Cowboys Down

Chapter One

Jasper turned and glared at the couple behind him, but more particularly at the agent of Satan sitting between them whose hooves were pummeling his seat. “Could you please control your child?”

“Sit still, sweetie,” the mother said.

Jasper slumped back and sighed. On his third flight since he’d set off from London, the landing in Jackson Hole, Wyoming couldn’t come soon enough. The boy kicked again and a tic fluttered across Jasper’s cheek. Before he exploded with fury and ended up snapped into handcuffs, he unclipped his seat belt and stepped into the aisle. He envied the trio of women sitting near the exit a few rows in front of him. Envy turned to borderline hatred when he looked at the length of their legs and considered his own six-three frame.

The line for the bathroom gave him an excuse to linger and stretch his muscles. Jasper’s head buzzed, filled with the competing sounds of people chattering, a woman in the exit row coughing and jet engines roaring. He’d come all this way for peace and quiet, but he hadn’t anticipated the tortuous journey to find it. The thought of the return trek filled him with dread.

When the tone of the coughing changed, Jasper turned. His eyes widened as he registered the pallor of the hacking woman. She leaned forward, gripping the armrests, fighting for breath, and the pair on either side weren’t doing a damn thing except gaping at her. Jasper didn’t hesitate. He strode forward, unclipped the woman’s seat belt and hauled her to her feet. Pulling her back against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tight under her ribs. She’d stopped struggling to breathe, and her body hung limp in his embrace. Another jolt from his clenched fists but nothing happened.
Jesus, don’t let me have got this wrong.
Was he trying to perform the Heimlich maneuver on some poor sod with asthma like him or maybe she’d had a heart attack? Hesitation might have been the right option in this scenario.

One more thrust and—
thank Christ
—something purple flew from her mouth and landed on the carpet. The suck of uninterrupted air by the woman was matched by Jasper’s deep sigh of relief. He relaxed his grip, his hands resting just below her breasts.
Put her down, idiot.
Jasper lowered her onto her seat, patted her on the hand and fled back to his seat.

He became aware of people clapping and suspected the tips of his ears had gone red. Fortunately his dark hair covered them. Not possible at school where short hair was compulsory and he’d been known for years as Rudolph the Red-Eared Reindeer. With a name like Jasper Randolph, he was doomed.

The flight attendants were all over the woman now.
Too bloody late.
Jasper settled in his seat and closed his eyes as he heard a hoarse voice berate the crew, threatening to sue. Why did someone have to be blamed for accidents? How could that have been anyone’s fault? Except what if he hadn’t managed to dislodge the object? Would he have been arrested if she’d died? Actually he
should
have ignored her. In this litigious society, walking away was the safer option, just not the ethical one.

An insistent hand tapped his shoulder and Jasper reluctantly opened his eyes.

“Thank you,” a dark-eyed attendant said and smiled.

Jasper nodded. He was uncomfortable with praise, always had been, probably because he didn’t get much of it when he was a child.

“Are you a doctor?” the guy asked.

“No.” Jasper closed his eyes again before the risk of conversation increased to the point he’d have to be rude. The steward was obviously gay and Jasper wasn’t keen on men who seemed so feminine, though maybe that was part of his problem. He was looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack—a gay guy who acted more like a straight man.
But I’m
not
looking
.

The fasten seat belt sign came on as the plane began its descent. With a bit of luck, he wouldn’t have to open his eyes until the aircraft landed. And though he was looking forward to arriving, he was no longer excited about what would follow. Yet another mistake to talk himself into something that had seemed like a good idea at the time and had now topped the list of the worst ideas ever.

The vacation he worked hard for all year would not be his usual solo tramp around Italy or Greece exploring ruins, but a stay on the Neilson Ranch where Jasper hoped to learn how to relax, to get dirty without worrying, to be sociable without blushing and to ride a horse without throwing up.

Except Jasper wasn’t sure any of that was possible. He was an uptight, upper-class stockbroker, product of a private education and a top-flight university—for a while at least, whose mother was desperate for him to settle down, get married and provide her with a houseful of grandchildren. Well, when she was having one of her better days. And having grandchildren was something else that wasn’t going to happen. Not in the way she wanted anyway.

Jasper’s hope of scuttling off the plane without any fuss died the moment the seat belt sign pinged. Two of the women from the exit row rushed back and were all over him like an unpleasant rash.

“Oh my God. I could have died,” the woman croaked. “Thank you so much for saving me. I’m Melissa.” The woman with her elbowed her in the side. “This is Janie.”

“Delighted to meet you,” Jasper lied.

“Oh, you’re English. Say something else. I love your accent.” Melissa all but fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“Kind of you to say so,” Jasper said through gritted teeth.

It was only the cabin crew urging people to leave the aircraft that saved him from becoming their
bestest
best friend. Jasper lingered, making a big deal of gathering together his book and—well, his book. He waited until everyone else had disembarked before he grabbed the Tumi briefcase from the overhead locker, shoved his book inside and moved toward the front of the small plane.

The captain stopped him.

“Mr. Randolph, thanks for your prompt action today. The airline will be writing to you, but I’d like to offer you this bottle of champagne with our compliments.”

“There’s really no need,” Jasper mumbled.

The bottle was pressed into his hands, and Jasper couldn’t escape fast enough.

He jammed the champagne into his bag, and once he was inside the terminal, made for the nearest washroom. Jasper splashed cold water over his face and, leaning with his hands on the basin, stared into the mirror. Considering the length of time he’d been traveling, he didn’t look too bad. He took a comb from his pocket and pulled it through his hair, and then dragged his fingers over his stubbled cheeks. Maybe he should retrieve his razor and—
Stop it
, he told himself. Who was there to care how he looked? He straightened his tie, tucked in his shirt and went to find his suitcase.

His fellow passengers were crowded around the carousel and Jasper hung back, but Melissa spotted him, waved and headed in his direction.
Shit.

“We wondered where you’d gone. Thanks again for saving me.”

“It was nothing,” Jasper mumbled.

“A yogurt-covered cranberry went down the wrong way. They shouldn’t sell snacks that can kill you. I’m going to write to the airline.”

Jasper thought about pointing out any food inhaled rather than ingested had the potential to kill, but didn’t bother.

“My voice is really croaky. Think I ought to see a doctor?” she asked.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Janie came up and smiled at him. She and Melissa wore denim jackets covered with sparkly…bits, tight jeans and heavily patterned, silver-tipped cowboy boots. They looked like twin dolls.

“Are you here on business?” Janie asked.

“Holiday.”

“You mean vacation,” Melissa said. “Us too. We’re going to spend the week on a ranch.”

Oh fuck.
He couldn’t be
that
unlucky.

“Where are you staying?” Janie asked.

Jasper hoped for a miracle. “The Neilson Ranch.”

Both women squealed and heads turned in their direction. “Omigod,” came from two sets of lips. Simultaneously. Then they high-fived and squealed again. Jasper cringed.

Oh my God, indeed. Thanks a lot, pal.
Though God had never done anything for Jasper when he’d really needed help. Why would he start now?

“Would you be an absolute angel and help with our bags?” Melissa asked.

What choice did he have? He was still a gentleman, though by the end of this holiday…er…vacation, he hoped not to be.

Jasper piled a large flatbed cart with their luggage—small, medium and large bags and cases in bright pink and purple.

“I hope we brought enough,” Melissa said, and only when Jasper caught a glimpse of her worried face did he realize she wasn’t joking. He hated to think how much they’d paid in excess baggage.

“Ooh, over there.” Melissa pointed toward a guy holding a sign.

The fifty-year-old looked like he’d stepped straight out of an old Western, with a deeply wrinkled, weather-beaten face, denims sliding off his hips and a blue flannel shirt stretched over his belly. He was as tall as Jasper but much broader. As Jasper pushed the cart over, another guy joined the first. He tipped up the rim of his Stetson with his thumb then took the hat off and ran his fingers through hair the color of corn. Jasper stifled his groan. Melissa and Janie didn’t bother.

“Oh my Lord,” Janie whispered. “That cowboy is—”

“Mine,” Melissa snapped a moment before Janie’s, “Mine.”

The new guy looked around Jasper’s age. He was maybe an inch taller than Jasper with sun-streaked shaggy blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. His gray shirt was rolled above his elbows, and Jasper took in tanned muscular forearms before he let his gaze drop to a flat belly, faded jeans, narrow hips and the generous bulge on the left side of the zipper. Jasper averted his gaze and tightened his mouth. This holiday was not about finding a guy, it was about finding himself.

Though if he did the latter quickly, maybe he could move on to the former.

Calum stood next to Pete, the ranch foreman, watching the new arrivals and trying to pick out which were theirs. Pete half-heartedly rocked a badly written sign saying
Neilson Ranch
that he’d hastily cobbled together after he forgot the one Calum’s sister had worked on for hours. Angie had decorated the sign with foam flowers and little horses she’d cut out of magazines. It had been fancier than the ones she usually made. Calum frowned. Maybe Pete had deliberately forgotten it.

They had nine guests arriving today to spend the week experiencing life on a working ranch. Calum thought his granddaddy would have rolled like a cement mixer in his grave if he’d seen what his son and grandson had sunk to in order keep the ranch going. But times had changed and there was more money to be made in entertaining rich folks than the cattle business. Though with fifteen rooms to fill, this week wasn’t going to make them as much as usual.

The idea that these people thought they were getting a taste of cowboy life made Calum chuckle. They didn’t sleep in a bunkhouse, share a bathroom or eat beans out of a can. He hated beans. Each guest had their own room with bathroom attached, high quality meals, a pool to relax in and a massage if they wanted one. It was nothing like ranch life.

“Here they come,” said Pete. “Smile.”

Calum sighed and put a broad smile on his face.

The newlyweds weren’t hard to spot. They were glued at the hip, love in their eyes as they chattered to each other. The other married couple would be the pair walking apart, the young, slim wife scowling, the older, gray-haired husband tight-lipped and pulling both suitcases. They’d bicker for the entire time and she’d flirt with everyone except her husband. Calum wondered which of them had suggested this vacation.

“Howdy, folks,” Pete said, and in a lower voice added, “Oh Christ, I hope these aren’t ours.”

As Calum introduced himself to the guests, out the corner of his eye he saw two women in matching denim jackets sparkling with rhinestones, walking in front of a cart piled with luggage. In their early twenties, one blonde, one brunette, they were made up to the gills with red polish on their fingers, designer sunglasses perched on their heads, and designer smiles on their faces. They looked like dolls.

Calum couldn’t see the guy pushing the piled-up luggage until the cart stopped. When he appeared, the breath caught in Calum’s throat and his fingers tightened around the brim of his hat.
Oh shit.
Tall, dark, slim, large brown eyes.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Calum’s heart stuttered and stalled. The dude looked like he’d walked off an ad for Abercrombie and Fitch. Maybe he wasn’t the English guy—then Calum noticed the tie around his neck. Yep, he was.