Most eligible cowboy, p.6
Most Eligible Cowboy, page 6
“The year before Julia and I married.” Leaning against the door frame, he folded his arms. “My dad’s deal had always been that once Beau and I saved up enough for a down payment for a construction mortgage, we could pick a spot and build.”
“So like your dad to always help you, but at the same time make you work hard to earn it.”
Colter agreed with a nod. “Yeah, that’s him pretty much summed up.” He glanced around the room he rarely came into anymore. “I built this home thinking I’d start a family here.” He’d imagined this space being a nursery. “Now, of course, it’s a lot bigger than I need. But if I’ve learned anything from my divorce, it’s to always expect the unexpected. Life rarely works out as planned.”
“Truer words have never been spoken.”
His smile felt more honest than it had in a long time. He jerked his chin toward the hallway. “Want a tour of the rest of the house?”
“Yes, please.”
He showed her the other guest room, the large master bedroom, with the king bed and dark gray leather headboard and sleek black furniture, and where her bathroom was, and then he set out some towels for her.
When they ended up back in the open kitchen that overlooked the rustic dining room and living room, where a black leather couch rested in front of a big stone fireplace, with a flat-screen television in the corner, she said, “You know, this might actually be the best thing that could have happened.”
He wasn’t so sure of that. How was he going to stick to the rules and not make things intimate between them? His thoughts were indecent enough already without her sugary aroma constantly invading his senses. But they were in this together, apparently, and today was the first morning he’d gotten out of his truck downtown and a woman wasn’t waiting there for him. The plan had worked. “Why is that?”
Her sassy grin pooled heat in his groin. “It’s not often I get to live in the house of the person I’m writing about.”
“Best be on my best behavior, then.” Something he needed to constantly remind himself of with her around. He glanced at the clock above the gas stove. “I need to get to work, but I can call you later if you want to discuss meals for the week.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said, her eyes gleaming at the chef’s kitchen. “I actually love cooking, so dinners will be mine.”
“All right, that works,” he said. “Since I suspect I’m up before you, I’ll handle breakfast.”
“What time do you wake up?”
“Five.”
Her eyes widened. “In the morning?”
“Yeah, sometimes earlier.”
She shuddered. “You’re right, you’re up first. Breakfast is yours. I’ll head out later today to grab us some food. Just text me anything you need.”
“Sounds good.” He headed to a drawer and reached in, grabbing a set of keys. “Here’s the spare set for the house and my truck. Use it like it’s yours. Company pays for gas.” He took out a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet and set it on the counter. “That’s for my share of the meals. Maybe next week we can hit the grocery store together?”
“Sure, sounds like a plan.”
He intended to leave her then and get his day started, but he hesitated and realized he owed her a story that included his day-to-day life now. “Got anything pressing to do right now?”
“Nothing urgent, just boring emails to get to. Why?”
“I missed doing my usual flight around the ranch to check in on the cattle and horses. Before you get to those emails, want to—”
“Yes,” she blurted out.
He chuckled at her all but bouncing as she followed him out the back door to the helicopter pad resting next to the hangar. He nearly purred at his sleek six-seater Airbus helicopter. Once he reached the chopper, he checked the weather to ensure clear skies before doing his preflight inspection. He finished, confirming the gas cap was secure, and then helped Adeline into her seat, assisting her with fastening her seat belt, pretending he wasn’t enjoying every stroke of his fingers against her.
After securing her, he offered her the aviation headset. “Last part, so we can talk.”
She settled it onto her head and beamed. “Ready!”
Again, he chuckled, not sure if he’d ever seen anyone so excited to fly with him. He finished his final walk-around inspection before getting into his seat, buckling up and sliding his headgear into place, adjusting the microphone over his mouth.
“Still ready?” he asked.
“Hell yes.” Her voice sounded muffled through the headset, but her dancing eyes flooded his chest with warmth.
Focusing on his job—to keep them both safe—he confirmed the flight controls were in the correct position before he powered up the helicopter and lifted off, the ground moving farther away as the seconds drew on. Her loud squeal brushed across him, and he felt a rush of adrenaline storm through him.
“Okay, I can totally see why you love doing this,” she said, staring out her window.
“I’ve always loved to fly,” he admitted. “There’s a freedom I find in it that I don’t feel doing anything else. But the views also don’t hurt. In Seattle, while busy, the skyline was quite beautiful.”
“But not as beautiful as this,” she breathed, awe in her voice. “I forgot how stunning it is out here.”
He glanced out her window, finding the rolling hills of Ward land, grassy meadows as far as the eyes could see. The lake stretched along the west side, the cattle grazing next to it as expected. He circled them at a distance, not wanting to stir up trouble.
“What exactly are you looking for?” she asked.
“Calves, injured or sick heifers—anything that would need us to ride up to tend to them.”
She glanced at him, sidelong. Damn near the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in that seat next to him. “If there was any of that, you’d send cowboys to this area?” she asked.
“Exactly,” he agreed. “Smaller ranches would just ride out daily to check on their herd, but luckily for me, I have an excuse to fly out every morning when the weather cooperates.” He gave the cattle one final look, not sensing or seeing any problems, before he turned east. “We’ll check in on the horses now.”
“Is Beau involved in that end of the company?”
He nodded, holding the yoke steady. “He was working toward becoming a champion reiner and riding for the USA team professionally when Annie passed away, so we hire riders now to show our horses for bragging and breeding rights.”
“What does Beau do, then?”
“Handles all the sales and trains the horses before they begin to show. It’s not quite what he dreamed of, but I know he enjoys his work.”
She glanced out the front window, nibbling her lip before addressing him again. “And what about you? Do you enjoy your work?”
He smiled. “I get to do this every day. I feel fortunate for that.”
She snorted a laugh. “You just avoided my question. You know that, right?”
“It’s not avoidance, it’s the truth,” he admitted. Probably a little to himself, too. “I might not be doing what I love all the time, but my family needed me. Nothing comes before them.”
“And that’s why having all these women trying to hit on you was a distraction you didn’t want?”
He nodded. “You got it, New York.”
She watched him a moment and then gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. “You know, you’re making it very easy to write about you.”
“Why is that?”
She glanced back out her window. “Because you’re an incredibly good man.”
* * *
Later that afternoon, when Adeline was sitting in a booth at the coffee shop, coins clinked into the tip jar at the counter from a paying customer as she recalled what she’d seen of Colter’s house. When she began typing on her keyboard, the aromatic scent of espresso infused the air.
For all the money the Ward family is worth, the simplicity of Colter Ward stands out. The art decorating the walls of his house wasn’t created by famous artists, but local artists who painted the beauty of Devil’s Bluffs, a town he clearly loves.
“Is that the one?”
A sharp voice cut through the murmur of voices, past the radio playing in the background. Adeline took a long sip of her milky latte drizzled with caramel, tuned in to the women sitting at the table across from her.
An airy slurp of an empty cup. “Yeah, that’s her. I don’t see what’s so special about her.”
The old version of Adeline would have kept staring at her laptop, pretending she didn’t hear them. But she wasn’t that same shy teenager who was too afraid to speak up. She turned toward the catty women and cleared her throat. When they met her gaze, she said sharply, “What’s special about me is that I’m really—like out of this world—incredible in bed.” She might have laughed at their bulging eyes if she wasn’t annoyed on both her own and Colter’s behalf.
Staring them down, she could only smile as both women rose and quickly left the coffee shop. She began to understand why Colter had been desperate enough to make the arrangement with her in the first place. She’d never had so many women glare at her in her life and make snide comments. These women chasing him were like sharks.
With a sigh, she looked out the giant glass window with a view of the street, watching as cars and trucks drove by. She was returning her thoughts to her article when her cell phone dinged.
A quick look at the screen, and her mood soured further.
Brock had texted, Adeline, please, please call me.
She heaved another long sigh. For over a week, she’d ignored him, and that had been working, but she didn’t reach her phone and dial his number for Brock’s sake. She called for his parents, who had likely seen the photo, too, and whom she had grown close to over the years she and Brock dated. Deep down, she knew the breakup of their relationship wouldn’t only tear apart her and Brock’s lives, but it would affect those who loved Brock and had to look him in the eye after the terrible thing he’d done.
Brock answered on the first ring. “Adeline?”
“Hi, Brock,” she said, leaning back against the leather booth.
“Thank you for calling,” he breathed.
Hearing his tight voice was adding salt to an open wound, and it burned, reminding her she was still hurting. Deeply. “I take it you saw the article.”
“I did. Is it true?”
A dry laugh escaped her. “No, of course not. It was a misunderstanding.”
“That kiss didn’t look like a misunderstanding.”
She ground her teeth. “My life is not your business anymore.” Her gaze fell to the barista behind the long counter stacked with chrome espresso and frothing machines. “I called so you could let your parents know what’s going on. I’m sure this is all very confusing for them.”
A pause, the thick whir of the frothing machine filling the silence. “They miss you,” he said eventually.
She shut her eyes and breathed past the squeezing of her throat. “I miss them, too. Please let your mom know that I do plan on reaching out and I’ll call her when I’m back in New York City.”
A beat.
Then his voice blistered, “Adeline, please let’s talk about this. I hate that everything happened like it did. I hate that I hurt you.”
“I didn’t call to talk about this,” she snapped before reminding herself the conversation was pointless. But she hated the part of her heart that wanted so desperately to say let’s fix this somehow. The part that still loved him, that believed they’d stay together forever, regardless of how he’d hurt her. “Please tell your mother what I said.” She ended the call before he could say anything else.
Knowing she’d never get anything else done, she packed up her laptop and did what she always did when feeling down—she hit the grocery store. She bought all the ingredients for homemade cookies and spaghetti and meatballs, avoiding making eye contact with the women glaring her way for taking the gorgeous Colter Ward off the market.
Once back behind the wheel of Colter’s massive truck, she ducked her head, hoping no one recognized her while she attempted to maneuver out of the parking spot. In New York City, she depended on public transportation, walking and the odd Lyft. She hadn’t driven a vehicle in a long time—certainly not a truck that took up the entire road.
When she arrived back at Colter’s, she found the house empty. Perfect. Standing in Colter’s kitchen, she opened her Spotify account and played her pop songs playlist. As Lady Gaga’s voice filled the kitchen, she shut out the world, her bleeding heart and all the confusion, and she did what always made her feel better—she began cooking.
It wasn’t until the meatballs were simmering in the spaghetti sauce on the stove and someone cleared their throat that she realized she wasn’t alone anymore.
She turned around on a gasp, holding the spoon in her hand like a knife that would never protect her.
Colter leaned a shoulder against the wooden beam separating the kitchen and living room, crossing his arms over his strong chest. “Sorry to interrupt your dance party.”
She blushed all the way up to her eyeballs, hurrying to turn the Michael Jackson song down. “How much did you see?”
“All of it,” he said, grinning devilishly. “Liked it, too.”
She blushed for an entirely different reason now, suddenly becoming aware of the dirt smudging his face and hands, the outdoorsy scent clinging to him. And that they were very much alone.
“What’s all this for?” he asked, gesturing to the snickerdoodle cookies cooling on the counter. Plus, the dirty pots and pans in the sink for the spaghetti dinner.
“I talked to Brock today,” she explained, cringing at the mess she’d left. “When I’m upset, I cook.”
He studied her. Then he smiled. “Let me take a quick shower, then I’ll help you clean up.”
Him. In. The. Shower. “Okay, yeah, sounds great. Spaghetti will be ready in a half an hour.”
“Excellent.”
While he headed off down the hallway, instead of imagining what Colter looked like soaking wet, with water beads trailing down his six-pack, she began cleaning up the mess.
By the time he returned from his shower, wearing gray jogging pants—that should be illegal for hot men to wear for the way they accentuated every masculine thing about him—and a black T-shirt with the ranch’s logo on the front, she had washed up most of the messy kitchen.
Though he still grabbed the drying cloth and sidled next to her, beginning to dry and put away the dishes. “Heard you had some driving issues today,” he said with a smirk.
“You did not,” she gasped, splashing water into the sink.
He nodded, chuckling. “I got some complaints today about a slow driver holding up traffic.”
“For real?” she countered, aghast. “Do people have nothing better to do than call you and complain?”
His mouth twitched. “I assume they thought you worked for me.”
“Still, driving slowly isn’t a terrible thing.”
“Except for the people needing to get somewhere on time.”
She flicked water at him, and he laughed easily, in a way that she never would have dreamed she could’ve made him laugh. Which got her thinking... “Can I ask you a personal question?”
He took a pan from the sink and began drying it. “Sure.”
“You divorced a year ago. You’re unattached, free to do whatever you want, so why, when I saw you in the bar that first night, were you so against the idea of a woman’s attention? Most men in your situation would take full advantage of ladies chasing after them.”
“Most men haven’t stepped into a multimillion-dollar ranch they need to head up.”
She scrubbed at a crusty spot on the saucepan. “So, you’re not looking to date because you’re too busy?”
He hesitated, giving her a long look. “Is the journalist asking me or the woman?”
“The woman,” she said immediately. Before she realized she was edging the line of breaking their fake relationship’s rules.
Regardless, he answered, “I’m not against the idea of dating again. I still want to grow old with someone and look back on my life knowing I did things right. Family has always mattered to me, and that hasn’t changed.”
“I sense a but in there.”
Another hesitation. This time, the silence dragged on until he finally bowed his head to the pan he was drying. “But I’m not good at love.”
Hoping he saw she understood, she agreed, “I’m not very good at it, either.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” he countered, opening a big drawer and placing the pan inside. “In your case, it seems you were blindsided by an insecure asshole who mishandled your heart.”
“Yeah, well, I could say that in your case, it seems that you gave all of your heart to someone, and even that was not enough.”
He snorted a laugh, flipping the towel onto his shoulder. “I suppose you could say that, but I’m sure I have fault in there somewhere, too.”
She returned the smile. “And I’m sure I’m at some fault in my situation, too.”
He leaned a hip against the counter, folding his arms. “How could you possibly be at fault for someone cheating on you?”
“I still haven’t figured that out,” she admitted, “but honestly, I haven’t really figured out anything. I just packed for this trip and left all of that stuff back home.”
She handed him the saucepan, and as he began drying it, he asked, “Did you suspect Brock was cheating?”
“No, and I think that was the hardest part. I had no idea anything was wrong. I’d been planning our wedding, so blind to everything.”
“How did you find out?”
“His secretary, the woman he was cheating with, called me.” It had been the hardest phone call she’d ever received in her life. Her soul had left her body that day, and only now was it beginning to feel like it was coming back. “I guess he’d been telling her that he was leaving me, but then she saw the wedding invitation and realized he’d been lying to her, too.”
