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“Big word for a cowboy,” she teases, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk.
“What? You think we’re only good for riding horses and tending to animals?” I reach up and tuck a stray curl behind her ear. The citrus scent of her shampoo washes over me, and I have to stop myself from leaning down for more.
“You’re doing it again,” she says, placing her hand on my chest.
My heart races under her touch. I’m sure she can feel it quicken under her palm.
“My dad built it,” I start, once I’ve safely rounded the island. I need distance if we are going to talk. I can’t think while touching her. “The ranch took off about a decade ago, and he was able to buy a lot of the surrounding farms that were struggling. He doubled the size of our ranch in two years.”
“That’s impressive. Must have been really hard for the town.”
“Yeah. He started this to ensure investors from out of the area didn’t come in and take over. He didn’t want industrial buildings and big city landscapes in Whiskey Falls. So, he worked out a plan with the farmers and kept it as farmland. Ended up keeping a lot of them on as employees, letting them rent out the houses they were already in.”
“That was very kind of him.” She moves forward slowly, taking a seat on the stool at the island. She folds her hands and places them on the countertop in front of her. She looks very professional, as if she were interviewing me as a client, not as a potential boyfriend.
Fake boyfriend.
“Yes, he was a good guy.” My voice trails off at the thought of my dad. He always had good intentions, even if he didn’t excite it in the right way. “Once the farm started to get bigger, and we started to sell more cattle out of province, he felt the need to ‘look the part.’ He built this house as a way to entertain those he needed to wine and dine to close bigger business deals.”
“Where’s the house you lived in before that?”
“About an acre back. Wyatt lives there now. I lived with him there until I moved here.” I thought back to living in my old house. Wyatt and I lived like the bachelors we are without a care in the world. It wasn’t quite what I imagined a frat house would be, but we had our share of company. It was my way of having some independence while still working the ranch. Having my best friend there with me made it that much better.
Until my dad died and I moved here. A place I’ve never considered home. If I’m honest, I try to spend as little time here as possible. Usually only to eat, sleep, and do business.
“So why does this place look so bare and cold?” Her tone isn’t judgmental, more curious.
“I sold off a lot of the furniture and art my dad thought he needed while he was trying to impress potential customers. I couldn’t stand looking at them.”
“And your mom?”
“She moved to Alberta to be closer to my aunt after my dad passed. She said she couldn’t handle being on the ranch without him.”
A silence falls over the kitchen as we look at each other. For once, I don’t know what to do next. This woman confuses and frustrates me more than anyone else. If she hadn’t placed us in this situation, I would have told her to be on her way well before our little heart-to-heart.
Which is another thing I don’t do with women. I don’t talk about myself or my family. I don’t talk much at all. There’s something about those hazel eyes that makes me not act like myself, and it’s frustrating as hell.
“So, tell me, Cowboy. When’s our first date?”
Chapter Five
Dakota
My mind races as I watch Chance across the kitchen island. His stoicism threatens to break under my scrutiny; I can feel it. I can’t help that my courtroom persona comes out during my line of questioning with him, but I’m also not ready to let him off the hook with his deflection and evasion, either.
I’m shocked he told me about his family. That was a revelation I hadn’t expected.
When I moved to Whiskey Falls after finishing law school, I didn’t know what to expect from the small rodeo town. After spending so much time in the city, I expected a lot of dirt roads and hot summers like the ones I experienced back home. What I didn’t expect was a town that wasn’t so small, you knew everyone, but rather a tight-knit community that still provided some anonymity for anyone who wanted it. Chance can’t hide because of how high-profile the ranch is, and while we have never crossed paths, I know of him. The people in town love to gossip about his personal life, always seeing him as the playboy rancher that likes to party. It only got worse when his dad passed away and he inherited the ranch. From what I’d heard, Chance was a shrewd businessman and ran the ranch well, but his way with women was stopping the town fully supporting him in his position.
I might not agree with what the sponsors are doing, but I understand it. They want stability and to protect their image. They don’t want the rodeo tarnished with a scandal or bad press, not that I’ve heard of Chance involved with any.
What really makes me curious is why he chose me. He could pick from any of the blonde bunnies on his arm on any given night. I bet they would fawn all over him, falling at his feet to get the chance to be his girlfriend, even if it was temporary and fake.
I don’t know what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into, but I’m going to find out.
“The gala is next Saturday.” Chance places his large, rough hands on the counter. They’re tanned with dirt-laced nails, from what I assume is from working in the fields with his crew. I don’t take him for someone that would rather hide in an office all day, and seeing his dirt-stained hands only proves my point. I also can’t deny my thoughts race to what else those hands could do.
What would they feel like fanning against my body? Would he have a feather-light touch skimming down my sides? Cupping my breast? I imagine they could turn rougher, more possessive, the longer they explored.
