Just have to impresstheFinn Moore, only the sexiest cowboy in all of Wolf Creek. And you know, my entire livelihood depends on it.
No big deal.
I’ve never technically met Finn, but back when I lived here as a teenager, I knew of him. Everybody in town knows of the Moore men. They’re practically cattle royalty around these parts. He’s not much older than me and Violet—maybe four years—but he had already graduated by the time we got here.
After another minute of the carousel at a standstill, I decide to head to the coffee cart directly behind me to grab a hot tea—English breakfast, of course—and thankfully, things are finally moving when I return. Once I get my suitcase, I rush over to the rental car section of the airport and get in line.
It seems the universe may be suddenly working on my side because I don’t have to wait but a few minutes before it’s my turn. Fifteen minutes later, I’ve got the keys to the Toyota Corolla I’ll be driving for the next few days, and once I find it inthe parking lot, I toss my suitcase into the trunk, and slide into the driver’s seat before plugging the address to the ranch into my GPS.
Checking the clock for the millionth time today, my stomach twists as I compare the drive estimate to when I need to be there, and I literally have two minutes to spare.
Guess I better step on it.
Glancing around as I drive, I can’t help but notice how vastly different Wolf Creek is to Portland. Prairies and farmland for as far as the eye can see compared to the high-rise buildings and mountainous landscape I’ve become accustomed to the last few years. Brick homes and big red barns instead of apartments and convenience stores on every block. Cows and horses make up the view instead of pedestrians crossing the street, in a hurry to get to where they’re going, and I’m sure if I were to roll down my window, the scent of freshly cut hay and manure would fill my senses instead of freshly ground coffee and gasoline.
Thankfully, there’s no traffic, and I’m able to pull into the Moore Family Ranch with five minutes to spare. In the text message I got from Finn last night, he told me to meet him in front of the barn, so that’s where I go. Putting the car in park, I reach for my tea, bringing it up to my mouth to take one last drink before I get out.
It’s a mistake. One I realize much too late.
As soon as I tilt the cup, the lid unfastens and hot tea spills all over the front of my shirt and my lap. Accidentally inhaling some of the liquid that made it into my mouth, I cough, unable to catch my breath as I set the cup in the holder and jump out of the car.
“Fuck!”
Scanning the area, I’m relieved not to see anybody out here. I pop the trunk and quickly unzip my suitcase, finding a fresh shirt and pants to change into. Thissoisn’t ideal, but what the hell else am I supposed to do? Making sure there’s still nobodyelse around, I rip my drenched shirt over my head, throwing it into the trunk before putting the clean one on. Right as I’m about to shimmy out of my pants and do the same, a voice stops me in my tracks.
“What the hell is goin’ on out here?”
My head pops up from above the trunk, and my eyes land on none other than the man who is supposed to be interviewing me. My stomach lurches into my throat as I try to think of a way out of this without him thinking I’m a total weirdo. A bubble of laughter bursts out of me as I step around the back of the car, wanting to show him that I spilled my tea, so I’m just trying to change.
One problem, though… I forgot that I already opened and unzipped my slacks. Like it’s happening in slow motion and I’m witnessing it from outside of my body, my pants fall down my legs as I’m frozen in place. I’m now standing in front of the man I want to offer me a job with my damn pants around my ankles and my soaked boxers clinging to my body. I don’t have to look down to know that my dick print is on full display.
Lord fucking help me.
Finn’s face twists up as his gaze travels down to my shriveled-up dick outline, much to my horror, before coming back up and landing on my face.
“Oh, god,” I mutter, reaching down and working the pants back up as quickly as possible. “I’m so, so sorry! I spilled my tea as I was getting out of the car, and I was trying to change before anybody came out here.”
His eyes narrow. “So, your solution was to get naked in the driveway?”
Folding his arms over his chest, I can’t help but notice how large he is compared to how small I feel right now. My throat is dry as my heart pounds a mile a minute.
“I’m sorry,” I plead again. “I thought I could quickly swap out my pants and shirt before anybody saw. It was stupid. I’m so sorry. I swear I’m not normally this much of a mess. This whole day has been one disaster after another, and I barely made it here as it is. God, you probably think I’m ridiculous.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, which makes my anxiety spike even higher. It’s like he’s watching and judging me, which is almost worse than him saying it all to my face or sending me on my way. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
Finally, he drops his arms and mutters, “You can change in the bathroom. Let’s go, I don’t have all day.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, I grab the pants and slam the trunk shut, following him as he leads me into the house that sits beside the barn. “I’m Ash, by the way,” I offer.
“Yeah, I gathered that,” he grunts as he pulls open the screen door and steps inside the cool, air-conditioned house. My eyes scan the space, taking in its beauty. It’s everything I would expect from a ranch-style rambler. Vaulted ceilings, wide open living area, exposed beams, large windows overlooking the property. God, I bet the sunrises in this house are spectacular.
“Your house is beautiful,” I murmur.
Stopping in the middle of the living room, Finn turns to face me, taking in my disheveled appearance once more. “This is my dad’s house,” he says dryly. “I live down the way. Bathroom is down that hall; second door on the left.”
“Oh, uh…” I clear my throat. “Sure. Be right back.”
Five minutes later, Finn is gesturing for me to take a seat on one of the bar stools at the counter. As I do, I assume he’s going to take the one beside me.
