Strung Up: A Blacktop Cowboys® Novella, Page 2

  “You brought this on yourself, Cres, since you haven’t shown up for any of the other family get-togethers in the past year after you promised you would. Not takin’ a chance this time. Besides, I need you to drive my truck back here. Melissa drove her car earlier today and we don’t need two vehicles there since we’re stayin’ overnight.”

  “So in addition to bein’ forced to attend this thing, I’ll also have to stay sober?”

  “Yep.” Wyn moved in behind me and squeezed my shoulder. “Clean yourself up. I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t make me come lookin’ for you.”

  I stayed in the barn until I heard my brother’s rig drive off. Then I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and headed toward the house.

  Clean yourself up. I had half a notion to stay in the same stinky-ass, manure splattered clothes I had on. Why did it matter what I wore? The shindig was being held in a barn. A three-million-dollar-barn, but a barn nonetheless.

  But showing up as the dirty, bedraggled, surly brother would bring unwanted attention to me. Better to clean up, blend in, and play the part they demanded.

  I stripped down as I walked through my house and was naked by the time I reached the bathroom. I stepped into the shower, letting the tepid water run over me for a long time. It’d been a hot and dusty day moving cattle and the cool water felt good. Keeping my eyes closed, I remained under the spray as I finished my beer. Then I grabbed the soap and lathered up. Rinsed off. Dried off. As I shaved, I figured any day now my mom would say I needed a haircut. Maybe I oughta just grow a beard and go with the whole mountain-man look.

  Don’t you mean hermit?

  Standing in front of my closet as I towel dried my hair, I scowled at my clothing selection. They’d better not expect me to wear a damn suit.

  My stomach bottomed out when I remembered the last time I’d worn one.

  Mick’s funeral.

  Blindly, I thrust my hand into the closet and grabbed a long-sleeved shirt. I slipped it on over my T-shirt and tucked it into my jeans. Belt on, boots on, dress hat by the door, I snagged another beer and parked myself on the couch to wait for my babysitter to arrive.

  Wyn arrived on time.

  After I hopped into the passenger side, I turned around to look in the back of the double cab, expecting to see my nephew Evan happily kicking his chubby legs in his car seat. But the car seat was empty. “Where’s the rug rat?” I asked my brother.

  “Mom and Dad are watching him and Brennen.”

  Brennen, Sutton and London’s son, was only two months younger than Evan. Our folks were in heaven with their two adorable grandsons. “So they get to skip this event? Shoot, if I’da known that was an option, I would’ve volunteered to babysit.”

  He snorted. “Standin’ around sipping beer and listening to speeches is a cakewalk compared to chasin’ after a couple of two-year-olds. Consider yourself lucky.”

  “How long is this thing supposed to last?”

  “No idea. They invited like a thousand people.”

  That shocked me. “A thousand people? Jesus. Why so many?”

  “Grade A Farms jumping into the rodeo school arena is a big damn deal. You oughta know by now that the Gradskys don’t do anything half-assed.”

  “When does the rodeo school open officially?”

  “Next month, I guess. They’re workin’ out the scheduling since they’ll have to utilize all three arenas on the property. They’re already near full capacity for enrollment. I’m betting that after tonight they’ll have a waiting list. They keep expanding operations and they’ll own the entire southeastern corner of Colorado.”

  The Gradskys’ main chunk of land, Grade A Farms, devoted to raising rodeo stock—both rodeo rough stock and horse breeding—was a hundred miles south of the Grant Ranch. “Why’d they build the school this far north? Wouldn’t it be easier to have the breeding stock in the same place as they were teaching students?”

  Wyn shot me an odd look. “Have you been payin’ attention at all the past year and a half?”

  I bristled. “What do you mean?”

  “Gradskys relocated all their operations to this location.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything.”

  Shit. I hadn’t been paying attention. “Why?”

  “They outgrew the land faster than they’d planned. Plus, after London and Sutton gave Chuck and Berlin their first grandchild, they wanted to live closer. Their son Macon practices law in Denver anyway. And Stirling…”

  “What’s goin’ on with Stirling?”

  “She quit her fancy job and bought two hundred acres adjacent to her folks’ place. Crazy girl has started an organic farm.”

  I frowned. “We’re talkin’ about Stirling Gradsky, right? The corporate executive is giving up power lunches in Lear jets to dig in the dirt like a common farmer?”

  Wyn grinned at me. “Oh, don’t kid yourself that it’ll bother her to ruin her manicure. She’s savvy enough to hire all the right people. But she’s a control freak and has no problem doin’ the dirty work so she keeps more of the profits.”

  “What’s she growing?”

  “Pot. Wish I’d thought of that,” Wyn groused. “Now those commercial Ag permits are hard to come by. She skated in with all the applications the week that pot became legal in Colorado. She’s gonna make a fuck-ton of money.”

  “Rather see her successful at it than these out-of-state fuckers.”

  “Amen.”

  “What did the Gradskys do with their other place? Sell it?”

  Wyn shook his head. “Kept it. Turned it into a full-time cattle operation and a dude ranch. The Gradskys’ nephews Lewis and Clark are running it. They’re good guys. I feel bad their folks saddled them with those names. You met them at Sutton and London’s wedding. But maybe you don’t remember.”

  I didn’t. Because I met someone far more important than them: Mick.

  I got really quiet.

  “What?”

  “You’re right. I haven’t been paying attention to anything. It’s just…” How did I say this? “Why haven’t you all given up on me?”

  “Because you’re family, bro. All we can do is be here for you when you’re ready to pay attention again.”

  I scrubbed my hands over my face. “If I haven’t said so, I appreciate that none of you have nagged and told me I’ve been grieving long enough and it’s time to move on.”

  Wyn actually looked horrified. “Cres, that ain’t for anybody but you to decide. I wasn’t bullshitting you earlier. We miss you. All of us do. We thought it’d do us all good to be together tonight, no kids, no talkin’ about the ranch. Just the five of us hanging out.”

  I tried not to think back when it was the six of us hanging out. My brothers and their wives had accepted Mick and me as a couple and him as part of the family. “It still feels wrong that he’s not here,” I admitted.

  My brother reached over and patted my leg.

  The drive had taken a little more than half an hour. We turned down a dirt road and I saw hundreds of cars parked in a field off to the left side.

  “Holy shit.”

  “I had that same reaction the first time I saw it too. Like I said, the Gradskys don’t do anything half-assed. They arranged for buses to take guests up to the compound.”

  Berlin and Chuck Gradsky were my sister-in-law London’s parents. Their business interests ran the gamut from horse breeding, to horse training, to cattle ranching, and they invested their all financially and personally in every venture they attempted, which was why it seemed everything they touched turned to gold. After Sutton became their son-in-law, Wyn and I became part of their family too. I’d understood why Wyn was in the inner Gradsky loop, since his wife Melissa worked as a teacher and a trainer for Grade A. But they’d accepted me too—welcomed me even—and that meant more than I could express.

  Wyn bypassed the parking lot. He handed me a heavy piece of paper he’d pulled down from his sun visor. “VIP parking pass. Put that o
n the dash.”

  It was hard not to gawk at the structures as we tooled up the blacktop. We passed three indoor arenas, each with its own corral. The road forked and a sign marked “dormitories” pointed to the right. Behind the trees I could make out two buildings with a courtyard between them. The road split again and an arrow pointed to the left with a sign that read “classrooms and dining hall.” Then we crested a rise. I blinked at what appeared to be a small town spread out at the base of the hill.

  “They did all of this in a year and a half?”

  “Actually, it’s been less than a year.”

  “Did you know the Gradskys had this kind of money?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think anyone knew, including their kids.”

  “Well, everyone will know after tonight, won’t they?”

  “Yep.” Wyn parked in the VIP lot.

  We hoofed it through the tall grass toward the biggest tent I’d ever seen—guess a three-million-dollar barn wasn’t big enough to hold everyone. Beneath the big top were bleachers. I half-expected to see clowns making balloon animals, jugglers throwing flaming batons into the air, scantily clad women twirling on trapezes, and the trumpeting of elephants.

  I muttered, “I need a damn drink.”

  “Staff and family have their own section with an open bar. We’re almost there.”

  The moment we stepped through the curtained-off area, my sister-in-law Melissa threw herself at my brother, greeting him with a steamy kiss. Then she whapped him on the chest. “What took you so long?”

  “I checked on Evan before I picked Cres up.”

  Melissa whirled around, noticing me for the first time.

  I managed a smile at her look of shock that I’d actually shown up. “Hey, Mel. You’re lookin’—”

  “Round. I wasn’t this big at the end of my last pregnancy.” Then she wrapped herself around me as best as she could with the basketball baby between us. “I’m so glad you’re here, Cres.”

  “I appreciate the invite. How are you really feelin’, little mama?”

  “I’m excited for everyone to see the facility. It’s been crazy today, running all over the place, getting everything ready.”

  Wyn loomed over her as soon as she stepped away from me. “When was the last time you sat down?”

  “I don’t know. I’m fine. Stop fussing.”

  “Like that’s gonna happen. Your ankles are swollen. You need to be off your feet until this shindig is underway.”

  His tone meant business. Mel’s diabetes added to my brother’s worries and she knew better than to argue.

  “We’re sitting at the far back table since it’s closest to the bathroom.”

  “Let’s go.”

  I trudged behind them. As soon as Wyn reached the table, he plopped down and scooped Mel onto his lap, kicking out a chair for her to put her feet up on. I made a beeline for the bar. I ordered two Fat Tires and brought one back to him.

  “Thanks.”

  Mel toasted with her bottle of water. “London and Sutton will be along any minute.”

  “What time does this start?”

  “The official program and introduction of the instructors begins at eight. Tours have been underway since about four.”

  “Now I wish we would’ve gotten here earlier,” I said, surprising myself and them. “I’d like to check it all out.”

  “I’ll give you a personal tour any time you want,” London said behind me. Then she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and squeezed me tight. “So, so, so glad you came, Cres.”

  “Me, too.”

  My brother Sutton dropped into the chair next to mine. Not only was I the youngest of the Grant boys, at six feet two and one hundred eighty pounds, I was also the runt of the litter. Both Sutton and Wyn topped me by two inches.

  Sutton’s way of saying hello was to grin at me before he swiped my beer. “Thanks.”

  Some things never changed.

  I got up to get another beer and just to be ornery, brought London back a double shot of tequila. London tended to get out of hand once the tequila started flowing and it was my right to encourage it on a night of celebration.

  “Ooh, you read my mind, Cres. Thanks,” London said and touched the plastic glass to my beer bottle before she downed the shot.

  I said, “You’re welcome.”

  “Really, Cres?” Sutton complained.

  Wyn laughed. “You brought that one on yourself.”

  “Yeah,” I retorted. “Next time, get your own damn beer.”

  And then it really did seem like old times. As if it’d just been last week that we’d all hung out, shooting the breeze and drinking beer. I even managed to laugh when London launched into a story about horse training that somehow shifted to potty training Brennen.

  But our family time ended all too soon. Before I had time to ready myself for being in a crowd, we were surrounded by one. The Gradskys descended. Berlin hugged me, Chuck and Macon shook my hand, followed by a reintroduction to London’s cousins who were running the dude ranch. That group expanded to include all the employees and their spouses until it seemed a hundred people were crammed into the space, all talking at once.

  Would anyone notice if I snuck out?

  Doubtful.

  I sucked it up and stayed until Berlin and Chuck took center stage.

  The crowd beneath the big top quieted as the introductions of the instructors began. I half-listened because I recognized a few names from the world of rodeo anyway.

  When the lines opened to the buffet, the crush of people made it hard to breathe. I slipped out the back, the opposite direction of the food line. I’d never been one for crowds and after spending the last two years in isolation, this scene sent me searching for solitude.

  A white catering van had been parked near the rear exit. It appeared I wasn’t the only one seeking an escape. A big guy, roughly the same size as Sutton, rested against the side of the van, one boot heel hooked to the running board. He wore dark jeans and a plain white button down shirt with a logo on the left pocket. He’d angled his head down, obscuring his face. But with that build and that posture, I knew I was looking at a rodeo cowboy.

  Something seemed familiar about him.

  That’s when I noticed the poker chip in his left hand. He passed it through his fingers over and over again. I recognized that nervous tic.

  My gut tightened. I took a few more steps forward, alerting him to my presence.

  He palmed the poker chip before he slowly raised his head and looked at me.

  Then I was staring into that face. That handsome fucking smug face.

  A face I used to dream of.

  A face I hadn’t seen in four years, since Sutton and London’s wedding.

  I waited for the dismissive sneer to distort that perfect mouth.

  A mouth I’d dreamed of nearly as often as his perfect face.

  But no sneer formed.

  His compelling eyes met mine.

  I saw his recognition in those arctic blue depths. Followed by wariness. But no hardness. Or the mean glint I’d unconsciously steeled myself against.

  He didn’t move.

  Neither did I.

  I found my voice. “Breck?”

  “Hey, Cres.”

  “What are you doin’ out here?”

  “Same thing you’re doin’, I reckon. Avoiding the crowd.” He paused and dipped his chin to the empty space beside him. “There’s room if you wanna take a load off.”

  I waited for the innuendo.

  None came.

  Everything inside me cautioned me to beat a fast retreat.

  Not everything. My long-dormant libido urged me to stay.

  Chapter Two

  Breck

  I watched Creston Grant trying to decide whether to stay or go.

  I didn’t blame him for his indecision.

  The Breck he remembered? Total fucking tool. As well as being a world-class asshole, a condescending prick, a sharp-tongued di
ckhead, and a douchebag.

  Yeah, I’d been the posterchild for how not to win friends and influence people.

  Little wonder I was back here hiding, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into again.

  Cres heaved a sigh and shuffled forward. Then he turned and planted his backside next to mine—but not too close to mine.

  I quietly exhaled.

  He didn’t speak right away. I remembered that about him—he weighed his words carefully before he spoke. At first I’d believed it was a family trait he shared with his brother Sutton, the stereotypical quiet gruff cowboy. But then I discovered the reason for his caution—his sexual orientation. I might be in a different situation if I’d acted more circumspect.

  But I also remembered finding a fissure in that tough outer shell of his. And how easy it was to apply the perfect amount of pressure until that fissure widened into a crack—a crack I used to open him up fully to all the naked possibilities between us. I should’ve felt guilty; Cres was a decade younger and hadn’t built up defenses against a guy like me. Yet, of all my conquests, Cres Grant had been the one I’d regretted letting go.

  “I’m surprised to see you back here alone,” he said, interrupting my silent contemplation. “I thought you preferred to be in the thick of things.”

  “I used to.”

  “What changed?”

  “Everything.”

  “That’s cryptic.”

  “It is what it is.”

  From the corner of my eye I saw Cres turn his head and squint at me. “So why are you here, Breck?”

  “Here in Colorado at the grand opening of Grade A Rodeo Academy?”

  He nodded.

  “Sutton, London, or Mel didn’t fill you in?” I asked.

  “Nope. I’ve been out of the loop since…” He paused. “For a while.”

  I shoved the poker chip in my front jeans pocket. “I remember you tellin’ me you didn’t follow rodeo even when your brother dominated the leaderboard.”

  Cres shrugged. “Not my thing. So you’re here as a guest?”

  “Nah. I’m a staff member.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t hear your name called or see you go up to the podium when Chuck and Berlin introduced the staff.”