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WIP
So, in order to hold myself accountable I am going to start posting bits of my WIPs (other than cowrites) so that if this is relevant to your interests, you can tell me to get off my ass and finish it. Today, is my weird Sanctuary cowboy AU thing which is...weird and AU and I probably should just write an original novel and be done with it. It's not like EL James didn't get paid for it. Ahem.
Will’s bone tired by the time supper’s done and the last thing he really wants is to climb back in the saddle but a promise is a promise. Besides, Magnus needs to learn how the farm works and he can show her this part, the fun part, before introducing her to the headache that’s bills and ledgers. She’ll take to the latter more easily anyway and probably doesn’t need his help making sense of it; Helen Magnus knows more about business than he’ll ever learn in two lifetimes.
This is a ride for fun, anyway, since all his cattle are accounted for and while that’s not as flashy as champion horses, working steer is a steady income when steady has been few and far between. Hard work, mundane work, but it keeps the bills mostly paid. He has his suspicions that Magnus is gonna push for that to be more of the operation than it is. The boys might not like it but Will thinks it’s sound.
He hadn’t eaten with Magnus, who was still in the office working books, so when she meets him out in the barn, it’s the first time he’s seen her since this morning. She looks good, having traded tailored dress slacks for slim, dark jeans and the boots don’t give her nearly as much height as her heels do. She’s still got on a deep purple shirt in a material that’s got no business on a farm, something soft with a satiny gleam, and Will shakes his head before letting out a long, low whistle.
“Lady, you’ve gotta learn the meaning of dressing down. You’re gonna ruin those clothes. How much did those jeans cost, my whole paycheck?” Magnus looks down at what she’s wearing and brushes away at (invisible) lint. She bites her lower lip in assessment and when she meets his eyes again, hers are twinkling in amusement.
“They are designer. Perhaps I should invest in something a bit more rugged? I’d borrow yours but I can imagine I’ve enjoyed too much chocolate to get them over my hips.” Will tries not to think about how fucking hot it would be to see Magnus in his clothes and, instead, plunks his Stetson on her head. Damn, she’s a good-looking woman.
Will’s bone tired by the time supper’s done and the last thing he really wants is to climb back in the saddle but a promise is a promise. Besides, Magnus needs to learn how the farm works and he can show her this part, the fun part, before introducing her to the headache that’s bills and ledgers. She’ll take to the latter more easily anyway and probably doesn’t need his help making sense of it; Helen Magnus knows more about business than he’ll ever learn in two lifetimes.
This is a ride for fun, anyway, since all his cattle are accounted for and while that’s not as flashy as champion horses, working steer is a steady income when steady has been few and far between. Hard work, mundane work, but it keeps the bills mostly paid. He has his suspicions that Magnus is gonna push for that to be more of the operation than it is. The boys might not like it but Will thinks it’s sound.
He hadn’t eaten with Magnus, who was still in the office working books, so when she meets him out in the barn, it’s the first time he’s seen her since this morning. She looks good, having traded tailored dress slacks for slim, dark jeans and the boots don’t give her nearly as much height as her heels do. She’s still got on a deep purple shirt in a material that’s got no business on a farm, something soft with a satiny gleam, and Will shakes his head before letting out a long, low whistle.
“Lady, you’ve gotta learn the meaning of dressing down. You’re gonna ruin those clothes. How much did those jeans cost, my whole paycheck?” Magnus looks down at what she’s wearing and brushes away at (invisible) lint. She bites her lower lip in assessment and when she meets his eyes again, hers are twinkling in amusement.
“They are designer. Perhaps I should invest in something a bit more rugged? I’d borrow yours but I can imagine I’ve enjoyed too much chocolate to get them over my hips.” Will tries not to think about how fucking hot it would be to see Magnus in his clothes and, instead, plunks his Stetson on her head. Damn, she’s a good-looking woman.
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