Page 10 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
“Yeah,” he agrees, his grin wide and goofy. “Can we have pancakes tomorrow? Like, a big stack of them?”
“Sure, as long as you don’t make fun of me for not being as good a cook as you.” I gently poke him in the side, and he laughs. “What kind do you want?”
“Ohhh…” He twists his lips as he thinks. “Blue! No! Chocolate chip!”
“Then chocolate chip it is.”
“When can I go—” He sucks in a quick breath. “When can I go to the ranch?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, forcing a lightness I don’t feel. “We have to figure out a new plan.”
“Because it selled?” His eyes are wide and searching, filled with hope.
“Yes, buddy. Mack already left. Now a man named Oliver owns it.”
“But you can’t work at it.”
“I’m looking for another job.” I hesitate, knowing that if Oliver offered me my old job, I’d take it in a heartbeat, mostly to be there for the animals.
He’s too stubborn, though. It seems he’d rather run that place into the ground than admit he needs a helping hand.
Bradley’s legs kick again; he can’t keep still when he has a burning question. “How surprised do you think Oliver was?”
“Surprised by what?”
“Everything on the ranch.”
“Probably pretty surprised,” I say. “I’m still not sure he even knows what a ranch is.”
“How many animals does he have?”
“Way too many,” I say. “Mack sold him all the animals except for the dogs. Mack took those with him. Taco and Maude are retiring too.”
Too late, I realize I’ve probably said too much and will worry Bradley. “Oliver can take care of them all, though,” I add. “Even though it is a lot of animals.”
But it’s too late. “He didn’t know anything about horses, did he?”
I try to shrug it off, for both our sakes. “I don’t think he knew the difference between a horse and a chicken,” I say, and Bradley laughs again. “I gave him instructions on feeding them all, though. Don’t worry. He can do it.”
“But Mom, what if he forgets a part?”
I sit on that for a moment. “Maybe he’ll pack up and head back to wherever he came from. Maybe all the animals will come live with us in our backyard. We can fit them all back there, right?”
That makes Bradley laugh again, but not as hard this time. He’s trying to figure out what it all means. So am I.
“Are you mad at him?” he asks. “At Oliver?”
“No, baby,” I say. “Not mad. Just surprised.”
“I bet Rusty misses me.”
I want to tell him not to worry about the old pony who always trots to the fence when he sees Bradley coming. But that’s what moms do — we worry.
“Me too,” I say. “I miss all of them already. But don’t worry, sweetie. They’re okay.” I don’t even believe it myself, but I can’t stand to see him so worried.
“I want to see Rusty.”
I bite my lip. “Bradley, I don’t know when you’ll be able to. I’m sorry.”
