The Moose Shifter's Fake Wife: A Steamy Shifter Rom-Com

by Candace Ayers

  By the time I reached her, she was stroking one and whispering something in its ear. Then she reached up, plucked her sunglasses off the head of another, and gently scratched its nose.

  “You tried to take my glasses, didn’t you, Rosemary?”

  Rosemary? ROSEMARY?!

  Sam patted the cow on the nose. “I will say, though, you looked pretty as a peach in them.”

  “What the hell are you doing?!” My blood pressure shot through the roof. “Come on.” Before she could answer, I spun her around and led her by the shoulders back toward the fence, shielding her with my body in case they startled. Not that I would be much of a barrier, but if they did stampede, I could change forms suddenly. My animal would do a decent job of providing cover if need be.

  What the hell was she thinking? Any one of them could flatten her like a flapjack. As soon as we cleared the herd, she smiled up at my scowl. I grabbed her hips, picked her up, and set her back down on the other side of the fence before hopping it myself.

  “Are you insane, woman? Those animals could crush you.” I knew I was yelling, but I didn’t care.

  She tipped her head back, her brown eyes wide. When I saw the trepidation in her eyes, I wanted to kick my own ass for speaking to her so harshly.

  “Th-they would never. They’re sweethearts, and not aggressive at all.”

  I rolled my head back, closed my eyes, and counted to ten before responding. Gently, I took her chin in my hand and turned her face up toward me. I tried to ignore the softness of her skin under my fingers and the sweet strawberry scent of her shampoo. Her full lower lip trembled and her eyes welled with tears. Guilt quickly replaced my anger. I shouldn’t have scolded her so sternly.

  I lowered my voice and tried to sound soothing. “They’re not naturally aggressive, but they are easily frightened. If they get spooked by something, they won’t think twice about stomping anything in their path, including you.”

  We stared into each other’s eyes. I forced myself to let go of her face.

  She blinked, sniffled, and shifted her gaze to them. “They wouldn’t.”

  Blowing out a breath, I ran my fingers through my hair. This woman was infuriatingly naïve.

  “The chickens, now those are scary. They chase me and try to eat my toes. The cows, though, they’re gentle…and sweet... How am I supposed to take care of them if I can’t go into the pasture with them?”

  “What exactly are you taking care of? They pretty much just graze the fields until it’s time to send ‘em to auction.” I took a couple of steps back from her tantalizing aroma and her big, brown eyes before the woman had any more of an effect on me. “If you notice any of them acting unusual or limping, you call a vet to come look at them, but you don’t do it yourself, y’hear?”

  “What do you mean there’s nothing to do? They don’t need to be brushed?”

  My fists dug into my hips. My mouth hung open. Was she serious? Where had she come from? “Have you been brushing them?”

  A dark-red tint crept up her neck and turned her entire face crimson. “Um, no?”

  My eyes narrowed. “What else have you been doing to care for the animals?”

  “Giving them fresh water.”

  My brows rose and I stood waiting. “And?”

  “And, um, playing them music and…singing to them…maybe.”

  I pulled my hand through my hair and then down my face roughly. “Okay, listen to me. You don’t brush cows. Don’t brush them. They don’t need to be brushed. At all. Do you hear me?”

  She scowled. “Yes, I hear you. I’m not deaf.”

  “They’re not pets! You don’t need to brush them or sing to them. You don’t need to give them a bubble bath, dress ‘em in jammies, or read ‘em a bedtime story either.”

  She narrowed her eyes and glared. “You’re telling me I’m supposed to just leave them all by themselves all day long? Ignore them? That doesn’t seem humane.”

  How was it that this woman was here all alone caring for a ranch when she clearly didn’t know the first thing about ranching?

  I almost asked her. Almost. But nope, nope, it wasn’t my business and I needed to stay the hell out of it before I found myself moving into that spick-and-span guest room of hers. I wasn’t about to touch that with a ten-foot pole because, truth be told, as clueless and as infuriating as she was, the thought of being under the same roof as her all night long was entirely too tempting.

  “Look, what you need here is a ranch hand. The henhouse needs cleaned, the grass needs mowed, and this summer barley will need to be harvested soon. I can give you a list of names.”

  She clammed up immediately. Her nose shot in the air, and she crossed her arms under her chest. It wasn’t easy to ignore the way her breast smooshed together and strained against the thin material of her T-shirt. It also wasn’t easy to ignore the stubborn tilt of her chin, and I had to stifle a grin. “No, thank you. I won’t be hiring a ranch hand.”

  “But you need—”

  “I do not need a ranch hand.” She turned abruptly and marched off toward the house. Her angry steps caused her hips to sway, her ass to wiggle, and my dick to strain against the zipper of my jeans. I had half a mind to stick around and piss her off all day.

  What the hell was this? This…thing between us?

  I caught up to her easily enough. “Seems to me you do need a ranch hand.”

  “My husband will take care of it, thank you very much. Soon as I find me one.”

  She increased her pace.

  I increased mine.

  She increased hers again until she was power walking.

  My lips wanted to break into a full-out grin, but I resisted. She stumbled over a thick patch of grass, almost fell, righted herself, then glanced back over her shoulder to see if I noticed.

  I noticed.

  When we reached the porch, she spun, holding her hands up in front of her, gesturing for me to halt. “Thank you for stopping by, Clint Eastwood. It was nice to meet you. Kind of. A little. Not really. I’m sorry about the mix-up, though—the husband thing and all that.”

  My brain started a dull throbbing, and that eye twitch was back with a vengeance. What in tarnation was she thinking with this husband thing?

  “Why are you so desperate to marry?”

  She ignored my question, but with my Variant hearing, I heard her mumbling under her breath. “I’ll have you know that they liked being brushed, Mr. Grumpy Pants.”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  She sighed. “Well, you’ll see it in my ad when the paper comes out anyway, so I guess I’ll just spell it out.” She ascended the three porch steps until she was eye to eye with me, and slammed her fists against her hips defiantly before she continued. “I can’t afford to hire anyone, but I need this ranch to be profitable. I’m looking for someone who is willing to enter into a marriage of convenience and work alongside me in exchange for profit sharing.”

  At eye level, I could see that her eyes were actually hazel rather than fully brown. They had flecks of gold and a muddy green. Beautiful. “Let me get this straight. You’re looking to marry a man so you have help with the chores?”

  Her lips pursed and her brow furrowed. “You got a better idea?”

  “Than marrying a stranger?!” It was the most hairbrained thing I’d ever heard of. A marriage of convenience? Whoever heard of such a thing?

  Gilligan barked once from inside, and Sam automatically turned and held open the screen door for him. He lumbered out on the porch, growling at her when he walked by, which didn’t mean nuthin’. Pappy trained the ol’ coonhound to growl at everyone. He lifted his head and growled another hello to me too.

  I watched Sam tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I didn’t like her ridiculous idea. Didn’t like it one bit.

  She was attractive. Very attractive. What if she did find herself a husband despite the idiocy of the idea?

  Furthermore, what if the marriage of convenience became something
more? It wasn’t a far stretch. She may be a few bushels shy of a peck, but Sam wasn’t the type of woman a man would find easy to resist.

  Christ, I needed to leave.

  Without another word, I turned on my heel and got the hell out of there before I did something incredibly stupid—like put a ring on her.

  Chapter 5

  Shay

  Have I ever made more of a fool of myself?

  No. No, I don’t think I have.

  I watched Clint’s truck drive away down the long access road until it was swallowed in a cloud of dust. He was the first person I’d been around in almost a week, and he clearly thought I was riding the crazy train.

  I sank onto the steps next to the dog.

  “So your name’s Gilligan, is it? I suppose that’s more fitting than Cujo.”

  He growled in response. This time, I didn’t flinch. He’d growled at Clint too but he also wagged his tail.

  “Well, Gilligan, is it so bad that I played around with the cows and made a few flower crowns and necklaces, and dressed them up a bit?”

  I rested my chin on my fist. It was all in good fun. What else was a girl devoid of human interaction for days on end going to do? I dug at the sandy soil with the toe of my sneaker. If I’d had prior warning someone was going to stop by, I would have removed the daisy chains. And cleaned the chicken coop.

  Back home, I had friends who dressed their little poodles in different outfits every day and carried them around in doggie purses. Was that so different?

  Then there was the fact that you practically proposed to the man, Shay.

  I hung my head in my hands as my toe continued to work the dry soil, now drawing circles and swirls. Maybe I was going crazy. After only six days of complete isolation, maybe I was already becoming like that character in The Shining—heeere’s Johnny!

  I was doing my best here, but I was lost. I had no instructions on how to perform ranching operations. I was winging it. I’d been hoping I could learn as I went, but without internet or cell reception out here, that was a no-go. How does anyone know anything without Google?

  The interim caretaker hadn’t left any instructions. Just the house and barn keys inside the unlocked house. The estate lawyer from Carson City was no help, although he did assure me that it was perfectly safe for the house to be left unlocked since “Rattlesnake Canyon is devoid of criminals.”

  Little did he know there was now a fugitive living right outside of town. That thought depressed me. I had to get this ranch out of Sam’s name—yet another reason for the platonic marriage. I’d been hoping to transfer the title right from hers to my new husband’s name to avoid leaving any trail that might lead back to me.

  Nevada was a community property state, so regardless of whose name the ranch was in, upon divorce we’d divide all assets equally.

  But, for any of my plans to work, I needed to find myself a husband.

  Who knew the Rattler Tattler only came out on Wednesdays?

  I rubbed my temples. A headache was forming behind my eyes. So much to do.

  Pushing off the porch, I held the door open for Gilligan and then went to my room to change. I had an idea.

  After scrounging around in drawers, I came up with a yellow legal pad and a ballpoint pen. I spent the next hour working at the kitchen table. Since the newspaper ad hadn’t run yet, and I was getting desperate, I figured it was time to try a different tack.

  Rattlesnake Canyon looked like something out of the Old West, like one of those ghost towns brought back to life for tourists. I half expected John Wayne to come strutting out of the local saloon at any moment to announce a shootout at high noon.

  Rawhide Road, the main street running through the town, was lined on each side with small storefront businesses. The town was quaint and homey, but the residents seemed about as unwelcoming as the welcome sign I’d seen last week when I’d arrived.

  As I drove back and forth, a lump formed in my throat. Was I imagining the chilly reception? Leaning out the truck window, I called out to a middle-aged woman with short, frizzy red hair. “Excuse me… Excuse me… Hello…?”

  The woman completely ignored me. Nope. Not my imagination.

  She’d been the third person I’d tried to talk to. She was also the third person who had totally snubbed me. No eye contact, no nod, no raising her middle finger and waving it at me emphatically. Nothing.

  Frustrated, I pulled to the side of the road and parked. An older couple strolling hand in hand down the street cast me a strange sideways glance before picking up their pace and scurrying by. What the hell was with everyone here?

  I walked past Rattlesnake Canyon Town Hall and Sheriff’s Department, Chuckwagon Diner, Whistlestop Saloon, Bald Eagle Barbershop, and a general store called Sidewinder Sundries. When I reached Bear Buns Bakery, I stopped. My stomach growled from the incredible aroma, and I realized that with Clint’s impromptu visit, I’d forgotten to eat anything.

  Upon entering the bakery, the first thing I saw was an attractive blonde at a long workspace behind the counter, icing a tray of scones. She and I seemed to have the place to ourselves except for a guy in the back corner. The guy looked as though he was asleep—slumped in a chair with his back against the wall, arms folded over his chest, and horned-rimmed glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. An open book was on the table in front of him.

  I stepped up to the register only to be completely ignored. Shocker.

  I cleared my throat to get the woman’s attention, but she went right on ignoring me. Okay, alright. I could handle this. I was a DC native. I had street cred.

  “Well, hello there. Beautiful day, isn’t it? I’m new here. I was strolling your lovely town of Rattlesnake when I caught the most delicious aroma. I told myself I just had to stop in for something sweet. The place smells absolutely mouthwatering.” The wide smile I flashed was lost on her since she never once took her eyes off her task to even acknowledge me.

  I tried again. “Are those maple scones you’ve got there? They look like they’re fresh out of the oven. I’d love to try one.”

  She breathed out a long, laborious sigh as though she was in excruciating agony. “We’re closed.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to fact-check and saw the open sign displayed in the picture window. “Your sign says you’re open.”

  Without looking up, she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I say otherwise.”

  Well now, that was a different story.

  “Hey, Laverne, hows about you let me have one of those maple and brown sugar scones?” The voice came from only inches behind me. I startled hard and whirled around. It was the guy who’d been sleeping in the corner.

  My hand flew to my chest, and I tried to catch my breath. “Weren’t you just over there sleeping, like, a nanosecond ago?”

  He grinned charmingly. “Naw. Just resting my eyes.”

  Of course, Laverne handed him a scone—with extra icing too, and on a little paper plate that was decorated with tiny teddy bears around the edges. She even looked him in the eye.

  The guy thanked her and handed me the scone on the cute teddy bear plate. He winked. “My treat.” Ha! Take that, Laverne, you bakery biatch!

  I was so grateful to have someone finally acknowledge me instead of treating me as though I was going to mug them or spit on them that I almost hugged him. “Thank you so much! I’m Sh—I mean, er, my name is Samantha. Please call me Sam.”

  He nodded and slid his glasses up. “I’m Jimi. What brings you to Rattlesnake?”

  “Well—”

  “She’s clearly lost.” Laverne narrowed her eyes and frowned hard.

  “Jesus, Laverne. Give the woman a break.”

  “She doesn’t belong here, Jimi, and you know it.”

  “I don’t know anything of the sort.”

  As I wondered if maybe I should interrupt the two of them before their convo-slash-argument escalated any further, I took a big bite of the scone and moaned aloud in pleasure.


  “Holy crap! This is awesome.”

  Jimi grinned and even Laverne seemed to lighten up a little from the compliment. So I swallowed and cleared my throat.

  “Actually, I was hoping to put up a flyer in a few shop windows around here.”

  Laverne sneered. “Try the next town over.”

  “Seriously, Laverne? Leave her alone.” He winked at me again. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”

  As I devoured my scone, we walked across the street toward my multicolor truck.

  Jimi seemed to be a study in contrasts. On the one hand, he was tall with the face of Adonis, and he looked like he was a bodybuilder or a male model. On the other hand, he had a very strong nerd vibe going on, with a thick textbook under his arm and horn-rimmed glasses that seemed to perpetually slide down the bridge of his nose. He kept wiggling his nose like a rabbit, inching them back up without using his hands.

  “Rattlesnake is a lovely town, but up until I met you, the people I’ve run into have been downright rude.”

  Jimi smiled. “Don’t take it personally. They don’t take too kindly to strangers.”

  “No kidding.”

  “So, you didn’t answer. What brings you to Rattlesnake?”

  “Well, my great-uncle died and I inherited his ranch. It’s just outside of town—”

  He stopped walking and rounded on me so fast I let out an involuntary squeal. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Sam. Samantha Jackson.”

  I gasped as his huge arms wrapped around me, hugging me so tightly I could barely breathe. He actually lifted me off the ground and didn’t seem to care that the textbook he’d been carrying fell to the ground. As my legs dangled and I struggled for breath, I noticed a crowd gathering.

  People stepped out of shops. Those who had been walking along the street stopped. Everyone stared wide eyed. For a frightening moment, I wondered if they recognized me. Maybe they’d seen my face on the news.