Best Friend's Ex Box Set

Tiffany laughed, “I know, right? No telling how many times in the last six months I’ve heard someone say that.

“I suppose I should take it as a compliment. I’d rather be called some version of that than some of the other names that have been directed my way.”

“If anyone calls you bad names, I’ll kick their ass,” Tiffany stated calmly as she set her brush down for a moment. “I’m serious, Cheyenne. You are by far the best boss I’ve ever had, and you’re doing a really good thing here.”

“Well, no one in Green Point has been rude to me so far.” I said, as Tiffany moved on to another horse. “Maybe that sort of trouble is gone with the wind.”

I hoped so, at least. Moving to Green Point had been motivated by other things—not just the horse sanctuary and sprawling acres covered in evergreen pines. Dexter Ray was one of those reasons.

The pit of my stomach curled unpleasantly at the thought of my ex-boyfriend who had singlehandedly run me out of Portland. So, no more dating. No more men. Just horses. That was the mantra I had repeated to myself while signing the papers for the ranch. I couldn’t afford to let myself get wrapped up in a man again.

“What are your plans for tonight?” Tiffany asked.

Wariness filled me at the hopeful look on her face. “It depends on what you’re going to say next; what are you thinking?”

“I was just going to suggest coming to the Iron Stallion,” she said. “You know my brother’s an awesome bartender, and the food there is amazing.”

The Iron Stallion was a small restaurant and bar on the edge of Main Street. The food was delicious, along with the drinks, but it was mainly Colt that drew in the females in town. Not that I blamed any of them.

My cheeks burned mental images of Colt’s strong, broad chest popped up. He had the same fair blond hair as Tiffany and matching cerulean blue eyes that could cut right through anyone. He and Tiffany were fraternal twins. Another factor making Colt irresistible was the fact that no one ever messed with him. He stood six-foot-two in his boots, towering over most everyone, and had a no-nonsense attitude with anyone who had too many drinks.

He used to be a rancher as well, from what I was able to gather through Tiffany. Their parents owned three different ranches, all in different states, and Colt supervised the one in Green Point in addition to running his restaurant.

No men, Cheyenne. Only horses. Remember?

“Maybe,” I said, quickly turning away to hide my burning face. “I’ll think about it, okay? But I’ve got to warn you; there’s a book in my living room calling my name.”

“You are such a hermit,” Tiffany said, sighing. “Come hang out with me, at least for a while. I know Colt would like it if you came along.”

I didn’t miss the coyness in her voice.

“Why is that?”

“You two have a lot in common.” I rolled my eyes at Tiffany’s lame attempt to dodge the question. “He’s single like you. He owns a ranch. Sort of. I think you two would hit it off great.”

“Wait, I thought you told me he was so much happier now that he has the Iron Stallion. He must not love the ranch life that much. Does Colt know that you are trying to set us up?”

“I wouldn’t call it trying to set you up,” she said but grinned when I turned to raise an eyebrow at her. “And, of course, he loves ranching. But he wanted to try his hand at building his own business, you know. Look, it was just a suggestion, that’s all. I know you have a no dating policy, but—”

“You still keep trying to fix me up with your brother.”

Tiffany opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by the shrill ringtone of my phone from the tiny office in the barn. Grateful for the interruption, I handed her a pitchfork before hurrying into the office. A quick glance at the caller ID told me it was Jacob Myers—the local vet for the surrounding area. There was only one reason that Jacob would be calling me on a Saturday afternoon, especially since he knew I was closed.

“Hi, Cheyenne; sorry for the weekend call, but I have a horse here at the clinic that needs to be picked up. I’ve been treating him for malnourishment, and I already stitched up some wounds.

My heart dropped, “Is there evidence of abuse? It wouldn’t be the first time a horse ran through a fence, right.”

“Direct evidence, Cheyenne. I confronted the owner over the phone about the scars and neglect, which he denied. I got an ill response when I told him I’d be keeping the horse because he refused to pay for treatment, but also because I suspected abuse. That didn’t go so well. Bottom line is I can’t keep him here.”

“That’s because it’s basically theft.”

“Right, but we’ll deal with that later. We’ll get the damn law involved if we have to.”

“Fine. Any temperament issues? Will loading be a problem?”

“Nothing a bit of sedation can’t handle. I’ll get that ready to go. Just pull around to the back.”