Page 5 of Auctioned to the Cowboy

“Love,” I scoff at the idea as I watch the snow thicken outside. “A con game I’m not falling for.” Not that it matters much. What woman wants a husband whose heart is locked up tighter than the safe in my office? They want love, romance, the whole fairy tale. Not some business deal to secure land and cattle.

“Who needs them?” I declare to no one in particular, but even as the words leave my lips, I know the truth. Without a bride, I’m as good as homeless. And that’s something I can’t let happen. Not to me, not to this ranch. Not to my family.

“I need some air,” I say to the empty room and walk to the front door.

I leave the warmth of the living room for the chill of the wraparound porch. The wood creaks beneath my boots, the cold slicing through me like a knife. The snow is still falling, flakes catching in my stubble like tiny icy fingers, reminding me I’m very much alone in this house.

My breath fogs in front of me as I look toward the stables. A light flicks on for a moment before it turns off, replaced by the glow of Dad’s television. Where exactly are Angus and Tom? I hope they aren’t at the Watering Hole, the only bar in town.

I’m about to turn back inside when headlights cut through the night, slicing across the snowy yard and pulling up near the porch. My brothers’ truck, unmistakable even in the dark. It’s late, almost midnight. What kind of trouble have they dug up now?

The engine cuts, and a few seconds of silence follow before doors slam and footsteps crunch in the snow. They’re grinning like idiots, all teeth and no sense.

“Got something to show you, Henry,” Tom says, his voice carrying a mischievous edge that only ever means trouble.

Angus nods in agreement, his smile not quite reaching his eyes the way it used to. “It’s important,” he adds, leaving it hanging there like a lure.

Before I can press them for answers, another set of headlights pulls in behind their truck—a car I don’t recognize. I narrow my eyes, watching as it parks and the driver turns off the ignition. I step off the porch, boots sinking into the fresh layer of snow, my gut twisting with curiosity and annoyance.

“Who’s that?” My tone is flat, expecting some harebrained explanation or worse, a setup.

“Just wait,” Tom replies, an eagerness in his stance that sets me further on edge. This has to be one of their schemes. A surprise? At midnight? In the middle of a snowstorm? Only my brothers would think that’s a good idea. “Christmas has come early for you, Henry.”

Chapter 3

Shay

“Whoa,” I murmur under my breath as the towering figure of Henry Sutton comes into view, and the world seems to pause.

The first thing that hits me is how he’s like a walking advertisement for rugged handsomeness. He’s as big as his brothers—maybe bigger—but where they carry themselves with a relaxed charm, Henry is all intensity and restrained power. He seems like a man who doesn’t need to raise his voice to command attention. His body is clearly carved from years of ranch work and discipline, but the scowl etched across his face? That’s pure grump in high-definition.

His eyes meet mine, not blue like his brothers’, but a sharp, piercing silver-gray that cuts through me like lightning. His jaw is set, his lips pressed into a firm line, and those gray eyes are laser-focused, drilling into me as if he’s already cataloging all the ways I’m about to disrupt his life.

His gaze assesses me, sizing me up, deciding whether I’m a puzzle worth solving or a problem better left alone. There’s no softness in the way he looks at me—not yet—but I catch a flickerof something else beneath the caution. A glint of curiosity, as if I’ve surprised him somehow by simply being here.

That flicker makes my pulse skip, a strange, traitorous reaction I didn’t see coming. Henry has a magnetism, an unspoken challenge in the way he holds himself. He’s a man who seems to have built walls so high that it’s hard to imagine anything breaking through. But in that fleeting moment, with his eyes locked on mine, I experience a dangerous urge to try.

“Hi there,” I offer, flashing him what I hope is my most disarming smile. It’s always served me well, melting icy stares into friendly warmth.

Not this time.

If anything, his glower deepens, turning thunderous, and I wonder if this might be a tougher nut to crack than I anticipated.

He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the movement drawing my attention to the way his shirt stretches across his shoulders. It’s not intentional—at least, I don’t think it is—but the effect is distracting. I quickly look away, focusing on his brothers instead, who flank me like protective bookends.

“Shay, let’s go inside,” Tom says with a reassuring smile.

He and Angus guide me into the house with an ease that suggests they’ve done this protective routine plenty of times before.

The ranch house is warm but simple, a place that looks lived in and loved. The walls are lined with old photos and a couple of faded paintings, and the faint smell of woodsmoke hangs in the air. It’s cozy in a way that catches me off guard, making me think for a moment that I might actually belong here.

“Tell Henry, Angus. Explain how she’s the answer we’ve been looking for,” Tom prompts, as if turning up at midnight with a woman is an everyday situation. They seem almost too eager, and I wonder briefly what I’ve gotten myself into.

“All right,” Angus starts, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “We used our savings, see? We pooled together because, well, you need a wife, Henry.”

“Used your own money?” I echo, my heart skipping a beat, realizing the gravity of their decision. These two brothers clubbed together to buy me for their brother. To save the family ranch from becoming a clown farm. It would be laughable if I weren’t standing in the reality of it.

“Yup,” Tom chimes in with a nod. “And we reckon you’re perfect for the job.”

---