The Front Runner (Gold Rush Ranch, #3)

by Elsie Silver

I don’t stare. I’m not a total Neanderthal.

She knows she’s got me by the balls, and she’s absolutely delighted about it.

Could I run him into the ground for another season and make some cash? Probably. But I refuse to do that to an animal who has run his heart out for me and my business.

I already love this man. Animal’s well being comes first

I might not describe myself as a “good man,” but I’m not morally corrupt enough to actually hurt someone.

There’s a special place reserved in hell for men who hurt women, and I plan to ensure he gets there.

Leave it to the woman who saves lives for a living to be all morally superior when I’m so clearly morally gray. I wonder what she really thinks of me.

My tone is condescending—it’s kind of my default mode, I sometimes talk that way without even meaning to. I sound like a spoiled, rich kid with mommy issues even though I’m thirty-four years old. Adorable.

I am a smart girl who is about to do something very stupid.

I sigh in relief. Sister. Hallelujah.

“Eyes up here, Dr. Thorne,” he coos with a knowing smile. I like this more playful version of Stefan Dalca. Not the uptight, almost too-smooth version of him everyone sees down at the track. I decide to roll with it. “Why?” “Because you might fall in love with me if you stare for too long.”

What the hell am I doing? Are we being friendly? Are we flirting?

But all I really want is for her to see that I’m not a bad guy. I don’t always play by the rules, but I’m not a bad guy. I grew up with one, and I refuse to become him.

The first thing I feel is stiffness as I try to get my bearings. Stiffness in my joints… and in my pants. Mira’s voice filters into my consciousness. Something that is definitely not helping the morning wood situation. “Up we get, Sleeping Beauty. I made you coffee.”

“You didn’t seem big on the black coffee, so I tried something else. How do you take it?” I just don’t want you to think my soul is black. It had been a joke when she said it, but I’d let it bug me anyway. I’m inexplicably concerned with what this woman thinks of me.

“This is fine,” I reply gruffly, taking the coffee from her, willing my raging boner to disappear. Hello, morning wood.

“Because he’s going to make it. A name ties him to this world. It gives him an identity. Means we recognize his existence.”

I’m feeling proud of myself for working this out. I don’t even care about the three dates I agreed to go on with Stefan. I can totally handle it. Maybe I’ll get a good meal out of the deal. My stomach growls just thinking about it, and I resolve right here and now to make sure Stefan takes me for a super fancy meal. He’s gonna pay for this trick, and I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of some delicious food.

Future me, is Stefan going to do the exact opposite and bring her into the wilderness or some shit? Or maybe not an expensive restaurant, but a home cooked meal.

Basically, my love life revolves around the purple rubber boyfriend that lives in my nightstand and all the thirst traps I browse on TikTok.

colic. I am not a hugger—public displays of affection are not my thing—but I let her do it. These are the sacrifices you make for your friends.

Same, but I became a temporary hugger when my friend’s mom yeeted off into the afterlife abruptly.

“Trust me, Dr. Thorne, if I had you up against a wall, you’d be the meal.”

He turns to leave and only now do I notice he’s wearing gym clothes that hug his body in the most delectable way. I’m too confused to even stop myself from staring at his perfectly round ass as he strolls away looking completely unaffected. And I’m too speechless to even respond to the parting remark he tosses over his shoulder. “Pick you up at six on Friday.” God. I’m in so much trouble.

“You look like you were shooting a professor themed porno or something.” I wink at her. “Maybe I was.” Mira rolls her eyes and dramatically tips her head back with a groan.

She’s the most fascinating dichotomy.

“She had a bad day and could use some company. I promise I still gave my Amex a workout on your behalf. I have excellent wine and beautiful food and if you come in, I will provide you with a perfectly platonic home cooked meal.”

Called it. Still think one of the two other dates will be out in nature

I shouldn’t be looking, but I’m defiant. It’s a character flaw. When someone tells me not to do something, it makes me want to do it more.

Mira Thorne is kinda dark, and I like it.

I’ve always been drawn to Mira, but this is torture. I feel like she’s reached right between my ribs and wrapped her delicate fingers around my lungs. Like if she wanted to, she could squeeze too hard and cut my breath off entirely.

Because getting between Mira’s thighs is a bad idea. I’d probably never want to leave.

Never mind physical chemistry, I need intellectual chemistry to hold my attention.

“Hey, man. Even rats need love.” She winks at me. I’m pretty sure she just called me a rat in a very roundabout way.

I was momentarily jealous of a dildo. Adorable.

What she doesn’t comprehend is I’ll do almost anything she tells me to at this point.

“Are you telling me you’d rather take me to your family reunion than your dildo?” She laughs and shakes her head. “Consider yourself the front runner in that race.”

“I’ll be better company than a dildo. I promise.” She shakes her head again and swipes her kit off the ground. “Doubtful,” is her reply as she walks away. I can’t help but appreciate the way her cargo pants hug the round globes of her ass. The things I’d do to that ass. “Bet I can make you come harder too.” She laughs, a girlish laugh. Not her usual throaty husk. “I’d like to see you try.” Challenge accepted.

“Good. Because I want to make myself abundantly clear.” We’re so close. I can feel the entire length of his body covering mine. He teases me with the lightest brush of his lips against my ear as he drops his voice and holds me captive. “You are not the pawn, Mira. You are the prize.”

He steps away, and I feel alarmingly bereft, like I want to yank him back toward me. Like I want more. I’m the biggest traitor I know because I want him to continue. I want him to whisper more forbidden secrets against my body.

I marvel at how the more confused she is about me, the less I am about her.

And that woman? I plan to take my shot with that woman. I just need to soften her up first. Step one: talk to her. Step two: woo her. Step three: win her.

I chuckle. I like her all snappy and worked up. I like to think she’s worked up over me.

I laugh. Small town gossip is vicious. And wrong.

“Where is all your money from? Most people your age don’t just mope around their multi-million dollar barns all day waiting for their vet to show up so they can accost her with sexually suggestive one-liners.”

tomorrow. “Why not?” “No one will believe I’d bring a guy who wears suits home. Just…” She looks me up and down. “Keep it casual. You already don’t look like my type.” I almost laugh. We’ll see about that. As she brushes past me, I murmur conspiratorially, “Is it because I’m not purple and made of silicone?” And I swear I see her blush.

I could so easily slide it up her thigh and pull her panties to the side. A good orgasm would probably take the edge off. My dick twitches at the thought, and I force myself to focus on the road.

He finishes his perusal with a sly wink, and I’m almost positive my panties combust on the spot. Wink. Poof. Gone.

The world swirls around us, but we stand still, lost in each other. And damn, it feels good. I knew we’d be explosive, but this is mind-altering. This is like a drug. This is the best kiss of my life.

This isn’t one for the record books. This is the record book.

His hand grips the wrought iron railing on the front steps as he takes every second stair. His pants are wet and tight against his round ass. I grabbed that ass. It really is a great ass.

Anyone who thinks they can speak that way to you in front of me is in for a rude awakening.”

“Just before she died, she told me my biological father used to be the bartender in Ruby Creek.”

Ey yo

But her charm appears to be lost on Griff. He’s glaring at her from beneath his signature black cap. The man can wear a pair of wranglers and cowboy boots like no one’s business, but he’s not chatty. He’s a different dude, for sure. He trailers his horses to the clinic now and then for some work, spends a few days, and then heads back up to his cabin in the woods. He’s a mountain man recluse personified.

Got a feeling I’m going to love Griff (side eyes the next book, heh)