Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
“Come with me.”
I dropped the pen and frowned. “To dinner? Me?”
“Yeah, you.” He lifted his arms in surrender. “I’m not coming on to you, Moody, I promise. I have no game whatsoever right now, anyway. Like, zilch. I also have no agenda, and I’m not looking to hook up. I’m just a little tired of my own company, and you seem like an interesting guy. If you’re free for dinner, it would be nice to talk some more. That’s all.”
The bell chimed, alerting us that a customer had walked in. Two seconds later, it chimed again. Low voices chattered about the weather, a rock star’s new autobiography, and someone’s unruly pet. I heard every word somehow. Odd under the current circumstances.
I mean, the cowboy had asked me out to dinner. The cowboy…you know, the dreamy one with muscles galore and a hat and a handsome face.
Oh, yes…and he was bisexual. And only a “very comfortable in his own skin” bisexual could devour some sassy man-on-man romance and come back for another helping, which made him extra dreamy.
Fantasy activated, am I right?
Except for the part where he’d been dumped by his fiancée and was nursing a broken heart on his honeymoon.
Some guys have all the luck and some guys were…me.
Sad-sack musings aside, I liked Hudson and it wasn’t as if I had a busy schedule, so…
“I accept your invitation, kind sir.” I thrust my hand toward him, a serious expression on my face.
Hudson grinned as he shook my hand. “Cool. It’s a date.”
4
HUDSON
“It’s a date?” Not your finest work, Hudson.
Maybe not, but I liked Moody, and I didn’t think I was guilty of giving mixed signals. I’d been brutally honest about being a tourist with trust issues. I’d even mentioned the business venture that sounded a hell of a lot more interesting to me after my meeting at the ranch.
See, I didn’t want to work for someone else for the rest of my life, but I couldn’t afford to buy my own business outright. Investing in a successful, well-established enterprise run by experienced and reputable folks was a nice option.
Oak Ridge was a sprawling dude ranch that catered to equine and agricultural lovers and wealthy clients who wanted to play cowboy for a week…with a twist. Real cowboys didn’t have spa treatments after working in the fields, nor did they dine outdoors under a crystal chandelier artfully hung from an oak branch and eat meals prepared by a chef with Michelin-star cred under his belt. It was borderline ridiculous, and yet those exclusive getaway packages made the ranch serious dough that they funneled into crops and distribution.
They also had a fledgling winery and were poised to release their newest Pinot Noir. I’d tasted it on my visit earlier in the day, and damn, I’d been impressed. I wanted in. I had the capital they needed to expand, and I had experience in just about every aspect of ranching from land management and maintenance to breeding and animal care.
I’d grown up raising cattle and sheep on my family’s farm in Colorado. I was no stranger to hard work, and I wasn’t shy about pitching in to help at any hour of the day. But ownership wasn’t something my uncle was willing to share.
“Why not?” Moody asked, spearing lettuce with his fork.
“Uncle Jim is old-fashioned. My mom inherited cash and a small share of the ranch from my grandfather’s estate when he passed. He left the majority ownership to my uncle, who happens to have three sons of his own. I’m not a greedy man by any stretch, but I don’t want to be working for someone else my whole life. I want to build something and God willing, leave something for my kids someday.”
Moody bugged his eyes out. “Your kids. Do you have those?”
“No, but I’d like to…eventually. How about you?” I buttered a slice of warm sourdough with the patience of a heart surgeon in an operating room. I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me, but I hadn’t stopped talking since we’d sat down for dinner. Moody could take the reins for a while.
“Children? Oh…well, I don’t know. I like kids, and I think my practical nature and my dedication to education would be an asset in paternal care, however…I’m not fun.”
I snort-laughed. “Sure you are.”
“Oh, please,” he scoffed, fussing with his glasses. “I am quite self-aware. Fun is not in my repertoire.”
“I think you’re fun.”
Moody rolled his eyes. “That’s because you don’t know me. I might live in a village where people actually believe in peace, joy, and goodwill toward their fellow citizens, but none of that makes me fun. Bah humbug.”
“Bah humbug? Are you Scrooge?” I teased.
“I’m widely regarded as Scrooge’s ambassador to Christmas Town, so…yes.”
I hooted merrily. “You? No way.”
“Way. I don’t mind the nickname. In fact, it’s oddly endearing. The point is…I would never be the fun parent. I had one of those, so trust me, I know that a lighthearted approach makes a world of difference when raising young ones.”