voice, declaring to anyone with half a brain that I’d just woken up.
“You’re still sleeping. This isn’t a holiday, Lachlan. Should I assume you’re in bed at nine o’clock in the morning because you’ve secured a deal with our Mr. Campbell?”
I rubbed a hand over my face, doing what I could to wipe away the lingering essence of sleep and my dream. “No, but maybe I was out with him half the night, buttering him up like you suggested.”
Half true. Our date had ended far sooner than I’d hoped, and I regretted talking about the offer at all because things had been going moderately well until that point. Maybe if I’d have kept my mouth shut, I wouldn’t have woken up alone and on edge, needing to come.
“Hmm. I hope whatever methods you’re employing are respectable and not shaming this company. How hard is it to talk an idiot farmer into selling?”
“He’s not an idiot.”
“Well, he’s certainly not very bright if he can’t see the benefit of our offer. Did you show him the new amount?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“It’s not about money, Lachlan!”
“He’s thinking about it. You told me to coddle and hand-hold. I am. Give me time to work on this, okay? I won’t screw it up.”
I’d already screwed it up, and nausea from the day before returned with the lie.
“Fine. We just don’t have all the time in the world to dick around with this.”
“If the deal is that important, we do.”
“Excuse me?”
I bit my tongue, cursing my half-awake mouth for shooting off without thinking.
“Nothing. I’m treading carefully. Don’t rush me.”
An aggravated sigh came through the phone. “Keep me posted.”
Dad hung up before I could say more.
I threw my phone back on the bedside table and rolled over, burying my head under the covers as I puzzled out this impossible situation. I ground my hips, rubbing my cock against the mattress, debating if I was going to do something about my current situation. With a lazy grin, I kept up the action as I pictured a smug cowboy underneath me. Maybe if I fucked his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to insult me. I let that image take me to completion. The sedation that followed help me melt back into a contented sleep.
My stomach drew me out of bed at around ten thirty. I showered, dressed, and made my way to the restaurant for a bite to eat. As I passed the front lobby, I grabbed a copy of the Jasper Times from the administration desk, hoping there might be a crossword puzzle or something to occupy my mind while I ate.
I didn’t get more than three steps from the desk when I registered the huge picture taking up half of the front page of the paper. It was a photograph of Easton and me at dinner last night. In the picture, my thumb was tracing his lower lip, and we both had the worst case of bedroom eyes I’d ever seen. The sexual tension between us sizzled right off the page.
I glanced around the lobby and noted three pairs of eyes dart away before I could make eye contact.
“Shit.”
I refocused on the article. The headline read, Is stables owner, Easton Campbell, using unsavory methods to negotiate a better deal for his land?
“For fuck’s sake.”
My gaze shot to the bottom of the article, where I wasn’t surprised to see Josiah Nipissing’s name. That sneaky bastard was beginning to get under my skin. Easton wouldn’t like this. I hadn’t seen Josiah at the brewery the previous night. Was this his picture or had some town person taken it and run off to make a buck with the newspaper, sprouting their gossip and lies?
I folded the paper and stuck it under my arm as I glanced around again. More frantic eyes made attempts to avoid looking at me. These people needed to get a life.
Breakfast wasn’t much better. The serving staff whispered among themselves and pointed at my table, making no attempts to be subtle. I skimmed the article, which was nothing more than a load of gossipy junk claiming Easton was thinking with his dick and sleeping with the enemy. There was little to no facts involved, and I was beginning to feel that Jasper Times was the equivalent to a trashy tabloid magazine.
After breakfast, I decided to make a trip out to the Campbell Stables to see what Easton wanted to do about this printed garbage—if anything. It made us both look bad. Dad wouldn’t like rumors spreading about our