Page 1 of Possessive Rancher

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HUDSON

Needed: Small B & B Manager to oversee employees and create experiences for guests. 65-acre property with mountain views. Sign-on bonus to start ASAP. Email [email protected]

The ability to watch the sun set behind a mountain range a few miles south of Conklin is worth every penny I’m sinking into the Haven family ranch. While my folks want to sell the property, I have a vision that can transform these few dozen acres into something glorious.

The problem?

I’m in Conklin and the small town doesn’t exactly draw in hordes of tourists. Still, I know I have something here. Even Hayden brings his wife around every few weekends to enjoy the renovations, but I need a consistent flow of paying customers.

Instead of slamming my head against a wall for ideas, I decide to crack open a beer, and another, and then another. By the time my thoughts are swimming, the answer strikes me like a sailor tossing an anchor overboard.

My eyes look around the massive place I’ve called home since I could crawl. I can see it as a destination for retreats or quiet getaways. The ideas flow from my drunk fingers into a Help Wanted ad.

The words flow naturally, and in my mind, it looks like the thing still says draft. So I leave it with the idea of using sober eyes to go over it in the morning.

The first time my phone pings with a notification, it reads like someone’s answering the ad, but that can’t be because it’s just a draft. It’s probably just an admin of the site getting clarity. I wonder if I should tell the person on the opposite side of the screen that I’ve had one too many beers. I’m in no mood to answer questions and emails. This is why I need a manager to handle them things.

After I message the person back and forth a bit, I put my phone away. Sleep finds me much sooner than I expect. However, the incessant ringing of the doorbell jolts me out of my slumber.

“Shit,” I groan, dragging myself out of bed to see the sun shining bright in the morning sky. The bell rings again.

Fuckin’ hell.

I imagine it’s one of my brothers coming to request use of the renovated cabins on the property. Each push of the damn bell makes me want to rip it out. I only need another hour of sleep or so. When it rings a fourth time, my frustration mounts as it dawns on me that none of my siblings would ring the bell.

Great. Someone is probably trying to sell me something.

When I pull the door open, I’m instantly wide awake, feeling like someone just dumped a bucket full of ice-cold water on me.

Beauty stands in front of me with a suitcase sitting beside her feet. Red wavy hair with a scattering of freckles across her cheeks that reach up to her cloudy gray eyes, and that smile…that smile makes my heart pound like a fist on a drum.

Sleepiness makes my tone a lot deeper than I want, but I still offer her a friendly greeting. “Mornin’, ma’am. What can I do ya for?”

She’s giggling and blushing, raising a timid hand over that gorgeous grin as she turns her head slightly.

“Um, I’m Heather Marsden. I’m here about the bed and breakfast management position. Are you Hudson Haven?”

“I am,” I tell her and suddenly realize why she’s blushing.

Answering the door in a pair of boxers isn’t the best way to greet a potential employee. Shit. I ain’t one to shy away from nothing, but still, it’s not the most professional way to behave.

“My apologies, ma’am. Why don’t you come on in and I’ll get myself together.”

“Sure, and please no need to call me ma’am. I’m barely 21,” she chuckles as she steps inside.

I grab her bag and close the door behind us. At 16 years my junior, she’s got a nice little body, and I don’t mind scoping out every inch of it. She’s beautiful—the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on—but there’s something mysterious about her.

“Just sit tight. I’ll be right back.” I take the steps two at a time up to the second floor and throw on a pair of dungarees and shirt to head back down to where she’s standing in the living room.

Heather’s eyes are looking around, but I see the questions behind them. The kitchen is the perfect place to conduct this interview, and the more I think about it, there are a few questions I have myself.

“So, uh, Heather,” my voice draws her attention and her body to me. “How did you find this place?”

“Your ad and our messages, Mr. Haven-”

“Please call me Hudson.”

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