Page 54 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

Foals prancing around the pastures.

Money in the bank, food on the table.

No more Derek telling me I wasn’t good enough.

I smiled, taking another long draw on the bottle neck. The beer slipped easily down my throat, sloshing comfortingly in my stomach. My gaze continued to rove over the property.

There was Vantor in the distance, moving along the western fence line with methodical efficiency. His human form was too good. Every time I looked at him, I felt tingling in places I shouldn’t. My body didn’t even care that right now his tentacles were extending, betraying his alienness. His confidence and commanding presence made him even more attractive. Earlier, he’d examined the rotting posts and rails with abject horror.

“This is inadequate protection,” he’d declared, sounding personally offended. “A juvenile Kraxnar could breach this barrier.”

I hadn’t asked what a Kraxnar was. Some questions were better left unanswered when dealing with aliens.

Now the entire western boundary gleamed with freshly repaired fencing, each post set perfectly straight, the wire tight enough to play like guitar strings. At the rate they were going, my entire ranch would be transformed by the end of the week.

A dangerous bubble of hope expanded in my chest. For the first time since I’d signed the mortgage papers, I allowed myself to imagine success.

The fantasy of everything turning out right felt so real I could almost taste it—sweet and tangy, like the first bite of a fresh apple. Maybe I wouldn’t fail after all. Maybe this crazy cosmic accident was the universe finally cutting me a break.

The crunch of tires on gravel shattered my reverie.

I bolted upright, dropping the beer bottle. It tipped over, contents foaming onto the porch. No one ever came out here. Not since I’d stopped answering calls from friends who were tired of hearing about my ranch problems. Not since I’d scared off the last feed delivery guy by crying when he asked how business was going.

“Someone’s coming!” I yelled, scrambling down the porch steps, my pulse slamming in my throat. The driveway curved through a stand of cottonwoods, blocking my view of the approaching vehicle. “Make sure you look human!”

My head darted left and right, and I watched in horrified fascination as all three aliens visibly shuddered. Their forms briefly wavered like heat mirages before solidifying fully into their human disguises. Tentacles vanished, skin tones stabilized, and extra joints disappeared with sickening little pops.

A sleek black pickup truck finally came into view, its glossy paint job reflecting the sun above and casting blinding rays. My stomach dropped to somewhere around my ankles as I recognized the custom grille, the oversized tires, the pretentious chrome detailing.

Derek freaking Morgan.

My ex-fiancé, local ranching golden boy, and the human embodiment of every bad decision I’d ever made. I loathed him. I felt nothing these days but hatred toward him, and disgust toward myself for loving him for so long.

“Shit,” I whispered, feeling my newfound hope crumble like stale bread. What was he doing here? Coming to gloat? To make another lowball offer on my property? To remind me that I was “playing cowgirl” while he ran a “real business”?

I glanced back at the aliens, who had paused in their work and were now watching with unsettling intensity. Something in their stance had shifted—shoulders broader, spines straighter, jaws set at angles that looked almost predatory. Even from a distance, they seemed to sense my distress. They began to approach, moving with synchronized purpose that reminded me they weren’t just odd-looking humans but members of a different species entirely.

“Get out of sight!” I shouted, looking at each of them in turn and shooing them away with quick hand motions. They didn’t immediately comply, so I repeated my command. “Get. Out. Of. Sight!”

My breath caught as I watched them all seem to melt down, flattening against the ground. Sure, that was a totally human thing to do.

I squared my shoulders and forced my leaden feet to carry me down the drive toward Derek’s approaching truck. Whatever he wanted, I couldn’t let him see my fear. Couldn’t let him know how close I was to losing everything. Couldn’t let him discover that my ranch hands were actually extraterrestrials who could probably turn him inside out if they wanted to.

Though that last thought did bring a small, vindictive smile to my face as I walked to meet my past.

Derek Morgan slid from his truck with the practiced ease of a man who’d never doubted his welcome anywhere. His boots hit the gravel with a deliberate crunch, and that familiar smile—the one that had once made my heart skip but now made my skin crawl—spread across his face like oil on water. He’d dressed for the occasion in what I called his “gentleman rancher” outfit: pristine jeans with a razor-sharp crease, a Western shirt so crisp it could probably stand up on its own, and a hat that cost more than my monthly mortgage payment.

“Well, well, sugar,” he drawled, his practiced southern accent thicker than molasses in January. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly aware of my dirt-smudged jeans and sweat-stained t-shirt. “What do you want, Derek?”

His eyes, always cold and calculating despite their warm brown color, slid past me to take in the ranch. For a brief second, surprise flickered across his face as he noticed the in-progress repairs to the barn, the straightened fence line, and Mystery trotting contentedly in the paddock nearer to Sassafras than ever. I savored that momentary crack in his facade; the tiny tell that he’d expected to find everything falling apart.

“Just checking in on my favorite little cowgirl,” he said, recovering quickly. “Looks like you’ve been busy around here.” He gestured toward the barn. “That’s some mighty fine carpentry. How’d you afford it?”

“That’s none of your business,” I seethed, crossing my arms.

Derek chuckled, a sound as hollow as his compliments. “Now, now. That’s a matter of opinion, Tam-Tam.” His gaze shifted to something over my shoulder, and his smile faltered slightly. “Didn’t realize you’d hired help.”