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Chapter One
A shrill whistle carried on the cool Alaska air. Piers didn’t need to turn and see who was trying to grab his attention. He’d know that sound anywhere.
He swung around. Out of a small group of cowboys headed in the same direction he was, Piers picked out the familiar straw cowboy hat. Worn, battered.
Below that, the face of the wearer sporting a grin. Tilted at one corner like the smartass he was.
Piers stopped walking and waited for his friend to catch up. The wind gusted, bringing the rich tang of pine sap and the salt of the private harbor that bordered the ranch where the mountains didn’t.
He filled his nose with the scents, but just looking at the man loping in his direction made him think of other scents. Sandalwood and bourbon.
He’d been close friends with Ash since eighth grade when they banded together against a bully who was picking on a younger girl at the bus stop. Since then, they’d grown a lot closer.
As Ash closed the gap between them, Piers gave him a once-over.
“Mendoza. You just came from the barn, I see.”
Ash grunted. He didn’t bother glancing down at his faded jeans coated in dust and a little muck from the horses. “You know the horses never leave me alone when I go in there.”
“That’s because you give them apples.” Piers fell into step beside him.
Ash cocked an eyebrow at him and then tilted his angled jaw toward the ranch office. “Any idea why we’re being called in?”
He pitched his voice low so the guys behind them didn’t overhear. “Not entirely…but I have a guess.”
Ash’s brow hiked up higher. “Care to fill in your best friend?”
He ducked his head closer to Ash’s. “The bigwigs are here. From Texas.”
Ash jerked. “No bullshit? Hugh and Riggs?”
“Yep.”
“Damn. I heard rumors that they wanted to close down the ranch here in Alaska. Think there’s any truth behind it?”
Those rumors had been flying around for as long as Piers had worked on The Boot Knockers Ranch, but nothing had ever come to fruition. The ranch was targeted off and on by uptight assholes and angry locals, but that was to be expected when the purpose of the ranch was to help women with …certain issues.
Anything from sexual dysfunction to body image and everything he could think of in between, the Boot Knockers were there to offer their expertise. Sure, that involved taking their clients to bed. But there was also candlelight, wine and sweet talk. They took the ladies on picnics and horseback rides around the cove.
They were also a fully operational ranch that supplied a lot of beef, poultry and eggs to the local village, and their horses were exceptional stock, highly sought at auctions.
Piers responded to the crinkle between Ash’s brows. “They wouldn’t shut us down.”
Ash sent him a long look that Piers recognized all too well. He could honestly say he knew Ash better than anybody else in the world. He knew his moods, his body language—hell, everything about his body. That expression was pinched with concern for their future.
“We’re thirty-eight, Piers. I’m too old to go back to digging ditches and building roads.”
Piers attempted to lighten the moment. “Don’t start complaining again about your old football injury and how it wrecked your knee.”
If he knew Ash’s worried look, he also knew it could change in a blink. And it did. The crease between his brows faded to smooth tanned skin and that twinkle lit the depths of his brown, nearly black, eyes.
“You’re just jealous you got sidelined that year and I took your position as quarterback.”
Ash grunted. “I still got the girls, though.”
They exchanged a glance. “Not the prettiest one.”
“No.” Ash’s tone came out gritty.
