confident, Jay accepted the rubber brush thing that Nate passed to him and began to rub in the way the hair lay in a rhythmic movement. Diablo stood impassively, apart from every so often pressing his nose to Jay's arm. Nate disappeared out of the stall, and Jay felt tense at being alone with the stunningly gorgeous, tall, dangerous, maybe-killer horse.

Covering his nerves was easy. He did what he would do in any situation where he felt uncomfortable—he talked. Softly he leaned in and whispered, "You are a beautiful horse, aren't you? I guess you're used to this, but I thought I'd just get it out there. Please don't let me fall off, and please no crushing me against the walls of the stall. Oh, and I have no idea what I'm doing, so be good to me. I'll bring apples, or carrots, or sugar."

"He prefers carrots," Nate said from the doorway.

Jay groaned. Had Nate heard what he'd been whispering? Still, it wasn't anything that Nate didn't already know, right? With a little prompting, he managed the other stages of tacking up. The flick to get rid of the dust, the hoof checking, the blanket over the withers, the tightening of the cinch. He looked pointedly at Nate, who moved out of the way, and Jay managed to recall that he needed to walk Diablo a little to ensure the horse hadn't been breathing in, or out, or whatever, when he tightened the girth.

He was proud of himself when finally the horse was ready to go.

"Done!" he said triumphantly.

"Not bad, City," Nate answered.

Jay sighed inwardly. "Don't you think it's a bit cliché to be calling me ‘City'? Just because I'm from New York?"

Nate shook his head. "No more cliché than you calling me ‘Cowboy.'"

"But you are a cowboy." Jay knew he sounded bemused.

"And you, Jay Sullivan, are all city."

Jay wasn't entirely sure what to say to that. Seemed like he had a nickname, and he didn't really like it. He didn't have time to argue, though, because Nate was assessing Jay's feet critically.

"You can't ride in those." Nate said and passed over a pair of worn boots. He looked down at Jay's feet again. "I wasn't sure what size but these are some of the spares we keep. I chose these, but we do have others."

With much swearing and a lot of help from Nate—who smelled of soap and deodorant—Jay had his boots on. They pinched a little, but nothing to complain about after it took five minutes to get the damn things on. Although five minutes, with Nate holding on to him and leaning over so Jay got a good look at his firm, muscled butt, was nowhere near long enough. Then Jay caught himself thinking that and shuffled back and away from Nate, which ended up with him falling off the block he'd been sitting on and ending up ass first on the ground.

For a second, he sat in shock. Nate stared down at him in total disbelief, and suddenly Jay was very much on the defensive.

"The block moved," he lied quickly.

Nate toed the block with a foot and raised a single eyebrow to indicate he was calling Jay on the bullshit excuse. He held out a hand. Jay took it and was pulled to his feet as if he weighed nothing. This brought them up together, and again Jay found himself having inappropriate thoughts about the cowboy gripping his hand. The last time his gaydar had pinged liked this was a long time ago.

Hell, his gaydar was faulty at best. Nate was a cowboy, all yee-haw and campfires and macho crap. It was unlikely there would be any Brokeback action anywhere near Crooked Tree. Jay shook himself free of his thoughts. Nate equaled "the boss" in a manner of speaking. Jay knew he reported to Marcus, but he was aware Nate had a holding in Crooked Tree. Time to concentrate.

"So, what next?" he asked to pull himself out of his thoughts.

"Next we get you on the horse."

Jay swallowed his apprehension and looked up at Diablo, who stared back at him placidly. "How tall is he?"

"Just a bit shy of fifteen hands," Nate explained.

"What is that in feet and inches?"

"Five feet give or take."

Jay grimaced. "That's a long way to fall."

Nate led Diablo out into the open air and stopped next to another box. "Get on the damn horse."

Jay looked at Diablo and recalled what Nate had said—something about getting on using the left side, foot in stirrup and swinging up and over. Easy. He'd seen this on TV as well. He'd also seen films where the guys fell off, with a foot caught in the stirrup, being dragged to their death. Concentrating on where his foot was going, Jay used every ounce of his gym-fit muscles to heave himself up and over. In shock, he realized he was sitting atop Diablo and looking down at Nate, who had a look of something on his face that Jay wasn't convinced was real. He almost looked like he was proud of Jay's move.

In a few minutes, Nate explained the position of the reins and that Diablo would mostly be happy to follow Juno. "You'll need these and this."

Jay took the proffered gloves and hat gratefully. He could imagine he'd need both if the Montana wind had its wicked way with his city-soft skin. Nate crossed to Juno, and in a smooth move, was up on the horse's back. With one hand on the reins, he guided Juno next to where Diablo stood. Jeez. Jay thought it was sexy when he saw cowboys on the screen, but having one this close, all scruff and leather and confident sassy horseback riding, Jay was finding it hard to keep it in his pants. Tonight I must find cowboy porn .

True to Nate's word, Juno led and Diablo followed, and when they were out of the gate to the paddock, Diablo was content to trot, or walk, or whatever it was he was doing, enough so that Jay could settle himself into the saddle and not feel like he was falling off. He stared hard at how Nate was sitting, how he held the reins, how he used his feet, what he was saying, and tried to copy as best he could.

Jay's face was cold, but he wasn't ready to release his death grip on the leather in order to tilt up his collar, so he sucked up the fact that the ever-present Montana wind was pricking his skin with icy fingers. They moved down to the bridge over the river and stopped for a second.

"The Blackfoot is a snow and spring-fed river. Some places it's really deep, like at the end of Crooked Tree, and some places it's shallow. It's why the ranch is here. When the friends bought the land, they had plans for a ranch. That'd be my great-granddad, Marcus's granddad, and another guy—all of who made it back from the Second World War hoping for more. In the seventies, the decision was made to expand into dude ranching; something my dad was really involved in. As the dude ranch grew, the cattle side was cut down."

"But dude ranching doesn't pay as much now," Jay surmised.

Nate stared out over the flowing water, his hands resting loose and his weatherworn face creased in a frown. "There's a dude ranch up the river, huge and successful, but they're backed by external funding, some actor who wanted to invest. For us to get to that level? Hell, we don't have the money."

Jay began to form a response in his head about money or lack of it but decided against it when he saw the sadness etched into Nate's expression.

Nate changed the subject anyway. "The restaurant will begin getting ready to open in the next few weeks. That's Sophie's domain. It's called Branches as a play on words from the fact we're Crooked Tree Ranch."

"I like that," Jay said. "Good name."

"It seats sixty and is used mainly by the guests where we offer breakfast first thing, then lunches. We open to the public for dinner, and outside visitors account for some good income, so I hear."

"It's a busy place?"

"Good home-cooked food—our chef is a local guy, Samuel Walters, who works for us mid-February to Christmas Day. I'll introduce you when he arrives. If you need to know more, you'll have to speak to Sophie, although she doesn't know what menus Sam has in mind, I guess."

They crossed the bridge and carried on past the house that was Jay's for the duration, and entered a stand of trees that thickened, then opened into small pockets of space. Each space had a cabin that sat firmly in the landscape and looked well-tended and comfortable.

"These are what we call the Forest Cabins. There are six of them." He waved behind them. "Two miles that way are the River Cabins. They sit on the bend of the river, hence the name. There are six of those as well. We'll see them on our way back."

"So you have twelve cabins you can rent out." Jay shifted in the saddle and turned to look the way Nate had pointed. Why he did that, he didn't know. After all, not only were they two miles away, but he couldn't see past the trees that formed a natural privacy barrier.

"We actually have twenty-one potentials. But the Creek Cabins have been put in mothballs—they're not being filled, so we put all of our efforts in Forest and River."

"Okay, I'll need to look at that," Jay said thoughtfully. What if they needed to use the cabins? What was the turnaround on getting them ready for guests? His head spun with the questions he needed to ask, and he wished to hell Nate had let him bring his damn notebook. He should have got his cell out and recorded the questions, but the phone was in his ass pocket and he was sitting on it, and there was no way he was rummaging for anything this high off the ground. Instead, he focused on more questions. "What is the occupation rate like?"

Nate frowned back at him. "Wasn't that in the pack of information Gabe sent you?"

Jay quirked a lip. "He glossed over that point."

"I'm sorry," Nate said. "I don't get involved in that."

Juno moved off and Diablo dutifully followed. It took Jay a while to get himself seated in the saddle properly, and his death grip on the reins had Diablo lifting his head and snorting. Jay relaxed his hold and hoped to hell Nate didn't see what a crap horseman he was proving to be.

"Tell me what you do get involved in, then," he asked as he drew level again.

"You're cold," Nate replied instantly. He leaned over to Jay and tugged at the thick sheepskin collar that stood upright when pulled. The barrier to the cold covered Jay's ears and half of his face, and he was never more pleased to have something stopping the damn frigid wind.

"Thanks," he muttered against the material.

They set off again, and Jay contemplated asking Nate what his full role was at the ranch, besides something to do with the horses. He had to interview everyone to get an idea of how this place worked. Nate hadn't forgotten the question, though—he simply waited until they had moved out from under the trees and made their way up a shallow incline.

"We have five staff working here," he began. "Three of them for me: Henry, Bud, and Amy, all working with the horses. I'll introduce them another time. I manage them, the horses, customer excursions, the mock roundups we do, and I look out for the river and the conservation concerns."

"More than just a cowboy," Jay summarized.

Nate glanced at him. "No man who works a ranch now is just a cowboy," he answered quickly. There was irritation in every syllable, and Jay felt instantly that he should be apologizing for his stupid throwaway line. "Not in this day and age anyway," Nate added. He sighed. "People come here to live a cowboy's way of life, but they want to be safe. They want everything sanitized, including hot tubs, and a five-star restaurant. There are ordinances to follow, health and safety rules, insurances…." He stopped talking and shrugged. "I like it best when it's only the horses and me."

"You sound like you don't enjoy working with the people who visit the ranch." If that was the case, Jay had a big problem. The idea of working at making Crooked Tree a saleable, marketable asset was a big ask if the people who owned it weren't happy.

Nate chuckled. The deep, throaty noise sent a shiver of interest through Jay, and he quickly shook it away as Nate began talking.

"I love what I do, Mr. Sullivan?—"

"Jay."

Nate inclined his head. "I love this ranch. It was my parents' legacy for me, Gabe, and Luke, and I want it to be here for my brothers' kids one day."

Jay picked up on that. His gaydar wasn't good, it never had been, but there was something about Nate, about the way he held Jay's gaze that made Jay think Nate wasn't as straight a cowboy as Jay had first imagined.

"You don't want kids?" he asked.

Nate frowned, but he didn't answer, and instead carried on with the explanation. "For every person who comes here that causes grief or hates it, there are ten more who go away feeling like they could channel John Wayne, and I love every minute of working with them."

"Or the Lone Ranger," Jay added.

They exchanged smiles, and Jay was kind of stunned by how Nate's face changed when he smiled. He'd seen it at breakfast, but not close enough to see the way the amusement sparked in Nate's eyes.

"No, definitely John Wayne."

They reached the top of the incline, and Nate maneuvered Juno so that the two men could turn and look back on where they had come from. Jay concentrated on the puffs of breath he could make in the cold air and not the fact that Diablo was circling and slipping on the snow. Horses should have snowshoes, he decided. Finally, Jay could see the vista that was Crooked Tree and it was one of the most breathtaking sights he'd ever seen. Nate dismounted, Helped Jay down, which was the cue for all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about sinuously rubbing himself down the other man . I don't do cowboys… I don't do cowboys….

Forcing himself to concentrate, he looked down at what lay before them. They weren't really high up here, but there was enough elevation for Jay to make out the river clearly enough, and the bridge. He identified three deliberate and managed clusters of forest area which he assumed were the cabins' placements. If he squinted hard, he could see the roof of his new home. Beyond the ranch, the mountains formed a backdrop that most artists would die for—solid and a slash of white, blue, and mauve against the absolutely still sky of the cold February day. The sun was behind them and Jay wished he had his camera with him to capture the great vastness of the view, and the image of his and Nate's shadows in the snow. Instead, he pulled out his phone, and with sausage fingers because of his gloves, he managed to snap a few shots of what he could see.

"Stunning," he summarized. "Like a film set."

"We own acres to the west and north that we use for trail riding, and we also have our very own sheltered canyon where we can corral the herd we use for the roundups. We share the space, so that is some income to cover the wrangler we have up there, Duncan."

"Can I see that as well?"

"Another day. Your ass won't thank me for making you sit in the saddle too long today. So tell me what you are going to do."

"Do?" Jay looked squarely at Nate. "About my ass?" he added, curious as to what Nate meant.

"Despite me wanting to talk about your ass, that isn't what I meant." Nate chuckled again. He went scarlet. Somehow the gruff cowboy had slipped into teasing and evidently it didn't sit well with him. "What are your plans for Crooked Tree?"

Jay sighed inwardly. Clients always did this. Put him on the spot wanting to know what he was going to fix and when. The thing was, he'd never had a client so intimately involved in the product he was trying to work on. He could sit here and talk about the brand, which had clearly gone down like a ton of bricks this morning in the meeting. Or maybe he should ramble on about search engines and image and profit margins, and insert as much management bullshit into it as he could. Nate didn't deserve any of that, and Jay wasn't ready to serve up the crap with a side of false assurances.

"I'll get a report to you all as soon as I can," he evaded.

Nate rounded on him instantly and gripped his upper arms. "Promise me you know what you're doing. Never lie to me that everything is going to be okay. I want the truth on a daily basis so I can see if we need to think about other options."

Jay opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. The words were on the tip of his tongue, covered in management-speak about achievable targets. He tensed up when Nate gently shook him. "Jay?"

Clients didn't shake him. They didn't demand honesty with a mixed expression of hope and disbelief. None of them had ever had such intense and clear green eyes.

"I promise," Jay said. "Every day I will tell you the truth."

Nate released his hold a little and Jay relaxed. "Start now," Nate ordered firmly.

Start now? With what? Telling the truth? That he could think of nothing better than being shaken by Nate again? That he wanted to taste Nate's skin and that his employer's eyes were the perfect shade? No. That wasn't what Nate wanted.

"I'm here to do a job, and I will do it to the best of my ability, but I'm scared I won't be able to help you change a thing," Jay blurted out. Fuck. Where did that come from? He began to explain away his own insecurities and the fact that he'd specialized in marketing and not carried on the business side of his degree so much, but Nate cut him dead.

"Good," he said brusquely. He released his hold completely. "That's honesty I can get behind. I may not have the degrees, but I know Crooked Tree better than you ever will. I've buried my head in the sand. I know what we have to do is huge, and I'm just as scared."

The exchange of honesty was verging on brutal. There was fight in Nate, and Jay felt the same way. This career shift might not have been in the cards, he might well have compromised on what he wanted in order to be here, but he was damned if he was going to fail.

Jay stumbled back a step and straight into Diablo, who didn't move or complain, unless his snort of what Jay imagined as surprise was actually a horse curse word. He wrinkled his nose as Diablo snorted at him again. "I'm not sure he likes me."

Nate chuckled. "If he didn't like you, he would have taken a bite out of your hand by now."

Jay pocketed his hands immediately. "He does that?"

Nate shrugged. "We never did find the rest of the last marketing guy we had out here. Just his left foot and some of a boot."

Jay's heart stopped as horror flowed through him too quick for him to stop it, then almost immediately realized he was the butt of Nate's apparent dry sense of humor. He knew horses didn't eat people, for God's sake. I'm seriously losing it out here . Not to mention his thighs hurt and his ass ached—and he'd only been in the saddle for twenty minutes.

He threw a dirty look at Nate and managed to get up on Diablo's back with only one false start. There was no way he was going to rise to the man-eating horse crap. I am a professional and I don't joke around on the job.

"So what ideas do you have so far?" Nate asked conversationally as they made their way back down to the cabins and onto the bridge.

"Nothing set in stone," Jay said immediately. "But it helped to see this. Am I okay walking the place in daylight?"

Nate cast a look at Jay. "You can take Diablo out whenever you'd like to. If I'm not around, then Gabe or Luke can go with you."

"I'm happy walking," Jay said airily.

Nate chuckled.

Fucker.