Chapter 3
Chapter Three
W est headed out with Mal to tour the house, his head swimming. Lord have mercy that was… a lot. They’d settled the kids on the big couch with Trey, glued to the TV, which played some relentless kids show, all high voices and bright colors.
Wow.
And Trey…
“This is the guest bathroom. There’s a powder room back by the family room and the kitchen.”
“Always good to know where the bathrooms are, lady.” He didn’t want to ask all the questions burning him up until they got outside.
“And maybe you’re dying to ask me everything. So why don’t you just do it? I mean, this is your house. Congratulations, you have three bedrooms, two and a half baths. It’s furnished. It’s better than anything you’re going to get on any other ranch, and we all know it.” Mal’s frustration was obvious in her voice as well, and he knew it had nothing to do with him. Absolutely nothing.
Lord, she had a ranch of her own to run, a husband, and baby on the way.
Then she had her best friend here who was?—
Shit.
Shit.
West remembered Trey as this stunning man. This tall stud with a swimmer’s body. A halo of damn near white-blond curly hair, and those so perfect cloud-gray eyes. Trey had always been the epitome of class.
West could remember wondering how on earth he’d ever been raised by cowboy people.
Now it was different. Trey was skinny—like skin and bones. The curls had gone wild, and he looked lost, as if he’d been dropped buck naked into the middle of a hurricane.
Come with me, baby. Please. I’ll give you everything you ever wanted. Just come with me. I’ve got a place in Seattle, an apartment in New York, a villa in Rome. We can see the world. Just come with me.
Trey had begged. And West had said no.
No, because he wanted to cowboy. He didn’t want to be tied down to someone. He wanted to ride and not have to worry about wearing a tie or wearing a suit or saying the wrong things and losing a million dollars or a billion dollars because he popped off with his mouth to some guy.
He’d said no because he had been scared.
And he said no because he was a cowboy.
He didn’t want to travel the world. He didn’t want to live in Seattle and New York and Rome. He wanted horses and dogs, cattle. A blue sky with nothing to mar the view. He wanted space.
Christ it hurt. He hurt.
Not for himself. He had what he wanted.
But Trey hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t done anything to deserve this, and god damn it, he got it. West wanted to fix it. And he couldn’t.
But he could help.
“So what the hell happened? Why is he here?”
That was the big question as far as West was concerned. What had happened to Trey’s company? Why was he back here in Colorado? Last time he had heard Trey was all West Coast all the way, unless he was in freaking Europe.
Mal shrugged and went to the fridge. The kitchen was simple, but clean, done in slab of tan stone. She came back with a beer and a bottle of ginger ale. “You want to sit on the sofa or on the back porch?”
“Are you kidding?” He went to the French doors leading out of the front room, loving the little patio with the ancient patio table and a pair of sturdy wood chairs with wildly colored paisley cushions on the seats. From here West could see the barns, the outbuildings, and the cowboy quarters, as well as the paddocks. Best of all, there were the Rockies, just welcoming him like an old friend.
They both settled, smiling at each other, because Mal got it. This was her place in the world too. Trey was lucky to have her as a neighbor and a friend.
“So, where to start… He came home four years ago, give or take. His grandpa had just died, and Granny was the only one that was left. She tried, but she couldn’t handle the cowboys, and he was already starting to have trouble with his eyes. Not as bad, of course, but he knew it wasn’t great. He came in to help her, and they were holding on, getting things done when she died.”
“What happened?”
Mal took a long swig from her bottle. “She had a terrible heart attack. Trey stayed in the hospital with her, never left her side. I swear to you, and I can because I was there, her heart stopped, he stood up, and he had a stroke. The hemorrhages started in his eyes, and it just went to hell from there. And then? Not two months later? Kait got cancer.”
“Okay… Were they?” Surely not, but maybe… He could see Trey willing to find comfort where he could, and it wasn’t like he seemed to be close with any of the cowboys, but what did he know?
Her eyes went wide as saucers. “Where they what? Fucking? Are you kidding? Do you do know Trey, right? He is like the single gayest guy in the history of gay guys.”
West could totally tell that the only gay men Mal had ever met were Western. “Well, it had to be asked.”
“No, it really didn’t.” She shook her head at him. “For fuck’s sake, man. At any rate, she got sick—and I tell you what, that cancer moved through her like a long, black train, and it took everything. But Trey paid for all the bills, moved her into the big house, took care of her when the nurse wasn’t there, took care of the kids. She asked him if he’d take the kids if she didn’t make it, and he couldn’t say no. We told him we weren’t sure it was a good idea.” She held his gaze, so serious. “We told him that he had to remember his eyes aren’t ever going to get better. They’re only going to get worse. But he wasn’t going to give up the ranch or the kids, not for love or money. And he, you know how he is, he just got stubborn on us. And so here we are. Blind ranch owner with kids.”
“Okay. Wow. I don’t even have a thing to say. But what happened to his business?”
“He sold it.”
“He sold?” No. No fucking way. Trey loved inventing computer stuff. It made him happy as a pig in shit.
She nodded to him. “I know, right? When he came out here, he said he’d decided that he didn’t want to do that particular thing anymore. Whatever it was. I don’t think it was— I don’t think it was because of the ranch. I think it was because the business was going fine on its own, and he was just going to find something else to do. You know how Trey is. He likes to have lots of irons in the fire and the big business was just, well, that was it. He was done playing with those toys; he reckoned he’d just give them up and make more. The son of a bitch has made enough money to live on until he dies, for Christ’s sake. And add that to the money that he inherited from his folks and the money and the ranch he inherited from his grandparents and…”
Yeah. That was a shitload of cash, and he’d bet that Trey would give it up for a set of good eyes. “I know. He’s not hurting on that front. Well, he’s got kids to raise now, and I’m gonna help him with the ranch. How bad is it?”
“It’s leaking money like a sieve, but that’s just because it hasn’t been well-managed, not for at least a year.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “It’ll take you six months, maybe not even that, for you to get everything back into shape. If you ask me, you’re going to end up having to fire a couple of cowboys, and of course, that means you’re going to have to hire a couple. You’ve got a few that are super solid that just don’t want to be foreman. They just want to cowboy, and they’re going to be the ones you’re gonna want to lean on here at the beginning.” She settled back into her chair, warming to this topic that was so much easier than talking about Trey. “You’ve got a solid livestock situation here—you’re running Beefmasters, Charolais, and Simmental. You’ve got some BLM land. You’ve got a couple of decent horses. Although, you’re kind of weak in that area, I think, but then, you know, horses are my job. There’s chickens, and a couple of milk cows. You’d have to look at your information on what you were supposed to be doing with that BLM land. I’m not sure, and I guarantee you Trey doesn’t know. You know, I really think it’s doable.”
“Where are we on the hay front?”
“There’s a hundred acres, and if I were you, I’d get those bastards out there bailing now. So that you get a second round of red rye.”
“Rock on.” West could feel this frisson of excitement building up inside him. Sure, he was here for Trey, and yeah, he was gonna help with those babies, but this is what he wanted, the chance to prove himself on a spread big enough to rival some of the Texas ranches. He could make this a going thing, and the chance was too big not to grab with both hands.
“You got that look, cowboy.”
He grinned over at her, raising his beer to toast. “I reckon I do. I can’t wait to get my hands dirty here.”