CHAPTER EIGHT
I slip the halter off Ritzy and get her a piece of carrot. My horse loudly crunches on her treat as I drift a palm down her bald face. It’s a common feature for a frame overo paint. The large marking begins at the top of her forehead and extends down to her muzzle, stretching over one eye that’s bright blue. Her brown body is splashed in white patches, creating a unique pattern. She’s such a beautiful sight.
“My model mare,” I croon. “You belong on the cover of magazines.”
The pretty girl snorts and searches my pockets for another snack. I happily oblige, more than accustomed to spoiling her rotten. She deserves extra rewards after our practice runs today.
We’ve been a team for six years, ever since I bought Ritzy as a yearling. She’s double registered as a paint and quarter horse, which allows me to compete in exclusive breed shows. We usually win big at those events. The next one is in September and I anticipate earning a large check.
Approaching footsteps interrupt my quiet contemplation. A glance over my shoulder bursts the peaceful bubble entirely.
Brody is crossing the property grounds toward me. The cowboy king strides forward with purpose and I’m instantly struck by the raw energy he emits. Static sparks along my skin, raising goose bumps despite the heat. There’s no disguising my shiver as anything but anticipation.
His green stare narrows at me from the shadows under his hat. After several days of not seeing him, I’d been silly enough to think he found someone else to torment. Now I’m realizing that he’s been lying in wait until I started to relax.
Pebbles skitter from his path to avoid getting crushed under the incoming wrath. Can’t say I blame the tiny rocks for retreating but I thrust myself into the fray. After a farewell pat to my horse, I slip through the gate to confront him. My heartbeat trots faster as the distance separating us narrows to a few scarce feet.
The flutters in my belly are totally uncalled for. Brody’s extremely attractive appearance is a sneaky trick. That handsome shell won’t distract me from what’s lurking beneath the surface. This man is a condescending jerk who would gladly stomp on me if I melted into a puddle at his feet. I’ll never give him that opportunity. My spine steels as I prepare for our verbal spat.
“Howdy, Twinkles.” Brody’s deep timbre liquifies my knees.
I grasp onto the board behind me. “Boss. ”
His tall frame towers over my short stature. My head is level with his chest, which always leaves me looking up at him. I’m sure he gets off on that. The urge to climb the fence and perch above him wiggles my hips. He’d probably push me down before my ass settled on the wood.
Brody hums and glances at the sky. “Nice day for a ride.” His bland comment gives me pause.
“Sure is,” I respond slowly.
“Mighty fine-looking animal.” He gives Ritzy a thorough inspection while she preens in the paddock. “Solid confirmation. Stocky build. Bold coat. How’s her disposition?”
I peer at him through a squint. This isn’t what I expected. Quite the opposite. Maybe I’ve unlocked an upgraded level to his game.
“Calm until we enter the alley,” I answer. “She’s bred to run and a natural at racing the barrels.”
“I saw that.”
My lips part when our gazes clash and hold. “You were watching?”
“Hard not to.” His admission spurs my pulse into a gallop.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You’re acting strange.”
His lips twitch as if my observation amuses him. “How so?”
My mind whirls for a moment as I study him closer. “You don’t just chit-chat like this. Especially to me.”
“Is that a problem?”
“It’s just unusual.” And a bit concerning, if I’m being honest .
“I’m capable of being quite charming.” Brody tips his hat and smooths a palm down the pearl snaps of his western shirt.
A snort escapes me. “Oh, you’re joking. Okay, phew. I get it now.”
His jaw ticks and I brace for impact. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong hoof.”
“Well, look at you stealing my lines.”
“Seemed fitting.” Brody grips the back of his neck. “You were right then, just like now.”
My mouth pops open. “Is this another prank?”
He glares. “I’m trying to mend fences.”
“Why?”
“Maybe I feel guilty for how I’ve treated you.”
My brows reach for the sky. “Since when?”
His shrug is less committed than a one-night stand. “I overreacted about your… position at the farmstead. My sister trusts you, which should’ve been enough proof that you’re capable. I’ve made… unfair assumptions and didn’t properly welcome you to the team.”
A dry laugh trips from me. “That’s putting it mildly.”
His lips tighten into a firm line. “Will you accept my apology?”
“Maybe if you actually apologize.”
The request is met with a harsh exhale. “I’m sorry, Paisley. You didn’t deserve my negative attitude and bad assumptions based on a poor first impression. That led to me acting rude and unreasonable, which is out of character. I’ll be more respectful moving forward.”
His speech would come across as more genuine if he didn’t sound physically pained. My flat expression reflects the thought. “And what about all the other stuff?”
“Such as?”
“My access code to the front entrance was erased, the halters went missing, no electricity in the barn, my truck keys were hidden, the tack room was locked,” I count the transgressions off on my fingers. “Just to name a few, and those don’t include the random damages and mishaps around the ranch.”
“I’ll take credit for the first one, but the rest aren’t on me.”
“Who else could be responsible?”
Brody is quiet for a beat before a smirk appears. “That sneaky menace. Definitely reviving his old nickname.”
“Who?”
“Not important. I’ll handle it, along with everything else.” That last part is muttered under his breath.
Which reminds me of his recent absence. “Is the sudden weight of your guilty conscience the reason you haven’t put up a fuss this week?”
There’s an unmistakable gleam in his green gaze. “Miss me?”
“You wish,” I retort.
A noise that could be mistaken for a chuckle rolls off his broad chest. I gape at him and the sound abruptly cuts off.
“Been busy.” He allows that explanation to hang in the stagnant air between us as tension hardens his expression. “There’s a new contractual obligation that requires much of my time. We’re still negotiating the terms. It’s irrational and complicated.”
“I’m sure it will pay off,” I say for the sake of conversation .
“But it will cost me,” he grunts. The frustration bleeds from his features until he’s restored the impassive mask. “Speaking of selling your soul, I heard you were talking about me at the farmer’s market. Rumor has it that we’re a love match.”
I inwardly cringe. How foolish of me to assume I’d avoided this awkward discussion. “That’s trashy gossip for you.”
Brody is staring at me too intently. “I bet your boyfriend is pissed.”
“He would be if he existed,” I mutter.
An unreadable glint flickers in his gaze. “Glad that’s settled.” He hooks a thumb in his belt loop and steps closer. “I have a proposition for you.”
“In addition to the truce?”
His nod is slow and calculating. “I need you to pretend that we’re in a relationship.”
My brain misfires and I recoil. “Can you repeat that? I must have misheard you.” I feel dizzy while waiting for him to strike again.
“The entire town already assumes you’re infatuated with me. Might as well make it work in our favor. It’s not too big of a stretch.”
That explanation does little to unravel the mess in my mind. Brody watches while I grapple for a response. His unyielding attention feels like I’ve been dropped in a pressure cooker.
“Okay, hold on. Let me get this straight,” I mumble as a throb blooms at my temples. “You want us to fake date?”
“As a start. ”
I’ll have to circle back to that cryptic statement. “And you’re proposing this sham because…?”
His jaw clenches. The slight reaction reveals more than he’s probably willing to admit. “I need you to play this small part in order for me to become the owner of Benson Farmstead. Once the company is officially mine, you’ll be free of me.”
“Ohhh,” I sputter. “The plot thickens. You need a girlfriend. It’s not just a request. It’s a requirement.”
“Yes,” he grates. “It’s an obligation I need to fulfill.”
Did I just stumble into a romance novel?
Laughter spills from me—the type that’s catty and brittle. I was right to be suspicious. “No wonder you’re being almost nice to me. You want to use me as a prop.” My glare attempts to pierce through his armor. “The answer is no.”
“Why don’t you think about it for longer than five seconds?”
I count to ten just to watch his eyelid twitch. “Oh, look at that. I still don’t want to fake date you.”
“What can I do to change your mind?”
“Nothing.” I cross my arms to ward off this ridiculous ploy. “I’m not a pawn, Brody. For you to assume otherwise is very enlightening.”
“You’re upset. That wasn’t my intention.” Sincerity is noticeably absent in his tone.
“Could’ve fooled me. I didn’t even accept your apology, but I guess it doesn’t matter since that was fake too. Your true colors are showing, and they’re several shades darker than morally gray.”
“I’m not the bad guy,” he defends. “Blame my father.”
There’s a sharp hitch in my breath as I picture Dennis making such demands. “He’s forcing you to choose me specifically?”
“Not exactly.”
A small slice of relief worms through me. “You and your ulterior motives can find someone else. It’s probably best if she doesn’t sparkle too much.”
“Where’s the fun in that? You’re the only candidate I’ll consider, Twinkles.” Just the way he phrases the offer is cold and detached. A simple business transaction.
My huff is deliberate, slicing through the red tape and dotted line I’d surely have to sign. “I can’t imagine why you’d pick me, not that it makes a difference.”
“Convenience is a major factor. It’s plausible that we’d cross the line while working together. That’s why the entire population of Cloverleaf Meadows already assumes we’re a couple. Why would I bother looking elsewhere when you’re already cast for the role?” His gaze takes a leisurely stroll along my curves as if he actually likes what he sees. “But most importantly, you’ll hate the arrangement as much as me. Maybe more. We’re not at risk of developing real feelings.”
“A true love match.” My eyes roll twice for good measure. “Unfortunately, I’m not interested.”
“Take a few days to decide.” He must have cotton stuffed in his ears.
“My answer won’t change,” I reiterate.
The green in Brody’s eyes appears to flash. “Everybody has a price, Twinkles.”
“That might be true.” I flutter my lashes before skirting around him to ditch this pointless debate. “But even you can’t afford mine.”