Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(8)
A hand raised in the crowd, and Arthur nodded. “Are we able to tour the rescue?” a female voice asked. “It wasn’t clear on your site if that was an option.”
“We offer guided tours of the rescue, yes. All of the tours and camping experiences are outlined in your welcome packet, which you’ll all get once you’ve signed your waivers.”
“Awesome, thanks.”
Wes pinpointed the voice to one member of the Chick Trio. The idea of learning and remembering everyone’s name was no big deal, really, but he wasn’t here to make new friends and real names were boring. Maybe he could get away with thinking of them as Blonde, Brunette and Stripes. He liked Stripes’s hair, all shades of blue and purple.
“Now, I want to introduce y’all to this fine lady on my right. Miss Patrice is your house mother for the week.” The woman in the blue apron stepped closer to Arthur, a friendly smile on her lined face. “She’ll be cooking your breakfast every day, and your dinner most evenings. We have cold-sandwich options for lunches, and all dietary needs in your reservation information have been recorded.”
“I do my very best to accommodate allergies,” Patrice said, her voice deeper than expected, “and I do my best for picky eaters, but our pantry is somewhat limited. We want to reflect the full experience not only in our bunk rooms, but also in our food. Biscuits and gravy ain’t fine dining, but it’s what the cowboys ate off the chuck wagon, so it’s part of our daily life here on the ranch.
“I’m also around if you have questions about the house, the ranch itself or any of the tours we offer. There’s a communal dining room and living room, and while y’all have free run of the place, I do ask that you leave it as you found it. Put games away, throw away any snacks, put cups in the appropriate basins. We’ve also pre-assigned rooms.”
Wes ignored the creepy sensation of being watched from his flank. Probably the dude-bros hoping he wasn’t in their room to spread his gay cooties. He was hoping the same—his gay cooties were for awesome people only.
As if they’d timed it, a pickup rolled over to the wagon, its bed loaded with their luggage. The cab door opened, and a Hispanic man slid out. Tall, lean, shaggy black hair sticking out from under his cowboy hat.
“Meet Reyes Caldero,” Arthur said. “Another of our horsemen and tour guides.”
Please let every horseman and tour guide be as good-looking as Mack and Reyes.
Reyes waved, then lowered the truck’s gate to unload their stuff. It took a little doing, but eventually they were all reconnected with their luggage, and then ushered into the bunkhouse. The downstairs was more spacious than it had looked in the picture. Three different seating areas, a bookcase full of games—Monopoly didn’t seem super authentic, but one could only play cards so many times without going insane—a second bookcase full of actual books, and some of the cheesiest log cabin décor he’d ever seen. Two deer heads, a stuffed quail and four sets of antlers on the walls. A bearskin rug on the floor near a massive stone fireplace that was not lit—thank God, because the interior of the place was already uncomfortably warm.
Dear God, what if they don’t have air-conditioning?
Wes hated dirt, but he really, really hated sweating if it wasn’t for a performance or for sex.
He cut his eyes across the room at Mack, who was watching from a distance with Reyes and a blond cowboy who was nearly as handsome as Mack, but in a boyish sort of way. Mack was all manly hotness that probably had a hot wife tucked away someplace. The trio of men were probably studying the people who’d be around their horses this week.
Patrice began calling different people up to sign paperwork and get their welcome packets. The older couple were John and Joan Chamberlain, or JJ for short. The real reason for Mack, Reyes and Cowboy Number Three became clear as the couple was assigned their room. Mack took their suitcases and carried them up a set of wide stairs at the back of the room. Under those stairs was a big square entrance to a large dining room.
Sophie was assigned a room with the Chick Trio. Reyes and Blond Cowboy took their stuff upstairs as Mack came down.
Please, let Mack handle my stuff.
Wes, Miles and the Massey brothers were given a room together, thank God. Mack was assigned to their group, but as guide only. Apparently dudes carried their own shit. The wide stairs led up to a narrow corridor. Two doors on either side, spaced pretty far apart. At the end of the hall was a second staircase, probably to the more private “family quarters” he’d read about on the website.
The four doors in this hall, Wes noted, each had a different animal on it. Mack led them to the second door on the left. Wolf. Or coyote, Wes wasn’t totally sure.
“Here you are, gentlemen,” Mack said in that deep, sexy voice, as he opened the door and stepped aside, allowing them to enter first.
Wes didn’t make eye contact as he passed Mack, but he did glance over his shoulder once he was in the room. A brief look, but enough to catch Mack’s quick up-and-down of Wes’s body.
Holy shit, did he just cruise me?
Nah, grumpy cowboy was just judging Wes’s outfit. Probably didn’t see a lot of neon in a dusty place like this.
“This is kinda cool,” Conrad said.
Oh yeah, the room. It looked like the website pictures. Two sets of bunk beds against opposite walls. A big window with a great view of the pasture. Two more doors, one a shared closet and the other a private bathroom.