Page 8 of Rough

I frowned. “Who? Jett Markle?”

“From what you told me about him, he’s one tall glass of water.”

“He’s also self-centered, authoritarian and did nothing for me,” I grumbled. Jett was thirty-five, handsome in the clean cut, preppy sort of way. His brown hair was parted, well cut and groomed. His smile was broad, but I wondered if it were as fake as the veneers on his teeth. His clothes fit in with Montana. Jeans, simple button-up shirts, leather boots. He was just… polished. Fake. He was playing at being a cowboy whereas Boydwasall cowboy.

There I went, using Boyd Wolf as husband measuring stick.

“But Boyd Wolf did.”

“Exactly,” I replied before I caught myself.

“Ha! I was right. You never told me what happened with Jett.”

“We went to a fancy steak place. He ordered for me.”

“What?” she practically squawked.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t even like lamb. And rare, yuck! Then he told me about how he’d retired from a hedge fund company at thirty-five and bought a big piece of land to fulfill the lifelong dream of being a rancher.”

“Hedge fund company?”

“New York City,” I replied.

“Does he actually ranch?”

“I have no idea. I can’t imagine him getting his hands dirty let alone riding a horse or castrating calves. He lives on this side of the mountains.” I put on my blinker and turned when my GPS said. I’d remembered Boyd mentioning the name of his family property, Wolf Ranch. It wasn’t hard to forget when it was his last name. It had been easy to search and plug in for directions. “While most people live in the town, the older homesteads, probably like Wolf Ranch, are over here. Also, the big parcels for the moved-to-Montana folk like Jett.”

“So I guess the date was a one-time thing?” she asked. “If he’s that bad within the first hour, it’s not worth a second go.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I made it pretty clear I wasn’t interested. Didn’t even let him walk me to my door. But I think he took it as playing hard to get. Maybe even saving myself.” I gave the last mental air quotes. I wasn’t a virgin, and I certainly wasn’t saving myself for marriage, but I was looking for someone to marry. It just wasn’t Jett. I wasn’t that bored with my vibrator to sleep with him.

“Why?”

“Because he keeps calling. Even texted and said he’d pick me up on Friday after my shift.”

“You told him your work schedule?”

“Hell, no. I have no idea how he got it. Maybe he threw some of his hedge fund money around.” I’d been hopeful before the date, but it had been obvious really fast, right about the time he said I’d be eating lamb for dinner, that it wasn’t going to happen with Jett. I’d made it clear in my lack of interest, but it bothered me that he didn’t grasp the fact that I wasn’t interested. He was rich and attractive. Surely there had to be a whole slew of eager women in town to take him on.

The road had followed a split rail fence for the past mile. I slowed when it was broken by a huge archway. If I had any doubts of where I was, the words Wolf Ranch carved into the wood would have helped. The driveway was dirt. Straight. Long. I couldn’t see any buildings from the road, which meant the ranch was big.

“Ignore him. Go for Boyd Wolf. If you don’t, I will.”

“You will not.” I was surprised by the snap to my voice, even though I knew she was messing with me.

She didn’t argue. Instead, she softened her voice. “You deserve a great guy. A nice guy. Ahotguy. You deserve every orgasm he can give you.”

“Marina!”

“What? You do. You might look at vaginas all day, but I bet yours has cobwebs on it.”

I wasnotanswering that one.

“Boyd Wolf is cocky. Sure of himself,” I countered.

“So? That makes him good in bed.”

I sighed, took a deep breath. “He’s definitely a player. Listen, I’m here. I have to go.”