Page 35 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
My hands shook on the truck door handle when he said that, and I hoped he didn’t see me trembling, didn’t hear the way my heart galloped like I hadn’t tied it up well enough, like it was trying to escape.
Or maybe like it was hoping I would escape too.
If he’s planning on sticking around, on staying more permanently like he hinted at, it will make things more complicated. And maybe more wonderful than I can let myself believe. If he doesn’t know it yet, I sure do. This ranch is big, but it’s not big enough for me to stay out of his way. Not big enough for him to ignore my feelings or for me to ignore his.
But was I imagining it? Does he even have feelings for me?
The more I think about it, the more I know I didn’t imagine it at all. When he asked me to run the place, I was too stunned to answer. My lips wouldn’t move, my voice froze up. But then, in the truck, they unfroze in a different way. He was staring at them, staring like he was about to… like he wanted to…
A shiver runs through me, and I turn my mind back to work. I pour another scoop of feed, and the horse nuzzling into me nudges my hand. She’s in my space and taking her chances. Oliver is too. I didn’t want him to see how flustered I was, didn’t want him to know I was thinking of him as more than my boss.
I picture Bradley’s dad — how certain I was about him. That’s what scares me the most, how sure I was about everything back then. That’s what worries me about opening my heart, about letting it go wild when all it’s ever gotten me was more trouble, more hurt.
Aaron took off when I needed him most — when Bradley needed him most. I have no reason to think Oliver would do the same, but I have no reason to think he won’t. His business is in Houston; his whole life is there. What’s keeping him here besides this ranch, and if he decides I’m too much trouble, will I survive it a second time?
Will I let Bradley get hurt like that?
Finally, the horses are fed, the hay is stacked, and there’s a calm in the air that only makes me more aware of how fast my pulse is racing. I take it all in, breathing deep and filling my lungs.
“Carly.”
I freeze, not ready to turn around quite yet. It’s Oliver. He’s already a part of my life, already tangled up with everything I am and everything I want. Even though I should fight it, even though I should be as tough and sturdy as I’ve always been, I find myself giving in.
He’s coming toward me with a smile so wide it knocks me off balance, so sure and steady and stunning I can’t believe it’s meant for me.
My heart stumbles, and it must show, because his grin grows impossibly bigger. I try to regain my footing, but it’s all I can do not to wobble when he reaches me. Even his voice throws me off.
“Taking a break?” he asks.
I wave a hand toward the stables, trying to show him how unflustered I am. “About to spray down the mats,” I say, then set my jaw, which doesn’t know whether to tremble or laugh or say something really stupid.
“Need any help?”
“Um, sure.”
He keeps smiling like he doesn’t know the havoc he’s wreaking on my body and my heart. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he’s as clueless as he pretends to be, or maybe he’s doing it on purpose.
The mats are heavy and awkward, their thick rubber surfaces covered in dust and straw and filth from the stable. Heaving them into the wash station, I sneak a glance his way, trying to see if he’s struggling as much as I am. Of course he isn’t.
He keeps up with me, determined and effortless, and I wonder how many kinds of perfect he can be without even trying. Bradley thinks he’s perfect, and so does every animal on this ranch. I’m afraid that if I don’t stop this now, I’ll think it too. Maybe I already do.
“You do this every week?” he asks.
I reach for the hose, and my heart pounds louder than the water. “Sometimes twice,” I say.
“Let me.” He takes the hose from my hands, so close I can feel his warmth.
I swallow hard and turn away, trying to act natural, trying to pretend like it’s nothing. Like this isn’t the kind of situation where the only way I know how to cool off is by running for my life.
Spraying the mats, Oliver acts like he’s the one doing me a favor. I lean against the fence, watching him work, watching his shirt get wet from the spray and cling tighter and tighter to his skin. His muscles flex with every movement, and I’m sure he knows I’m staring, knows I’m tongue-tied and spellbound and wishing I’d never signed up for this kind of heartache.
“See how easy that is?” he says, his grin a mile wide.
“I’ve got the hard job, keeping you company,” I say.
He doesn’t know how true it is. Keeping him company is the hardest job I’ve ever had, but it’s also the most irresistible.
“I dunno.” He shrugs, looking infuriatingly satisfied with himself. “Looks like I’m doing all the work here.”
