Page 59 of Extreme Romancing in Idaho

Without a doubt, yes. I couldn’t stand being the man who ripped properties from families who’d farmed them for one hundred years. Sure, I was good at it, but it was such a downer.

The engine noise grew louder. Even with Angie in on my double life, I wasn’t ready to subject her to my older brother. He’d ruin everything I’d worked for.

“Get it down closer to two. I believe in miracles.” His flat tone indicated otherwise. The wind made it hard to hear Matthew’s response. “And answer Kathryn’s messages, so I don’t have to be the one doing your dirty work.”

My nocturnal activities nettled my brother, which gave me a good reason to continue with the status quo. Sometimes I opted to take girls back to my parents’ mansion and surrounding grounds. My brother lived in the guest house on the property, while I preferred to crash in the pool house.

These were our buildings by unspoken agreement, which suited me fine. More often than not, the women I took home swung by a day or two later and ended up finding Matthew. Considering my job, I should be good at hard conversations, at break ups. Where I could handle them, I didn’t like the tears, so my brother provided the perfect solution.

I made it clear before starting up with any woman I wasn’t looking for commitment. This didn’t slow down the gold-diggers and the hopeless romantics. For those women looking for love yet determined to warm my bed, I’d tried to make it abundantly clear I wasn’t a good guy. I neither deserved to be loved nor did I want to be tied down by it. The pool house arrangement was exceptionally convenient in my book.

“I’ll do my best.”

Angie parked the tractor next to me.

“I gotta go,” I said without looking at my brother and hung up on him while he was mid-sentence.

Angie wore her typical button-up plaid shirt with jeans and her cowboy boots. She was as hot as a two-dollar pistol on that tractor, and how I loathed her.

She placed one hand on her waist and shoved a finger at the stuck four-wheeler. Her hip jutted out, accentuating her figure with all the curves and softness I appreciated. I blinked and narrowed my eyes, refocusing my mind on the true nature of my taskmaster. She’d made my life hell, and I’d had enough.

“How did you manage to do it again?” A strand of her hair slipped loose from her ponytail and fluttered in front of her narrowed eyes.

“I was going after a calf,” I lied, but it sounded like a legit reason to go crashing into a creek.

“And last week when this happened?”

“That calf’s a sneaky little bastard.” I shot her a humorless smile, but she saw through my lie.

“You don’t have to do anything with the calves. They’re with their mamas.”

I shrugged. She got me.

“Son of a monkey!” she shouted and shoved her hands in her hair. I found her tendency to swear like an old man cute. “You do more damage than good.”

As cute as a spine on a cactus. That comment was all the opening I needed. In two strides, I covered the ground between us, so I stood right in front of her, forcing her to look up at me, the shadow from my brim covering half her face. “Don’t give me that. You have been working me so hard I barely have time to get everything done. It’s no wonder I make a few mistakes trying to keep up.”

“A teenager could do the work I ask you to do.”

“A teenager wouldn’t last a minute. I doubt anyone could hold up to your standard,” I said loud enough to ensure she heard me over the wind gusts. “I mean, I’m working until midnight with a headlamp most nights to finish the shit you have on your lists, and all you do is criticize me when I slip up. If this farm had an HR department, I’d report you.” I folded my arms and leaned to the side.

Her lips twitched upward. “HR is in the kitchen having an early dinner. Be my guest.” She gestured toward the house. “Though the severance package they offer will be in the form of baked goods.” The spark in her eyes jumped like hot grease on a skillet.

Oh, she thought I was giving up, the frustrating little porcupine. I dropped my hands to my sides and leaned within inches of her face. “You won’t get rid of me that easy.”

Her characteristic tropical aroma filled my nose, and in an instant, my anger fled, replaced by a strong desire to pull her to me and shut her up with my lips. Frustrating woman. How could I want to throw her into the creek and kiss her all at the same moment?

In my weakness, I brushed the stray hair back behind her ear, and she stiffened, stepping back from me. But her distance didn’t stop the heat or the current of anticipation encasing us.

Consequences be damned, I lifted my hand to—to do I didn’t know what. Possibly pull her to me and kiss her senseless so she’d see me as more than a farmhand hired by her parents to torment. More than the man sent here to buy her farm. More than the tool she used in her attempt to date Smoot. Her phone pinged, and I never got the chance to figure out what my hand would have done as she stepped even further from me. Which left me with my arm lifted in the air. I raised my hat and brushed my hand through my hair before setting it back in place, hoping she didn’t notice my awkwardness.

I didn’t need to worry. Her eyes were glued to her phone, thumbs typing rapidly.

“Him again?”

She nodded. “I have another date with Dan. A big one. He wants to go dirt biking in a couple of weeks.” She walked back to the tractor, retrieving the chains.

So, it was Dan now. Not Smoot, or Daniel. Just Dan. I guess that was good for me, considering I’d been put in charge of this catfishing operation. Over the past three weeks, he’d been a pain in my side. Boise wasn’t far enough away. Smoot would show up at the most inconvenient times. I’d walk in with an armload of wood and there they’d be, cozying up playing cards.

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