by A. M. Arthur
Welcome to Clean Slate Ranch: home of tight jeans, cowboy boots and rough trails. For some men, it’s a fantasy come true.
Mack Garrett loves the rolling hills surrounding his Northern California dude ranch. Leading vacationers on horse trails with his two best friends is enough—romance is definitely not in the cards. When a sexy tourist shows up at Clean Slate, he’s as far from Mack’s type as can be. So why is the handsome city slicker so far under his skin in less than a day?
Roughing it in the middle of nowhere isn’t anywhere near Wes Bentley’s idea of fun. Then he lays eyes on the gruffest, hottest papa bear he’s ever seen. But Mack is as hard to pin down as he looks—distant, sharp-tongued and in desperate need of a shave. Until a campout gone wrong strands both men in the mountains with nothing to do but get to know each other.
Mack intends to keep his closely guarded heart out of Wes’s very talented hands. But for a seven-day cowboy, Wes is packing some long-term possibility. The cold country air can do wonders for bringing bodies together—but it will take more than that to bridge the distance between two men whose lives are worlds apart.
One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!
This book is approximately 90,000 words
Carina Press acknowledges the editorial services of Alissa Davis
WILD TRAIL
A.M. Arthur
Also available from A.M. Arthur
and Carina Press
No Such Thing
Maybe This Time
Stand By You
Getting It Right
Finding Their Way
Taking a Chance
Come What May
Say It Right
As I Am
Wild Trail
Look out for the next book in the Clean Slate Ranch series, Roped In, coming in early 2018.
Also available from A.M. Arthur
Cost of Repairs
Color of Grace
Weight of Silence
Acts of Faith
Foundation of Trust
The Truth As He Knows It
The World As He Sees It
The Heart As He Hears It
Their Life As They Live It
Here For Us
Sound of Us
Uniquely Us
Body Rocks
Steady Stroke
Hot Licks
Unearthing Cole
Understanding Jeremy
Fractured Hymns
What You Own
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Excerpt from Getting It Right by A.M. Arthur
Chapter One
“How come you look like you stepped barefoot on a horse pie?”
“Dunno, how come you smell like one?” Mack Garrett replied to his best friend. He raised his head, not at all surprised to see Reyes Caldero standing in the open doorway of Mack’s small office. Reyes wore heavy boots and stomped around in them in a way that told you the man was coming long before he appeared.
“Looking over the roster for this week’s guests.” Mack held up the tablet with said roster on it, then pulled a face. He opened his mouth, but Reyes cut him off.
“Oh no, you’re not,” Reyes said. He stalked over to the desk. “I know you’ve got more responsibilities now, but don’t you dare say you aren’t coming out tonight.”
Mack sighed, unsurprised Reyes had read him so well. Mack and their other best friend, Colt, had a tradition of going clubbing in San Francisco on Saturday night, looking for fast and dirty hookups. Reyes accompanied them on occasion, usually to drink and dance and let off steam. “I really shouldn’t go into the city.”
“Yes, you should, especially since you’re the one who convinced me to go with you and Colt this time.” He knuckled Mack hard in the shoulder. “You are not leaving me alone to go clubbing with that man.”
Mack couldn’t help chuckling at the mental image of the more reserved, introverted Reyes clubbing alone with their excitable, flirts-with-everyone friend Colt Woods. “I need to make sure everything is ready for the new guests tomorrow.”
“You’ve got hours to do that, my friend. Besides, maybe you’ll run into your last hookup, the guy you said had a cowboy fetish and knew how to deep throat.”
“Not interested in repeats, you know that.” As much as Mack had enjoyed that particular encounter, he wasn’t looking to date. And he absolutely wasn’t interested in a new relationship, not after his last one ended with Mack’s heart shattered.
Reyes nodded with understanding. “No repeats, but at least come out to dance. Saturday night is the only time we’re not on call for guests and are allowed off the ranch grounds for fun and thrills.”
“Says the guy who’d rather spend his Saturday reading a book.”
“I like books better than people.”
True enough. Reyes only occasionally dated—both men and women—and he’d never been a big fan of random hookups. He’d never come out and identified as bi, but Reyes also wasn’t a big fan of labels. He seemed content enough in his solitary lifestyle, and that was good enough for Mack.
“What if I help you finish your work?” Reyes asked. “Tell me about the new guests.”
“We’ve got a bridal party.”
Reyes let out an exaggerated groan as he leaned against the doorframe. He was one of the most easygoing cowboys on the ranch, and even he found them stressful. Bridal parties at the dude ranch were rare, but they often tended to be the neediest and most disruptive because of their size.
“You think I can still switch my week off with Slater?” Reyes asked.
Mack grunted. “Doubtful. Slater bolted the second it hit three o’clock, and he’s had an hour to make his getaway. He’s probably in San Jose by now.”
“Damn it.”
“Chill out, pal, it’s not that bad. This one is only five people.”
“Really? Seems small. Our last bridal party was eighteen people.”
“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.” While Mack had enjoyed the novelty of the couple being gay, their friends had been high-strung and extremely anti-dirt. And dirt was impossible to avoid on a ranch in Northern California. “Maybe it’s going to be a small wedding.”
Mack glanced at his tablet and the list of names. “One woman and four guys. The reservation was placed by the Best Person to the bride, a Wes Bentley.”
Reyes frowned. “Like the actor Wes Bentley?”
“Who?”
“Seriously? American Beauty. How can you not remember his eyes?”
Mack thought back to the film in question, which he’d seen once, in the theater. “The daughter’s creepy boyfriend who filmed plastic bags blowing in the wind?”
Reyes rolled his eyes. “You have absolutely no ta
ste in movies.”
“Yes, I know, you’ve been telling me that since we were fourteen.”
“You said Pulp Fiction was terrible and overrated.”
“It is.” Mack had wanted to set fire to that VHS after Reyes forced him through the film.
Reyes grunted. “You were mad that D2: The Mighty Ducks didn’t get an Oscar nomination. Your film taste carries no weight with me. Ever.”
Mack laughed at the familiar rebuttal. At fourteen, he’d been too busy obsessing over the male cast of a teen hockey comedy to really care about art films or cinematic storytelling breakthroughs. He’d wanted to watch Joshua Jackson ice skate. He still kind of did. The actor had barely aged a day since Dawson’s Creek.
“Anyway,” Mack said, “no, I doubt the Wes Bentley who made the reservation is the actor, but I guess we’ll find out in the morning.”
“True. How many guests total?”
“Sixteen, so almost a full house, and one of them’s a family.”
Figuring out the rooming arrangements wasn’t usually Mack’s job, but he’d been taking more responsibilities to help his aging grandfather work less and enjoy his ranch a little bit more. Arthur Garrett was a proud man, and even though he’d never admit out loud that he was slowing down as he neared his seventy-eighth birthday, his age and newfound forgetfulness worried Mack. After all, Arthur was the only blood family Mack had left.
Reyes had been family ever since they were twelve years old and jointly put cherry bombs in the girl’s bathroom toilets at school. Mack’s other best friend, Colt, had been in his life far fewer years, but he was family, too. Within the same six-month time period, each man had quit his previous career and moved to the ranch to find...something. Something new.
And to start over, away from the pain in their pasts.
Mack was still getting used to figuring out the sleeping arrangements for guests. He was in charge of overseeing the horses, guest interaction with horses and the camping trips. Simple things. Putting warm bodies into rooms in a way that made sense didn’t come naturally to him, so he waved Reyes over.
“Tell me how this looks,” he said, handing him the tablet.
Reyes scanned the rooms and the names attached, which was linked to the guest registration information that asked: Are you comfortable sharing a room with a stranger of the same or opposite sex? Other variations of the question gave Mack enough information to guess. The second floor of the guesthouse had four four-bunk rooms, each with a private bathroom. Sometimes strangers ended up bunking together—which also meant every other week, someone had an issue on arrival day and bunks had to be switched around.
Arthur had always rolled his eyes and muttered about tourists being coddled.
“No, this looks good,” Reyes replied. “The bride said she didn’t mind sharing with strangers, so putting her into a four-bunk room with the three single ladies is good. It all looks good.”
“Always looks good on paper.”
“Or pixels.”
“Whatever.” Mack took the tablet back. “Food delivery here yet?”
“Truck pulled up a few minutes ago. It’s actually what I came to tell you. Arthur, uh, put the order in wrong.”
Mack groaned. “Shit, what are we missing?”
“We’re light on flour, eggs and bacon.”
All breakfast staples for the guesthouse kitchen. “Great.”
Every week, Arthur placed a food order for the next week’s guests, and the food was trucked over Saturday afternoon. Arthur had been placing the order for years, and it was another weekly ranch task he was hanging on to tightly with his wrinkled, arthritic fingers. But this was the third mistake in four months.
He followed Reyes out of the barn and into bright May sunshine that had him squinting the whole hundred yard walk to the guesthouse. Their usual delivery guy, Juno, was standing by his truck talking to their cook, Patrice, and they both went perfectly still at Mack’s approach. Mack was well aware that his squint made him look perpetually pissed off, but there wasn’t much he could do. It was the only face he had.
“I’m so sorry,” Juno said as soon as he was within earshot. “It’s not your fault,” Mack replied, trying to put the guy at ease. He looked like he was ready to jump out of his skin. “Give me your list.”
Juno handed over a paper printout from the grocery store that handled their business. Arthur preferred dealing locally, so Mack had to be nice and fix this without accusing anyone—not his best act. Mack logged into the business records and found their copy of Arthur’s order. They matched.
“Our mistake,” Mack said, handing the list back. “Go ahead and accept the delivery, Patrice. Figure out the difference. I’ll run into town and buy what you need.”
“Bless you,” Patrice said. A genuinely sweet lady, Patrice had been on the ranch for decades. She prepared every meal, kept the rooms clean, and generally doted over the guests, especially the children.
Juno and Patrice went off to restock the kitchen pantry.
Mack pivoted one-eighty to stare at the main house. The last original building on the property, the hundred-and-fifty-year-old single-story ranch home looked pretty good under a new coat of paint. Its wide front porch no longer sagged, thanks to Colt’s handiness with a hammer and nails.
“You gonna tell Arthur?” Reyes asked.
“I have to. He’ll wonder about the in-town credit card purchase if I don’t.”
“How do you think he’ll react?”
“He’ll brush it off as a one-time problem, like he always does.”
“You think Arthur would be more receptive to it coming from Judson?” Reyes asked, spookily following along on Mack’s silent train of thought. Twenty-four years of friendship did that.
“I doubt it matters who tells him. Once is a mistake. Twice is something to watch. Three times is a pattern and potentially a problem.”
“Yeah.”
“You gonna come into town with me for the extra supplies?”
Reyes shrugged. “Why not? We’ll get it done so you don’t have an excuse not to come into San Francisco with me and Colt.”
Patrice came outside with a handwritten list. “Here you go, hon.”
“Thanks.” Mack stuffed it in his pocket. “I’ll text Judson about the grocery trip, and then we’ll get going. I can talk to Arthur later.”
“Good luck with that chat,” Reyes said.
* * *
Mack felt kind of bad about buying out the store’s entire stock of bacon, but it was a breakfast staple at Patrice’s table—both the one she set in the main dining room for guests, and the smaller buffet she provided for the ranch hands in the back room. This was why they ordered ahead of time: so the store’s owner could fill their needs without depriving his own customers.
Oh well.
One of the stock boys brought boxes out of the backroom to use for the groceries, instead of wasting a bunch of plastic bags. Reyes bought himself a bag of barbecue potato chips, which had been a favorite of his since forever. Mack studiously avoided the ice cream aisle. Ice cream always reminded him of Geoff, and he didn’t need to get depressed on his Saturday night off.
He and Reyes packed up the bed of the ranch’s pickup truck with their supplies, then puttered back through town. Garrett had a meager population of five thousand, give or take, and had been settled during the gold rush.
Mack hadn’t even known the town existed until about ten years ago, and now he couldn’t imagine leaving. He loved knowing more about his roots, and he loved this old, dilapidated town.
The truck ambled through the worn downtown, past town limits, to where Mack could safely press on the gas. Their police force was tiny, but they gave out tickets for anything they could in order to keep funding their own jobs. Their town barely kept afloat year after year, as the population continued to dwindle. Arthur had long
lamented he couldn’t do more to drive tourists into Garrett itself.
“Stop it,” Reyes said.
“Stop what?” Mack retorted. “Driving? We don’t want the bacon to cook in the sun.”
“Jackass. It isn’t your job to save this town, and you know it.”
“Maybe, maybe not. There’s a lot of my family history here, buried on this land.”
“Even so, worry about the ranch first. You still gotta talk to Arthur about the supply order snafu.”
Mack grunted. A small part of him hoped Judson had taken care of that chore, but he’d yet to get a text about it. Mack would probably end up confronting his grandfather himself, and that would suck. He wasn’t afraid of confrontation. Hell, Mack had been Los Angeles County SWAT for four years. No, he was more afraid of the emotional damage this might do. Reminding an old man he was just getting older.
He parked in front of the guesthouse. Reyes and Patrice helped him unload the truck and store the supplies in the kitchen’s industrial walk-in. When they finished, Reyes took the empty boxes over to the garbage shed—the place they hid their garbage and recycling containers so they didn’t kill the feel of the ranch, or attract unwanted pests. Behind the shed was also a compost pile for food scraps. The ranch made extra cash for the horse rescue by turning the compost into a nice fertilizer to sell to town residents. The smell stayed downwind of the guesthouse, so it had never been an issue. Not that it should be. It was a ranch. The place smelled like horses and dirt.
Mack would never forget the guest two summers ago who’d carried a bottle of air freshener with him everywhere the first day, until he tried spraying it around the horses. After that, Mack banned its use to the guesthouse.
He moved the pickup to its usual spot east of the main house, next to Judson’s personal vehicle, and the garage that housed four ATVs that the staff had free range to use.
“Mack!” Arthur’s voice dragged his attention to the front porch. He stood at the top step in his ever-present denim overalls, the purple undershirt making his white hair and beard stand out even more.
A widower from a young age, Arthur had served in the Army for a lot of years, before turning a struggling cattle ranch into a successful vacation spot and horse rescue. And while no one was getting rich working here, he took care of his staff. But he was also aging, and sooner or later, he’d have to retire from the business end of things and turn control over to his general manager and foreman, Judson Marvel.