One Bride for Four Ranchers: A Reverse Harem Romance Read online

  “Hi there,” she says, and gives me a little wave. “Guess I’m not the only one who decided to get some work done today.”

  I snort, I can’t help it. “Trust me, we’re probably the only two people within miles of this house who don’t have to be blackmailed in order to work on a computer.”

  Her smile widens, and she settles in on the barstool next to mine. “Your brothers don’t exactly strike me as the desk jockey types.”

  I wince, just barely. And she suddenly looks horrified. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a desk jockey.”

  I laugh. “It’s okay, honestly. You’re not the first person I’ve met who thinks breaking horses and wrangling cattle is more interesting than working out the ROI for our latest venture, or picking stocks.” So what if I grew our fortune significantly by taking my family’s investments to the next level. But dammit, I’m not about to brag about that to impress a woman. Even one as fascinating as Jessa Long.

  I’d looked into her after our first meeting. Googled some of her articles. She’s a great writer with a keen insight. We’re lucky to have her covering our work out here. If all of us lusting after her doesn’t chase her away before she can write the story.

  She settles back in her chair and crosses her arms. Her eyes lock on me, really looking. I refuse to squirm under her gaze. I know who I am, what I am. I’m different from my brothers, sure. But I’m long past the age where I need to fit in. Most days.

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” she says, finally. “Don’t you know that smart is the new sexy?”

  Her joke surprises another laugh out of me. “Is it now?” I hope so, after meeting her. Sure, Clay saw her first, but he’d also lied about his name. I’m still not sure pursuing Jessa is a good idea—and I always think things through from every angle before committing to anything, even chasing a woman—but I am damn tempted.

  “It is,” she confirms. “And I’m starting to see why.” She gives me a dazzling smile.

  Fuck. What a smile. A man could fall hard for a smile like that if he weren’t careful. If the bearer of that smile isn’t already, obviously, half in love with both of my other brothers, I could fall for her.

  And that’s why I’m not chasing her. It is a race I’m far too likely to lose. And unlike our high school days, this one would really hurt. Long term.

  At that thought, I turn back to my computer.

  Sensing the shift in my emotions, she shifts in her seat, uncomfortable. Then after a long moment, she opens her laptop.

  Over the next hour, we chat while we work. About lighter things, no more real flirting. She asks me a lot of questions that are pertinent, I’m sure, to her article. We talk about the most unsexy of topics, like the return on investment for the alternative energy methods we’re trying. And for several of our other environmental projects.

  “This must’ve been a full house when you were growing up,” she muses. “Where are your parents now? Did they say screw the ranch life and move to a beach somewhere to retire?”

  Pain squeezes my chest, but I force my face to remain neutral. “Our parents passed away when we were barely eighteen. Car accident.”

  Her mouth drops open. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

  “How could you have known?” I force a smile. “It was fourteen years ago. It was awful, but we made it.” Most of us, I silently add. Our fourth brother, Tyler, hasn’t made it through the same as the rest of us. He’d always acted like more of an outsider, even more than I have. He’s different from Clay and Trey, different from our father. He was two years younger than the three of us, and when our parents died...well, it’d been rough on a sixteen-year-old. We rarely saw him these days. And when we do see him, it’s because he needs bail money.

  Her eyes fill with tears, and I look away. A lot of time has passed, but in a lot of ways the wounds are still fresh.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she says, and then her hand grazes my shoulder.

  “You didn’t,” I say, truthfully. The desire to turn toward her, take her in my arms and comfort her, is so strong that I shut my laptop lid, pick it up, and turn away. “Please, don’t worry about it,” I tell her again. “Why don’t you grab some lunch? I have a few things I need to see to.” Then without looking at her, I head for my office in the back of the house.

  Chapter 8

  Clay

  My decision to steer clear is a good one, I know that. And I manage to avoid her during her first day at the ranch. It takes everything inside of me not to seek her out, or at least seek out my brother, Trey.

  He drove her around the ranch, and while I’m pretty sure it’d been all business, I find myself curious. Jealous, even. Not jealous of her and Trey—if she can penetrate the icy exterior he’s placed around himself since Claire died, more power to her. But I am jealous because I’m not involved. And why is that? Because I am skulking around, avoiding a woman who draws me to her like a moth to a flame.

  And maybe I’m skulking because I feel more than a little ashamed about what happened in New York.

  After breakfast, when I see her walk outside, I have to follow her.

  Jessa doesn’t head out to her rental car like I thought she would. Instead, she walks out near the stables. Several horses are loose in the smaller padlock next to the barn. She walks toward the palomino mare closest to the fence and holds out her hand, cooing quietly to her. She’s holding a cut-up apple.

  I stifle a smile at the sight, and follow her to the fence line. Buttermilk, the pretty palomino who Jessa attracted with her cooing, takes an apple slice with a happy crunch.

  “Making a new friend?” I ask.

  She glances over her shoulder at me, but doesn’t walk away. Her expression is cool, but not the fiery anger it’d been the night she got here. I am ready to call that progress.

  “They’re beautiful,” she says, nodding to the horses.

  “They are,” I say. As if understanding our words, Buttermilk preens at us. And I laugh. “And don’t they know it.”

  Jessa gives me a wide smile, then frowns fiercely. As if remembering who she is smiling at. Even irritated with me, she’s beautiful. Her pert nose, beautiful eyes, and a body a man could get lost in. A body I did get lost in.

  “Can you drive me into town?”

  “Sure,” I say before I can think better of it. Shit. So much for avoiding Jessa. But I’d be a damn liar if I didn’t admit, at least myself, that something sparks in me at the idea of spending a little time with her.

  “Thanks. I’ll be right back. Just need to grab some stuff.” And then she’s gone, rushing back to the house. No doubt grabbing her recorder and notebook she likes to carry around everywhere. I do my best not to watch her ass sway as she runs, but I fail. Damn, the woman has a nice set of curves.

  The night we had together in New York was incredible. Hell, the best sex I’d ever had. Maybe that’s why I ran so fast. I didn’t handle it like I should have, and quite frankly I never thought I’d have to answer to anybody about it other than my conscience. Fucking figures the one girl I treat worse than an afterthought of even treating anyone before is the one that follows me home. Fucking fate.

  I start my old Ford truck I’ve had and adored since I was sixteen. Before I can do more than that, Jessa is hopping into the passenger seat. I wait for her to belt up, then I put the old Ford into drive and head down the driveway.

  “Can I ask you some questions while we drive?”

  I start, then do my best to cover it up by rolling down my window. It’s the old crank style, so it takes a minute. “Sure, I guess.”

  Ignoring my less than exuberant acceptance, she starts in with the questions. “So, I hear most of the environmental stuff you guys are doing out here was all your idea.”

  “Now that wasn’t a question,” I point out, shooting her a grin.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re always kind of a pain, aren’t you?

  “Ha!” I can’t help myself. Teasing her is just natur
al. “Now that was a question.”

  She relents, chuckling with me for a moment. Damn, it feels good that she’s loosening up, even a little bit.

  “But yes, it was my idea to start all this up, anyway. That’s not to say all the ideas were mine—once we got into it, Trey and Joshua both had a hand in what we implemented. But the idea itself, to try to make a ranch that is friendlier to the environment, that was mine.” My ears heat, and I shake myself mentally. I’m not one to hide from any sort of praise. I don’t resist taking credit where it’s due, and sometimes if I’m trying to impress a woman, where it’s not. But something about Jessa makes me want to dial all the bullshit down. And it makes me uncomfortable.

  “Where did the idea come from?” she asks, writing in her notebook, seeming oblivious to my discomfort.

  “I don’t know, really. Just one of those things that hits you and you wonder why you haven’t been doing it for years.” I shrug. “I might have thought of it, but Joshua and Trey have really seen it through. Hell, even Tyler helps a bunch when he comes around.”

  She makes a few more notes before giving me a look I can only describe as penetrating. I don’t squirm, but it’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to because a beautiful woman was looking at me—at least since high school.

  “I heard that you might have been inspired by your college classes.”

  “I minored in environmental science in college. I guess that’s where it really started, but it took me a couple years out of college before it occurred to me to actually apply any of that stuff.” I grin at her. “What can I say? I’m slow.”

  “I’d so love to agree with you, but I wouldn’t insult you,” she says, but she does so with a grin still on her lips. “Do you spend most of your time here on the ranch? Or do you jet around to all the environmental conferences you can?”

  That question was a bit more personal, but only just. “Trey and Joshua aren’t much for conferences,” I admit. “And with the exception of yourself, they don’t want to chat with journalists of any kind. So I handle all that stuff.”

  “Must be terrible for you,” she says dryly, pausing in her notebook writing to glare at me.

  “I manage, somehow,” I say. “Every once in a while, going to a conference really pays off.”

  “I’ll bet it does,” she mutters.

  I can’t help it, I wink at her, and she glares harder at me.

  “So, you don’t have a girlfriend running around here that’s going to jump out and try to beat me up, do you?” Her tone is casual, but I’m not fooled. I know that having slept with me while I had a girlfriend waiting at home would bother her—and not just a little bit.

  “No girlfriend,” I reassure her. “I’m sorry about how I handled New York City. It was supposed to be just the one night. But... I could have handled it better. You’re right to wonder exactly how badly I behaved, but I swear, sneaking out in the middle of the night and lying about my name was the extent of my bad behavior.” Damn. When I say it out loud, especially to her, it sounds pretty fucking awful.

  She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and it takes every bit of self-control I possess not to fidget while I wait. But changing the subject or prattling on to make myself feel better would be a shit thing to do. She deserves some time to think.

  “One night was all it was. And it’s all it’ll ever be,” she says, a touch of anger in her tone. But before I can try to smooth her feathers, she keeps going. “So, do any of you guys have kids? Any wives hidden somewhere?”

  “No, ma’am.” I don’t tell her about Trey’s wife. If he wants to tell her about Claire, that’s his business. But I’ve never seen him talk to anybody about his wife. Not unless he had to, and not since we buried her. So I really doubt Jessa will hear one word about her.

  “Do you want kids?”

  The directness of her question startles me into hitting the gas. I compensate by hitting the brake a little harder than I should, and Jessa jerks in her seat as the seat belt catches.

  I ignore her glare, and I answer honestly. “I’ve never really thought about kids. The family thing, it’s never been something I wanted. I know somebody has to inherit the Lazy H. But I’m fine with Trey or Joshua doing the procreating. Hell, it’s possible even Tyler will settle down enough to get married have a kid someday. Stranger shit has happened.”

  “I see,” she says, then goes back to her notebook, not writing, but reading over other notes she’s taken. Surprisingly, she clams up entirely after that, giving me only one-word responses when I try to open up the conversation again.

  I don’t dare allow myself to think too hard about why she might be upset.

  By the time we roll into the small town of Sweet Lake, the tension in the truck is palpable. Jessa doesn’t seem angry, not exactly. But doesn’t seem very happy either. And it’s beyond my skills of reading people—women, anyway—to figure out what the hell is wrong.

  “See you here in an hour or so?” I ask. I hand her a card with my cell phone number on it. “Text me if you want to head back sooner.”

  “Thank you,” she says, spine stiff. But she doesn’t look at me. Instead, she opens the door and hops out of the truck, then heads into the drugstore.

  I’m sure I’ve said something wrong. Something very wrong. But I don’t have a fucking clue what it might be. My decision to avoid her is a sound one—now only if I can stick to it.

  Chapter 9

  Jessa

  I practically run into the drugstore to get away from Clay. I’m so mad. But I’m not sure who I’m mad at. Am I angry with Clay—who’s done nothing worse than be honest about his intentions? Or am I pissed at myself? For being stupid enough to even have the slightest hope Clay might want something more?

  Irritated, I grab the only brand of prenatal vitamins on the drugstore shelf. The drugstore itself is tiny, not more than three little aisles with a couple of displays at the front of the store. I wouldn’t want to have to do any real shopping here, but considering the size of Sweet Lake, I’m lucky I found prenatal vitamins at all. That would teach me to just grab my pre-packed bag—the one I always take on trips like this. Not only had that made me forget about my prenatal vitamins, but I’d only packed a single pair of jeans. Hopefully I can wash them tonight and leave Sweet Lake before I need to launder them again.

  I bring my vitamins to the counter, giving a quick glance out to the truck first. No Clay. Thank goodness.

  “Will this be all for ya, hon?” the pretty young girl behind the counter asks. She has dark hair and eyes, and looks like she might be sixteen at the most. Must be a family store.

  “That’s it,” I confirm.

  “Congratulations on your news,” she says, smiling brightly at me. The difference between the big city in a small town. Most drugstore clerks would’ve kept their mouths shut. I kind of like the slightly invasive kindness of Sweet Lake.

  So long as I can keep things under wraps until I talk to Clay.

  “Thank you,” I say, honestly. It feels nice for someone other than my doctor to know, and her radiant smile makes me happy. Then a twinge of guilt pricks me. I need to tell Clay, and soon. The man deserves to know he’s going to be a father—whether he wants to be one or not.

  I step out into the sunlight, and close my eyes. The heat feels amazing on my skin, and the fresh air clears my head.

  It’ll be his choice, of course, if he wants to be involved. But after getting to know him better, getting to know his family...it’ll be tough to go back to being strangers to the Hollisters. Especially with a tiny connection to them reminding me daily of the brothers.

  My chest tightens at the thought, but I take a deep breath of the fresh Wyoming air and push it aside. No use worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet.

  I wander through the town with my notebook under my arm. The drugstore Clay brought me to proves to be on the edge of Main Street. The street is pretty, and exactly what I’d picture for a quaint, western, small town. Clean stre
ets and older, yet well-maintained buildings, with pretty flowers planted down the median and next to the sidewalks. Small metal tables and benches, shaded by huge umbrellas next to the sidewalk every so often. A couple are even occupied by families eating hot dogs.

  I can see why the Hollisters—who could live anywhere—still call this part of the world home.

  It’s a perfect place to wander through and chat with people. To my surprise, while everyone seems polite and willing to talk with me for a few moments, only a little more than half—by my estimation—are actually for the new green projects they’re doing out at the Hollister Ranch.

  “You need to talk to Jed Burke about the crap they’re pulling out there at the Lazy H,” one elderly gentleman advises me, shaking his finger in my general direction. “He’ll tell you all you need to know, little lady.”

  I frown. The older man in front of me, Jake, according to his hardware store name tag, isn’t the first to mention Jed Burke.

  “You don’t happen to know where I might be able to find Mr. Burke, would you?” I say, sweetly.

  “Well I can’t say where he is right this minute, but he goes to his sister’s café every day for lunch. It’s nearly noon now, so you should be able to catch him there.” Jake shakes his head. “It’s terrible, what the Hollisters have done to Jed.”

  “Thank you so much,” I say, forcing myself to simper just a little bit. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to tell me where the café is, would you?

  His chest puffs out at my simpering, but his tone is still dripping with irritation. “Amber’s Café, course,” he says, pointing the opposite direction that I’d come from. “You can find it a couple blocks down, cross the street.”

  “Thanks so much,” I say, then wave at the man and start walking that direction as quickly as I can without looking like I’m trying to get away.