It’s primarily for selfish reasons, but I wanted to be alone. It’s not very often I get to do that.
Just beyond the tractors and plowing equipment are crop fields for miles, taking up most idle space, aside from the properties being leased. A large portion of the acreage is for my own personal cattle, bringing in nearly five thousand cow-calf pairs.
Ranching is a way of life. I get to grind hard and watch the reward from my labor come to life. My pops was a cattle the truest fucking cowboy I ever knew.
He’s my reason.
Coleson Ranch was ours together, although small and seemingly insignificant in reach at the time, now it’s his legacy.
Especially since I don’t want kids. I’ve got a niece and nephew through my sister that I love enough for a lifetime. I plan to pass down the Cole family legacy to them someday. That’s if they want it.
But to have a life partner? Now, that’s the dream.
Never in my life did I picture myself single at my age. I don’t date much, unless you include fooling around every now and then.
Jules, the woman I’ve been sleeping with for a few months, wants nothing more than to move into my home and take advantage of me. I’m not an idiot. I knew it from the moment I met her, yet I ignored it because I’m a horny bastard.
Not to mention—lonely. That thought serves as my mental reminder to end things with her before she gets the wrong idea.
Which takes me right back to my point: money can never buy happiness. I’ve got plenty of cash and not a satisfied bone in my body.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the life I’ve built and the financial security it brings me. But it means nothing without someone to share it with.
And today, I have reporters scheduled to show up at the ranch by ten to interview me, along with a major magazine column. None of this would have been possible if Clay hadn’t called the news station, attempting to bring in some publicity while I was looking to lease out my last few hundred thousand acres. Frankly, that’s the only reason I agreed to it.
Not something I asked him to do, and something I’m really fucking pissed about. I don’t appreciate people intervening and trying to tell me how to do my job. Clay included.
But it’s his comment about finding me a wife that really has my head spinning. I call bullshit. There’s no way this is only about work; I know it, and he knows it, too.
It’s like he mapped out some sort of to-do list, slowly checking off thingshethinks I need or need to do. Which is why I can assume with full confidence that the media isn’t coming to Waterstone fucking Texas to hear about cattle and livestock.
They want the scoop on my nonexistent love life in hopes of playing matchmaker.I can see the headlines now.
We may have found a reputable cattle tenant, but what Clay doesn’t understand is that all he did was light a fire under the asses of every media outlet north of the Texas border. Now, thanks to him,ForbesMagazineis my guest fortoday. Not only that, but I also get to look forward to many new sets of eyes on me for the foreseeable future, making my once private life much less private.
Forbesdoesn’t come to Waterstone, Texas. And they certainly have never given a damn about ranching in the South. Gone are the days when the media actually wanted to discuss trends in the cattle markets or what makes high-value ranching so lucrative.
Their attention seems to be pretty transfixed on the millionaire recluse cowboy, who also happens to be a single bachelor.
Boom.There’s their story. And there goes my sanctuary.
After traveling last week to land the deal, I knew I needed to head home and get straight to work. The burden is definitely lighter, not having to vet any more grazing farmers. And I’m confident Waylon will make sure his cattle protect my land.
But I’d be foolish to forget about how that smart-mouthed bombshell made me feel. Charmed like a man in my twenties with nothing to worry about but pussy and sports stats. And I can’t remember the last time I felt that kind of connection with someone.
The kind where I would be perfectly content just being close to her, even if no words were exchanged. It’s a chilling feeling, despite her not giving a single damn about me.
The sound of a car pulling down the gravel road catches my attention. Clay’s face comes into view through the windshield, and I can’t help the groan that seeps out. “Oh hell.”
Once the car stops, Clay’s suit-clad body exits the driver’s side, and his head pops up in a cheerful greeting. “What up, you stone-cold cowboy?”
I shake my head, contemplating whether I shouldhurry inside and lock him out to savor a little bit of quiet before all the madness invades my land. “Go home, Clay.”
“Now, you know I can’t do that, Stet. I’ve basically taken over the role of your best friend. You can hate me all you want, but this is good publicity for you. What’s the worst that could happen?”
My best friend?That’s a stretch. Pretty sure I forgot what having one feels like.
I take a sip of my coffee, the plain white cup I drink from every morning feeling like the only constant in my life right now. Anything to stall my response. “I don’t want to be set up with random women, Clay. And especially by people who know nothing about me or my life. Not only that, I don’t want to talk about it either.”
