Page 17 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
No wonder I feel lightheaded. I didn’t stop for lunch. Didn’t take a breather. I’ve been going like a robot.
“Yeah, ranch hands usually hang out at one of the bars. Try the Ramblin’ Rose.”
“The Ramblin’ Rose.” I nod. “Got it. Thank you for your help.”
He nods. “You’re welcome. Just down the street. Take a right on Harrison.”
The bar is easy enough to find thanks to a neon sign, and its vibe is a mix of sports bar and small-town country spot. Judging by the pockmarks on the wooden bar and the photos of locals cluttering the walls, the spot is a well-loved one.
The bartender’s back is to me, her hair pulled up in a messy knot, and for a moment I freeze. Wait. Is that…?
Carly turns around, her mouth dropping open at the sight of me. She looks amazing in a simple white shirt that hangs off one shoulder, revealing the straps of a lace tank top underneath.
Her eyes flash to recognition, then quickly harden with disdain. “What are you doing here? Did you come to apologize?”
“No,” I say, forcing out the words, “I came to find some ranch hands. What are you doing here?”
“My mom and aunt own the place. I work occasional shifts.” Her lips purse, and there’s a long silence.
The bar is almost as empty as the rest of the town, just a few old men nursing beers at the other end of the bar. All three of them are probably forty years too old for manual labor, so I’m out of luck there.
I take a breath and approach the bar, feeling the distance between us shrink and multiply at the same time. She stands there, wiping a glass, like she’s got all the time in the world and I’m not even worth looking at. It’s me who hesitates, pausing awkwardly at the edge of the counter.
“The workload already getting to you?” she asks, breaking the silence, her voice smooth and sweet as honeyed poison.
I give her my best unaffected smile, pretending her presence is as trivial as the dust on the shelves. “The plan was to hire help all along. I told you that.”
Her eyes flash with something I can’t place, but it isn’t pleasant.
“Funny seeing you working here,” I add. “I would have thought if you were to moonlight, it would be as something more fitting. An art thief or car-jacker — you know, something more illegal.”
Her eyes narrow. “Can I help you with something, or are you just going to stand here and make bad jokes?”
I could bite back. I could continue the fight that we had last night after she literally trespassed and broke into my stable.
But I know that won’t do me any good, so instead I do what I came here for and swallow the brick of pride lodged in my throat.
“I need help, Carly.” My voice is quieter than I’d like.
“So hire someone.” She shrugs.
“Can you, uh, give me a tip as to where I can do that? The man at the hardware store said I could find people here.”
She laughs. “It’s a little late in the season. Everyone already has a job.”
I blink at her. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
“It’s my job to do that?” she volleys back.
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. Fine. I’m gonna do it. Despite our differences, it’s probably the best choice anyway.
“Will you come back and work at the ranch?” I ask. “You know the place better than anyone else, and I… even if I hire someone else, they wouldn’t know the animals like you do. Last night was not okay, but I know you can probably get the place running like a well-oiled machine, and I’m not too proud to admit that. So, please. Will you join me?”
I half expect her to laugh in my face, but she doesn’t. She watches me, and the silence stretches long enough that I start to worry, start to regret asking, start to think of a backup plan for when she tells me to get lost.
Her lips twist into a half-smile, and I can’t tell if she’s enjoying this or feeling sorry for me. Probably both.
“Are you sure you’re not bribing me so I don’t report you for animal neglect?” she finally asks, and it feels like a small victory. At least she hasn’t said no.
