Cowboys & Angels by Vicki Lewis Thompson Read Free Book Online

Besides, skiing is what I do.”
    “It’s what I do, too, but I take a break in the summer.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Looks like our students are on the way. Prepare yourself.”
    “What for?” Elle turned around and had to fight to keep from laughing. The women were all outfitted in typical water-resistant skiwear they’d probably bought in Jackson or in the resort ski shop. The men were a different story. They had the required skis, boots and poles. But they’d dressed for a day riding the range, not a morning on skis. All of them wore jeans, sheepskin jackets, leather gloves and Stetsons.
    No, wait. One man was outfitted in ski clothes, a short, barrel-chested guy sporting a handlebar mustache. She’d bet he was the one signed up with the women in Jared’s group.
    “Good luck,” Jared murmured.
    “It’s only the bunny slope. Shouldn’t matter.” She counted the men as they approached, and her gaze locked momentarily with Trey’s. He grinned, and she couldn’t help grinning back. She hoped he felt as great this morning as she did.
    But her quick head count gave her seven men instead of six. One of the Last Chance group must have changed his mind and decided to try the sport after all. She wondered if they’d communicated on the dress code or if they’d all come to this Western-wear decision of their own accord.
    “Good morning, gentlemen, and welcome.” She handed one clipboard to Trey, who’d reached her first, his long strides betraying his eagerness. She gave the other one to the next man, who also wore a mustache, although not of the handlebar variety. “If you’ll pass the clipboards around and fill out the required liability form, we can get started. While you’re doing that, you can also introduce yourselves.”
    “I’m Trey Wheeler.” He said it as if he’d never met her before. No one smirked or made a comment.
    “Gabe Chance,” said the man with the sandy mustache.
    A green-eyed man next to him spoke up. “Nick Chance.”
    “We brought him along ’cause he’s a veterinarian,” Gabe said. “If we break anything, we’re covered.”
    “Good to know, but I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Elle turned to the next man in the semi-circle.
    “Jack Chance.”
    “Ah. So you decided to join your brothers, after all.” Even semi-isolated at the resort, she’d heard of Jack Chance, oldest of the brothers, part Shoshone and acknowledged spokesman for the Chance family in Jackson Hole.
    Jack’s dark eyes flashed with humor. “I blame tequila shots and my potential ex-buddy Nash Bledsoe here.” He glanced over at the cowboy standing next to him. “We have a sizable bet riding on my ability to stick it out this morning.”
    “I see.” This lesson was shaping up to be a memorable one.
    “I’m Alex Keller,” said a fair-haired man.
    “You’re the one with some experience,” Elle said.
    “A little. I’m no expert.”
    She’d believe that, since he’d chosen to dress in jeans like the rest of them.
    “And I’m a total beginner,” said a freckle-faced cowboy who looked like the youngest of the group. “Jeb Branford, at your service, ma’am.”
    “It’s great to meet all of you.” She smiled at them. “But I have to ask, why the jeans and cowboy hats?”
    Alex glanced around the circle. “Told you guys she’d wonder about that.”
    “We don’t own skiing gear,” Gabe said. “Seemed kind of silly to buy it for one time.”
    “True, but you could have rented something.”
    “That’s what Watkins did,” the freckle-faced guy named Jeb said. “Mary Lou made him. But the rest of us agreed that those ski pants and puffy jackets look sort of...unmanly.” Then he flushed. “I mean, the outfit suits you, ma’am, but we’re...we’re cowboys.”
    “Fair enough.” Elle bit back a smile. “You should be fine for the bunny slope, but—”
    “Damn, is it really called the bunny slope?” Jack looked pained.
    Nash clapped him on the