Betting on Bliss (Pine Ridge Ranch #3)

1. Bliss

Bliss

“Bliss Jefferson, will you marry me?”

It’s my first proposal. I’ve been imagining this moment for several years now. I’ve rehearsed my reaction, thanks to watching so many proposals go wrong on social media, and I know the emotion I want to convey.

To make things even better, the man proposing to me is hot, successful, and my longtime crush.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the type of proposal where I can leap into his arms and kiss his face. If I had that reaction, he would run away screaming.

“What’s in it for me?” I ask him as I fold my arms across my buttoned-up flannel shirt. The chilly spring air has a bite to it.

Zane Madden gapes at me, as though it never crossed his mind that I would expect something out of this marriage. He’s leaning against the side of his work truck, one of his boots crossed in front of the other, sipping an open mug of coffee.

Not quite what I imagined when I fantasized about a proposal from this man. And I have thought about it.

“What do you mean, what’s in it for you?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound sarcastic about it—just purely surprised that I would want something out of a marriage.

“Let me see if I understand correctly,” I say as I rock back and forth on the heels of my cowboy boots. “You want me to marry you so you can own the majority of your ranch? What do I get out of the deal?”

Oh, that’s right. He’s not asking me to marry him because he’s madly in love with me.

It’s because I’m the only single person in a hundred-mile radius.

As far as proposals go, it’s definitely the worst one I’ve had—also the best, since it’s the only one I’ve had.

Zane looks at me uncomprehendingly. “What do you get out of the deal?”

“Yes, exactly. What am I going to get out of marrying you?” I tap my fingers against my elbow and wait for him to answer.

It’s all I can do to bite my tongue and not start blabbering.

I have to stand strong; otherwise, I’ll end up being a doormat for Zane—something I’d be tempted to do just so he would like me.

“Well …” He drawls the word out. Which isn’t fair. He’s not from the South, so he doesn’t get to bust out a drawl right now. “What do you want when we get married?”

When, not if, as if it were inevitable.

“The irrigated pasture with the straw barns off Coyote Creek.” I blurt out the words before I even think them.

Is that really what it takes to get me to marry someone? Somewhere for me to keep my sheep? I fold my arms across my chest and stare him down.

Zane mirrors my pose, except his is a lot more intimidating when those arm muscles are on display, that dang coffee cup looking tiny next to his bicep. “Wait, what?”

I shake my head. “You didn’t think I would marry you for nothing, did you?”

He tugs at his collar and clears his throat. He did think that.

Well, surprise, surprise, Zane Madden. I am not an easy target. Not anymore. Not that Zane ever knew I was an easy target for him. I’ve been careful to keep that little crush a secret.

“You expect me to marry you, live with you, and not want anything out of the deal?”

“You’d have security?” He phrases it as a question, as though he didn’t even think about the fact that I might need to be persuaded.

“I already have a Ring camera.”

He smirks at that. “I meant you would have somewhere to live, and you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. I’d take care of you.”

“My dad already does that,” I fire back.

Dad’s fantastic that way. He’s told me I can live with him forever.

It’s the way I want to be with my kids. Now, Mom, on the other hand, she would kick me out in a heartbeat if it meant she got grandkids.

If she hears even a hint about this proposal, she will move all my belongings into Zane’s house herself.

“Why do you want that pasture?”

“It’s good summer feed.”

His eyes bulge. “You would graze it instead of getting a crop out of it?”

“I’d bale the first and second cutting, then put my pairs on there.”

He visibly relaxes at that, and I don’t know if I’m quite ready to have him be comfortable with me.

“Although,” I say, “I could move my pairs directly there after they lamb, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about moving them until weaning time …”

“Stop. You’re going to make me cry.” He presses a hand against his chest and contorts his face as though the tears are going to come.

I didn’t know the man could be so dramatic.

“Dad’s keeping back his heifers this year … and we don’t have enough ground for my ewes and his heifers. I need somewhere I can lamb them out next spring.”

Zane nods. “I understand that. But I store my big bales in those straw barns. I get several cuttings from those fields.”

I shrug as if to say, Not my problem. I’m really getting the hang of this aloof thing; it’s rather fun. “Maybe you should ask someone else to marry you. Preferably somebody you’ve dated. That seems like a better idea.”

I’ve known Zane for years. He’s hardly given me a second glance. Why would he think I’d be a good choice for this?

Zane scowls at me. “I thought this was a great idea. I thought you liked me at least. Aren’t we friends?”

“Friends? How so?” I want him to define what we are. Because even I’m not sure what our relationship could be defined as.

We live in the same small town. We see each other often.

We even help each other out when there’s a big project, like marking calves or lambs, but the whole town does that.

That doesn’t constitute a friendship. We don’t talk to each other about our personal lives.

Zane doesn’t know about the men my mom is constantly trying to set me up with.

I didn’t text him about the price I got for my lambs last fall.

He doesn’t know I like to shop for vacations I don’t have time to take.

Now, Max is my friend. I could sit down at lunch with him and tell him an entire life update without missing a beat.

I’ve told him about the men my mom has tried to set me up with.

He even knows about the unfortunate crush I have on Zane.

Even Max’s wife, Charlie, who’s new here in town, is more my friend than Zane.

I could pick up the phone and call her right now and tell her about this ridiculous proposal, and we could talk about it for hours.

But sit across from Zane and tell him juicy life details or my current crushes? I could never.

First, because he is that crush. Second, because I don’t feel comfortable around him. Usually, I get tongue-tied. I’m not sure what’s going on today. I guess I’m deeply annoyed that he has finally proposed marriage, and it’s just a game to him. He’s never even asked me out on a date.

A look of hurt flashes across Zane’s face. It’s quick—but it’s there. “I thought we were friends…”

And now I feel bad for hurting his feelings. I sigh. “We are.” Just not close friends, I say in my head.

He smiles then, his blue eyes sparkling when he does. “Oh, good. You had me worried for a minute.”

“How long would this marriage last?” I ask out loud.

Because why on earth would he need to get married to me?

Zane is ridiculously good-looking. He could meet a stranger, date them for a couple of weeks, and convince them to marry him.

He doesn’t need me, even if I am the only available female who lives in town.

He could charm one of the many tourists into staying.

“We can talk about that later if you want.” He shrugs.

It’s a vague answer if I ever heard one.

“Dad is convinced that I need to get married to take over the ranch. He says he couldn’t have done it without Mom.

And I believe him on that. He and my mom are really, really happy.

And I think that’s why he wants that for me.

But the last time I tried to get married … that didn’t turn out well.”

At last, he’s finally referencing the reason he won’t ever be interested in an actual wife.

A little over a year ago, Zane’s fiancée left him at the altar. The entire town of Pine Ridge, plus the bride’s family and friends, watched as he stood there, staring and waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle. She never came.

The worst part was that he sat in that church for two hours after all the guests left. My mom had sent me back to pick up her purse, and I found him still sitting on the steps in the sanctuary, head in his hands.

Later, word spread that someone had witnessed her driving out of town with the man who was her ‘maid of honor.’ Rumors flew around that she had ditched Zane for the other man, though I don’t know if that’s the case.

Yep, safe to say Zane is not a fan of marriage.

And, yes, while I do feel bad for Zane, it doesn’t mean I’m going to marry him.

I have been crushing on him for the last year, and he has not seemed to look at me the same way.

I’ve been putting distance between us as much as I can, because it had become apparent he wasn’t falling for me, the way I was for him.

“My dad doesn’t want me to be part of the ranch unless I’m married,” he admits quietly.

“It’s because my brothers both wanted to be part owners but ended up moving away and getting married in other states.

Dad’s hoping that if I get married first, he’ll know that I’ll be able to stay and take care of things. ”

“So, go find someone you actually want to be married to.”

I can’t believe I’m telling him this. I used to crave even a second of his attention, and now I’m telling him to go find himself another wife.

It’s a good thing people grow and mature, because a younger version of me would have said yes right away, not caring about the reasons.

“I know you’re not a big fan of marriage, but you’re a smart enough guy to realize you could find someone you actually want to be with.”

“I don’t want to.” He sounds like a petulant child.

“So you decided to propose to the only single female in a hundred-mile radius?!” I’m actually getting mad. And honestly, it feels good. I’d rather feel anger than embarrassment right now.

Zane holds his hands up in a placating motion. “It’s not like that. I want to marry you. I know you love ranching and living in Pine Ridge. Your dad told me that you planned to stay here and keep growing your herd. It seems like we have common interests. We get along every time we work together.”

Yeah, this is definitely not how I imagined I would be proposed to. We should get married because we live in the same town and have similar careers.

I pivot on my heel and walk back to my truck. I have work to do today, and I don’t need to be wasting time on something so absolutely ridiculous.

“Can you promise me you’ll at least think about it?” he calls after me.

I ignore him and climb in, telling Chip, my border collie, to get out of my seat. The damn dog thinks he’s licensed to drive. One of these days, I’m going to catch him driving down the highway—I’m sure of it.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about this conversation, right?” Zane asks, his voice much closer now.

I glance up to find him standing next to me, holding the truck door open.

I scowl at him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pass the word along? Maybe someone has a cousin who’s a farmer or rancher and who also likes Pine Ridge.”

Zane frowns right back at me. “You make it sound bad to want something in common with my wife.”

“It’s more the fact that that’s the only thing you want from a wife.”

I lean forward and grab the handle on the door and slam it closed, forcing Zane to jump out of the way. Coffee sloshes over the side of his mug, and I don’t even feel bad about it.

There is something to be said for the guy because he doesn’t discourage easily.

He knocks on the window, his charming smile firmly in place. “I’ll think about that irrigated pasture!”

I roll my eyes and shift the truck into first, rolling past him.

He sounds like he’s still trying to talk to me, so I shift it into second and peel out of the gravel turnout.

Only twenty minutes ago, I had pulled into the small driveway to lock the gate leading into one of my pastures—Dad had probably left it open.

He’s notorious for forgetting gates, probably because he’s had years of gate openers and closers riding around with him, aka my sisters and me—and while I was parked in the gravel pull-out on the side of the road, Zane had pulled in behind me with his pickup, jumped out to help close the heavy gate, and proposed marriage. All in that order and just as quickly.

It was a heck of a way to start the day—and it’s only seven o’clock.