Page 15 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
Sighing hard, I rub my face. What… the… hell?
I can’t remember the last time I was this pissed. Pissed and guilty.
Because Carly, as insufferable as she is, was right. I’m in way over my head.
My steps feeling heavy, I head back inside the stable and look around, but I don’t see what she was talking about. It doesn’t seem that bad to me. A little bit of a smell. Some mud.
But then I start to notice the piles. Some bigger than others. It was a job I really did plan on getting to tomorrow, but now that Carly started it, I feel bad for the horses. They’re looking at me expectantly, like they’re all hoping to be the next one to have their stalls cleaned.
Grabbing the pitchfork Carly left leaning against the wall, I get to work. The task isn’t too hard at first, but like everything else in this place, the closer I get, the more overwhelming it seems.
I remember Carly’s expression when I originally told her I’d take care of the ranch myself. She didn’t even think I could get through one night without her — like the whole thing was a huge mistake. She’s got some nerve, and maybe I’m crazy, but the ranch is mine now, and I’m going to make this work.
The second stall is even worse. At first, I think it’s a trick of the light. Then I realize I didn’t see how much I had to do.
Oh, well. Who needs sleep anyway?
Pushing myself harder, I try not to think of what I’ll face after this. Maybe I’ll have to bathe the goats… Is that a thing?
“Stupid Carly,” I mutter to myself.
One of the horses snorts.
“Yeah, I know,” I tell it. “I know you love her. She’s sweet to you. She’s pretty, and—” I stop myself right there.
Still holding the pitchfork, I turn to look at the horse, my eyes wide. The horse only gazes back, its expression unwavering and calm.
“I did not just call Carly pretty. Again.”
The horse doesn’t respond this time; it just keeps chewing on a mouthful of straw. I shake my head fiercely.
Carly is infuriating, stubborn. She barges onto my property in the middle of the night and calls me out for only doing an adequate job with her previous duties. Yes, she has a commanding voice and looks good in a pair of jeans, but that doesn’t make her pretty.
She’s… rustic. Strong-willed. Disruptive.
Not pretty.
Yes. I thought she was when I first saw her, but after tonight she’s nothing but a nuisance to me.
With newfound energy, I tackle the last of the stalls, but my thoughts are consumed by Carly and the way her eyes flash when she’s angry at me. There’s a spark there, something raw and unapologetic.
I don’t like it, but I can’t deny that her confidence has an odd appeal.
By the time I’m finished with all the stalls, my shirt is covered in sweat and my muscles ache with fatigue. But at least the stalls are clean.
Heading back toward the house, I hop into the shower, dry off, and walk toward bed, only to see the sun rising through the windows.
Twenty minutes. I’ll rest for twenty minutes and then?—
It’s like the whole ranch wakes up at once. The roosters crow. The sheep baa. The goats bleat.
And I collapse onto the bed face first. So much for a calming getaway.
CHAPTER 8
OLIVER
All I wanted was a twenty minute nap. That was it. Just a moment for my eyes to flutter shut, for this worn-out body to collapse into a tangle of sheets. But here I am, chasing a loose hen through the field, trying not to step in horse poop along the way.
