Page 46 of Cowboy in Colorado

She scuffs her foot, shrugs. “I’m sorry. I knew Tink would run, but usually she just runs a bit and then evens out. It was stupid, and I’m sorry. You just weren’t taking no for an answer, and I figured at the least it’d scare you off and you’d leave.”

“I don’tscare off,” I say, my voice hard. I hear a noise, and see someone driving my car over from the house; I’m glad, as it means I’ll be gone sooner. “Your brother is a bastard.”

She sighs. “He’s hardheaded, and won’t ever change. Doesn’t like change, and never will. Once his mind is made up, that’s it. You didn’t stand a chance.” She hesitates. “I honestly thought maybe you could convince him, if anyone could. God knows this ranch could use a little updating. The village is a hell of a drain on us.” She seems wistful, regretful. “I do wish it could’ve worked out.”

My car arrives, then. “I’m not saying I’m withdrawing my offer, but I am moving on. He had his chance, and he blew it.”

Theo frowns. “With the offer, or with you?”

I keep my expression neutral—I don’t know what she knows, and I don’t care. “Take it how you want. My number is there, if he cares to call.” I waver, just for a moment, thinking maybe his sister may have some insight into the man, but then I shake my head to dislodge the idea. I don’t want insight. I just want to remember this, at best, as a night of memorable sex and some scary moments involving horses—which I’ll never ride again, thank you very much. “Not that I want him to, or expect him to.”

“Brooklyn, Will is just—”

I hold up my hand, and head for the driver’s side. “Save it. I don’t care. It would have been a beneficial arrangement for all of us, but he clearly has no interest in even hearing me out. I definitely found that out.”

“I meant what happened between you and him—”

“That’s personal.” I have no idea how much she knows, or how she found out, and I don’t care. I’m shutting down, out of the need to avoid a breakdown. “Goodbye, Theo.”

“I—” She sighs. “Bye.”

I climb into my car, and I hear Theo mutter to herself: “You really fucked it up big time, didn’t you, Will?”

“Yes, he did,” I answer her out loud. “Big time.”

And then, I’m gone.

I rev my engine and spit tires, and my little German rental zips over the hills and carries me to my hotel, where I take a long, hot shower, and sleep for another twelve hours, and resolutely refuse to think about Will, or business, or sex.

I don’t call anyone.

I just fly back to New York, catch an Uber to my apartment, and once there, I let myself cry for exactly ten minutes.

And then I push the entire situation out of my mind, head to the office, and call an impromptu meeting with my team in our conference room.

I wait until everyone is settled with their iPads and notebooks and pens and coffee.

“All-inclusive resort, somewhere tropical,” I say, to a conference table full of stunned, confused faces. “I want to hear your ideas. Let’s get started.”

“Um, what about Colorado?” Tina is totally baffled.

“That was a bust. They won’t sell.” I halt there, give nothing away in tone or expression. “We’re starting over.”

She blinks. “I…I…”

Jeremy to the rescue. “Costa Rica. I’ve done some preliminary legwork, as you suggested. We get a big chunk of coastline, set up stables with guided beach horse rides, infinity pools, the works. Easy profit maker, and we have no holdings in Latin America, so it’ll satisfy your dad.”

I nod. “Good. Let’s get to work.”

Tina’s eyes are doubtful, disbelieving. We haven’t worked together long, but she definitely suspects something.

I ignore her, and dive into work.

11

Aweek becomes two, and the Costa Rican all-inclusive resort concept is getting some legs. We've got our options narrowed down to three plots of beachfront; one requires demolishing a pair of aging condo buildings, one contains nothing but a few mom-and-pop shops that would move for the right price, and the last one is more remote, undeveloped, in a lush jungle area—requiring more permits and more upfront work so as to not step on too many local toes or piss off ecological preservation groups. In those two weeks, I’ve been down to Costa Rice twice, for two days each time, and each visit was wonderfully boring—Moscow mules by the pool, visiting locations, talking to owners and neighbors and officials, meeting with local architects and contractors…the closest I get to horses are the ones that locals use as transportation.

At no point do I look at those horses and think about Will. Nor do I ever consider borrowing or renting a horse. I definitely do not think how romantic a beachside horse ride could be.