The Moose Shifter's Fake Wife: A Steamy Shifter Rom-Com

by Candace Ayers

  “No.”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Nope.”

  “No, Sheriff, y’ain’t.”

  Gladys waved her finger at me. “You’re the law, Clint. Ain’t it your job to do the investigating?”

  I scowled. “It’s not my job to feed the gossip mill.”

  Gladys folded her arms over her ample bosom and pursed her lips. “If’n you ask me, I think it’s the sheriff’s job to check on matters pertaining to the safety and welfare of the town and its inhabitants.”

  A frustrated breath whistled through my clenched teeth and sailed over my lips. “None of you folks like your peace disrupted or Norms nosing into your business.”

  “That’s different! Pappy was family.”

  It was at this point that I knew trying to reason was a waste of breath. I threw my hands in the air.

  “Fine! Okay, I’ll go and have a look-see. But if the guy wants to guard his privacy, he’s not breaking any laws—not Norm laws or Variant laws. And y’all will just hafta let him be.”

  My gaze swept the room, making stern eye contact with each of the townsfolk to let them know that I meant business. The moment I turned and stepped back out into the noonday sun, I heard the ruckus inside start up again.

  I understood. We’d all known Pappy for over thirty-four years, ever since Detachment Day, the day we were released from the facility that bore us and given our walking papers. I’d been six years old at the time, but others of the species had been grown, some only a few years younger than Pappy. Even though he was a Norm and we were Variants, we all considered him one of us. Hell, he practically founded our town. None of our kind had had a clue how to survive outside of captivity. Without Pappy to teach us, lord only knew what we would have become.

  My boots kicked up dust as I marched across Rawhide Road toward the courthouse. Just as I approached Bristlecone Boulevard, old Miss Temple came racing around the corner in her eighties’ model Mustang convertible and nearly plowed me down.

  I leaped out of the way. “Dammit, Shirley!”

  “Sorry, Sheriff!” she singsonged.

  Miss Temple was a rhino Variant and blind as a bat. Even with her thick glasses, she’d run a man down and not even know it. When she was in her animal, though, Shirley had one hell of an impressive horn.

  “This is your last warning. Ease up on that gas pedal or you’ll find your driving privileges suspended!”

  She waved me off, and I continued to the sheriff’s station, muttering under my breath. The station wasn’t air-conditioned, so I usually kept the door open to catch a breeze. All’s I had to do was reach my arm in and fetch my truck keys that hung on a nail just inside the screen door.

  Firing up my Dodge Ram three-quarter-ton service truck, I swung out on the road and headed away from town. My elbow hung out the window, and my eyes squinted at the sky—bright blue with billowy clouds. The cacti stretched high, and a few buzzards circled. We were due for a good rain. I knew the ranch could probably use it.

  Pappy’s ranch was about a fifteen-minute drive south, and when I finally turned onto the potholed access road leading to the house, another twinge of emotion socked me right in the gut.

  I had to admit, I was as curious as the rest of the town about this long-lost heir of Pappy’s. He was an out-of-towner, as well as a Norm, so the whole town had been hoping he’d just put the place up for sale remotely. We agreed that as soon as it went on the market, the town of Rattlesnake would buy the ranch because the place meant so much to all of us.

  I drove slowly up the bumpy drive and parked just opposite the front porch. The barley was growing tall. This Samuel Jackson was probably a city slicker. I wondered if he even knew how to harvest it.

  The sound of Pappy’s old coonhound, barking from inside was quickly followed by the soft murmur of a feminine voice. Just as I was about to knock, the door swung open.

  My jaw hit the ground.

  A woman.

  Not just any woman, a woman so stunning, the sight of her stole the breath clean outta my lungs.

  Chapter 3

  Shay

  The mangy old dog smelled like rot and decay and growled whenever I got near him. But to his credit, he had started barking long before my own ears detected the crunch of tires pulling up out front.

  That was a plus.

  Maybe Cujo would turn out to be a decent watchdog after all.

  Maybe. If he didn’t maul me in my sleep.

  I brushed aside the cracked, yellowed window shade just a hair and nervously peeked out. I’d been alone for six days, and I was fine with that.

  But even alone out in the middle of nowhere, I was always looking over my shoulder, constantly on alert. I doubted anyone could have found me this quickly, but still, my fear was rational enough. There were undoubtedly people looking for me.

  It was someone in a large work-type truck. Nevada plates. A local? I had no idea who would be visiting, or why.

  Then it dawned on me.

  My ad! It had to be someone responding to my ad.

  I’d called into the local newspaper yesterday morning and left a detailed voice message placing an order for a mail-order groom advertisement. I hadn’t expected it to run so soon, but apparently it had.

  I glanced down at my torn, sweaty, manure-stained clothes. I was a mess from a long morning of working the ranch and tending to the animals. I raced to the bathroom, splashed cool water on my face, and ran a brush through my hair, trying to quickly straighten the mess. Not much of an improvement, but it would have to do.

  With what I hoped was a welcoming smile on my face, I pulled the door open. And…

  Holy hotness, Batman!

  My eyes raked up an exquisitely formed male physique. The best I’d ever seen. By the time my gaze reached his face, I’d already taken in his heavily muscled, denim-clad thighs and noticed how his T-shirt stretched so tightly that it barely accommodated the underlying narrow waist, flat abs, broad chest, and massive biceps. His face, though—that was a masterpiece: a square jaw, a hint of blond stubble, plump, kissable lips, a straight nose, a chock of blond hair, and the sexiest blue eyes in existence.

  Beautiful—in a manly, rugged way.

  This was not at all what you expected, was it, Shay?

  Somehow the man’s looks caused the wires in my brain to short-circuit. I knew I was supposed to say something, a greeting, but words escaped me. I couldn’t think, so I just leaned against the doorframe and sighed dreamily.

  How was it that my newspaper ad summoned a man like him? I expected maybe lonely men, probably homely men, and almost certainly men with no other options, but this man did not appear to be any of those things.

  “Gilligan, hush.” His deep voice broke through my stupor, and I straightened when the dog stopped growling immediately.

  “You know the—er, my dog?”

  “Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m certain I haven’t met you, though. A pretty lady like you, I’d remember.”

  Trying my damndest not to giggle like a lunatic, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and stared for several long seconds…until I realized I was just standing there grinning like a fool.

  “I’m Sam! Samantha Jackson.”

  “Sam—antha. I see.” A sexy smile spread across his face, and my ovaries just about exploded. Now it was his turn to stand grinning. Maybe I wasn’t the only one feeling the chemistry here? He seemed to remember himself suddenly and extended a hand. I slid my hand in his and felt the tingle of awareness all the way to my lady bits. “Nice to meet you, Samantha Jackson. I’m Clint Eastwood.”

  I huffed a laugh. “Are you fooling around?

  His brow creased. “No, are you?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously what?”

  Our hands were still clasped, and I wasn’t eager to let go. The tingly warmth of his skin felt too delicious. “Is your name really Clint Eastwood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like the movie star?
”

  He let out an audible breath. “Like the movie star.”

  “Wow, were your parents Dirty Harry fans or something?”

  “Or something.”

  Don’t be rude, Shay. Laughing at someone’s name is not the way to make a good first impression.

  I forced myself to let go of his hand, but only because it was getting weird now. “Um. Okay. So… Would you like to come in? I have a few questions for you, and you probably have some for me. Then we can take a tour of the ranch. Oh, and I’ll show you the bedroom, I’m sure you’d like to take a look at that.”

  Clint frowned. “Bedroom?”

  “Well, yeah. I expect you’ll want to sleep here. I know that I’m a short drive from town, but I can’t imagine you’ll want to commute. Plus, it might look odd. I’ve heard about small towns. People talk.”

  “That they do.” He was still frowning, looking confused, but he followed me through the house.

  His eyes moved around the living space and landed on the record player in the corner. I’d started it when I’d come in for a late breakfast. It played a twangy country-western song by a singer named Hank Williams. Something about being so lonesome he could cry.

  “Okay, so follow me.” He trailed me down the short hall to the back bedroom. “I’ve scrubbed it spick-and-span and washed the bedding. It’s not very big, but it is clean and comfortable. Although, I hadn’t anticipated anyone quite as large—or as well muscled—as you.”

  Eyeing his huge frame, I realized it would be cramped. Maybe I’d need to give him the bigger room, the one I was currently sleeping in.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  He shrugged. “Nice.”

  Sheesh, he was a man of few words. One of those strong silent types. “Well, now that I see you, I’m thinking maybe this room is on the small side. Do you think you can be comfortable here?”

  “Me?”

  “Well, yes, of course you.”

  “’Scuse me, ma’am, but I’m not quite following your train of logic here. Why does it matter if I can be comfortable in the room or not?”

  “Oh.” I hesitated. I’d been clear in the ad. Sex was absolutely not part of the deal. Although… I swept my eyes over the length of him and back again. I’d had no idea that Clint Eastwood here would show up, all hot as sizzling bacon in a frying pan.

  Wait. Did he want to have sex with me? Was that what he was implying? Was he…flirting? My stomach fluttered and heat scorched my cheeks as I studied him through my lashes. He looked to me like a man who probably had plenty of female attention.

  As tempting as Clint was, it really wasn’t a good idea to have our arrangement complicated by hopping into bed together. At least not right away. It was also best to set the ground rules from the get-go.

  “Um, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to share a bed. It might complicate things.”

  “Share a…” He coughed and stepped back. “Come again?”

  I waved my hands in front of me. “You’re right. I’m getting way ahead of myself. We should talk first. Lay out our terms. Good idea. I’m not real polished with this yet. You’re my first.”

  Last too, I hope.

  He remained silent as I led us back to the kitchen, but if the way he looked at me was any indication, I might have sprouted a second head. When I pointed at the counter, he took a seat on one of the stools in front of it and watched me, his blond brows knitted together.

  “Would you like some lemonade?” I poured us each a glass without waiting for a reply. “We’ll just have a beverage, then I’ll show you the barn.”

  I slid his glass across the counter. “So, let’s see, I guess my first question is, why do you want this?”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “I mean, it’s a lot of work. This ranch is nearly impossible for me to handle on my own, and I’m sure it’s not easy work for two people either.”

  He looked utterly baffled, but I had no idea why. “Ms. Jackson, I don’t think we’re on the same page here.”

  What? Had he already written me off so soon? He hadn’t even given me a chance! A bubble of annoyance surfaced, and I responded in my stern, school teacher voice. “Well, Clint, that’s what we’re here to find out. Let’s get to know each other a little better before we make any rash decisions, shall we?”

  “O-kay.”

  “Now…” I snatched the list of questions I’d prepared off the refrigerator. “Next question—do you smoke, chew tobacco, do hard drugs, or drink alcohol?”

  “Uh…no, no, absolutely not, and occasionally.”

  “Okay, then there’s hygiene…” I scanned his chiseled physique. “Well, that looks good. Any contagious diseases?”

  “What?! No!”

  “Ever work a ranch?”

  “Since I was a young ‘un. Now would you mind tellin’ me what this is all about?”

  “We. Are. Getting. To know each other. Your turn. You have questions for me? Fire away.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.

  “Are you an escapee from a mental institution?”

  What kind of a question was that? Rude. The guy was cute but kind of a dick. “No, I’m not. Next question.”

  He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “That’s all I got for now.”

  I tilted my head to the side and bit my lip as I studied him. “Fine, then. I’ll show you the grounds, and then we can discuss marriage.”

  Clint had just taken a sip of his beverage, and spit it back out like a firehose, dousing me in a shower of lemonade.

  “Oh!” I grabbed a kitchen towel and wiped my face. “Do you drink like that often? It’s not a deal breaker or anything. I’m flexible. Maybe I’ll wear a raincoat at mealtimes.”

  “Sorry.” Clint was by my side in a second, taking the towel from me and dabbing my neck and shoulders. “Did you say m-marriage?”

  “Yes, marriage.”

  “Marriage?”

  “Marriage. Why do you keep repeating it?”

  He moved on to my arms and then my stomach, patting away until he finally stilled and stepped back.

  I hated to admit it, but this interview wasn’t going well. The physical attraction was there, but the man clearly had issues communicating. Maybe that wouldn’t be a huge problem. This was a marriage of convenience, so it wasn’t as though I needed to set the bar all that high. As long as he was honest, hardworking, and someone with whom I could develop mutual respect, that was good enough.

  I sighed. I’d see what he thought of the ranch and then we’d go from there. If he thought it was something he’d be willing to invest time and sweat equity in, I’d decide then.

  As we walked out of the house and across the trail that led through the barley to the barn on the other side, we passed the chicken coop that still needed cleaning. I felt a twinge of embarrassment. Why hadn’t I done that earlier?

  Because you didn’t know he was coming, Shay.

  Silently, we continued toward the barn and back pasture. Although the interview wasn’t going well, I had hope that maybe it could still be salvaged.

  A second later, all hope was lost.

  Clint gasped and froze in his tracks, his face contorting in a look of sheer horror.

  “WHAT the holy hell have you done to the cows?!”

  Chapter 4

  Clint

  Pappy’s niece was pretty as all get out, but her marbles were missing. Nothing she said made a lick of sense. I’d let it go at first. Then she proposed to me. Now, even after her explanation about the cows, I still couldn’t quite register what I was seeing.

  Several of them were wearing…daisy chains?

  Some wore flower crowns, others wore flower necklaces. And that wasn’t all. A spotted heifer was wearing what looked like a pair of sunglasses on its head.

  My jaw clenched. My eye twitched.

  Sam beamed with pride. “You have to admit, Bertha does look good in daisies.”

  Un-fucking-believable!

 
“Woman, anyone ever tell you your cornbread ain’t all the way done in the middle?”

  “No, Clint Eastwood, I can honestly say no one has. Anyone ever tell you that you ask strange questions?”

  I scowled down at her. “No. Do you always propose marriage to perfect strangers?”

  “No, only when they answer the ad I put in the paper looking for a husband.”

  “Ad? Husband?”

  “Yes, ad. My advertisement. You know, the one I put in the town newspaper yesterday.”

  “The Rattler Tattler only runs on Wednesdays, and I didn’t see any advertisement for a husband in the last one.” I shifted my weight to lean on the fence. “That is definitely something I’d have noticed.”

  “Wait…” Her jaw dropped and her cheeks turned scarlet. “Isn’t that why you’re here? What do you want if you’re not here about the ad?”

  I shrugged. “I heard Pappy’s great-nephew, Samuel Jackson, had arrived, and I wanted to come introduce myself and welcome him to town.” My eyes ran over her lovely curves. “Though, I’m guessing there was some confusion about that too, since nephew Sam is quite obviously niece Samantha.”

  She covered her face with her hands and groaned. “Oh, ground, please open and swallow me now.”

  As the truth of the situation settled, I bit back a grin. At least it explained why she was showing me her spare bedroom and asking me all kinds of personal questions. Maybe she wasn’t completely crazy. I glanced back at the cows.

  Naw, she was nuts.

  “Oh goodness, there’s my shades! I was wondering where I’d left those.”

  Beside me, Sam scrambled up the fence and then jumped down on the other side before I could stop her.

  I tried to reach for her, but she was already too far away. What the hell was she doing? I watched in horror as she was drowned by the sea of cattle.

  I was stunned stupid for a second, but as soon as I snapped out of it, I hopped the fence myself to go after her. Snaking my way through, I held out my arms to shoo the cows and keep them from getting too close to her. Did she have any clue that what she was doing could get her trampled? The woman was unbelievable.