Page 7 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
“That’s the plan,” he says, recovering with a quick grin. “I’ll have this place running like a machine in no time.”
He’s confident, I’ll give him that, but maybe you have to be to make your first billion by thirty. (While he brought his bags inside the house, I slipped into the bathroom and looked him up).
“Looking forward to it,” I say, though I’m mostly looking forward to seeing if he even lasts a week.
We move on to the chickens, the low building humming with soft clucks. Oliver stands in the doorway, peering in with something like disbelief. “There are red ones.”
“You gonna have time to give them the attention they need?” I watch him closely, trying to make him feel the responsibility of all the animals in this place.
“I can be in two places at once when I need to be.”
“And if you’re not?” I ask.
He needs to start getting real.
Oliver rubs the back of his neck. “It’ll be a challenge. But I didn’t get where I am without taking a few of those on.”
“What about help? Thinking of bringing anyone on?”
“Certainly. I won’t be here all the time. I have to get back to Houston eventually. But I do like to know how things work before I hand them off.”
Hmm.
He’s probably never had to hand-feed a newborn lamb at four in the morning or find a lost cow in the middle of a thunderstorm. I raise an eyebrow but decide to save it for later. I can only push him so far, and I don’t want him chasing me off the ranch when he needs me the most — or, rather, the animals need me the most.
Oliver follows me to the next shed, where the goats mill around the open pen, their baas mingling with the bleats of the sheep nearby.
“What are your plans, exactly?” I ask him, thinking maybe if I keep at it, he’ll realize what he’s gotten himself into.
He stands, his hands on his hips, looking at the sky like he sees all his dreams coming true there. “I want to take it slow,” he says, but the speed with which he says it makes me doubt him. “Feel it out, see where it takes me.”
“Well, I hope it takes you to a good chiropractor,” I tell him. “I’ve never seen anyone more set up to throw out their back.”
“I’m strong.”
“From going to the gym.” I fold my arms. “There’s a difference.”
“You care for me already, Carly?” he teases, his eyes glinting.
“Just want to make sure you last longer than a weekend,” I say, letting him hear the doubt in my voice. “What’ll happen to all these animals if you don’t?”
“Like I said, I’m not one to walk away from a challenge.” He moves to the goat pen, and a curious kid comes up to the edge and nuzzles against his shin. He hesitates before reaching down and awkwardly petting its head.
“See? They like me already.”
“You have a way with goats,” I say. “Can’t argue with that.”
The last of the animals wait for us at the far end of the barnyard. I let Oliver figure out where we’re headed, giving him time to pick his way across the uneven ground. He manages to kick up a cloud of dirt with every step, city-slicker written all over him, and I wonder how someone can be so out of their element and so cocky at the same time.
“This is where we keep the sheep,” I tell him once he catches up.
“The fluffy ones?”
“Those would be the ones, yeah.”
He scratches his chin. “I’ll admit I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“Everything, I’d say.” It comes out sharper than I mean it to, and he raises an eyebrow at me. I soften my voice a little. “Don’t be embarrassed about hiring someone who knows what they’re doing.” I pause and let him hear the seriousness. “It took three people to run this place before.”
