Want Me, Cowboy. Maisey Yates

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       One

      November 1, 2018

      Location: Copper Ridge, Oregon

      WIFE WANTED—

      Rich rancher, not given to socializing. Wants a wife who will not try to change me. Must be tolerant of moods, reported lack of sensitivity and the tendency to take off for a few days’ time in the mountains. Will expect meals cooked. Also, probably a kid or two. Exact number to be negotiated. Beard is nonnegotiable.

      November 5, 2018

      Revised draft for approval by 11/6

      WIFE WANTED—

      Rich rancher, not given to socializing. Successful rancher searching for a wife who enjoys rural living. Wants a wife who will not try to change me. Must be tolerant of moods, reported lack of sensitivity, and the tendency to take off for a few days’ time in the mountains. Though happy with my life, it has begun to feel lonely, and I would like someone to enhance my satisfaction with what I have already. I enjoy extended camping trips and prefer the mountains to a night on the town. Will expect meals cooked. Also, probably a kid or two. Exact number to be negotiated. Beard is nonnegotiable. I I’m looking for a traditional family life, and a wife and children to share it with.

      “This is awful.”

      Poppy Sinclair looked up from her desk, her eyes colliding with her boss’s angry gray stare. He was holding a printout of the personal ad she’d revised for him and shaking it at her like she was a dog and it was a newspaper.

      “The original was awful,” she responded curtly, turning her focus back to her computer.

      “But it was all true.”

      “Lead with being less of an asshole.”

      “I am an asshole,” Isaiah said, clearly unconcerned with that fact.

      He was at peace with himself. Which she admired on some level. Isaiah was Isaiah, and he made no apologies for that fact. But his attitude would be a problem if the man wanted to find a wife. Because very few other people were at peace with him just as he was.

      “I would never say I want to—” he frowned “‘—enhance my enjoyment.’ What the hell, Poppy?”

      Poppy had known Isaiah since she was eighteen years old. She was used to his moods. His complete lack of subtlety. His gruffness.

      But somehow, she’d never managed to get used to him. As a man.

      This grumpy, rough, bearded man who was like a brick wall. Or like one of those mountains he’d disappear into for days at a time.

      Every time she saw him, it felt as if he’d stolen the air right from her lungs. It was more than just being handsome—though he was. A lot of men were handsome. His brother Joshua was handsome, and a whole lot easier to get along with.

      Isaiah was... Well, he was her very particular brand of catnip. He made everything in her sit up, purr...and want to be stroked.

      Even when he was in full hermit mode.

      People—and interacting with them—were decidedly not his thing. It was one reason Poppy had always been an asset to him in his work life. It was her job to sit and take notes during meetings...and report her read on the room to him after. He was a brilliant businessman, and fantastic with numbers. But people...not so much.

      As evidenced by the ad. Of course, the very fact that he was placing an ad to find a wife was both contradicting to that point—suddenly, he wanted a wife!—and also, somehow, firmly in affirmation of it. He was placing an ad to find her.

      The whole situation was Joshua’s fault. Well, probably Devlin and Joshua combined, in fairness.

      Isaiah’s brothers had been happy bachelors until a couple of years ago when Devlin had married their sister Faith’s best friend, Mia.

      Then, Joshua had been the next to succumb to matrimony, a victim of their father’s harebrained scheme. The patriarch of the Grayson family had put an ad in a national newspaper looking for a wife for his son. In retaliation, Joshua had placed an ad of his own, looking for an unsuitable wife that would teach his father not to meddle.

      It all backfired. Or...front fired. Either way, Joshua had ended up married to Danielle, and was now happily settled with her and her infant half brother who both of them were raising as their son.

      It was after their wedding that Isaiah had formed his plan.

      The wedding had—he had explained to Poppy at work one morning—clarified a few things for him. He believed in marriage as a valuable institution, one that he wanted to be part of. He wanted stability. He wanted children. But he didn’t have any inclination toward love.

      He didn’t have to tell her why.

      She knew why.

      Rosalind.

      But she wouldn’t speak her foster sister’s name out loud, and neither would he. But she remembered. The awful, awful fallout of Rosalind’s betrayal.

      His pain. Poppy’s own conflicted feelings.

      It was easy to remember her conflicted feelings, since she still had them.

      He was staring at her now, those slate eyes hard and glinting with an energy she couldn’t quite pin down. And with coldness, a coldness that hadn’t been there before Rosalind. A coldness that told her and any other woman—loud and clear—that his heart was unavailable.

      That didn’t mean her own heart didn’t twist every time he walked into the room. Every time he leaned closer to her—like he was doing now—and she got a hint of the scent of him. Rugged and pine-laden and basically lumberjack porn for her senses.

      He was a contradiction, from his cowboy hat down to his boots. A numbers guy who loved the outdoors and was built like he belonged outside doing hard labor.

      Dear God, he was problematic.

      He made her dizzy. Those broad shoulders, shoulders СКАЧАТЬ