Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
"I met a mountain man," I blurt, flinging open the door as soon as Paige knocks.
"You met a mountain man?" she asks, blinking wide eyes at me. A slow grin spreads across her face. She's used to the way my brain works.
"Yes. Well, no." I shake my head. "I mean, Clover and I almost ran over a bull on the way in today, but a mountain man walked out of the bushes like a freaking cow wrangler and told the bull to go home, and he went."
"Wow," she says, tucking her wild blonde curls behind her ears. "Your day has been way more adventurous than mine. Was he hot?"
"He was a giant." I flap a hand in the air. "That's beside the point."
"Hot is never beside the point, Cassia."
"True."
"What is the point?"
"The point is…you were talking about writing mountain men. This is your sign. There are mountain men here. You can come in," I say, holding the door open for her.
"We're going to Emmy's," she reminds me, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the cabin. "She's planning to actually work this week." Paige makes a face at me. "It's up to us to put a stop to this madness."
"I need to work this week," I mutter, thinking about the not-Cord cowboy I'm supposed to be writing right now.
"Me too. Day drinking is more fun."
"So much more fun."
"Plus, we'll end up working while drinking anyways. Someone will need brainstorming and that totally counts. I also might need to explore this mountain man idea some more. I can't believe you remembered I mentioned that. It was a couple of weeks ago in one of our online brainstorming chats, right? I'm just so bored with knights. I want to stretch and grow and write something that challenges me."
"You seemed very set on mountain men. I think it's a great idea. And this area seems perfect for it."
"True. You know how I like to do hands-on research."
We link arms, giggling as we stroll down the cobblestone path between cabins. I should have grabbed a jacket. The air is downright frosty. Patches of snow and ice still dot the ground and tree line in places from the last storm that blew through. It's supposed to storm again tomorrow or the next day.
"I can't believe you suggested Tahoe," Paige says, her gaze following mine to the snow.
"It's a nice change of pace."
"Mmhmm," she says, not buying it for a minute.
"Whatever." I roll my eyes. "I brought you to mountain men. That means you aren't allowed to ask me any questions."
Paige snorts. "That is not at all what that means. But I will give you more time if you need it."
"I need it," I groan, thinking about Cord's last email. You, soapy, wet, slippery… "I definitely need it." If I tell her what I'm here to do, she'll think I'm nuts. Or, worse, she'll insist I actually knock on his door and meet him the proper way.
I doubt he'll be so eager to see me all naked and slippery wet when he knows I'm a twenty-six-year-old virgin cat lady who has never been kissed, let alone done any of the things I write about. I'm not ashamed of who I am, this much is true. But I'm not blind either. Men who look like Cord Decker go for women who look like my mom. They don't go for never-been-kissed curvy virgins like me.
Chapter Two
CORD
"Jace, get them out of the damn way!" I cup my hands around my mouth to yell to the ranch-hand currently herding half a dozen yearlings in aimless circles right through the middle of the crowd pen instead of moving them into the race for sorting and loading. He's a demon on the back of a horse, but the boy doesn't have a lick of sense. Unless I tell him exactly what to do, he's as lost as a day-old kitten.
"Yes, sir," he shouts back.
I watch for a moment to make sure he's obeying orders and then glance out into the primary pasture, scanning for Hamburger. The fucking bull keeps escaping. If he wasn't so ornery, I'd have given up on bringing him back long ago and let him have his freedom. But he's an asshole.
The last thing I need is for the old bastard to trample some tourist. He'd do it out of pure spite. As far as he's concerned, this mountain is his and we just live on it. I keep threatening to send him to the butcher, but I think he knows it's an idle threat. He's too fucking valuable a stud to turn into beef. It's tempting though. Especially since I spend half my time looking for his cranky ass.
Luckily, my younger brother, Cam, is chasing after him again today, freeing me up to deal with things here. Lord knows, on a ranch this size, there's enough work to go around, especially with the winter calving season beginning. I haven't gotten nearly enough done lately.