by Cole, Jagger
All Deirdre wanted was more. More money, more pretentious, expensive shit she could post about on fuckin’ Instagram. More credit cards, more cars, and as it turns out, more new dick.
I’d had hunches for a while. But hunches became reality the day I walked in on her with one of my business partner’s shrimpy excuse for a cock down her throat. Or, if we’re being anatomically correct, probably barely tickling her back molars.
I doubt many divorces are “clean.” But ours was about as messy as it can get. Thank God we didn’t have kids. But Deirdre came after everything—and I do mean everything. She and Lorne—that would be Mr. Baby-Dick—teamed up to try and take me out. Lorne has money, and he used it to buy her a top-of-the-line lawyer as good as mine.
The fight was messy, but I won in the end. Barely. Sort of. I lost control of Mare-Mate as the head of the company. But I do still own a hefty number of shares they’ll never get from me. And I kept my ranch. That was the important part.
Except keeping it comes with strings attached. I got to keep my land, up to five years from our divorce. It’s called an “heir clause.” Basically, it gives me time to have a kid who’ll inherit the land. If that happens within five years, Deirdre and Lorne lose any claim. If I don’t, I have to sell and split it with Satan and her pencil-dicked sugar-daddy.
The one extra provision in my favor is that if I’m at least engaged within those five years, the runway gets extended two more years. The only problem? Five years is up next month. Given that I’m passing out naked and wasted alone in guest beds, you’d do well betting that I’m very much single.
Last night, while fixing the disposal, Satan called to rub it in my face. Worse, she’s here, in Cherry Falls. She obviously wouldn’t need to physically be here to rip my land away from me. But she’s here to lord it over me in person.
I’ve never let her get to me like that. But last night? Damn. Last night, I walked out and looked at my ranch and just felt like shit. So one drink turned into three, and then five. Then I stopped counting or using a glass.
I vaguely remember the goddamn disposal giving me one last fight and spewing rancid, stagnant water all over me. I remember stripping off to my birthday suit to finish the job without smelling like shit.
There’s a very, very faint memory of quoting Braveheart at the disposal after I bested it. But the rest is all haze. Judging from my surroundings, it seems I finished the bottle and opted to sleep here instead of walking the whole forty feet back to my house.
Not my finest moment. And now, my new vet’s just walked in on me showing the full monty. I glance down and groan. I’ve even got at least a half-mast of morning wood. Wonderful. She’s probably on her way back to town to file a report and make me a sex offender.
With my head still pounding like a motherfucker, I jump out of bed and lunge for the door. My clothes are still a wet heap in the corner. But I grab a towel from the bathroom and bolt out the door. I stumble and hobble my way around the side of the house, just in time to see an ass that looks pretty much perfect in denim. Except the girl attached to that ass in those jeans is yanking a rusty looking truck door open.
“Hang on!” I wince when I yell. But I keep jogging towards her. “Hang on now!”
She whirls. Her lip catches in her teeth. Her cheeks turn pink. Her eyes drop right down to, well, it’s pretty obvious. But then she blushes even more and quickly looks away. Even though I’m wearing a towel.
“I’m—I’m so sorry,” she blurts. “I did not mean to… I mean—I didn’t see…”
“You’re Tansy?”
Fuck. If this is Tansy—my new live-in vet—I’m in fucking trouble. The girl is stunningly gorgeous: long, dark brown hair, big blue eyes with dark lashes, and these full lips that make my pulse quicken. And if that wasn’t enough, the t-shirt tied off at the waist and the jeans that fit her curves and ass like a second skin finish the kill.
She glances back at me cautiously. She nods, still biting her lip. I wipe my hand on my towel and then extend it, the other still gripping my towel shut.
“Colt.”
She swallows. Her tongue wets her full, pouty lips. Her eyes look like they’re doing their damnedest not to look down again. She keeps her hands to herself.
“Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Patton, but I need—” she wrinkles her brow. “I think this was a bad idea.”
“Look you caught me at a…” I frown. “I didn’t mean for you to walk in on that.”
“Well, whatever you meant with being naked in my bed, it’s really none of my business. I just don’t think this is—”
“I mean, if we’re sticking to facts, it’s technically my bed.”
She arches a brow. I groan at myself. Yeah, I’ve just flashed her the full log and berries, and now I’m splitting hairs?
“Right, okay,” she frowns as she turns back to the truck. “Well anyways, goodbye.”
For some reason, her just leaving like this ticks me off.
“Oh, lighten up,” I grunt.
Tansy whirls back. And that sassy brow of hers arches right back up.
“Excuse me?”
I might be off reservation here. But I stick to my guns anyways. “I said lighten up,” I mutter. “Look, I didn’t mean for you to walk in on that. I apologize, and that’s not a usual morning for me.” I frown. “I had a rough night.”
“Oh, really?” She smiles, her words dripping with sarcasm.
I roll my eyes. “Look, it’s just a dick, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve seen plenty.”
Instantly, I wince. Shit. Foot, meet mouth. Get fucking comfortable.
Tansy’s jaw drops like a rock. Her eyes widen in—rightfully—appalled shock. “Wonderful to meet you, Mr. Patton,” she says tightly through pursed lips. “Have a nice life. Prick.”
She steps into the truck and slides behind the wheel. She yanks the rusty door shut as I groan. Aside from her being stunningly hot, I really do need her. Chance’s problem needs addressing, now, and Taylor doesn’t have the time. I could afford to bring in a specialist, but I sincerely doubt I’d get anyone here inside of a month.
Bottom line, I need Tansy.
“Look, I’m sorry. You caught me on a real bad day,” I sigh and walk towards the truck as she starts it. “Can we just start over and—”
My toe stubs against a rock in the driveway. I wince, and my hands fly out on instinct to stop myself from tripping.
My towel drops to the ground.
Tansy gasps. Her face goes bright red as her eyes drop to my dick again. She blurts out a little “eep” sound before she shoves the stick into reverse, whips her head around, and guns it. Dust skitters and billows around me as she goes roaring backwards back down the driveway.
And there I am, butt naked, surround by the dust of her leaving.
This morning can go right ahead and fuck itself.
3
Tansy
It’s a combination of pride and desperation that has me sleeping in the pickup truck, parked in the veterinary office parking lot after hours. For one, where else am I going to go? Cassidy is out of town visiting an old friend of hers for the rest of the week. I’m sure I could call Dr. Watts and explain the situation, and he’d be happy to put me up.
But that’s where pride comes in. Pride and also maybe a little embarrassment. I mean, he’s been nothing but amazing and nice. But he is my new boss. It’s not exactly a great look to say “oh by the way, that job you helped line up for me isn’t going to work and I also don’t have a place to live or sleep right now” to your new boss. Or at least, not if you’re looking to inspire confidence in your new boss that he made the right move in hiring you.
I find a couple of motels nearish-by on my phone. But again, I’m basically broke. Two-hundred bucks a night isn’t exactly in the budget right now.
So, after I spend the day poking around downtown Cherry Falls, I head to the veterinary clinic. I find a nice, quiet spot in the back of the parking lot under some overhanging branc
hes and get cozy. I even manage to pick up the Wi-Fi from the office, so hey, there’s Netflix.
But for a while, I toss and turn. For one, it’s a freaking pickup truck bench seat, not a bed. And two, Cherry Falls seems like a super safe place. But still… single young woman sleeping alone in a car in a parking lot? That’s got “unsolved murder” written all over it.
But the third big thing that keeps me awake is, well…
I blush. It’s a big thing alright—one that I can’t seem to get out of my head. Not to mention the freaking gorgeous man it was—and I’m assuming still is—attached to.
I bolted because of the obvious. I mean it’s not every day you walk in on something like that. It’s not like I was offended or horrified or anything. Really, it was kind of the opposite if I’m being honest with myself. Colt Patton is a hunk, in every sense of the word. I didn’t run away because I was grossed out or anything. I ran because…
I frown in the darkness of the truck. Honestly, I guess I have no fucking idea. I groan. I definitely could have handled all of that better. I could have taken it in stride, and I’d have a job and a bed right now.
Colt sounded like he wanted to explain about the way I found him. But hell, even if the explanation is “because I felt like it,” so what? It’s his freaking guest house, not mine. Sure, if I was already living there and walked in on that, there’d be some boundary issues. But today was just bad timing or something, I guess.
I blush. Maybe great timing, actually.
Eventually, I quit with the Netflix and try and quiet my head. It’s warm out, so even with the perpetually half-open window, I’m comfortable in my clothes with a balled-up hoodie for a pillow and another sweater draped over me like a blanket.
Slowly, the embarrassment of the day fades. Eventually, I sleep.
In the morning, I wake early with the sunrise. Which is good, because it’s not like I need Dr. Watts coming to work and finding me sleeping in the truck he gave me. Not a great look.
I head to a coffee shop downtown to try and figure this all out. One giant mug of strong and black later, and the night in the truck is behind me. But the first order of business is figuring exactly what the fuck my plan is for the next month. The options are a little stark.
I have a job at the clinic, but it doesn’t officially start for four more weeks. Again, I could probably talk to Dr. Watts and explain the situation, but no freaking way. But without the gig at Colt’s ranch, I have no place to stay and a pathetic bank account that’s only going to get sadder to look at it.
Staying with Cassidy would be a lesson in sucking up my pride. But it’s an option when she gets back. But that leaves three or maybe four days of being effectively homeless. And even then, what am I going to say about the job at Cherry Blossom Ranch? I can’t hide that I literally ran away from it from her. She works there.
For a hot second, I think about going home. But then I catch myself. No, New York is not home anymore. And I’m definitely not going back there.
So… now what?
I hog the table at the coffee shop nursing an order of avocado toast and the last of my coffee until the barista starts to give me the stink eye. After that, I move on to the town library. That eats up two hours. Then it’s perusing a bookstore. There’s another thirty minutes. A clothing boutique eats up another fifteen.
After all of that, it’s barely noon, and I’m starting to lose my mind.
I find a bench downtown to plop down on, and I groan. How the hell am I going to do this for the next four days? Suddenly, across the street from me, a bar called “Prichard’s” flicks on its lights.
I decide to take it as a sign. A divine calling to drown my troubles at twelve-thirty in the afternoon, if you will.
I circle back around to the truck to covertly change into some fresher clothes. Then it’s off to Pritchard’s.
I blink in the sudden darkness when I walk in from the daylight. The place smells a little stale inside, and it’s a little divey. But that’s perfect. For my wallet, at least. As my eyes adjust, I take two steps towards the bar, when suddenly my eyes focus on the figure sitting there already. He looks up with a frown, and I groan.
“Of all the gin joints, huh?” Colt sits back in his stool and eyes me with those cool, dark eyes.
I blush heatedly. Instantly, all of the filthy thoughts I had about him last night come rushing back. But I try and cover it all with a sarcastic roll of my eyes and a big healthy dose of sass.
“Getting wasted again?”
He smirks. “Funny. I’m hiding, actually.”
“From sobriety?”
Colt rakes a hand over the stubble on his jaw as he shakes his head. “You do comedy, city girl?”
I blush when he cracks that gorgeous, heart-racing smile at me.
“How about you, doc? What are you doing in a bar at this bright and sunny hour?”
I frown, trying to figure out a way to phrase “getting wasted to avoid my troubles” in a way that doesn’t paint me as a complete fuck up.
Colt sighs when I don’t answer immediately. “Honestly, I’m surprised your head doesn’t hurt.”
I wrinkle my brow. “From?”
“From banging it on the ceiling in here. What with the high horse you like riding around on.”
I grin. I try not to, but I can’t help it.
Damn.
“I was…” I shrug. “Exploring.”
“Taking a poll for the best white wine spritzer with a splash of grenadine in town?”
I laugh as I shake my head. “Who’s got jokes now?”
“Oh I’m just getting started, darlin’.”
My face heats at that “darlin’. My heart beats a little faster, even if I want to slap myself for it.
“For the record, I drink grown-up drinks, thank you very much.”
He smirks again and glances down the bar at the bartender who looks like he’s swiping up a storm on Tinder.
“Well, if it’s a no to the white wine spritzer, what are you drinking?”
I chew on my lip. Colt nods at the seat next to him. “Or sit wherever. But I’m buying. My way of apologizing.”
I can feel my face practically radiating heat. “You… I mean...” I frown. “It’s your house, Mr. Patton.”
“Could we maybe skip the Mr. Patton shit? It’s just Colt. I’m not your high school math teacher.”
I giggle as I step over to the bar and take a seat on the stool next to him.
“Apology accepted.”
He chuckles. “I mean it is my house. A man has a right to—”
When I groan and roll my eyes, he laughs. “I’m just fucking with you, don’t worry, doc.” He turns to eye me. I shift and squirm in my seat under his eyes.
“What?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Who says I’m not taking that white wine spritzer poll?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I mean here in Cherry Falls. What’d they do, fill up on vets in New York City?”
I frown as I look down and shrug. “Needed a change.”
“Yeah?” He frowns. “What was his name?”
My head whips up to stare at him. “Uh, what?”
“The guy you’re here in Cherry Falls running from.”
I frown. “Who says this has anything to do with a guy?”
“Every pretty girl in the history of pretty girls who’s said ‘I just need a change,’” Colt chuckles. “That’s who.”
The bartender final puts Tinder down and notices the new face. He strolls over and nods at me. “Yeah?”
“Uh… I need a second.”
He shrugs and walks back down the bar.
“Jeff,” I mutter. “His name is Jeff.”
“Sounds like a dick.”
I giggle. “Basically.” I turn to let myself really look at Colt. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What are you doing in here at this hour?”
He looks like
he’s about to make a joke. But instead, his face hardens a little, and he frowns into his drink.
“Hiding.”
I snort. “Yeah, okay.”
When he doesn’t answer, I turn back to him. My brow furrows. “Wait, seriously?”
“Yep.”
“From who?”
“My ex-wife, Deirdre.”
A stabbing feeling takes my breath away. But when it passes just as quickly as it came on, I shake my head in confusion. Why the ever-loving fuck did hearing that Colt has an ex-wife make me violently jealous?
Jesus, I do need a drink.
Both of us sit in silence for another half minute or so before Colt grunts. He nods at the glass in front of him. “You know, this is soda water, and I don’t actually typically make a habit of getting fucked up like that. For the record. But…” he turns to eye me, sending a shiver down my back. “I think we both need a real drink right now. And I do mean right now.”
I laugh quietly as he turns and flags down the bartender.
“Two…” he glances at me. “If it’s not gonna be white wine spritzers—”
“Whiskey works.”
Colt smiles curiously and raises a brow. But he nods. “Well, you heard the lady. Thanks, Mike.”
A couple seconds later, we’ve each got glasses of decent whiskey in front of us.
“Cheers,” Colt grunts and knocks his glass to mine.
“A real pair we make, huh?”
He chuckles. “So what’d he do?”
I swallow a sip and turn. “Hmm?”
“This asshole Jeff. What’d he do to piss you off and send you hauling out here to Cherry Falls?”
I glare at my drink. “He slept with my best—” I frown. “My former best friend. Plus, about ten other girls, I guess. Oh, and then he threatened to break my nose when I told him we were done.”
Colt’s charming grin evaporates. His lips curl in a snarl as he shakes his head and frowns. “Christ. Sounds like a fucking prize.”
I shrug. “What’d she do?”
“Who?”
