Page 19 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
“What about him?”
“Do you think he likes horses as much as you?”
To protect Bradley’s sweet innocence, I won’t be telling him what I think. “How could anyone not?”
“And that’s why he needs your help?”
“Yep,” I say, standing and trying to brush the dust from his shirt. “I’ve gotta show him how it’s done.”
The door swings open, and my mom stands there in curlers and a robe, one hand on her hip as she surveys us with a grin. “Show who how what’s done?”
“Mom is going back to the ranch,” Bradley explains.
“You know she can’t stay away.” My mom winks at him. “She loves those animals too much.”
I shrug and try to make light of it, even though I know it’s true. Bradley watches me closely, studying me with an intensity that doesn’t match his years.
“Let’s not make a big deal out of it,” I say. “We don’t know what’s gonna happen. This guy might turn out to be a complete…” My mom gives me a look and raises her eyebrows, and I trail off.
“Okay, buster,” I say to Bradley. “You be good for Grandma, okay?”
He nods, and they head inside, chatting about breakfast and rabbits and whatever other creatures Bradley has planned to fill her house with. I watch him until the door swings closed and he disappears from view.
When I get back to the truck, I sit for a second, gripping the wheel and looking at my reflection in the rearview. This is what I wanted — to stay at the ranch, to help the animals. Now, on top of it, I’m getting paid way more than I was before.
But why am I so nervous about it all? Like I know the rug could be pulled out from under my feet at any moment?
Shaking my head, trying to push away the anxiety, I back out into the street and wind my way through Miralena, past all the old familiar places. The diner, where we had birthday breakfasts when I was a kid. The library, where I still take Bradley for story time on Thursdays.
I pass my aunt and mom’s bar, with its bright new coat of blue paint, and the small storefronts that line the main drag, all colorful and neat but barely making it by. My eyes linger on the thrift shop where I get most of Bradley’s clothes. Maybe, for the first time, thanks to this raise, I can buy him some brand-new clothes for school this year.
Not that it matters to him all that much. He’ll be seven by the time school starts, but it’s still a few years yet till he probably starts caring about what he looks like.
With this raise, though, Christmas will be much better this year. And our next vacation can be a proper one; maybe we’ll spend a few nights at the beach. I could even afford to bring my mom, Ferris, and my aunt Gina. I can save a little bit more each month and start that college fund for Bradley.
As the buildings thin out, I realize that Oliver might be the best thing that’s happened to me in a while. And as much as I love getting to stay around for my animals and getting the pay bump, it sucks that the good graces are coming from someone so cocky and insufferable.
But with Mack gone, I need the paycheck more than I need to be right. Oliver’s not offering the world, but the salary he quotedwas generous, and it was clear how clueless he was when he threw it out there.
Remembering all of this, my grip loosens a little as I turn off the highway and hit the narrow stretch of country road leading to Blazing Trails. Just because something is good doesn’t mean it’s about to be taken away, despite how some of my past experiences have turned out.
The long dirt drive crunches under my tires as I pull up, and I take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of grass coming through the open window. The duplex I’ve lived in since Bradley was two might be our house, but this ranch is home.
And currently, it looks like no one is here.
“Oliver?” I call, getting out of my car.
No answer.
I find him in the stables, his tall frame hunched as he stares at his phone with a frown. The horse next to him eyes him suspiciously, mirroring my own feelings.
He doesn’t even notice me until I’m right next to him, his head buried so far in whatever he’s reading. When he does, he spooks, nearly dropping the phone.
“I guess I was wrong.” I fold my arms. “You are up and at ’em.”
“I was brushing up on brushing,” he says. “But the internet connection’s not very reliable out here.”
I laugh as I reach out to take the brush from his hand. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
