Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Dixie gives me a nudge.
“Come on, honey, you got this. Tell them where you’re from, what you like, that kind of thing.”
Despite my dry throat, I manage a few words.
“I’m Taylor. I don’t know much about ranching, but I know my way around a kitchen. I’ve raised my little sister. I love animals, fresh air, reading, and baking, especially cakes and pies.”
I catch my tongue, suddenly embarrassed. There’s a stirring at the front, made by the same group of men I noticed earlier. Is one of them laughing? Another has his hand raised. Time ticks by as the auctioneer looks around the rest of the crowd.
The sharp bang of the wooden hammer hitting down on a hard surface makes me flinch.
“Sold,” the auctioneer shouts with gusto.
My heart hammers in my chest and I can’t bring myself to look up and see who bought me.
“Come on,” Dixie says, taking my arm. “It’s time to meet your husband.”
3
MAVERICK
A BRIDE PRICE
“You bid without checking with us?”
Jesse nods curtly, ignoring my tone and my effort to hold his attention by standing in his way.
Jesse’s the boss and he always takes control at the auction, bidding on whatever livestock he thinks is right for the ranch. But this isn’t a livestock purchase. He just bid on a woman. A woman who’s going to be a wife.
“She’s perfect.”
“Perfect?”
I glance at Clint, who touches the front of his hat and pulls it lower as he focuses his attention on the dirt in front of him. He does that with Jesse, hiding away when he should stand his ground. He feels like he owes Jesse something. I reckon we both do, but that doesn’t mean we have to go with the flow, especially when the flow is less of a trickle and more like a flash flood.
“You don’t like her?” Jesse chews, his jaw working as he narrows his piercing blue eyes.
“Like her?” I turn and exhale, puffing out my cheeks. How the fuck can I like a girl I’ve seen for sixty seconds and heard three sentences from? “She’s too fucking young.”
Clint shifts his feet, turning away from our discussion. Behind me, another girl is brought out to sit on the hay bale like a virgin at a hoedown. She has curly auburn hair and big brassy earrings. She looks like she could handle what we have to offer without breaking. I didn’t get the same feeling from Taylor.
“They’re all young. Your momma was young. My momma was young.”
He’s bringing mommas into it now. I don’t want to think about either of our mommas in this context. Jesus. And seeing as how nothing worked out for my momma, she’s not an example to call on.
“Well, it’s too late for any kind of opinion.”
“She’s pretty. And she said the right things.” He raises his chin defiantly.
“You’re thinking with your stomach and your dick?”
Jesse rubs his tanned hand over his salt-and-pepper beard and folds his lips like he’s trying to bite back whatever was on the tip of his tongue. “We need someone practical.”
“Well, she looked practical. That outfit—”
I shake my head at the shapeless, worn clothes Taylor presented herself in today. I wore my best shirt, and Jesse and Clint pulled out their Sunday hats. A situation like this demands some effort.
“We need to get over there,” Clint grumbles. He tips his head towards Dixie, who’s helping Taylor with a small bag of things. Doesn’t look like she’s bringing much to the table.
The auction has our details, so payment before we leave isn’t necessary. I consider the price we just paid and what else we could have bought with it: a prize stallion capable of siring generations of hardworking beasts, or a small herd of livestock.
I don’t understand how the girls here think this is a good option. Men need women, and women need men; that’s just the way of the world most of the time. But finding a husband in a place like this doesn’t seem like the best option for any female.
“Here you go,” Dixie says, handing Jesse Taylor’s small bag. “Taylor, meet Jesse, Maverick, and Clint. They’ll be taking you home.” She gives Taylor a side hug, squeezing the terrified-looking girl against her ample bosom. “You got some good ones there.”
Taylor blinks, looking at all of us like Bambi facing the double barrels of a shotgun and imminent death. Triple barrel, in our case.
She’s prettier up close, with tiny pale freckles dusting her cheeks like the dappling on my favorite mare and soft, wispy light brown hair that her ears peek through, almost elfin-like. She holds herself tightly and awkwardly, as though she’s not used to the space her body takes up or the way it feels to move it.
The urge to give her some kind of reassurance is a strong and unusual one. I usually like brazen, confident women who are at home in their own sexuality. It makes one-night stands so much easier and more pleasurable.