Page 38 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
She tilts her head, trying to read me. “Been what?”
“Different,” I finally say.
“You sound good.”
“I am good.” It makes me smile, thinking about how far I’ve come in such a short amount of time. “And I have you to thank for it.”
“As long as it’s good for your health, don’t thank me.”
I don’t have an answer, and she can tell. “Oliver,” she says, softer now. “Stay alive. I mean it.”
She hangs up before I have a chance to promise, before I can tell her that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Moving to the liquor cabinet, I pour a drink and think about how right she is, how I am finding my groove. It’s strange that it took a town in the middle of nowhere to make it happen, strange that the person I need to keep my space from is the same person I can’t stop thinking about. I’m never one to let someone else steerthe ship, but here I am, watching my life unfold in unexpected ways, surprised that I’m even still on board.
There’s no music, no city noise to drown me out, but for the first time it doesn’t feel empty. It feels like space. Like I’m stretching into something bigger than me, bigger than all the demands I put on myself, and for the first time in forever, it feels okay.
I step onto the porch, bringing the drink with me, Carly back on my mind. My thoughts are wandering to places they’ve never gone before, and I let them keep going there, wondering how long it will take to get where they’re headed, wondering if it’s a good idea to tag along.
There’s more stillness than I know what to do with, more quiet than I remember noticing since she came crashing into my life. I try to imagine what it was like before, but all I can see is Carly, standing so close to me, as if it’s as natural as breathing. As if it’s always been her place.
I wish she were here right now. I wish she knew. And I wish her knowing didn’t have to change a thing… except for bringing her closer to me.
CHAPTER 17
CARLY
Iforget it’s work sometimes, forget that I’m supposed to be teaching Oliver how to run this place. Sometimes, I even forget what a huge risk I’m taking by letting myself hope.
I should know better, but there are times when it’s almost like the two of us are riding this out together. That scares me, but the wild truth is it excites me more than anything has for a long, long time. And maybe that’s why I’m still on the ranch after already spending the whole day here. Maybe that’s why I let him rope me into fixing this fence at the far edge of the property, where my horse and I are the only things in sight except for grass and trees.
I watch the sky as I work, the sun lowering itself like it does every night, sure of where it’s going and how it will get there. That’s how I feel when I’m at the ranch. When I’m anywhere else, I’m less certain of everything.
The air grows heavy around me as I fasten the wire, the ranch almost too silent and too still. The farther I get from the house, the closer I get to giving up and turning back. But then I hear it — the sound of hooves on dry ground, faint at first but gettingcloser. Oliver, on horseback, watching me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
He rides up to the fence, stopping on the other side, the horse’s breath calm and easy in the evening air. I have to hand it to him, he’s made this his world quicker than I ever thought he would, quicker than anyone could, but maybe that’s why he is who he is.
“You’re never done, are you?” he asks, grinning, from the saddle. “The rest of the animals will have to wait for their midnight feed, I’m afraid.”
“They’re fine,” I say. “I fed them before I left. Anyway, Bradley is sleeping over at my mom’s tonight, so it’s not like I have anywhere to be.”
“Want some help?” He’s already dismounting, and though it’s anything but graceful, at least he hasn’t been thrown from a horse since that first day.
He starts on the wood while I wrap the wire, the two of us working together like we’ve always done it this way.
“You might make a rancher yet,” I tell him, watching how he moves, how he swings the hammer with just enough force.
We move along the old fence, mending the boards and pulling the wires, Oliver on one side and me on the other.
The work is the easy part, the simplest thing we’ve ever done. It’s everything else that makes it complicated, everything I should keep away from if I have any sense at all.
There’s a crack of thunder in the distance, and we both look up. The wire snaps back and hits my hand, sharp enough to sting, and I drop it, shaking my wrist. But that’s not what’s caught me. It’s the sudden change in the air, how quickly it’s turned dark.
I stare at the clouds, dark and heavy, an ache across the sky that I wasn’t expecting.
“You see that?” Oliver asks, his voice so full of excitement that I want to catch it.
“Yeah,” I say, pushing the wire back into place. “We should call it quits.”
