That’s where I’m headed now, up to the Cherry Blossom Ranch to meet my new boss-slash-landlord, Colt. I roll my eyes. “Colt,” and he runs a horse ranch. I imagine the pot-bellied good-ole-boy with the straw in his mouth and the slouchy jeans waiting for me.
All Cassidy’s mentioned is that he’s in his mid-thirties, is a retired Marine, and is a “little rough around the edges, but super nice.”
“Well, Colt,” I mutter out loud to the imaginary Jon Hamm next to me. “Here I come.”
The job pays peanuts, but it’s something. Colt Patton needs me to be on-hand as a sort of in-house horse vet; specifically, I guess his stallion is having some, uh, performance issues. I’ve tried to impress upon Cassidy how little or zero experience I have working with horses. But she’s insisted every time that I’ll do fine.
“They’re just big dogs, Tansy.”
I snort. Right. Big, big dogs. With stampy feet that can crush mine, teeth that can nip fingers, and about one and a half tons of weight to throw around. Oh, it’s worth mentioning that I might’ve a slight phobia of horses.
But whatever. For some money and a place to stay? Sure, I’ll check out Colt’s stallion’s erectile dysfunction.
Up ahead, I can see a break in the fencing along the side of the road. As I get closer, I can read the lettering on the big wrought-iron and wood arch over the driveway entrance: “Cherry Blossom Ranch” with two little cherry blossoms painted on either side of the lettering.
I pull the truck in, wincing as it bumps and rattles over every damn rock. I slow as I drive down the long, winding dirt driveway, lined with trees. Up ahead, the trees clear though, and my mouth falls open.
“Damn,” I breathe.
The farmhouse is more like a farm mansion. Sprawling, relatively new, and stunning. Beyond it lie the stables, two barns, a grain silo, and training paddocks. I pull the truck up out front and turn the engine off. Dust swirls around me as I muscle the rusty door open.
I step out onto the dusty driveway and glance around. I look up at the house and squint through late morning sun. The door doesn’t open. Colt the rancher isn’t sitting on the front porch swilling moonshine and chewing straw.
Actually, there’s no sign of him at all. I trot up the stairs to the front door and ring the bell. After a minute, I ring it twice more. But still, there’s no response. I try knocking, too. But it’s just as ineffective at getting his attention.
I check my phone with a frown. But yeah, I have the right time. The right day, too.
I step off the porch and walk around the side of the house towards the other buildings. I head over to the stable first and poke my head in. “Hello? Mr. Patton?”
A couple of the mares poke their heads out and whinny at me. I frown back. At the far end of the stable, suddenly a furry head pokes his head up from a little plaid bed. I smile widely.
“Well, hey there!” I coo at the shaggy mutt who wags his tail at me. But then he slumps back down I his bed and puts his head back down to sleep.
“Oookaaay,” I murmur, turning and putting my hands on my hips. I frown as I scan the property. Where the hell is this guy?
I check in the barn too, but there’s no sign of Colt. I try the cell number Cassidy gave me for him, but it goes straight to voicemail. Finally, I shrug and give up. Maybe he drove into town or something?
My eyes land on the small but adorably cute little garden cottage behind the main house: my residence while I’m out here. I smile as I drink it in. Oh yeah, now this is a change I could get used to. I grin at flower garden surrounding the cottage, and the little rocking chair outside the front door. I imagine myself relaxing out there after a day of work—glass of wine, good book, and no Jeff.
No desirable men at all sounds pretty fantastic right about now. Good thing my only company out here will be horses, that dog I just met, and Rancher Colt, of the straw-chewing, slouchy jeans variety.
I grab my small suitcase out of the cab of the truck and lug it over to the cottage. The door is unlocked, so I shrug and open it. I smile widely as I step in. Oh, now this will do nicely. Whoever Mr. Patton’s had decorate this place did an amazing job. It’s homey but clean and bright, with a touch of elegance. It’s like a Serena and Lily catalog in here.
I drop my bag by the door and step into the all-in-one kitchen-living-dining area. The high ceilings with the natural wood beam accents are amazing. So are the big windows and new appliances in the kitchen.
I poke my head into the bathroom first. I groan when I see the whirlpool tub. Oh hello, I mouth at it, already blocking out every single night that I’ll be staying here.
And that just leaves the bedroom.
I turn and all but skip across the room. My heart is singing some kind of happy Disney song inside as I reach for the knob. After the bathroom and the rest of this gorgeous place, I can’t wait to see where I’ll be—
I swing the door open, and I scream.
At first, I think he might be dead. Dead, gorgeous, and completely naked. But dead nonetheless. But when I scream, he grunts, stirring. His handsome, chiseled, scruffed-jaw face
