Chapter 4
Lauren
My phone dings with a notification the next morning, and I reach for it. I’m half-expecting that Aunt Elaine has texted me a funny meme. We’re always sharing funny memes with each other in text messages. But this isn’t from her. This is the alert I set for the cowboy auction last night.
“Whoa,” I breathe when I see the figure that Bronco is now worth.
This is a nightmare. Women out there want him.
They want the one guy that I call at two in the morning.
They want the one guy that kissed me. OK, I kissed him first. Whatever.
It doesn’t change the fact that they want what’s mine. Bronco should be with me.
Before I can start a search to find the identity of every single woman who bid on Bronco and drive to their homes to politely inform them that he’s not actually for auction, my phone vibrates in my hand. It’s a call from a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello,” I say, managing to find the fake cheerful voice I use when I’m answering the phone at work.
“Hello, am I speaking to Lauren Ackerman?”
“I can get her a message if you leave your name,” I respond, trying to remember if I paid my credit card bill this month. Pretty sure I did. Would they call and harass me like this?
“This is Reed Samson from The State Daily. I’d like to interview you about this website you put together, the cowboy auction. Would you and Bronco be available for that later this afternoon?”
Reed is a mid-tier reporter at The State Daily, North Carolina’s most popular newspaper.
The fact that he’s asking for an interview about the auction is big.
It’s exactly the kind of positive publicity I want.
But it’s not enough time to get Bronco on board.
He’s stubborn as it is and considering he didn’t even know about this little detour I took with the fundraiser, well, let’s just say he might need some time.
“I can’t do this afternoon, but we could do tomorrow afternoon,” I tell him and hold my breath. What if he says no and I blew my one shot at getting some interest from a local newspaper?
“That works better for me,” Reed says.
We settle on a time to meet tomorrow, and I jump out of bed to grab my laptop. There’s no way I want more horny women betting on Bronco. I check my credit card balance, place the winning bid on the handsomest cowboy in town, and close his auction.
I put a notice on the website, explaining that more auctions will be happening in just a few hours.
Now, all that’s left is to get some more hot cowboys on the website.
And it all starts with convincing Bronco that this is a solid idea and that his best friend’s little sister is not in fact a lunatic. Easy peasy.
I swear I’m having one of those days when the universe is on my side. I was able to get one of our volunteers to come in on her day off and answer phones in the reception area. Then I managed to leave the retirement community without attracting Aunt Elaine’s attention.
Now, this. I got on the farm without Bronco knowing. It really is my lucky day. I’m more convinced of that than ever as I approach two guys bent over a tractor. They lift their heads as I approach, staring me down.
I must be quite the sight in my vintage dress and kitten heels. After all, Valor Ranch isn’t the kind of place that gets a lot of visitors, let alone women. Well, that will change soon if I have anything to say about it.
“What can we do for you, darlin’?” The one guy in a blue flannel shirt asks, looking me up and down like he’s trying to decide if he wants to ask me out. His friend barely spares me a glance before he’s back to focusing on the tractor.
“You could take off your shirts.”
That gets the attention of his friend who snaps his head up.
“Bronco didn’t mention the fundraiser?” I ask, feigning my best hurt voice.
Look, I’m not proud of it. But sometimes, a girl has to use every tool in her arsenal, and the men of Courage County do not stand by and watch a woman getting upset without trying to fix it. It’s just not the way they’re wired.
“Who are you again?” Suspicious friend asks. His big, thick beard moves as he talks. The girls are going to go crazy over him. Absolutely nuts.
“I’m Bronco’s friend, from the retirement community,” I mention.
Blue Flannel flashes me the biggest grin, and I get the distinct feeling he knows something that I don’t. “Of course, course. Just forgot about the meeting. I’m Flint, and this here is Cord, and we’re available for anything you want.”
“Well,” I fiddle with the camera attached to the lanyard. “I was thinking a cowboy calendar kind of theme. You know, taking a few photos of shirtless guys against the barn. It shouldn’t take us too long.”
“No, thanks,” Cord says.
Flint’s grin grows bigger. “This is Lauren.”
Cord sends Flint a look that seems to indicate they’ve come to an agreement.
“Could we do it soon?” I press. The less Bronco knows about this, the better my odds of success are.
Cord is the one grinning now. He grabs a greasy rag and wipes his hands on it. “Like the man said, for you, anything.”
So, this is weird. But I’m not going to question good fortune. Not today.
I beam at the pair. “Perfect. The sunlight outside of the barn right now is perfect, if you can pause for a few minutes on this project. Maybe grab some props. Rope would be good. Oh, and bring your Stetsons. I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”
Forty minutes later, I’m surrounded by almost a dozen hot cowboys. I think it’s fair to say that I’m living my best life.
Flint flexes his muscles and says something about his massive guns.
I smile as I click the button on the camera again. Every photo is another few thousand dollars between Aunt Elaine and a bankruptcy filing that would put a hundred retired seniors out of their homes.
There are eleven other cowboys out here, but not a single one of them is the one I really want to see shirtless. Bronco is supposed to be down at the farmer’s market this morning.
I click another photo of Flint. I’ll get these photos edited and upload the other cowboys this afternoon, so plenty of lonely women can try their luck with the other guys. But Bronco? He’s all mine. I don’t plan on putting him back on the auction block again.
“I think I need some more shortening over here,” Flint says.
To get that freshly glistening look for the guys, I had to raid Bronco’s pantry. He’s now down an entire tub of Crisco. Maybe another one with the way Flint is going. This man loves to ham it up for the camera.
Cord rolls his eyes. “You’re already slicker than a minnow’s peter.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I love the way the men around here speak so freely with each other. It’s the one thing I’ve noticed about the group that Flint was all too eager to gather.
Clicking the camera, I catch the moment that the insult registers with Flint. It makes his eyes light up, and I mentally congratulate myself, already knowing it’s the perfect shot to put on the website.
Flint flips the bird, but thankfully, I’ve already lowered the camera, so I don’t catch the exchange.
“Can I get one final shot of you?” I ask as I turn to Cord. He’s been standing against the barn with his arms folded. It’s obvious from his posture that he’d rather hide the scars dotting his chest. He’s only here because the other guys are.
Before he can agree, there’s a murmur that goes through the crowd of cowboys. The sudden change in the mood has me looking up to see Bronco stomping around the back of the barn. I guess, he wasn’t at the farmer’s market today.
He takes in all of the shirtless men here with a frown, then his gaze zeros in on me with my camera. His frown deepens even more, his expression shifting from one of disapproval to fury. With a curse, he starts issuing commands and demanding the cowboys get back to work.
No one seems all that worried though because they continue to mill about. A few of them are even smirking in my direction, though I’m not quite sure why. I know I did a bad thing. I should have talked to Bronco first.
He marches up to me, crowding my space until I step back against the barn.
My camera lens is practically pushed against his faded flannel. He missed a button, and I want desperately to lean over and rebutton the shirt. But I don’t let myself do that. It seems intimate, something a woman would do for her lover.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bronco demands, the sunshine catching him perfectly. Would he think it weird if I asked him to stand still so I could grab a shot of him at this moment?
“Me? I’m just taking pictures of the beautiful scenery on the farm,” I answer with a sweet smile that I hope will disarm him.
Of course, it doesn’t. Bronco is used to seeing through people’s bullshit. He makes a noise that’s partially a scoff and partially a swear word. Then he grabs my elbow and pulls me away from the barn. His touch is firm and unyielding, his fingers rough and calloused.
“You are coming with me,” he growls into my ear.
A shiver skates its way down my spine. I can’t help the way my body responds to his rumbly voice. It has nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with the way he makes my heart flutter every time I see him.
He pulls me a few feet away, pausing to glare at the empty can of Crisco on the ground. When he realizes the other cowboys are still paying attention to us, he propels me down the dirt road and up the steps of his porch.
“Look, I can explain. The search results said it won’t burn their skin if they only have it on for a few minutes. I’m going to make them wash up, I swear.” I don’t mention that I’ll buy him more tubs of shortening. I’m not really sure it’s good for him to use it that often.