Auctioned to the Cowboy (Sold to the Naughtier List #8)

Chapter 1

KAYLEIGH

All I want for Christmas is to be anywhere but on this godforsaken ranch begging for a favor. I’d also take the twenty-five grand my piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend stole from me before he skipped town so I didn’t have to resort to such drastic measures to make my final tuition payment.

But I don’t think Santa’s delivering any gifts to my house this year.

Serves me right. I haven’t exactly made a lot of effort to stay on the Nice List.

Showing up to the Bishop Ranch is a last resort—one of two really shitty options that both suck balls.

Option A: Elliot Bishop, Adam’s ruthless father whom I’m pretty sure hates my very existence, gives me the money his son took from me—highly unlikely.

Option B: Sign my name on the dotted line and offer myself up to the highest bidder like my older sister Alida once did—my most likely fate.

She’d kill me if she had the slightest clue I was even considering the Naughty List Christmas Auction.

She was lucky, as she often reminds me. Her now husband, Fox—our late brother’s best friend—swooped in and saved her from a number of gross, rich men fighting over her on stage.

Any one of those disgusting men could have easily made her their plaything in what she described as an elaborate and disturbing sex dungeon for a night.

No one’s coming to save me.

My only hope to avoid that horrid fate is to convince one of the most intimidating men I’ve ever met to pay a debt for a son he barely claims.

Yeah, I’m fucking screwed.

My car weaves through the freshly plowed driveway toward a ridiculously massive house deep on the property, positioned at the top of the tallest hill.

Of course it is. The house that can only accurately be described as a log-style mansion is beautiful in a haunting sort of way.

As though its potential splendor is drowned out by immense sadness.

The money doesn’t care about emotions, though.

Because the Bishop Ranch is one of the most successful in the area, as evidenced by its thousands of acres, dozens of barns, cabins, and equipment—all state of the art—and countless number of animals grazing in its fields.

I had once hoped to someday secure a job here.

I was so fucking na?ve it makes me sick.

Just as I’m climbing the last hill toward the house, my gas light flickers on. It’s another reminder of what I can’t afford should this unsolicited meeting go poorly.

Tears threaten the corners of my eyes, and I grip the steering wheel tighter.

I promised Alida I’d make it to Evergreen Pass for Christmas. And any other year, I’d be excited for a long holiday trip out there. A much-needed breath of fresh air before my final brutal semester of my doctorate program begins.

Ever since Alida crashed their family Christmas as Fox’s fake girlfriend five years ago, they’ve accepted me as one of their own too.

I can just picture Grandma Lola working on a batch of her famous cherry muffins right about now, bantering with Grandpa Eddie who’s sitting at the kitchen table reading his paper while she bakes.

The littles, who aren’t so little anymore, are probably outside building a snow fort, possibly starting a snowball fight with their Uncle Fox while Jazzy and Alida are out Christmas shopping.

And I’m missing it all.

Is there really an internship opportunity that goes until December twenty-third I just couldn’t pass up?

No. But the thought of being surrounded by this loving family for an entire week before Christmas while I’m sitting on a terrible secret was too much to bear.

If Alida didn’t figure it out, Grandma Lola would.

That woman can sniff out a lie ten miles away.

“It’s okay,” I tell myself, forcing a deep, calming breath. “I’ll fly out to them on Christmas Eve. After I’ve fixed this fucking mess.”

I would ask for a loan, but I can’t bear the thought of Fox and Alida knowing I allowed a stupid boy to rob me blind. Especially since the money he stole from me was the tuition money they gave me for my final semester of my DVM program. One more fucking semester, and I’ll be Dr. Kayleigh Kingston.

But if I don’t come up with the tuition payment in time, there will be no final semester. No fancy veterinarian title. No impossibly perfect internship that I’m currently a shoo-in candidate for once I graduate.

Without the money, none of it happens.

It’s the thought I cling to as I put my car into park behind a lifted truck that is no doubt worth six figures.

One that could pay for my tuition five times over.

Were it not for the wisps of mud above the tires, I’d think the brand-new super cab was dropped into place via helicopter.

It makes my used sedan look like a dirty toy.

It’s a glaring reminder that I don’t belong here.

There aren’t enough deep breaths in the world to calm my erratic pulse.

A voice in the back of my head urgently whispers turn around.

And for a moment, I consider doing just that.

One night as a stranger’s sex toy seems less terrifying than facing the intimidating cowboy once again.

The last and only time I met Elliot Bishop, Adam drug me along hoping I’d win him some brownie points with dear ol’ Dad.

Needless to say, his plan backfired.

Before I can make the decision to put my car in gear and leave, the front door to the mansion flies open, and Elliot Bishop marches out onto the covered porch.

I gulp a swallow as his gaze lasers in on my car.

I swear the man can see right through the windshield, not just at me, but into my fucking soul.

A shiver races down my spine and settles between my legs.

The fuck?

Yes, Elliot’s a very attractive man. Like a young George Clooney slash Clint Eastwood movie star attractive. But in that arrogant he-totally-knows-it-type-of-way. Something that was made very clear during our near moment all those months ago.

“Remember why you’re here,” I whisper to myself as I bravely push open my car door and step out on wobbly legs.

Elliot waits on the porch, arms folded over his sculpted chest. I know it’s a work of art beneath that thick flannel jacket because I ran into him without his shirt the last time I was here. It was a total accident. I’d gotten lost looking for the bathroom, and he was freshly out of the shower.

The tingling in my core grows stronger, the memory of Elliot caging me against the wall in the hallway, glistening water droplets on his tattooed chest close enough to lick.

God how I wanted to drag my tongue along his hot skin.

For a solid thirty-two seconds, I forgot I was his son’s girlfriend. I forgot my own name.

Get a fucking grip, Kayleigh.

For the briefest moment, I consider seducing Elliot Bishop.

Maybe he’d be more inclined to repay the money his son stole from me if he was in a good, post-orgasm mood.

I’d get to live out a dirty little fantasy I’ve kept secret all these months.

And it would give me the slightest bit of malicious satisfaction knowing I had revenge sex with my ex’s dad, even if I never see the asshat again to rub it in his face.

You know this is why you’re on the naughty list, right?

But then the man opens his mouth and shatters the illusion.

“Why the fuck are you trespassing on my ranch?”

Elliot Bishop, I’m reminded, is a total jerk.

“There wasn’t a sign,” I point out, feeling a renewed sense of purpose as I climb the steps to the porch to join him.

“Wind blew it down then.”

“Not my problem, is it?” The quip slips out of my mouth before I can reign it in. Elliot’s expression remains hardened, but I catch the slightest lift of his eyebrow. Is that…amusement? Doubtful considering how much he hates me.

“What do you want, Ms. Kingston?”

A full-body shiver races through me, not just at the way he remembers my name, but the way it sounds rolling off his tongue.

“I know you don’t do the small talk thing—”

“I don’t.”

“Right.” I swallow hard, determined to get through this without chickening out.

I think of Alida, blissfully ignorant of my dilemma.

After everything she’s already sacrificed for me since both our mother—lost to cancer—and our brother—killed in action—passed, I can’t put this on her too.

This is my problem to fix. “Your son stole some money from me—”

“You’re here about money? I should have fucking known.

” The look of disgust on Elliot’s chiseled face makes me wither inside.

It’s the same expression he wore when Adam demanded money from him earlier this year.

As though the deadbeat was entitled to his father’s fortune simply for existing.

If I had any sense left, I’d clamp my mouth shut, get back in my car, and drive away never to return. This is pointless.

The sex auction can’t be much worse than this.

Instead, I press on like the glutton for punishment I apparently am. “I’m here because your son stole from me, and I was hoping you—”

“Not my problem, sweetheart.”

The nickname is an icy jab, which only irritates me.

A small flame fans into a raging fire. I cling to this fresh sense of anger, as it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

I’m losing this battle. I’m also horribly embarrassed for being attracted to this arrogant asshole.

But I refuse to face what any of this means until I’m back in the privacy of my car, driving away.

“Maybe if you’d raised a better son—”

Elliot takes one deliberate step forward, not touching me, but definitely crowding my space and effectively silencing me in half a heartbeat.

“Don’t you fucking dare speak on things you know nothing about, Ms. Kingston.” His low, rough tone is meant to be a warning. And yet, my fucking nipples pebble beneath my layers like he’s come onto me.

What the actual fuck?

“I didn’t mean—”

“You need to leave.”

Before I can utter another pleading word, Elliot storms toward the front door, yanking it open.

“Don’t come back, Kayleigh.”

And then he slams the door in my face.

Well shit.

Plan B it is.