The Maisey Yates Collection : Cowboy Heroes: Take Me, Cowboy / Hold Me, Cowboy / Seduce Me, Cowboy / Claim Me, Cowboy / The Rancher's Baby. Maisey Yates

friend, bare beneath a pair of coveralls unfastened so that a very generous wedge of skin was revealed all the way down...

      And he was done with that. He didn’t think of Anna that way. Not at all. They’d been friends since they were freshmen in high school and he’d navigated teenage boy hormones without lingering too long on thoughts of her breasts.

      He was thirty years old, and he could have sex whenever he damn well pleased. Breasts were no longer mysterious to him. He wasn’t going to go pondering the mysteries of her breasts now.

      “It couldn’t hurt, Anna,” he said, his words containing a little more bite than he would like them to. But he was unsettled.

      “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. But barring that, do you have any other suggestions? Because I think I’m going to be expected to wear something fancy, and I don’t own anything fancy. And it’s obvious that Mark and Daniel think I suck at being a girl.”

      “That’s not true. And anyway, why do you care what they—or anyone else—think?”

      “Because. I’ve got this new business...”

      “And anyone who brings their heavy equipment to you for a tune-up won’t care whether or not you can walk in high heels.”

      “But I don’t want to show up at these things looking...” She sighed. “Chase, the bottom line is I’ve spent a long time not fitting in. And people here are nice to me. I mean, now that I’m not in school. People in school sucked. But I get that I don’t fit. And I’m tired of it. Honestly, I wouldn’t care about my brothers if there wasn’t so much...truth to the teasing.”

      “They do suck. They’re awful. So why does it matter what they think?”

      “Because,” she said. “It just does. I’m that poor Anna Brown with no mom to teach her the right way to do things and I’m just...tired of it. I don’t want to be poor Anna Brown. I want to be Anna Brown, heavy equipment mechanic who can wear coveralls and walk in heels.”

      “Not at the same time, I wouldn’t think.”

      She shot him a deadly glare. “I don’t fail,” she said, her eyes glinting in the dim bar light. “I won’t fail at this.”

      “You’re not in remote danger of failing. Now, what’s the mystery event that has you thinking about high heels?” he asked.

      Copper Ridge wasn’t exactly a societal epicenter. Nestled between the evergreen mountains and a steel-gray sea on the Oregon Coast, there were probably more deer than people in the small town. There were only so many events in existence. And there was a good chance she was making a mountain out of a small-town molehill, and none of it would be that big of a deal.

      “That charity thing that the West family has every year,” she mumbled. “Gala Under the Stars or whatever.”

      The West family’s annual fund-raising event for schools. It was a weekend event, with the town’s top earners coming to a small black-tie get-together on the West property.

      The McCormacks had been founding members of the community of Copper Ridge back in the 1800s. Their forge had been used by everyone in town and in the neighboring communities. But as the economy had changed, so had the success of the business.

      They’d been hanging on by their fingernails when Chase’s parents had been killed in an accident when he was in high school. They’d still gotten an invitation to the gala. But Chase had thrown it on top of the never-ending pile of mail and bills that he couldn’t bring himself to look through and forgotten about it.

      Until some woman—probably an assistant to the West family—had called him one year when he hadn’t bothered to RSVP. He had been...well, he’d been less than polite.

      Dealing with a damned crisis here, so sorry I can’t go to your party.

      Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t gotten any invitations after that. And he hadn’t really thought much about it since.

      Until now.

      He and Sam had managed to keep the operation and properties afloat, but he wanted more. He needed it.

      The ranch had animals, but that wasn’t the source of their income. The forge was the heart of the ranch, where they did premium custom metal-and leatherwork. On top of that, there were outbuildings on the property they rented out—including the shop they leased to Anna. They had built things back up since their parents had died, but it still wasn’t enough, not to Chase.

      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