Grumpy Cowboy (Single Dad Collection)

Me: It’s because this ranch is in the middle of nowhere and the cell service and WI-FI is total shit. I’m standing in a meadow right now just to text you. Not even joking.

Taylor: How is the ranch life, by the way? Getting along with your patient?

Me: Getting along with my patient? HA. Not even close. Nothing is what I thought it would be. This ranch is gorgeous, but it’s out in the middle of nowhere. Literally. It’s an hour drive just to reach civilization. And my patient isn’t 14 yrs old like my boss told me. He’s a 36 yr old hot, grumpy cowboy who doesn’t want me around.

Carla: A hot, grumpy cowboy? This sounds promising.

Taylor: LOL.

Me: It’s not promising. We spend most of our time together bickering and arguing, and he’s so freaking stubborn it’s not even funny.

Carla: But he’s hot? And he’s a cowboy? This sounds like a situation I’d volunteer to be in…

Taylor: For real. This is some sexy, enemies-to-lovers kind of shit.

I roll my eyes and type out a response.

Me: I’m not in a romance novel, Tay. This is real life. And he’s a bit of a dick.

With a big dick.

I grimace. For the love of everything, I really need to stop thinking about Rhett Jameson’s penis.

My fingers hover over the screen as I contemplate if I should tell them about the entire massage thing that just went down. I mean, it was the whole damn reason I texted them in the first place.

But something tells me they’re only going to cause me more confusion.

Hell, before I came here to the ranch, they were on my ass about putting myself out there and dating again.

And I know it’s been a long-ass time since I’ve dated or done pretty much anything with the opposite sex, but hello? I’ve been busy for the past eight years with my job.

Carla: I’m pretty sure I’m going to need to see what this hot cowboy of yours looks like.

Taylor: For real. Pic or he doesn’t exist, Lee.

Yep. Definitely not going to tell them about the massage.

Instead, I’m just going to focus on forgetting that insanity even happened.

It’s the only way I’ll be able to move forward from this and actually do my job.

I mean, I can’t be getting all fucking turned on every damn time I see Rhett with his stupid shirt off. He’s shirtless all the freaking time. And my job makes me have to be around him all the freaking time.

So, yeah, I have to move past this.

Lock the memory up tight in the deep recesses of my brain and forget about it altogether.

Me: I’m not sending you horny bitches a picture of my patient. Anyway, I have to get going. I’ll try to text and call when I can, okay?

Carla: WTF? I thought you said you needed advice with something…

Shit. Quickly, I scramble for a reasonable excuse.

Me: Never mind! Sam just got back to me about it. All is good in the ranch hood. See ya on the flip side!

God, I’m being so weird. I know I’m being weird, and I know they’re going to know I’m being weird.

Taylor: You’re acting so strange, dude. Are you sure you’re okay?

See what I mean?

Me: Promise. Love you and miss you both like crazy. P.S. You bitches better enjoy the Maroon 5 concert tonight for me.

Carla: Girl, I’ll try to flash my tits at Adam Levine in your honor.

I snort. Carla is a die-hard Adam Levine fan. Like, she doesn’t care what anyone says about that man; she fucking adores him.

Me: First of all, that’s public indecency and illegal. Secondly, I gotta go.

Carla: It’s only public indecency if Adam Levine doesn’t enjoy it. Which he will. I have a great rack.

Taylor: Don’t worry, Lee. I’ll make sure this crazy bitch doesn’t get arrested.

Me: Perfect. Love you! Bye!

Once I slide my phone back into my pocket, I hop into the truck and head to my cabin. And the whole way there, once I’m done mentally berating myself for letting my thoughts get so out of hand during Rhett’s massage, I make a few very important promises—I will put that massage in the past. I will keep shit professional. And I will not, no matter how tempting it is, touch Rhett Jameson’s penis. Not with my hands or my mouth or my horny fucking vagina.

Because, holy hell, I was hired to rehab his knee.

Not ride him like a rodeo queen.

July 2nd, Friday

Leah

“Now,” Rhett says, settling his hands in his pockets like he always does at the end of this speech atop the hearth of the lodge fireplace. “I’ll hang around for a bit if y’all have any questions, but other than that, please make yourselves at home.”

A round of applause breaks out, the happiness and anticipation of a new crowd of ranch guests palpable in the room. The only thing that’s different from the past couple of weeks and what Rhett calls “intake day” is that the size of this crowd is nearly double anything I’ve seen on any other occasion. To be honest, I didn’t even know they had enough lodging to accommodate this many people at once.