Page 70 of Cowboy in Colorado
“Good point. I grew up with it, and I still have trouble processing it if I think about it too hard.” I wave a hand. “Basically, think about it like my father has the resources of an entire country. He owns an airport in New Jersey—the whole thing. Just so he has somewhere private to fly into and out of. He owns a fleet of airplanes, from tiny little prop planes, what they call pond-hoppers, to airliner-size passenger jets. He has a fleet of boats both commercial and private, from fishing boats to super yachts to deep ocean mega-sized cargo ships, to entire cruise ships.”
“Bullshit. Your dad owns a cruise ship?”
“He owns a whole cruiseline, Will, as in cruise shipsplural.”
He blows out a breath. “Crazy.”
I nod. “I know.” I wave again, trying to put this part of getting to know each other behind us—I’ve always hated having to explain the caliber of my father’s wealth. “It’s allhis, Will. Not mine. I’m very well-off personally, from what I’ve earned in my own career—but it’s millions in comparison to my dad’s billions.” I roll a hand. “Think about it this way—a thousand seconds is seventeen minutes, okay?”
Will nods, thinking. “Okay.”
“A million seconds is twelve days.” I wait.
“Okay.” He nods again, still with me.
“So, that’s where I’m at, financially. Twelve days—millions, and I’ve worked my ass to the bone to get there, using as little of my father’s wealth or influence as possible.”
“Got it.”
“So, a thousand seconds is seventeen minutes, a million seconds is twelve days, and abillionseconds is…ready for this? A billion seconds is thirty-one-point-seven-nineyears.”
Will stares blankly at me. “Really? Holy shit.”
“Yeah. So, now take a billion seconds, add another billion, and another billion, all the way up to seventy—sorry, ninety—billion, and that’s where my father’s worth is.”
“But that’s not actual dollars, like he doesn’t have that in actual liquid funds.”
“No, obviously not—that’s worth.” I suppress a groan—this stuff bores me to tears. “Cash assets are worth much less than net worth, though Dad’s cash assets are still several times more than what most people can even comprehend. His real wealth is his value as owner, founder, CEO, and president of the Bellanger network of companies, and the literally unlimited credit he has based on that net worth. So, if he wanted to buy an island for ten billion dollars, he could, with a few phone calls and signatures. He wouldn’t, unless there was some significant return on that investment, but hecould, even though he doesn’t have ten billion literal cash dollars in a bank somewhere.”
Will nods. “You think I’d understand this more, since my family is worth quite a bit ourselves—nowhere near your level, of course, but still a lot. It’s not my area of expertise and interest. I care about horses. I follow the basic sense of profit and loss and overhead and all that since I’m the owner and manager of everything, but it’s all just numbers—I do what I have to do to keep the numbers that our accountant tells me is our profit higher than the numbers he tells me are the overhead.”
I flop backward on the couch, head tipping back with a groan. “Will, can we please stop talking about money?”
He grins. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that. I want to know because I care about you, but I don’t really care what your dad is worth. Or what you’re worth, honestly.”
I sit forward and fix him with a deadly serious gaze. “You don’t? No bullshit. Honest truth, now, Will.”
He shakes his head, eyes not moving from mine. “Not at all, Brooklyn. Money is a tool for me, something I have to use because it’s how our society is set up. I’d be happy as a fuckin’ clam if I could never think about money again, if I could just ride herd and raise horses, and leave the business end to someone else. I do not—and this is God’s honest truth—give a single fuck about being rich. More money, more problems. I just want my family to be comfortable, my ranch to run smooth, and raise quality stock. I don’t need a single dollar in my own account to be happy and content.” Cutting, piercing, vivid blue eyes bore into mine. “Especially if you and I are together. I’ve got horses, good hands to help me ride the herd, a few good friends, food to eat, and now, a beautiful woman who seems to care about me for who I am.” A shrug, hands lifted palms up. “What else could a man ask for?”
“I never thought you were after my money,” I say. “I don’t think I even thought about that. But it’s deeply comforting to know that you really do like me for who I am.”
He stands up, takes my hand and lifts me to my feet. Standing face to face, I have to tilt my head to stare way up into his deep, wise, open, warm blue eyes. “I love you for who you are, Brook.”
“How can we be in love when we barely know each other?” I ask. “I still feel like we just met, in some ways.”
“I don’t have to know every detail about you to know I love who you are,” he says. “I’ll just enjoy the process of learning who you are day by day.”
“Even if we don’t get to see each other every day?” I ask, resting my hands on his chest.
“You and I aren’t built to be around each other all day every day. We’d kill each other.”
I laugh. “You do have a point, there.” I grin up at him. “So, you’re fine with us being apart most of the week, and then when we do see each other…”
“We’ll spend the first twelve hours fucking each other’s brains out,” Will finishes.
“Do you differentiate between fucking, having sex, and making love?” I ask.
He fiddles with the tie of my robe. “Yes,” he says. “I’ve fucked women before you—a lot, I don’t mind admitting. And obviously have had a whole hell of a lot of sex. But I’ve never made love until I met you. I honestly hated the term and thought it was stupid and outdated.”