Page 10 of Auctioned to the Cowboys

It’s something else I wanted to know about before we chose who to bid for, but Jesse didn’t take that into consideration.

I help Taylor from the truck, grabbing her bag, and she follows us into the kitchen. I rest it on the large wooden table and wait for Jesse and Clint to wash up before I take a chance to clean my hands of dirt and animal filth.

Jesse retrieves a jug of iced tea from the fridge and pours four glasses, offering Taylor one. She drinks the whole thing gratefully. “Are you hungry?”

She nods, gripping the back of one of the chairs. On the counter, Jesse plates up a tub of shop-bought cookies, indicating that Taylor should sit and eat.

He takes the seat opposite her, and Clint and I flank them. While Taylor nibbles her cookie, Jesse pulls out a piece of paper detailing Taylor’s responsibilities. Is he seriously going to thrust it at her right now? I can’t believe this guy.

The paper is pushed across the polished wood surface before I can snatch it away. My throat makes a strangled noise, which Jesse reacts to with a displeased narrowing of his blue-glass eyes and a deep furrow to his brows.

Taylor focuses on the paper, already reading through the list.

“This is what you’ll be expected to do around here to pull your weight.”

Whoever said romance is dead had definitely met Jesse McGraw, the poster boy for practicality and responsibility.

“Okay.” Taylor takes the paper and wrinkles her brow with concentration. I don’t think a list of household chores deserves so much focus, but then again, I’m not the tidiest person who ever lived, so what do I know?

Clint clears his throat and shifts in his seat. He’s antsy to get outside and Jesse’s forgotten the most important part of what needs to happen today.

The wedding.

“Maybe the chores list can wait until after they jump the broom?” I say, shooting Taylor my most charming, lopsided grin.

“Jump the broom?

“The wedding,” I smile. “Time to make it official, darlin’.”

The color draining from Taylor’s cheeks isn’t a good sign, but nothing about this arrangement can be labeled as positive. She looks around, confused, like she’s expecting a minister and a gathering of people in their Sunday best to appear from around a corner.

“I’m an officiant,” I say. “All you gotta do is sign the marriage license to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Hang on a minute.” Jesse presses his hands to the tabletop to leverage himself to stand. He disappears from the room, returning with a white summer dress on a hanger. Oh, no, he didn’t. “I thought you might want to wear this.”

Taylor’s eyes widen with genuine fear. Has she never seen a dress before? Jesse’s gaze drifts to her worn clothing, and she seems to get the hint.

“I’ll take you upstairs,” I say quickly, grabbing the hanger from Jesse.

Taylor stands, avoiding making direct eye contact with any of us, and follows me into the hallway and up the wooden stairs. We pass photographs of generations of the McGraw family and friends, lifetimes of happy memories. I wonder what’s going through Taylor’s mind right now. Probably a bales’-worth of questions and a shit-pile of fears.

“You can change here.” I open the door to one of the spare rooms. Taylor looks down at my wrist, frowning. I follow her gaze and find her focused on the colorful friendship bracelet that Katherine tied onto my arm last week.

“Jesse’s niece,” I say. “She wanted to make our friendship official!”

When Taylor looks at me, there seems to be less panic in her eyes. Maybe the bracelet and the story associated is reassuring in some way.

I hand Taylor the dress. “This room is going to be yours.”

She doesn’t look around, just zeroes in on the dress. “What if it doesn’t fit me?”

“I’m sure it will.” I speak with utter confidence, but who the fuck knows. Jesse bought it before he ever laid eyes on the girl who would wear it. How would he know what size to buy?

“I’m going to get ready myself. I’ll be back in five minutes to take you back down.”

I turn my back before Taylor can express any more of her uncertainties. We’re all trapped in this situation now, brought together in an unholy alliance. No point in making a mountain out of a molehill.

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