Page 11 of Spurred On

Six months isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things. I already have a job interview for the hospital closest to here. Which means, I’ll probably be stuck working there for at least a year to gain some experience, but the hour commute when I move back home will be worth it. This is totally fine. So fine. Like really, really fine.

My GPS dings, letting me know it’s time to turn left onto the property. A large metal cutout sign with the name “Windy Peaks Ranch” hangs over what looks to be a freshly plowed drive. Little pieces of deadgrass poke up above the blanket of snow. I bet this place is really pretty in the spring when all its colors come to life.

I was expecting certain things when coming to a ranch. For one, cows, obviously. What I was not expecting was a whole family compound. As I drive, I see barely visible peeps of cabins with pitched, black roofs. At the end of the long road, I can vaguely see a large house with a massive barn beside it. The cabins have their privacy, tucked behind scattered trees and bushes. They’re quite a ways off the main drive, tucked away and hidden from the rest of the world. It’s all actually really cute. They seem a whole lot less cute when I remember why I’m here.

“Okay, now let’s see if we can figure out which one of these lovely stick houses I’ll be calling home.” Stopping on the road, I pull out my phone to reread the directions. “Second turn on the right.” Okay. Easy enough. Hearing a rumble, I peer into my rearview mirror and see a large truck pulling up behind me. Its lights shine right into the mirror, momentarily blinding me. A honk on the horn of the truck has my frustration boiling over. Impatient freaking rednecks. Hitting the gas, I speed up and turn, a little disgruntled to see Mr. Impatient pulling in behind me. Parking my car in front of the cabin, I swing my door open with a little too much force.

Lo and behold, my betrothed hops out of the ridiculously large, shiny silver Ford truck. A cowboy hat sits on top of his dark hair, which peeps out around the bottom. His black Carhartt jacket makes his tall frame look even larger. Amusement shines in his grey eyes. Well, it might be something else causing those eyes to shine. Like pure mischief.

His lips turn up in a shit-eating grin. “Damn, now I know why all your friends call you Grandma, you act and drive like one.” Aflush blooms across my cheeks from the embarrassment. He doesn’t remember anything about that night, but he remembers my friends calling me grandma. Just my luck.

Rolling my eyes, I put a hand on my hip and snap out, “And do you know what they say about men with large trucks?” My eyes narrow at him as I spit out, “They’re compensating.”

He puts his hands up at his chest as he shrugs. “Hey now, you seemed to like it enough to want to marry me and my ‘overcompensation’ after only one ride.” The wink he shoots me sends a bolt of both pure rage and heat through me; I hate that he is so attractive and that I can’t stop noticing. I cannot believe this is who I will be spending the next six months with.

“You’re the worst.” Turning on my heel, I reach for the back seat door handle.

Not at all bothered with how freaking annoying I find him, his voice comes out chipper. “I know. Do you need help carrying that stuff in?” Turning to face him, he adds, “I wouldn’t want you to fall and break a hip with all that grandma fragility.” I know he’s joking. His smile stretches across his face, and he’s got a little twinkle in his eye like he enjoys getting a rise out of me. Which is fine. I’m sure I’ll figure out how to get under his skin and pay him back. See how he likes it.

“No, thank you,” I bite out. He, of course, ignores me, and comes up and opens my back seat door anyway, grabbing the first thing he sees and walks it to the door.

The cabin looks small, and a little rise of anxiety comes over me at the fact that I am going to be stuck sharing this small of a space for the next six months. Good thing I didn’t bring everything with me. I have a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t fit here.

He opens the door, and I want to throw up. It’s basically a studio apartment. I take a step in and run an eye over the place, keenly aware of Mav’s gaze on me. I try to school my features because I may not be happy we’re in this situation, but I don’t want to be rude. “So, where is my room?” I look to him, a little bit of my fear laced in my words.

“Uh, you’re looking at it. The cabin doesn’t have rooms. Those doors are either to the bathroom or closets.” He anxiously scratches the back of his head. Isn’t he some sort of rodeo god? I know they make money. The judge even mentioned keeping his money safe, so why does he live in a toybox-sized house?

“I beg your pardon? Where am I going to sleep?” I know this man is not about to suggest we share a bed. My eyes dart over the room, inspecting the place I will be calling home and trying to find a respectable place to sleep. The kitchenette is at the very back of the cabin, the bed is a few feet away from the breakfast bar, and the living room is closest to the door. A TV sits on the opposite side of the wall, in front of the bed, on a small TV stand. The space is long and pretty narrow, but somehow, it doesn’t feel crowded. Then again, I haven’t even gotten any of my stuff in here yet.

“Well, I have a bed we can share. And if that doesn’t fancy you, the futon can be yours.” He nods to a sad-looking couch that looks like a backache waiting to happen.

Aren’t country boys supposed to be chivalrous? I cock my head to the side giving him an extra dose of sass. “Shouldn’t you be the gentleman and take the couch?”

He flashes me that mega-watt smile, and I just know I’m going to hate his next words. “Sweetheart, I spend half the year on the road. If I’m home, I’m sleeping in my bed. You’re welcome to join me.” Afull rush of heat douses me with those words and the implications that could come with them.

“Yes, and I’m the one who had to uproot her whole life and move. I’m not sharing a bed with you.” I’ve slept on worse than a futon, I can make it work. It’s only six months, after all. “The futon will work. Thank you.” My thanks lacks sincerity, but it’s the best I can do. I turn away, plopping my bag on the futon with more force than necessary.

“I’ll help you bring in the rest of your things and then I have to get back to work.”

Surprise fills me. It’s almost the end of the day, the sun is almost completely set. “Do you have another ride today?”

He looks almost confused at my train of thought. “No, on the ranch. I work here on my off time and in exchange, I get the cabin to live in.”

I can’t fight the curiosity that flies out of me. “Why don’t you just buy a house?”

“I love this ranch and the people that run it. Plus, I wouldn’t have the time to keep up with my own house. At least here, there is someone around when I’m gone. Three, this is the most beautiful place in the world come spring. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He says it with such conviction that I can’t help but believe him.

I figured he would be living some grandiose life. Not spending his free time being a ranch hand. Maybe I don’t have him pegged quite as well as I thought. “Oh.” My brow furrows as I try to reassess the man in front of me.

“Yeah, oh. Well, I’ll bring your stuff in. I cleaned out a closet for you. I know it’s a tight fit and I’m sorry for that. That’s why I told the judge it wasn’t really meant for two.”

“It’ll work. Thank you for making me some space.” He nods and heads out the door. And I’m left feeling a little off-kilter. And staring at his ass in wranglers, which unfortunately he could be a model for. I have got to quit staring at this man.

Shaking my head to clear it, I get to work unpacking. I need to focus on my job interview next week. I’ll need something to do, or I will go downright mad being cramped up in this house. Not working doesn’t sit well with me or my student loans. Or my car payment. I don’t just want this job, I need this job.

Chapter 9

Ava

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