Overview
Salt Johnson has had his heart broken, or at least his ego dented, but he's about to meet a man who wipes away every bad memory Salt ever had.
Saul 'Salt' Johnson had a crush on the wrong man. No surprise. He doesn't have much experience when it comes to relationships despite his age. Being a cowboy in Montana means keeping in the closet, which has left Salt with a long line of one-night stands. Getting hired on at the Mossy Glenn changes all of that, and he's beginning to see that maybe he can have more than he's been settling for.
He just doesn't expect to find it with another one-night stand.
Andy Calder spent years taking care of his brother Destry and helping to raise his nephew, Ty. Now both are gone—Destry passed away and Ty being raised by Andy's spiteful younger brother. Andy hasn't forgiven himself for being manipulated after Destry's death. He just hopes Ty is happy. Andy's working hard to build up the company he'd started with Destry, wanting to leave Ty a legacy he could build on. Things just aren't going as planned, and when he decides to blow off some steam with a sexy, rough cowboy, they end up connecting in a way neither of them ever expected.
It's definitely not a one-night stand kind of thing.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781781848111 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Totally Entwined Group |
| Publication date: | 11/01/2013 |
| Series: | Mossy Glenn Ranch , #3 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 149 |
| File size: | 295 KB |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
About the Author
Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey's office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey's presence can result in what is know as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Jesus, it was hot. Saul 'Salt' Johnson couldn't remember a Montana summer ever being so hellacious. Sweat was running down his back, tickling its way past the waistband of his jeans and making him want to scratch indecently. His brow was soaked, above and below the brim of his straw hat. Salt's eyes stung as much from the sweat dripping in them as from the God-awful bright sun.
There wasn't a cloud in sight in that bright blue sky, either. Salt could see the ranch land for miles, and past that, in the distance off to the south, the ridges and peaks of the Absaroka Mountains. He'd seen them once, up close-like, and had been awed by the majestic beauty of the mountains.
It'd made him feel tiny and inconsequential at the same time, driving home the fact that he wasn't anything important in the grand scheme of things. He'd live and die, and his body would rot, his bones turn to dust, but those mountains would still be there, reaching up into the sky.
Salt didn't take it personal, though. Man wasn't meant to be more enduring than those mountains. All a person had to do to see that was turn on the TV news or look at it online. Always fighting and killing, suppressing and hating. Salt didn't get it, but he reckoned he wasn't supposed to. Besides, he'd never been a particularly deep thinker.
The heat surely wasn't helping that any, either. Salt was thinking his brain might just be baking in his skull. He lifted his hat off, took his bandana from his neck, and wiped his face from hairline to chin.
The east pasture was showing signs of drought, never a good thing on a ranch, especially one just starting out. He'd heard the Mossy Glenn had been something to brag about years back. The last owner had run it into the ground, and maybe not many people could see beyond that, but Salt could easily envision the way the place must have looked before. New buildings with fresh paint, a good, strong fence line, grass so green it made you yearn to take a nap on it and fresh water flowing in the stream that cut across the land.
That water was still there, but flowing was a generous description of it. Trickled, that was what it did, but at least they had something in the stream. There were others not so lucky.
Salt quit woolgathering and got to his task. The stock tank was too low to put any more horses in the pasture. There wasn't much left of the pond, and the mud could be dangerous on a horse's ankles for starters. That was why Salt had moved the small herd of Quarter horses earlier. Now he was trying to judge whether it'd be better to have the stock tank filled, or start having someone look for a source of underground water. It just might be easier to do that and get some pipes running to a water trough. Give the horses a fresh source of water.
Of course, that depended on finding a water source. The stream wasn't an option, but there might be an underground well somewhere close enough to be serviceable.
Salt scratched his cheek, thinking of a dowser he'd seen about ten years back. The woman had used two y-shaped sticks to find a well on a ranch he'd been working back then. There'd been shit-talking by the cowhands, first because she was a she, and second because of the branches and the gossiping about dowsing being witchcraft.
But that lady had found water sure enough, and not one person dared to mutter under his breath around her after that. He wondered if Carlos would be open to having a dowser, preferably that same one, come walk his land.
Might take some time, Salt reasoned, so they were likely going to have to have the stock tank filled. It'd be costly. Everyone raised their prices in a drought, but the horses had to have water.
Filling the stock tank would help the grass stay green, too, or at least more of it than not. Salt gave a nod, decision made. They'd keep the tank filled, but if the ranch could afford it, it wouldn't hurt to check for another water source or two.
He heard the sound of an approaching vehicle and figured it'd be Rocky. She'd quickly become his best friend, much to Salt's surprise. While he was easy-going around other people, friendly and all that, he'd never really had close friends.
When he'd worked other ranches, he'd had to worry too much about hiding the fact that he was gay to let anyone close. A lifetime of keeping a distance between him and anyone else should have held up under Rocky's attempts at friendship, but they hadn't. Maybe he was just getting old.
Okay, at forty-five, he wasn't exactly ancient but he'd sure have thought he'd be more set in his ways. Then again, Rocky was a force to be reckoned with. Lord knew there wasn't anyone on the Mossy Glenn who'd snicker over her being a woman and live to talk about it. Cowboys could be some of the biggest misogynists, Salt could admit that. Didn't make them all evil, just ignorant in some places.
He turned and watched the battered white Ford F-250 coming down the road. Rocky waved to him and he flapped a hand in return. Then he checked the two-way radio on his hip. Volume was up and it was working, which meant Rocky hadn't tried reaching him on it and failed. He had driven the other truck out, too, so he didn't need a ride. That pretty much meant Rocky was coming out to chat, a rare but not totally unheard of thing for her to do.
Salt took the time to wipe his face down again while Rocky pulled up beside his truck. He strolled over as she was getting out. "What you doing out here, woman? You get lost again?"
Rocky flipped him off as she guffawed. "Aw, fuck you, Salt. I figured as long as you been out here, I'd better make sure you weren't buzzard food."
Salt was about to point out that there weren't any buzzards when he glanced up and saw that there were three of the birds circling way up in the air. "Huh. Guess they're waiting for me to vacate so they can drink. That or the smell of the stock tank is tricking them into thinking something died." Lord knew the mud reeked.
"Probably the last one," Rocky said as she ambled over. "They coulda drank from the stream."
"Yeah," Salt agreed. "So what are you doing out here?"
Rocky sighed and that wasn't like her at all. Salt looked at her, really examining her scrunched-up blue eyes, short, upturned nose and full mouth. Looking at it all together, he could see she wasn't happy at all. "What happened, Rock?" He wouldn't ask if she needed him to kick someone's ass because she could and would do that herself, but if she needed to talk, he could listen.
Rocky took her hat off with one hand and used the other to run her fingers through her short brown hair. She set the hat back on her head and exhaled like it was hurting her to do so. "Shelly dumped me."
Salt grimaced. He wasn't sure what to say to that. It wasn't like he'd had any relationships that were about anything more than getting off quick and not getting caught. Still, Rocky was his friend and all. Before he could figure out what to say, she started talking again.
"The thing is, I think maybe I loved the idea of her more than her, you know?" Rocky said, shoving her hands in her front jeans pockets. "Instant family, with her having kids and all. I really wanted kids."
"Don't see why you can't have any," Salt said, confused over that. "I mean, you could get artificially inseminated —"
Rocky's sharp burst of laughter cut him off. "Oh no, man, you don't get it. Just 'cause I have a uterus doesn't mean I'm the pregnant type anymore than you are, and the whole baby part of it ..." She shook her head. "I like them from about four on up. The complete helplessness of a baby scares the ever-lovin' shit out of me. I'd even take a teenager over a baby."
Salt didn't have a preference one way or the other. He wasn't the father type, or the mother type. He loved his job too much, and he could admit he was too selfish to have kids. It was too bad other people weren't so honest. It'd spare a lot of kids some horrible — and deadly — abuse. Not that he'd ever hurt a kid if he did somehow magically end up with one, but he'd mess it up somehow. He just didn't think he'd be a good parent, period.
"And I thought I had the family I've always wanted, but I should have known better," Rocky was saying. "Shelly hasn't been returning my calls unless it's right before payday, and I bet that wasn't her sister who answered her phone last Saturday night when I called to see why Shelly didn't come out here like she was supposed to. I let that bitch walk all over me, didn't I?"
"You were sending her money?" Salt asked. "Didn't you two start dating right before you started here?"
Rocky glared at him. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a fuckin' idiot, I get it."
"No, you aren't." Boy, Salt could sure dig himself in deep. He put a hand on Rocky's shoulder. "You're just wanting someone who's as good and honest as you are, and people will take advantage of that." There, that sounded pretty good.
"Which translates into, I'm a desperate fuckin' idiot," Rocky snapped. "It's a damn good thing I count you as a friend, otherwise I'd think you were trying to insult me on purpose."
"I wasn't trying to insult you anyhow, purpose or accident," Salt said as he raised his hands up in front of himself. "I just don't rightly know what to say. She's a stupid bitch for using you, though." He rolled his lips in between his teeth and pressed down to keep from blurting out anything else insulting. Bad-mouthing Shelly was probably a huge mistake.
But Rocky cackled and slapped him on the shoulder. "There, see? That's how you comfort a friend who's been cheated on and dumped!"
Salt quit trying to keep quiet, letting his lips out from between his teeth. "Well, hell, Rock, I can bash your ex with you, no problem, but what happens if you two get back together?"
"We won't," Rocky assured him, wrinkling her nose at Salt. "Ugh. I've never ever taken a cheater back. And I might be an idiot, but I'm only a woman's idiot once. I bet Shelly is gonna be calling me come payday and trying to tell me she won't ever cheat again — huh."
That sounded like a thoughtful 'huh' to him, one he was intended to inquire about, so he did. "Huh what?"
Rocky scratched her chin. "You know, I just realised every girlfriend I've had has cheated on me. Maybe something's wrong with me."
"Other than having bad taste in women, I don't think so," Salt quickly informed her. "You might want to figure out why you keep picking the same kind of girlfriend. Seems to me I read something a while back about how people always gravitate to the familiar, even if it isn't any good for them. It's what we know, so it's safe even though it's going to hurt us."
If those words struck a little close to home for Salt, no one but him ever needed to know it.
"Yeah." Rocky pushed her hat back and looked up at the sky. "I need to do some of that introspection Oprah and Dr Phil used to yammer about on their TV shows."
"I never watched either of 'em," Salt admitted as they reached their trucks. "Good Lord, my back aches today. Think my mattress is older than I am." He arched and tried to keep from grimacing as his lower back muscles spasmed. "Damn."
Rocky spun him around and pushed him — not too gently, either — against the side of his truck. "I used to be a massage therapist ages ago," she told him right before she began pressing firmly against his lower back.
Salt forgot about his initial instinct to protest. He moaned pitifully, closed his eyes and all but melted against the truck while Rocky worked the cramps right out of his back. There were obviously benefits to having a best friend. Salt couldn't give a back rub comparable to the one he was getting, but he could do other things for Rocky, like listen to her talk and help her get over Shelly.
"Feel better?" she asked sometime later. Salt didn't know how long he'd been holding the truck in place while Rocky gave him the best massage he'd ever had.
"Kind of feel like Jell-O," he admitted as he opened his eyes. "Damn, Rocky. I'm feeling all kinds of loose."
Rocky slapped his butt. "Yeah, I bet you are. A good massage can do that to ya. And now that I have you all relaxed and grateful, you can go with me to the feed store."
Salt groaned and flopped around to press his back against the truck. He gave his friend a mock-glare. "I shoulda known there was a catch to that bit of bliss."
Rocky guffawed and patted his hand. "Aw, now, no whining. Carlos already said we both could go in and have lunch out. I thought it'd be nice, then we can go to the feed store and pick up the small order Troy called in."
"Yeah, okay." Salt hated going into town — he was a ranch hermit all the way — but he did what he had to. And eating away from Drake, the ranch chef he'd had a crush on, would probably be better for his digestion. Salt got embarrassed every time he thought about how he'd ever hoped for a chance with someone as sexy and sweet as Drake. He really should have known better.
"I need to wash up first. Meet me back at the bunk house?" Salt got a nod from Rocky. It looked like he had a lunch date with his best bud, then.
CHAPTER 2Lunch at the diner had been good, but Salt couldn't help but compare the food to Drake's cooking, and frankly the food at the diner fell short of Drake's. That wasn't him mooning over Drake, either. Salt didn't think about Drake that way anymore, he was just embarrassed that he ever had in the first place. And the man was a damn good cook.
Why in the world Salt had been thinking about trying to have something serious with someone, with Drake, was a subject he'd been pondering on those nights when he couldn't sleep. He guessed it came down to finally being able to be out — not something he'd have been able to do and keep his job on any other of the ranches he'd worked on.
Because he'd loved being a cowboy, a ranch hand, more than he'd ever been interested in being in a steady relationship, Salt had kept himself closeted, only peeking out of that darkness when he knew it was safe and he could get off without getting busted. He'd thought love wasn't on the cards for him, wasn't sure it was possible, period. Then he'd got hired on at the Mossy Glenn. There was no way he could miss the love and devotion between Carlos, Troy and Will.
Seemed to Salt that if that kind of enduring love was possible for three men, it sure as shit should be possible for two. And, he was getting older. He didn't want to be alone for the rest of his life.
"Got your head in the clouds today." Rocky's voice pulled him right back to Earth.
"Yeah, guess so." Salt took a sip of his iced tea. "Was the pecan pie good?" Rocky had got a piece, but Salt had passed. Dessert wasn't a big deal to him.
Rocky licked her lips, her blue eyes gleaming. "Oh, hell yeah, that was the best pecan pie I've had in ages. Bet even Drake couldn't make a better one."
"Probably not," Salt agreed easily. He honestly didn't care one way or the other.
"Would you like a refill?"
Salt glanced up at the waitress. Her nametag declared her to be Jen. She looked to be younger than Salt, and someone Rocky kept sneaking appreciative peeks at when good ol' Jen wasn't looking.
"No thanks," Salt told her. The woman was attractive, he reckoned, not that he was the best judge. "We'll just take the bill."
"The pie was awesome," Rocky gushed effusively. "I'm gonna be coming back for more, soon. Pie, I mean. Pecan pie. Because it's so good." Rocky's cheeks went ruddy and Salt could see the trepidation building in her eyes.
"She really likes the pie," Salt joked, hoping to ease Rocky's discomfort. Jen just looked torn between amusement and confusion. Poor Rocky, she's crushing on a straight woman. That wasn't going to end well, although maybe it'd peter out and Rocky would find someone to reciprocate her interest.
"It is good pie," Jen said in a soft voice. "It's my grandma's recipe."
"You made it?" Rocky asked, and damn, but she sounded a little too smarmy there whether she meant to or not.
Jen's cheeks turned pink and she darted a nervous look to Salt before turning it back on Rocky. "Er, yes. I — let me get your ticket."
"I'm such an idiot," Rocky whispered as Jen hurried off. Rocky hissed and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, God, next time shut me up."
Salt nudged her knee with his under the table. "It wasn't that bad. I just think you're lusting up the wrong tree."
Rocky peeked out at him from between her fingers. "Lusting up the wrong tree? Stop mixing metaphors or whatever that's called. You're gonna give me a run for the money in the ridiculous department."
Salt shrugged. "I'm not trying to impress anybody, so I don't really care what they think."
The diner door swung open and a tall, stocky young man in overalls came in, battered ball cap on and a big, goofy grin in place. "Hey, Ma, did you save me some meatloaf?"
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Saddles and Memories"
by .
Copyright © 2013 Bailey Bradford.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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