Page 16 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
It slows down at the tree lines, and I’m finally able to jump on it. “Gotcha,” I hiss, scooping the clucking bundle up in my arms.
Carly made this all look easy. When she was here, everything worked smoothly. She knew this place, knew every detail like she’d spent her whole life with animals. And maybe she had, it’s not like I spent much time getting her backstory.
My head pounding and my hands smelling like livestock, I walk the chicken back to the fenced-in area around the coop and reunite it with its buddies.
No more waiting around. I need help. Today, if that’s possible.
Grabbing my keys, wallet, and phone, I jump into the car. But I’m not even halfway down the drive before another hen runs in front of the car. Maybe the same one.
Groaning, I drop my head against the steering wheel. Seriously?
It’s like they know I’m about to give up and they’re taunting me, daring me to keep going, to see just how far I’ll fall behind. But I keep my cool, get out, chase down this chicken, and return it to its home. This time, I go along the chicken wire, looking for any holes.
There’s nothing, though. This chicken is a magician.
“I’ll figure it out sooner or later,” I tell it. “I may be new around here, but I’m not that stupid. I’ll find out how you’re getting out.”
Back in the car, I keep my eyes on the road, determined to get to town and find some help before I drive this place, and myself, straight into the ground.
As I drive, my mind is cluttered with the morning’s disasters. The only thing I had planned was rest, but I couldn’t even get that right. I’m thinking about how long it takes to find reliable help and what I’ll say to the potential ranch hands when I find them. I’m thinking about Carly, too, wondering if she’s still mad. Wondering if she’ll even talk to me if I run into her.
And wondering why I even want to run into her. After last night, I should be happy if we never cross paths again. Of course, that’s next to impossible in a town as small as Miralena.
I almost pull over to call her but stop myself. I’m stubborn like that. I know I should admit defeat, beg her to come back, promise her a salary, benefits, my firstborn child — anything to get her back here so I don’t end up passed out in a barn from sheer exhaustion. But the thought of reaching out to her makes me feel raw and vulnerable, two things I’m not comfortable with.
Anyway, she can’t be the only person in Miralena who knows her way around a stable. The whole county is probably full of capable ranch hands.
The drive to Miralena is shorter than I remember. Suddenly, little blocks are passing by, each one having seen better days. Finding a parking spot (which isn’t hard in this town) I hustle out of the car. Time to find my ranch hands.
Except… where?
The silence is almost mocking me. I glance around, half expecting to see a tumbleweed rolling past. I’m used to the constant hum of the city, a background noise that fills every empty space. Here, there’s nothing but the sound of my own awkward presence. A slow drip of music leaks from one of the shops, something twangy and unapologetic. It should tell me where to go, but I’m at a loss.
This place is nearly a ghost town, with only a handful of people out on the sidewalks. I’m sure the whole population can fit into one city bus.
Maybe I’m in over my head, thinking I’ll waltz in and find exactly what I need. But there’s got to be someone around here that fits the bill, right?
Spotting a hardware store with its front door propped open, I cross the street and poke my head inside. “Hello?”
Inside is as empty as out. A sea of wooden shelves stretches in front of me, rows and rows of potential that I have no idea what to do with. I pick up a hammer, then set it back down like it’s made of porcelain. There’s no reason to be here except that it’s a starting point, and that’s something, I guess.
A white-haired man appears from a back room. “Can I help you?” he calls.
I wander toward him, careful to avoid eye contact with a menacing display of pitchforks.
“I’m looking for some ranch hands,” I say, getting straight to the point. “I’m new in town, and I was hoping you might know where I can go to hire people.”
He raises an eyebrow, and I see the question forming before he asks it. “Greer, right? The fella that bought Mack’s place?”
I nod, feeling an outsider’s reputation already wrapping itself around me. “That’s right. Know where I can find some help?”
“Well, you might try the bars.”
“They’re open already?” I stare at him, convinced I’ve heard him wrong. The look on my face must show my confusion, because he nods as if to reassure me.
“It’s nearly six o’clock.”
“It is?” I feel my eyes widen. Where did the day go? Did I really just spend over twelve hours chasing animals around?
