Filthy Rich (Mail Order Mountain Men #2)

Chapter One

Sasha

I’m not sure what I’m doing here. The man behind this wall is most definitely not Buck Dalton. I don’t need to see his face to know that. I’ve listened to every song he puts out. There’s no way I’d mistake the deep rumbling of his Tennessee twang.

I also have a sneaking suspicion that the man I’m talking to is not my ex-boyfriend’s dad. To most well-adjusted people, that would mean life was going well. But for me, it’s another layer of disappointment.

Truthfully, it’s probably the only layer of disappointment.

Sure, dating a tall, handsome, country star like Buck Dalton would be fun to post all over Instagram, but at the end of the day, I’ve only got eyes for one man, which is proving to be a problem.

The man behind the wall clears his throat. “I’m getting the feeling you’re not into this.” He’s a history teacher out in Whiskey Falls, and he seems like a nice enough guy. Twenty-five, never married, loves his black lab like a child, plants a pumpkin garden each year, and spends time with his mom and dad every Sunday after church. Truth be told, I’m not sure better man exists in my age range. At this age, guys aren’t about settling down yet.

Maybe that’s why I love Ryder so much, why I always have.

Okay, this is getting out of control. I drag in a deep breath and let it out quickly. “No, I’m so sorry. I’m… you seem like a great guy. I’m terribly distracted today. I have ADHD. Not sure if I told you that yet.”

“No,” he scrubs his hand down over his beard, “you hadn’t. My brother is on the spectrum. I get it. This can be overwhelming. I really like you, though. Do you want to try again next week?”

Wow. He’s understanding, has a good job, is thoughtful, and I’d bet he’s handsome too. Why isn’t this man sending chills to my groin the way Ryder does? What’s wrong with me?

“I, ugh, I think you’re great. I just… I’m a mess right now. I was wrong to think I could do this.” Tears well in my eyes. I’m not totally sure why, but if I had to guess, it probably has something to do with embarrassment, disappointing another great guy, and my own self-loathing.

“I get it,” the man’s voice says softly before the line disconnects. Though I’m one hundred percent sure I’m not ready to date, I hate myself for it.

Ryder is off limits. I can’t have him. All I can do is love him from afar, which does nothing for anyone.

I’ve said those words to myself a million times, but they never change the reality of what I feel for him or the way I imagine him next to me in every possible scenario. When I’m getting groceries, he’s there, reaching things off the high shelf and groping my ass. When I’m eating breakfast, he’s there with eggs and toast, telling me all about the chores he has to do that day while groping my ass. At night, he’s there, holding me while we watch some stupid TV show, groping my ass.

Why do I do this to myself?

The cabin lights brighten as the speaker shuts down. Poor Kevin really deserved a better date. I’m sure he’ll find it. Truthfully, I probably did him a favor, helped him dodge a bullet, and got him out of the abyss before he drowned.

I am not okay.

Pulling open the cabin door, I’m hit with the cold, blistering reality of winter. Maybe this is the metaphor for life I needed. The universe is trying to tell me something. To be fair, I think she’s been trying to tell me something for a while now, but I never listen.

I pull my cell from my pocket and dial my friend Opal. She’s one of the few people that know of my obsession with Ryder and I’m pretty sure she’ll give me the ass kicking I need tonight.

“How’d it go? Are you and Buck Dalton madly in love and already planning your wedding? Are you thinking something small, or are you inviting press?”

“Yeah, no. I didn’t even see someone matching his credentials online. Maybe the whole thing is made up, or they gave him special rules or something. I don’t know. I matched with some guy my age.”

“Why do you sound disappointed? Don’t mention Ryder’s name either, or I’m gonna drive there and knock some sense into you myself.”

This is what I need, tough love, though that doesn’t mean it’s easy.

Tears roll down my cheeks, freezing in the cold. “I know… I know. I get it. I’m so fucked up.”

“Yeah, you are!” Her tone rises as she crunches into something hard. “So, this guy you met today, you didn’t set up another date?”

My stomach turns, a little afraid to answer, but this is why I called her. She doesn’t mess around. If I’m doing something stupid, she just says it, and I value that so much. Then again, sometimes it scares the hell out of me. “No,” I finally say. “I… I couldn’t stop thinking about Ryder.”

She sighs and I can almost see her eyes roll from way up in the little mountain cabin she maintains herself. I don’t know how she does everything so independently, but she does, and she’s good at it. “You’re gonna end up alone. You know that, right? Ryder is off limits, Sasha, unless you really want everyone on the mountain knowing you’re dating your ex-boyfriend’s dad. When was the last time you talked to Mason, anyway? Aren’t you guys still friends?”

My stomach squeezes and a wave of nausea washes up my throat. Maybe I didn’t want to talk about this. “We talk a little, here and there. I mean, we were friends way before we dated… since middle school. That’s why we thought dating made sense, but it didn’t. The chemistry wasn’t there. That, and he’s so immature.”

“Immature how?” Opal is a firm believer in age-appropriate romance. I’ve heard time and time again how little people of different age groups have in common and that any interest in a person a year older or younger is some kind of mental illness. Though, she thinks the same about tattoos. In her head, the more tattoos a person has, the more issues they’re probably dealing with.

“I get super emotional around my period. You know that. I try and keep it concealed, but sometimes the insecurity and the influx of hormones gets super overwhelming, and I start questioning myself a lot. So... I’d start asking him for reassurance, but he didn’t get it. He thought I was picking fights and using my hormones as a means to control his emotions and act however I want without regard.”

“Okay,” her tone turns low, “that’s fucked up.”

“Yeah. He was also super unsupportive of my writing career. I know I’ve been working on the same story for years, but… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just crazy. The worst part was that I tried to talk to him and explain myself, but he still couldn’t see me.” I unlock the door to my jeep and slide inside, starting up the engine to blast warm air. “Once we broke up, we were friends again. He didn’t have to support me in a romantic way, and he was happy about that, so we stayed in touch here and there, though the calls are really far and few between now.”

“Well, he’s an asshole, so… you should probably be with his father.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I don’t know about that, but I’m glad to hear you’re coming around.”

“Seriously, though, what’s so great about Ryder?”

I drag in a deep breath and let it out slowly, rubbing my hands together in front of the heater. “Umm… what’s not so great about him? He’s a sit with you in the kitchen and feed you cookies and tea while you’re a crying kind of guy. He’s the kind of guy who wants you sitting with him while he’s doing chores. The kind that talked to me for hours about book plots. I remember this one time after my parents died, I went to Mason’s house for support because I didn’t have anyone back then. Mason fell asleep, of course, so I got up for a snack and Ryder was in the living room watching a baseball game. He stopped everything he was doing and talked me off a ledge that night. He was warm and comforting, and he listened without needing to hear his own voice for hours. I fell asleep on the couch talking to him.”

“God, weren’t you like seventeen when your parents died? That’s sick.”

“No! I was eighteen, and it’s not sick. Nothing happened. He just listened. Besides, you’re down there at the ranch every day, cooking for people, overhearing their love stories. Don’t you run into any age gap romances that work out?”

“No. I focus on cooking, not eavesdropping. I don’t want love. It’s stupid and annoying, and it gets in the way of being successful with other things. Things that actually matter.” She wrinkles up a bag and I hear the soft slam of a cupboard door. “That aside, if we were to solve your Ryder problem, I can only think of one thing that would help.”

“What’s that?”

“You need a hard reset, something that’ll get him out of your system once and for all.”

I turn down the heater to hear her better. Whatever’s coming, I guess it’s going to be good by the way she’s built up the suspense. “Sounds promising. What magic pill are you suggesting?”

She drags in a deep breath. “You need to fuck him.”

“Fuck him? So, how do you propose I do this? Seduce him in a bathrobe or maybe a steak dinner? He doesn’t even know I like him. I think he’ll be alarmed.”

Why can I hear her eyes roll? “He’s a man. He won’t be alarmed. He’ll watch you spread your pretty little legs, he’ll get all hot and bothered, and bam… job done. I promise once you fuck the man, the whole obsession will be over, and you can move on with your life.”

I open my mouth to speak, but I’m not sure what to say. I don’t think fucking Ryder will get him out of my mind. I think it’ll make everything a whole lot more complicated, but still, it’s the best plan I’ve heard yet.