Working title: Beck
The first thingI felt was pain in my head. The second? More of it—centered in my skull, it radiated out from there through every limb.
A man of my age shouldn’t try to keep up drinking with the ranch hands.
I groaned and cracked one eye open. The room spun. Sunlight stabbed my eyes like tiny knives.
“Beck,” I complained to myself, “you absolute idiot.”
Last night came back in disjointed flashes. Ash grinning like the devil. Chris slapping cards down over and over in poker games that multiplied. A mason jar in front of me, constantly kept full of alcohol.
The ranch hands had chanted,“Initiation Time! Welcome to the Off-Duty Rescue Ranch.”
Of course, I wasn’t going to show my weakness. Besides, I could handle my liquor. But not whatever in the heart of Hades these assholes created. It wasn’t my usual Macallan, but somemixture of moonshine, homemade right here on the Off-Duty Rescue Ranch.
My phone chirped with an incoming text, then another, and another.
“Fuck. Someone, please stop the noise.” I patted my pocket to see if my phone was there. It wasn’t—because no pockets, no jeans or boxers were on my body. I jerked my aching head up and confirmed. Naked as sin.
From somewhere to my left came the phone again, sticking out of my jeans pocket on the floor.
I winced and pulled it over toward the cot and retrieved it.
The West Brothers group chat had exploded while I was sleeping off the hangover from hell.
Holden: Can one of you volunteer to take Monica to some event she has to go to in October? Her ex will be there, and she doesn’t want to show up alone.
Pic attached.
I opened the photo.
Well, damn.
Lilah’s sister was pretty. Not my usual type, although blood rushed south anyway. Besides, I had no plans to leave Montana anytime soon, so a trip to New York this fall was out of the question.
Before I could even process a response, another text pinged.
Atlas: DIBS.
I snorted. Typical. I lay back on my bunk and groaned. I was way too dehydrated and way too naked to deal with anything.
Wait. Where were all the other ranch hands? Shit. My first official day working as a temporary ranch hand, and I’d missed leaving with the guys at dawn to run the fences.
I scrambled upright and instantly regretted it. My head throbbed, my stomach flipped, and my morning wood was still enthusiastically present.
I wobbled on my feet when suddenly the bunkhouse door opened.
A scream hit my ears, and a bucket clattered to the floor. Cleaning supplies bounced everywhere.
In the doorway stood the most stunning woman I’d seen in… fuck me, maybe years.
The first things I noticed were her slender neck and creamy skin, and breasts filling out a white t-shirt with the words “Forest Grove Little Miss Firecracker” on it. Then I saw her huge doe eyes widen as they dropped all the way down my body.
We froze. Her mouth opened and closed, opened again. My cock twitched, which wasn’t helping.
“I’m the new housekeeper. Oh, my God! They told me everyone would be out working by now.” She stooped to retrieve all the cleaning supplies. While I grabbed the nearest object to cover with, a pillow with an eggplant design on it. It wasn’t mine. I’d never seen it before in my life.
“Uh, I’m usually more dressed than this,” I explained.
