Cowboys Don't Buy Their Bride at Auction

by Jessie Gussman

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  COWBOYS DON'T BUY THEIR BRIDE AT AUCTION

  First edition. September 27, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Jessie Gussman.

  Written by Jessie Gussman.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Cowboys Don't Buy Their Bride at Auction (Sweet Water Ranch Billionaire Cowboys, #8)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Trigger Warning: sensitive content, on page but not graphic, for anyone who has ever lost a child.

  There is also a fade-to-black scene, necessary for the plot, between an unmarried couple.

  Chapter 1

  Boone hadn’t done much line dancing in his life. Especially in North Dakota. But the harvest crew he worked on had spent more than a little time in Texas. Sometimes rainy days could drag, especially when six or eight men were stuck in a camper together.

  He had to say, though, he’d never line-danced to classical music.

  Not in Texas. Not in North Dakota.

  But his brother Clay’s wedding marked the first.

  He’d been on his way to ask about the notice he’d just seen on the gym door about the Sweet Water Ranch, and a woman, being up for auction, and he hadn’t intended to get sidetracked. But his good friend Abner had been surrounded by pretty much all the kids in attendance, most of whom Boone knew, and as Boone walked across the gymnasium floor to find his mother, his niece, Gina, had stepped out of line and grabbed his hand.

  What was a man to do?

  Maybe another, different kind of man could ignore his niece’s pleading eyes. But he couldn’t. Not today. Not on this special day of all days when her mother and father were finally getting married. It was the happiest day of Gina’s little life so far. Boone couldn’t spoil it.

  Abner’s eyes glinted as Boone stepped into line, dragged by Gina. Boone ignored him.

  It might be Clay’s wedding, but neither Clay nor his new wife, Reina, was pretentious, and Boone was dressed semi casually in new jeans and cowboy boots. A simple, dark blue button-down completed the outfit he’d worn as best man. Reina hadn’t made anyone in the bridal party wear anything fancy, and Clay hadn’t cared. He’d just wanted to be married.

  Boone followed Abner’s moves. They weren’t quite the same as Boone remembered for this particular sequence, but like everything else today, it was more about having some relaxed fun than about showing off. So, he turned, clapped, and slid, more concerned about making Gina smile than about having the exact right moves.

  If Gina’s giggles and happy smiles were any indication, she was just thrilled her uncle was beside her, making a fool out of himself.

  Hey, for Gee Gee, Boone didn’t mind looking foolish.

  The boy on the other side of him, maybe a little older than Gina, wasn’t quite as happy. He danced a little more stiffly. Of course, with the monkey suit the kid was wearing—who else but a mother would dress her son that way—Boone couldn’t blame him. It made his neck itch just looking at that stiff collar and tie.

  On the other side of that kid, Boone recognized a boy about the same age, Vinton Eastler. He looked a lot more relaxed than the stiff boy in the monkey suit, even if he was about three moves behind the rest of the line.

  Boone slid, stomped, and clapped, exaggerating the dip of his knee and shaking his hind end, making Gee Gee laugh, which had been his goal, but bumping the boy beside him, which had not. The boy mumbled a formal “excuse me” with a short glance at Boone’s eyes before continuing to dance.

  “No problem, bub. My fault. My rear got away from me.” Boone winked before turning with a stomp.

  The kid blinked. Then he grinned and let out a small chortle.

  Boone guessed the kid had never been to a wedding quite like this before. Or maybe he’d just never line-danced to Beethoven before, either.

  The song ended, and the kids laughed and clapped, surrounding Abner and begging for him to lead another. There were even some adults who clapped, and a few moseyed over, like they might dance the next one.

  Boone didn’t know much about classical music, but he was pretty sure they weren’t going to get two songs in a row that would make country line dancing possible, but apparently some of the other guests were more optimistic.

  He fist-bumped Gina, and on the pullback and explosion, he elbowed someone behind him. “Sorry about that,” he said as he turned, expecting it to be the boy again, thinking to get something more than a stiff giggle out of him this time.

  But the woman he’d elbowed ignored him. “Come back to the table, Spencer. You need to finish your meal.”

  The slender lady had a cultured tone with just a hint of New York City.

  Boone’s arm buzzed, and his heart turned and stomped.

  “But I want you to dance with me first, Mom.”

  Mom.

  Boone shoved his heart back where it belonged. Not interested in a married woman.

  The woman snorted. “Hardly.”

  Her hand, with long, tapered, perfectly polished fingers, was on the boy’s shoulder. She was wearing rings, but none on the finger that mattered.

  The music had started, and to his left, the line had shifted. Boone glanced up, recognizing the particular steps that Abner was leading the kids, and adults, in. On the other side, Vinton had pulled who Boone assumed to be his older sister and her husband into the line. From the way they were stumbling around, Boone would guess neither one of them had ever spent time in a Texas roadhouse. But they were game, he could give them that.

  “Please, Mom?”

  The subtle scent that shifted past Boone’s nose reminded him of money and class, shimmering lights and expensive sheets.

  Nothing that would normally interest him.

  But he couldn’t seem to step away, and he did something he normally never did.

  He butted in.

  “Come on, lady. It looks a little more complicated than what it is. Plus, the idea is to let loose and have a little fun.”

  Her lips buttoned down tight. With her upswept hair and fancy dress that dipped in the front and flowed around her legs like a whisper, he doubted she’d planned on coming today, letting loose, and having fun.

  Man, for some strange reason, he hoped that bare finger meant exactly what it was supposed to, despite the boy beside her.

  “If you dance with us, just once,” the boy glanced over at Boone, like they were two against one, “I’ll even eat the skunkages you wanted me to.”

  “They’re Brussels sprouts,” the woman said stiffly, shifting her nose up.

  Boone snorted. The reception was potluck, not the first such reception he’d attended. Still, he’d never heard of anyone bringing Brussels sprouts to a wedding. But he’d really never heard of anyone calling them “skunkages.”

  “Good name,” he told the boy. He looked back at the woman. “I’ll eat mine too, if you dance with us.”

  Her lips twitched. Good. She had a sense of humor. He had to admit a certain amount of reserve attracted him—he wasn’t going to think of Angela and her wedding several weeks ago—even if he no longer believed any wo
man was exactly what she seemed.

  “Whether you do, or whether you don’t, eat your Brussels sprouts is none of my concern.” The lady raised her brow at him before focusing back on her son. He was speaking before she could.

  “Just one dance. Please, Mom?” The boy took hold of the lady’s hand and bounced a little, making her dress shimmer.

  That scent, elusive and expensive, drifted by again. Boone wanted to grab it, hold it, and examine it. Funny how it twisted his brain and made him want to touch the fancy lady.

  “It’s not as hard as it looks. I’ll help you.”

  The boy gave him a grateful grin. Normally, Boone wouldn’t even consider doing what he did next, without even thinking about it.

  He took the lady’s hand and spun her so she stood at his side.

  He was pretty sure that line dances had names, but he didn’t have a clue what they were. He wasn’t that into it. But, thankfully, he and Abner had learned together, and he recognized the sequence that Abner had started. One they’d done a million times and one of the easiest ones to learn.

  He’d never done it backward, though.

  But he stepped and spun, snagging her other hand and starting the heel-toe sequence with the opposite foot he normally would.

  Probably when someone was teaching another person to line dance, they did it side by side. That’s how he and the rest of the harvest crew he’d been on had learned. But he couldn’t resist the urge to touch the fancy lady, so, with both of her cool, slender hands in his much larger, much rougher ones, he danced backward, calling the moves but doing the opposite.

  “Heel, heel, toe, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe.”

  He was halfway through before she even lifted her foot. He wasn’t sure if she was going to go along with him or not. Subconsciously he knew it would be embarrassing if she got angry and stormed away, dragging her son behind her. Or, maybe worse, slapping his face, like he probably deserved, then storming away.

  But there had been something in him, or maybe a subtle sign from the lady—the slightly lifted mouth or the little tightening around her eyes that bespoke of insecurity—that had told him she wanted to dance but didn’t have the confidence to do it on her own.

  Not that the lady wasn’t confident. She oozed it. But a lot of times, with people in general, the outside hid a softer, more vulnerable inside.

  He thought it was definitely true for the fancy lady.

  They went through the sequence, with the grapevines and quarter turns, six or seven times before the lady caught on—much faster than he had when he started, he had to admit.

  He could be wrong, but he guessed the fancy lady could dance the kind of dance that was actually meant to go with the kind of music they were moving to.

  He wouldn’t have a clue. But he could see why a man might be inspired to learn. Line dancing didn’t get them nearly close enough. He wanted some kind of dance where he pulled her waist to his and their hips moved in time while their breath mingled...

  He missed a step. The fancy lady arched a slender brow at him and tilted her chin just so.

  He grinned, imagining she wouldn’t be quite so cool if she’d known what he’d been thinking.

  She didn’t smile back, but her look softened some. Her movements were becoming less robotic and more fluid. Another few songs to practice, and she’d be a good dancer, no doubt. Better than anyone he’d ever been on the floor with.

  He forced himself to let go of one hand, but he kept hold of her left as he spun around in time, beside her where he belonged.

  Boone had never danced while holding a woman’s hand. His little brother Mav was the flirt in the family. More than once he’d gone up to a complete stranger and offered his hand. Boone had never seen the point. On the harvest crew, they moved around so much, and worked such long hours, the chance of seeing the same woman twice, let alone more, was almost nonexistent. Why bother?

  Plus, there was always Angela in the back of his head.

  But as of three weeks ago, she was wearing another man’s ring. So, why not dance with the fancy lady with the swirly dress and the scent that made him feel like he could float.

  He’d dance first. Then, he’d talk to his mother in a bit about the woman who was being auctioned off, along with her ranch, in two weeks. He’d thought owning Sweet Water Ranch was only a pipe dream, and maybe it still was, since if there were people with money there, he’d probably not be able to touch it. But it was worth it to him to try.

  Fancy lady or no, as long as the woman up for auction didn’t have a beard, or a six-shooter strapped to her hip, Boone was bidding on her. Not for the woman. One of those was pretty much like another. But for the Sweet Water Ranch.

  THERE WEREN’T TOO MANY men who would push past the cool façade Roxie Peterson used as a shield. The tall cowboy, with his crisp blue shirt and dark blue daring eyes, hadn’t even seemed to notice it.

  He’d grabbed her hands and taught her to line dance, like she wasn’t giving him her haughtiest attitude.

  She was glad he had. She’d been trained in formal ballroom dancing and taken ten years of ballet as a child. It wasn’t hard to pick up the steps.

  She didn’t usually have such a magnetic partner.

  Ha. She’d never had a partner like the cowboy who was now beside her, although he hadn’t dropped her hand.

  His fingers were rough and dry as they held hers. Nowhere close to the soft, slightly warm and damp grips she was used to. Bryan’s hands.

  She shivered. The cowboy beside her noticed immediately and glanced down, never missing a step.

  She ignored him. In two weeks, she was being sold to the highest bidder, according to the stipulations in her rather eccentric uncle’s will.

  Honestly, she didn’t really care. She’d done the married thing.

  Big fail.

  How could being auctioned off be any worse?

  At least that way, she’d keep Sweet Water Ranch, which she’d grown to love, and she’d have a safe, if slightly wild, place to raise her son.

  The will stipulated she had to auction herself off and get married. It did not stipulate that she had to open her bedroom door to whomever won the auction. Her lawyer had assured her of that much. If he hadn’t, she would have given up the ranch, and pride be darned, she’d have gone begging to her brother to keep her until she got a job. Although what in the world she’d do was anyone’s guess.

  Teach dance lessons, maybe.

  The cowboy beside her moved with a fluid grace that was unexpected. He smelled like the big North Dakota sky, full of sunshine and promise. And his grin caused her heart to float like a cloud in that sky.

  But she wasn’t falling for a handsome man with smooth moves and a cute grin. She hoped her heart was paying attention. It jumped every time the man’s hand slid across hers.

  She wasn’t free to act on her feelings, even if she wanted to. She’d committed to selling herself and her ranch at the auction in two weeks. Come hell or high water, that’s what she’d be doing.

  She stumbled as nerves clutched her insides and the walls of the gymnasium seemed to close in on her. She could do it. She would do it.

  “Hey? Are you okay?” The man’s voice, deep and filled with concern, pushed into her consciousness.

  It eased the tightness in her chest a little but not nearly enough. She gasped for breath. “I’ll be fine. I need to step out for a moment.”

  She expected to slip away from him and duck out the side door behind them, into the darkened hallway and the restroom around the corner.

  But she didn’t have a chance to slip away, because he pulled her to the small door. Her heart pounded in her chest, and blood swished through her ears. She needed to get out, get some space. Get ahold of herself.

  She’d been married before and survived. Bryan had turned out to be a stranger after their marriage. The auction wasn’t something she hadn’t already been through.

  But she hadn’t had Spencer.

  The door clac
ked. She barely noticed when he pulled her out. The hallway, dark and cool, helped her heated body and racing heart immediately.

  The cowboy still held her hand, but he didn’t impose on her space. She took slow, deep breaths, knowing the ball of wire in her stomach would loosen soon. Most of the time, she was fine, knowing that a serial killer was unlikely to have the money necessary to buy her ranch. And her. It would be a hardworking man. Probably an older one who’d had a lifetime to accumulate the necessary cash. He probably wouldn’t even be interested in a wife, and marrying her would be something he had to do to get Sweet Water.

  She was fine with that. The house was big enough for them each to have a wing to themselves. And when she inherited the money—after she’d been married for a year—she could always send Spencer to boarding school, in Switzerland, if necessary. If the man proved to be someone she didn’t want her son around.

  They just had to make it a year. The ranch was hers as soon as the auction was over and she was married. The money would be theirs, one year from that date, if they were still married and still living in North Dakota.

  Stipulations that her lawyer could fight. But not without a lot of money. Money she didn’t have.

  She took one last breath and lifted her chin. The cowboy’s eyes, dark gray in the dim light of the hallway, grabbed hers. Concern covered his face.

  It eased some as her face lifted. He must have seen her determination. His own face cracked into a grin. “Haven’t danced with too many women, but that’s the first time I’ve almost killed one.”

  His voice was smooth and sent a shiver tiptoeing up her spine. She fought it. She’d grown up rubbing elbows with wealthy business associates, not only at business functions but also at charity galas and on million-dollar yachts, gated estates, and private islands. One suave cowboy, from Podunk, nowhere, standing in a dark public school hallway, was not going to bother her. Not even a little.

  The shiver bumped into the back of her skull and trucked back down.

  She tossed her head. “I wasn’t even close to being dead.”