Page 10 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy (The Billionaire’s Bidding #3)
OLIVER
C arly runs a pencil through her hair and squints at the sheet of paper in front of her, adding another chore to the long list of things I don’t know. When she posts it in the stable and reminds me that we can check off the tasks each day, I feel like a child.
The worst part is, she’s right. There’s no way I’d keep up with everything if I didn’t have her, and no one else could teach me this way.
But would anyone else do it while looking so good in work boots and jeans?
Even when she’s bossing me around, I can’t help but stare at her. Actually, especially when she’s bossing me around.
I have a list of my own, a running tally of everything I’m noticing about her. A snort of a laugh, the flash of her eyes. I’ve added the fact she said it looks good when I’m sweaty, and though I’m sure it was a slip of the tongue, it has me wondering if she’s as attracted to me as I am to her.
“Hope you’re not allergic to hard work,” she says, and there’s a grin in her voice. “There’s plenty of it.”
I’ve learned that already. That first night, with her breaking onto my property and accusing me of being a failure…
well, it’s not something I’d easily forgive from anyone else.
But she’s here. She’s teaching me how to do things the right way, and even though she’s making a sport out of it, her effort is still appreciated.
“There’s no way I’ll remember all this.” I tap on the list, feeling a little lost but not entirely alone.
“Just check them off.” She gives the paper one last look, then steps back. “And get it done right, city boy. I’m counting on you.”
My smile stretches further than it should. “No pressure then.”
“Just the usual amount,” she says.
“Believe it or not,” I say, following her to the tool shed, “I have held a hammer before. Some tools don’t even come with instruction manuals.”
She stops at a toolbox, bending to find something inside. I try not to look but fail spectacularly.
“How old were you when you started ranching?” I ask.
“Older than you,” she quips.
“Yeah?” I lean against the wall and study her. “So twenty-five, maybe thirty.”
“Got jokes, do you?” Her lips curl upwards, and I swear she likes this.
“Seriously, how’d you learn all this?” I press, wanting to know more than I’m allowed.
She stands up, holding a wrench and a mischievous expression. “Grew up riding horses with my dad,” she says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Something shifts, and I wonder if she has it as easy as she makes it look. But at least now we’re getting somewhere. “Do you still ride with him?”
Her eyes catch mine, and there’s a pause before she says anything. “He passed away when I was fifteen.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I think about my mom, about how lost I’d be if anything happened to her.
“Thanks. It was a long time ago, though. And it taught me to be independent.”
I nod. I know what it’s like to stand on your own two feet, but it looks different for her than it does for me. She doesn’t see independence as a survival skill, more like a point of pride.
Why? Is it because she had no other choice? Because she was thrown to the wolves so young?
“So tell me the truth,” she says. “Have you ever ridden? Really?”
It takes me a moment to remember we were talking about horses before I got lost in wondering about her past. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Really?”
Shoot. Why did I say that? Truth is, I’ve never even sat on a saddle before.
I should admit to her that I lied, but I don’t want to look even worse, so before I know it, I’m leaning in and adding more fuel to the dumpster fire. “Bet you I can ride a horse longer than you think.”
Her eyes dance, and there’s laughter in them. “Oh?”
“You doubt me?”
“Oh, I definitely doubt you, but I want to see this. And I’ll take that bet. You won’t last five minutes.”
“Watch me.”
I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing. Most of my life has been spent behind a desk, not in a barnyard. But I can’t back down now, not with her staring at me like that, challenging me with her gaze.
“I’ll get Buccaneer,” she says.
“Which one is that?” I ask, praying it’s whatever horse is the easiest for beginners.
But instead, she brings out the massive black one, who I have to admit, I was even a little afraid of grooming. The horse stamps his feet, seemingly annoyed at being pulled out of the shade just to humor a buffoon like me.
“Be gentle,” Carly tells Buckaneer, who she’s already saddled up. “It’s his first time.”
The horse and I both pretend not to hear her. I approach slowly, acting more confident than I feel. How hard can it be? Get on, hang tight, and show her how wrong she is.
I get on, the simple act itself painfully awkward. Taking the reins in my hand, I breathe deeply. Buckaneer just stands there, doing nothing.
“Are you going to ride him or just sit there?” Carly asks.
“Calm down. I’m getting there.”
Right. Ride the horse.
I rack my memory bank, trying to find a movie reference for how to start a horse. That’s right — you kick your heels into their side.
Grinning triumphantly, I do exactly that. Buckaneer moves, but not in the way I expected him to. He rears back, sending me off the saddle and dumping me unceremoniously onto the ground.
Carly gasps and rushes over. Happier without me (and who could blame him?) Buckaneer calmly walks back into the stable.
“Are you okay?” she asks, kneeling next to me.
I’m not sure if she means it. I should be mad, but there’s a softness to her expression that makes me pause.
“I’m fine.” I sit up, dusting off my jeans and my ego. “Guess you win this one.”
“Told ya.” Carly’s voice carries a small note of triumph. “I knew you hadn’t ridden before.”
“What gave it away?”
“Everything about you.” She chuckles.
My pride still smarting, I stand and keep brushing myself off.
When I look up, to my surprise, we’re standing only inches apart.
Her green eyes are soft, her hair hanging loose in waves around her shoulders.
The afternoon sun casts a halo of light around her, making her look ethereal, like some kind of angel cowgirl.
The silence between us lingers for a moment too long, so I clear my throat.
“I guess I owe you now, huh?” I ask. “You won the bet… so what can I do for you?”
She shrugs and takes a step back, breaking the palpable tension between us.
“You could start by not attempting to do anything without supervision,” she suggests with a glimmer of humor in her eyes.
“If I followed that rule, I wouldn’t be where I am today in life.”
“I assume you’re talking about your company, not your ranch skills. Are you sure you’re okay?” She looks me up and down, concern knitting her eyebrows together.
“Yeah.” I dust myself off. “Hurt my pride more than anything.”
There’s a smirk playing at her lips as she fights back a smile. “Pride can be a tricky thing, especially for someone who has such an abundance of it.”
I chuckle, appreciating her jab. “Well, at least I tried. That counts for something, right?”
She hums noncommittally, a teasing twinkle in her eyes. “If you say so, city boy.”
We both return to our respective tasks, but the atmosphere is decidedly lighter. Hours pass by as we work side by side on the land and with the animals. I watch her from under my lashes — the way she moves, confident and graceful, every action sure and strong.
Her muscles are familiar with the rhythm of her work, the swing of the hammer, the grip of the pliers. Even the dirt and sweat that cling to her seem like they belong. It’s captivating, watching her in her element, doing what she loves.
And underneath it all, there’s a kindness and dedication that you don’t often see.
Every creature she interacts with trusts her completely; the horses lean into her touch, and the cows seem to relax at the sight of her.
I want to earn that same trust, not only from these animals but from Carly herself.
I need her to believe in me as much as I’m starting to believe in her.
Maybe it’s because she seems so hard to prove yourself to. She’s tough, with the kind of walls that I can tell don’t come down easily. Some people would back down from the task, but for me it’s a welcome challenge.
Whoever Carly is, whatever drives her, I’ll figure it out. And then… well, I don’t know.
For now, though, I’m happy to be by her side in the sun and fresh air, doing chores I never saw in my future, and enjoying it more than I ever thought I could.