Carol Lynne

Chapter One

Ethan Griggs grumbled under his breath as he waited for the last flight to arrive. The other eight guests were already loaded into the back of the van along with their luggage, but one of the planes had been delayed and the men were getting restless.

He checked his watch and pushed away from the side of the van he’d been leaning on. He stuck his head through the open window and addressed his passengers. “I’ll be back.”

Because of the flight delay, Griggs had been forced to park the van in the lot instead of out front where he normally picked up guests. As he made his way to the terminal building, he grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his front pocket and lit up. He wasn’t supposed to smoke around the guests, but he was in dire need.

He stopped outside the door and stood in the small smoking section as he inhaled. The rush of menthol and nicotine into his bloodstream seemed to calm him immediately.

The sidewalk was busy with people going in and out of the terminal, but Griggs zeroed in on a sweet-looking young stud in low-rise jeans and a cowboy hat. The guy was patting his pockets, one after the other. He was obviously looking for his lighter.

Griggs walked over and held a flame in front of the cowboy. “Need a light?”

The young guy looked up at Griggs, flashing a set of deep dimples. “Thanks.”

Griggs was struck by the intense gray eyes that stared back at him. Rimmed by long, thick, black lashes, the kid was to die for. Too bad he was so damn young.

The cowboy stuck out his hand. “I’m Bridger.”

Griggs started to shake the man’s hand but stopped. “Bridger Collins?

“Yeah?” Bridger finally dropped his hand.

“I’m Griggs, from Justice River Ranch. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Really? Cool. The airline got me on a different flight. When I came out and no one was here, I called the ranch to make sure you hadn’t left without me.”

Griggs winced. He hated cell phones, but Deacon always made him carry one in the van. “Sorry, I’ve got my phone turned off.”

Bridger shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette.

Griggs noticed the duffle at Bridger’s sneakered feet. “Did the rest of your luggage not make it?”

Bridger exhaled and picked up his bag. “This is it. Boots, couple pairs of jeans, shirts, socks, underwear and my meds.”

Meds? “Are you sick?”

“No. I’ve got diabetes, but I’ve lived with it most of my life.”

Griggs stuffed his cigarette into the nearest receptacle and gestured toward the parking lot. “Van’s over there.”

Bridger put his cigarette out as well and followed Griggs. “So how far is it to the ranch?”

“About an hour. We’ll stop at a little place on the way for lunch.”

“How many guests will you have this week?”

Griggs glanced at the hot younger cowboy.

“I’ve got nine including you. Another one of the ranch employees picked up a load of guests from one of the hotels here in Billings.”

They reached the van to cheers of excitement. Yeah, the guests had obviously been about to revolt. Griggs took Bridger’s bag and stuffed it into the back with the rest of the luggage. He still couldn’t get over how little Bridger had packed. Most guests barely managed to make the airline’s weight limit with their luggage.

He closed the split rear doors and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Buckle up,” he informed his passengers as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Beside him, Bridger turned around to address the rest of the van. “I’m Bridger Collins. Thank y’all for waiting for me.”

One by one, the men introduced themselves. Griggs knew by the end of the week new bonds would be formed by the virtual strangers. He’d heard of friendships lasting for years. People may joke about city folks playing cowboys on a Montana dude ranch, but by the second day their butts would realize there’s nothing playing about it.

Although the accommodations at Justice River were top notch, it was still a working cattle ranch. Guests paid a pretty penny to experience the life of a rancher and that’s exactly what they received.

Griggs concentrated on the road as he drove out of Billings toward Red Lodge.

“What stock breed does the ranch run?” Bridger asked.

“Angus.” Griggs glanced sideways at the gorgeous younger man. “Have you been around cattle?”

“Yeah.” Bridger swung his feet up to rest on the dashboard. “My dad has some.”

Griggs tightened his grip on the steering wheel as Bridger too off his hat, releasing silky black curls. The kid shook his head before turning to grin at Griggs, flashing those sexy dimples again.

“Damn, that feels better. Mom made me promise to keep it out of sight until I got here. Guess she thought I might have some trouble along the way.” Bridger dropped the well-worn straw hat to the floor between their seats.

Griggs returned his attention to the road. He knew exactly what kind of trouble the kid was likely to get himself into and definitely didn’t have time to go looking for trouble.

* * * * *

“Is this Roscoe?” Bridger asked.

“That’s what the sign said,” Griggs grumbled.

Bridger rolled his eyes at the cantankerous cowboy. Since leaving Billings he’d done his best to engage the stud in conversation, but he’d only managed to get one- and two-word replies.

“Cute,” Bridger commented as the van parked in front of a stone and log restaurant.

“They’ve got good food.” Griggs opened the door and climbed out.

Before sliding out of the passenger seat, Bridger adjusted his half-hard cock. Grouchy or not, the tall Native American was doing a number on his libido.

He followed a few of the men inside. It wasn’t surprising to him that he appeared to be the youngest of the group. He didn’t mind. Except for attending classes, he rarely spent time round people his own age.

The small group of guests gathered in front of the hostess stand as Griggs talked to a woman he appeared to know rather well. A laugh erupted from the gorgeous cowboy, surprising Bridger. He wondered how often Griggs actually let his control slip enough to cut up and have fun.

They were shown to a long table at the back of the restaurant. Bridger took a chair, noticing the way Griggs stood back until everyone was seated. There were two empty spots, one next to him and one at the opposite end of the table. He met the black eyes of the cowboy and waited.

After a slight raise of his eyebrows, Griggs sat as far away from Bridger as he could get. The subtle dismissal stung, but Bridger wasn’t about to let Griggs know. He turned to the man on his left. “Pete, right?”

The thin, older man nodded. “Pete Allenbrand.”

“So where’re you from?” Bridger asked, his gaze flicking toward Griggs.

“D.C.,” Griggs answered.

“Wow. That’s cool. You work for the government or something?”

“No. I’m a school teacher. I’ve been saving for a trip like this for years. I always had dreams of being a cowboy, but being raised in the city…” Pete shrugged. “Anyway, I decided to fulfill a dream before I got too old to enjoy myself.”

Bridger passed a menu to Pete. “I can understand the dream of being a cowboy. It’s what I’ve always wanted, but my father has other plans for me.”

“You in school?”

Bridger almost laughed when Pete looked over the top of his glasses at him. Yep. The guy was definitely a teacher. “Yeah. Right now I’m at A&M, but I hate every minute of it.”

“Not the right school?”

“Not the right environment.” His napkin fell off his lap. When he bent over to retrieve the red and white checked cloth, spots danced across his vision. Bridger decided on the hot beef sandwich and gave the waitress his order.

“Excuse me,” Bridger said. With all the excitement, he’d forgotten his insulin bag in the van. He stopped beside Griggs. “Is the van unlocked?”

Griggs nodded. “Something wrong?”

“No. I just forgot something.” He’d never been embarrassed of his disease, but announcing it to a table full of strangers didn’t make him comfortable either. He left the restaurant and opened the back of the van.

Luckily his duffle was on top of the pile so it didn’t take him long to find the black leather bag inside. Insulin kit in hand, he walked back into the restaurant. “Excuse me, ma’am, can you tell me where the restroom is?”

“Sure, sweetie. Just go down that hall, second door on your right.”

“Thanks.” He entered the restroom and set the kit on the side of the sink as he began washing his hands. He should have known better than to go so long without eating. His levels weren’t bad, he already knew that, but he was off his schedule by almost two hours, which wasn’t healthy.

Bridger opened the kit and removed his glucose meter and lance. After a quick prick of his finger, he massaged a drop of blood onto the test strip.

As Bridger was digging in the bag for his insulin pen, the door opened. He put his back to the intruder and dialed up the needed dose.

“You okay?” a deep voice asked.

“Yeah.” Bridger stood with the pen in his hand. His afternoon injection was always given in his right thigh and he doubted Griggs would appreciate the show. He held up the pen. “I’m overdue for my shot.”

“Oh. I’ll, ­uh­, leave you to it.”

Griggs disappeared and Bridger entered one of the two stalls. He pulled his jeans down and sat on the toilet as he administered the quick prick.

By the time he arrived back to the table, his food had already been delivered. He placed the leather bag under his chair and dug in, aware of Griggs’ stare. Bridger wasn’t sure if his uneasy feeling had more to do with his glucose level or the penetrating eyes that seemed to study him.

He did his best to concentrate on his lunch, finishing most of the sandwich and a few of the fries. Stares were pretty common in people who hadn’t been around someone with type one diabetes. Bridger had gotten used to it, so he rolled with it, determined not to let Griggs’ apparent concern go to his head.

The waitress delivered the bills and one by one the group got to their feet to line up at the cash register. In his excitement to get to the ranch, he forgot to grab his kit.

It wasn’t until he was in the van and Griggs held it out, that he remembered. “Oh shit. Thanks. I’d have been screwed come suppertime.”

Griggs stared at Bridger for several moments, before clearing his throat to address the group. “Justice River Ranch is only two miles or so down the road.”

The excitement in the van ratcheted up a notch as the men began to laugh and talk about how full they were.

“Will we get a chance to ride today?” Bridger asked.

Griggs drove under the ranch sign. “Some. Usually your first afternoon is spent getting settled in your rooms. There’ll be a meeting in the cookhouse before supper. Then you’ll all come out to the barn where I’ll help match you up to a horse depending on your skill level.”

“I’ve been riding since I was a kid, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Griggs snorted. “This ain’t the fairgrounds, kid. We travel over some pretty rough terrain.”

The kid comment stung, but Bridger tried not to let it dampen his enthusiasm. He could tell Griggs was the type of man who didn’t take anyone on their word. That was fine with Bridger—he knew his own skills and didn’t need to prove them to anyone. Well, except his father, but that issue was better left in Texas.

Bridger braced his hands on the roof of the van to keep from being tossed around like a ragdoll. The dirt and sparsely graveled ranch road was deeply rutted in places and Griggs drove faster than warranted. “Dang, you guys get a lot of run-off up here or what?”

“It’s a ranch, not a suburb.”

Hot or not, Griggs had a major attitude problem. Maybe the studly cowboy deserved to be taken down a notch or two.

* * * * *

Griggs pulled the van to a stop in front of the barn and jumped out. He walked over to his boss, Deacon. “You need to keep that kid away from me or his first day on the ranch is gonna be his last.”

Deacon, the ranch manager and his lover, Ray, the ranch owner, looked around. Ray grinned, evidently spotting Bridger. “He’s cute.”

“He’s a pain in my ass. All the way here he was asking one question after another. He fancies himself quite the horseman. It’s been my experience that those who talk about it don’t know shit. And that guy won’t shut up.”

Ray grinned and reached out to thump Griggs on the shoulder. “You’ve got your first guest crush. How cute.”

Griggs made a disgusted sound and walked back toward the van. As long as he kept Bridger at arm’s length, he knew he’d be fine. There was something about the young man that just rubbed him the wrong way.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Griggs hollered. “We’ll unload the luggage in front of your cabins.”

The guests nodded and started to put their bags back into the van. Griggs rolled his eyes. He was well off his game. He knew he should have told the guests that very thing before he hastily exited the van.

“Just leave ’em, I’ll take care of getting them back in,” he told the group. “Why don’t you go over and introduce yourselves to the staff?”

After the others had wandered off, Griggs began tossing the suitcases back inside. He heard the other van rumbling down the road as he shut the doors. Although the rest of the staff had witnessed his fuck up, at least Cody hadn’t.

As the man in charge of guests, Cody would have given Griggs all kind of shit for his mistake. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but Cody loved teasing people. Like a dog with a bone, he was relentless when it came to calling people out for screwing up.

Cody and the rest of the guests hopped out of the van and Griggs moved out of the way. If Griggs was lucky, the entire incident with the baggage wouldn’t come up.

“Any trouble?” Cody asked.

Griggs shook his head. “Had one late arrival but nothing serious.”

Cody nodded and continued to lead the guests over to Ray and Deacon.

Griggs leaned against the side of the van and waited, using the time to pull the leather thong out of his hair. In a well-practiced move, he smoothed the individual strands with his fingers before pulling it back once again. Once the thong was secured at the nape of his neck, he crossed his arms over his chest.

His gaze continually slid to the young, raven-haired beauty in skin-tight jeans. Griggs chuckled to himself at the expensive sneakers on the kid’s feet. If Bridger continued to wear them, they’d be ready for the trash can before the end of the week.

Griggs groaned at the thought of spending an entire week trying to avoid the tempting little morsel. He caught a rather handsome man step up to Bridger and start a conversation. He was too far away to hear what they were talking about but Bridger smiled up at the guy and Griggs felt his stomach tighten.

Dammit! He pushed away from the van and walked across the road to the cookhouse. “Hey, Libby, you got some fresh coffee?”

Libby, the ranch’s weekend cook, popped her head out of the kitchen. “Should be safe to drink. Made it about an hour ago.”

Griggs grabbed his thermal cup from the top shelf and filled it to the brim. He screwed the cap back on and went to stand at the screen door. After taking a tentative sip, his gaze went back to Bridger.

Griggs unwanted attraction to Bridger probably stemmed from the kid’s illness—at least that’s what he kept telling himself. Griggs had grown up around diabetes, having a baby sister who had the disease.

How many times had he seen Rachel mess up and forget to check her levels until it was almost too late? Griggs shook his head. From the way Bridger had so carelessly left his leather bag behind at the restaurant, Griggs imagined the kid was no different.

The guests began to break away and filter toward the vans. With another sip of his coffee, Griggs pushed the screen door open and resumed his assigned duties. It felt odd seeing nothing but a sea of gay men. He’d gotten used to dealing with families. Although it was nice not having to hide his sexuality in front of the guests, Griggs knew it was also dangerous.

Since hearing about the new direction the ranch was taking in dealing strictly with GLBT guests, Griggs had been counseling himself about getting involved with a guest. He knew it wasn’t an option for him. He’d never been a one-night stand kind of guy. He preferred to take his time getting to know a potential lover. With only a week to maneuver, he knew “hands off” would have to become his motto.

As he climbed behind the wheel, Bridger reached out to take his cup.

“Here, let me hold that for you.” Bridger grinned when their fingers brushed.

Griggs gave an inward groan. Hands off. He had to remember that.