It was adjacent to his own ranch, and Arnold had promised him first option on buying the property when the old guy’s time came. But Arnold’s wife hadn’t, and Arnold had gone first. What was it with women?
Colt wanted to expand his 30,000-acre ranch, but Martin Whitman’s property sat to his right and there was no chance that man would part with a single acre of his spread. Nor would Colt ever expect him to.
But Arnold’s property was ideal. And it was supposed to be his, dammit. When Colt found out that Richard Storm had swooped in and purchased it, he’d been furious. It was supposed to be his.
Colt had heard rumors about what was going on in the Storm family. To look at Brielle Storm, it was no wonder — the man’s kids were obviously hopeless idiots. And that was a good thing. She was a city girl through and through and had no business running a ranch. No business at all. And that meant that Colt wouldn’t have to wait long to get the land.
The world would make sense again.
Or would it? What in the world were those shoes she’d been wearing? Sure, they were red and incredibly sexy, but they weren’t for Montana, and certainly not for a Montana ranch. Hell, no! They were more suited for a night on the town, or maybe for the bedroom — just the shoes, with nothing else on...
Nope!
He was thrusting…er…pushing…removing that thought right out of his mind. He was there to convince her she wasn’t suited to running a ranch, convince her to sell to him. And his task had just become a whole lot easier. The worthless little brat thought he was an employee of hers.
Though Colt hoped he wasn’t normally so cruel, even in thought, this woman had immediately burrowed under his skin, and in the wrong places. She’s just been so…stuck-up — or maybe something was stuck up her sweet backside — and she obviously had no justification for her arrogance. But the babe didn’t want to be here, so they could both win if he bought her out. He hated deceiving her, for even a short time, as he wasn’t usually dishonest. He’d grown up in the tiny town of Sterling, Montana, population negative two, he thought with a soft chuckle, and around here, neighbors were…well, neighborly. It was a tight-knit community, and they all helped each other, no matter what needed to be done.
Yes, there was more money floating through this section of Montana than they held at Fort Knox, but no one was arrogant; no one had a superiority complex. They might make megabucks off the rich land filled with good fields, healthy livestock, and oil — actually, good investments in the stock market had played a larger part for many of them — but at the end of the day, all they needed was a cold beer and a hot fire.
Colt’s idea of heaven was lounging around on the edge of his lake with a fishing pole, a cold bottle in his hand and his hat pulled low over his eyes. Once nighttime hit, of course, he didn’t mind having a fine body — like the one Brielle was sporting — to climb on top of him and take him for much longer than an eight-second ride.
Colt knew he could draw in the ladies. Hell, he’d learned that in second grade, when little Sally had come up and kissed him right on the lips and begged him to run away with her. He’d been horrified.
Then.
Now, well, now he just appreciated a fine woman on top or beneath him — either way, he didn’t mind. Or side to side, or standing up, or… He was equal opportunity all the way. And he always made sure the women in his bed left with a smile on their faces and him on their mind.
He wasn’t ready to settle down. Hell, he’d only just turned thirty-three. Who could possibly object to his bachelor life?
Okay, he knew three people who seemed to object mighty loudly. Those women! The terrible trio! Maggie, Eileen, and the worst one of all, Bethel!
They were somewhere in their sixties, he believed, not that anyone knew for sure, as the women didn’t speak of their age. They acted more like teenagers than grandmothers. Though he had a soft spot in his heart for each one of them, lately he and all the other single men in town had been running as fast as they could away from the three.
Those meddlers clearly wanted to see all the eligible men married and producing babies. Not for him — not yet, at least. Colt had done a damn fine job of steering clear of the trio, because every time they saw him they mentioned all the attractive single women around. It didn’t do a man any good to date a woman in Sterling, because sure as the sun rose every morning, the minute that happened, the poor sap would be heading down the aisle within a year.
That’s what was expected here. First comes love…and then a whole brood of rug rats biting your ankles and playing havoc with your sleep.