Lost and Found Read Online Andrew Grey

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 71401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)

Rafe Carrera hasn’t seen his Uncle Mack since he was a kid, so when he inherits his ranch, it throws him like a bucking horse. He’s been on his own for a long time. Now suddenly everyone wants to be his friend… or at least get friendly enough to have a chance in buying the ranch.
Russell Banion’s family may own a mega-ranch in Telluride, but Russell made his own way developing software. He misses his friend Mack, and purchasing the ranch will help him preserve Mack’s legacy—and protect his own interests. It’s a win-win. Besides, spending time with Rafe, trying to soften him up, isn’t exactly a hardship. Soon Russell realizes he’ll be more upset if Rafe does decide to leave.
But Rafe isn’t sure he wants to sell. To others in the valley, his land is worth more than just dollars and cents, and they’ll do anything to get it. With Russell’s support, Rafe will have to decide if some things—like real friendship, neighborliness, and even love—mean more than money.


Chapter 1

RAFAEL CARRERA stood on the top of the chute, looking down at the rankest bull on the circuit. He’d drawn the only bull that hadn’t yet been successfully ridden that season… for very good reasons. Henny Penny had to be the worst-named bull Rafe had ever seen. This bull was as mean as they came. Henny was known to throw riders, then do his best to stomp on them, and sometimes gore them, as if to make the rider pay for daring to get on his back. So yeah, this was one nasty fucking bull—and Rafe had drawn him.

He was currently in second place. The leader was already out with an injury, standing at the rails, the man’s big brown eyes targeting his back. Rafe could feel the heated glare of Duane Mendeltom boring into him, sending all the ill will and buck-off vibes he could.

Fifty points. That was all that stood between a championship buckle and everything that came with it… or second place. And it had to be Henny Penny that stood in the damned way.

“Okay, kid,” the chute master said. “You ready?”

Rafe didn’t answer, already in the zone. He just climbed up and got into position. Henny bounced under him, a thousand pounds of muscle and power ready to lay into him with everything he had. Eight of the longest seconds in sports… hell, it was the world’s longest eight seconds, as far as he was concerned. His bull ropes were in place, just where he wanted them. The vest he wore would help protect him, but not against Henny’s hooves. His lucky hat was on his head, and all it took was a nod for the game to begin.

The gate swung open, and Henny jumped up and out. He landed with a bone-jarring thud that usually did in most riders. Rafe was ready for it, though, letting his body ride with the movement, rolling his hips as Henny jumped, legs going out, body twisting under him in midair. Rafe let out a yell, thinking like the fucking bull, ready when the son of a bitch pivoted to try to sink him in the well. He leaned the other way just a little, countering the move, and damned if Henny didn’t stop on a dime and twist the other damn way.

Rafe couldn’t counter fast enough, but he held on with everything he had, his shoulder pulling, muscles straining. But Henny was not going to get the better of him. Rafe had been riding bulls for too damned long. Hell, he was the old man on the circuit, and this was it, his last chance. Even if this fucking bull ripped his arm out of the socket, he was not damn letting go. Another jump and Rafe felt his legs come up. His luck was about to run out.

Then the buzzer sounded, and Henny took one more jump. Rafe bailed and let the bull throw him in the air. He flipped and saw the roof of the arena for a second before somehow righting his legs and landing on his feet. As soon as he felt sand, he raced for the side and jumped as high as he could. He damn near ended up in the lap of a pretty lady who was grinning like she won the lottery. “Hi, darlin’,” he said with a smile before turning around in time to see the clowns rounding up Henny and getting him out of the arena. Only then did he jump back down to the arena floor and hurry over to pick up what was left of his hat. It seemed Henny had stomped and gored it in his place. He held it over his head anyway, to deafening cheers from the crowd.

“Eighty-eight point three,” the announcer practically sang. “That means our winner of the day, the go-round, and the championship buckle is none other than Rafael Carrera!”