He had promised his father he would take an interest in the family legacy. That he would build for the McCormacks, not just for himself. Chase had promised he wouldn’t let his dad down. He’d had to make those promises at a grave site because before the accident he’d been a hotheaded jackass who’d thought he was too big for the family legacy.
But even if his father never knew, Chase had sworn it. And so he’d see it done.
In order to expand McCormack Iron Works, the heart and soul of their ranch, to bring it back to what it had been, they needed interest. Investments.
Chase had always had a good business mind, and early on he’d imagined he would go to school away from Copper Ridge. Get a degree. Find work in the city. Then everything had changed. Then it hadn’t been about Chase McCormack anymore. It had been about the McCormack legacy.
School had become out of the question. Leaving had been out of the question. But now he saw where he and Sam were failing, and he could see how to turn the tide.
He’d spent a lot of late nights figuring out exactly how to expand as the demand for handmade items had gone down. Finding ways to convince people that highly customized iron details for homes and businesses, and handmade leather bridles and saddles, were worth paying more for.
Finding ways to push harder, to innovate and modernize while staying true to the family name. While actively butting up against Sam and his refusal to go out and make that happen. Sam, who was so talented he didn’t have to pound horseshoe nails if he didn’t want to. Sam, who could forget gates and scrollwork on staircases and be selling his artwork for a small fortune. Sam, who resisted change like it was the black plague.
He would kill for an invitation to the Wests’ event. Well, not kill. But possibly engage in nefarious activities or the trading of sexual favors. And Anna had an invitation.
“You get to bring a date?” he asked.
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” she said. “Of course, it all depends on whether or not I can actually acquire one.”
Anna needed a date; he wanted to have a chance to talk to Nathan West. In the grand tradition of their friendship, they both filled the gaps in each other’s lives. This was—in his opinion—perfect.
“I’ll be your date,” he said.
She snorted. “Yeah, right. Daniel and Mark will never believe that.”
She had a point. The two of them had been friends forever. And with a bet on the table her brothers would never believe that he had suddenly decided to go out with her because his feelings had randomly changed.
“Okay. Maybe that’s true.” That frown was back. “Not because there’s something wrong with you,” he continued, trying to dig himself out of the pit he’d just thrown himself into, “but because it’s a little too convenient.”
“Okay, that’s better.”
“But what if we made it clear that things had changed between us?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean...what if...we built up the change? Showed people that our relationship was evolving.”
She gave him a fierce side-eye. “I’m not your type.” He thought back to the blonde he’d been talking to only twenty minutes earlier. Tight dress cut up to the tops of her thighs, long, wavy hair and the kind of smile that invited you right on in. Curves that had probably wrecked more men than windy Highway 101. She was his type.
And she wasn’t Anna. Barefaced, scowling with a figure that was slightly more...subtle. He cleared his throat. “You could be. A little less grease, a little more lipstick.”
Her top lip curled. “So the ninth circle of hell basically.”
“What were you planning on wearing to the fund-raiser?”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I have black jeans. But...I mean, I guess I could go to the mall in Tolowa and get a dress.”
“That isn’t going to work.”
“Why not?”
“What kind of dress would you buy?” he asked.
“Something floral? Kind of...down to the knee?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not Scarlett O’Hara,” he said, knowing that with her love of old movies, Anna would appreciate the reference. “You aren’t going dressed in the drapes.”
Anna scowled. “Why the hell do you know so much about women’s clothes?”
“Because I spend a lot of time taking them off my dates.”
That shut her up. Her pale cheeks flamed and she looked away from him, and that response stirred...well, it stirred something in his gut he wished would go the hell away.
“Why do you want to go anyway?” she asked, still not looking at him.
“I want to talk to Nathan West and the other businessmen there about investment opportunities. I want to prove that Sam and I are the kind of people that can move in their circles. The kind of people they want to do business with.”
“And you have to put on a suit and hobnob at a gala to do that?”
“The fact is, I don’t get chances like this very often, Anna. I didn’t get an invitation. And I need one. Plus, if you take me, you’ll win your bet.”
“Unless Dan and Mark tell me you don’t count.”
“Loophole. If they never said you couldn’t recruit a date, you’re fine.”
“It violates the spirit of the bet.”
“It doesn’t have to,” he insisted. “Anyway, by the time I’m through with you, you’ll be able to get any date you want.”
She blinked. “Are you... Are you Henry Higgins-ing me?”
He had only a vague knowledge of the old movie My Fair Lady, but he was pretty sure that was the reference. A man who took a grubby flower girl and turned her into the talk of the town. “Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “Yes, I am. Take me up on this, Anna Brown, and I will turn you into a woman.”
Two
Anna just about laughed herself off her chair. “You’re going to make me a...a...a woman?”
“Why is that funny?”
“What about it isn’t funny?”
“I’m offering to help you.”
“You’re offering to help me be something that I am by birth. I mean, Chase, I get that women are kind of your thing, but that’s pretty arrogant. Even with all things considered.”
“Okay, obviously I’m not going to make you a woman.” Something about the way he said the phrase this time hit her in an entirely different way. Made her think about other applications that phrase occasionally had. Things she needed to never, ever, ever, ever think about in connection with Chase.
If she valued her sanity and their friendship.
She cleared her throat, suddenly aware that it was dry and scratchy. “Obviously.”
“I just meant that you need help getting a date, and I need to go to this party. And you said that you were concerned about your appearance in the community.”
“Right.” He wasn’t wrong. The thing was, she knew that whether or not she could blend in at an event like this didn’t matter at all to how well her business did. Nobody cared if their mechanic knew which shade of lipstick she should wear. But that wasn’t the point.
She—her family collectively—was the town charity case. Living on the edge of the community in a run-down house, raised by a single father who was in over his head, who spent his days at the mill. Her older brothers had been in charge of taking care of her, and they had done so. But, of course, they were also older brothers. Which meant they had tormented her while feeding and clothing her. Anyway, she didn’t exactly blame them.
It wasn’t like the two of them had wanted to raise a sister when they would rather be out raising hell.
Especially a sister who was committed to driving them crazy.
She loved her brothers. But that didn’t mean they always had an easy relationship. It didn’t mean they didn’t hurt her by accident when they teased her about things. She acted invulnerable, so they assumed that she was.
But now, beneath her coveralls and engine grease, she was starting to feel a little bit battered. It was difficult to walk around with a screw you attitude barely covering a raw wound. Because eventually that shield started to wear down. Especially when people were used to being able to lob pretty intense rocks at that shield.
That was her life. It was either pity or a kind of merciless camaraderie that had no softness to it. Her dad, her brothers, all the guy friends she had...
And she couldn’t really blame them. She had never behaved in a way that would demonstrate she needed any softness. In fact, a few months ago, a few weeks ago even, the idea would have been unthinkable to her.
But there was something about this invitation. Something about imagining herself in yet another situation where she was forced to deflect good-natured comments about her appearance, about the fact that she was more like a guy than the roughest cowboys in town. Yeah, there was something about that thought that had made her want to curl into a ball and never unfurl.
Then, even if it was unintentional, her brothers had piled on. It had hurt her feelings. Which meant she had reacted in anger, naturally. So now she had a bet. A bet, and her best friend looking at her with laser focus after having just promised he would make her a woman.
“Why do you care?” He was pressing, and she wanted to hit him now.