Page 12 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy (The Billionaire’s Bidding #3)
OLIVER
B radley’s tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth while he works, tying a set of complicated knots that even a grown ranch hand would need to stop and puzzle out.
He sits cross-legged in front of the barn, small and focused and serious, and the rope is stiff, but his little fingers are quick.
It’s barely past eight, but already warm, the morning sun promising a bright, punishing Texas day, and I stand there like an idiot, like someone who never met a kid before.
“How’s this one?” Bradley asks, holding up his finished work with a grin. He’s obviously proud, and he should be - the kid’s a natural.
“Way better than I can do,” I say, and he beams. “Maybe you can show me how you did that.”
He crawls over, pulling the rope with him. “It’s easy once you know it,” he says, then sits down right in front of me. I squat next to him and watch while he demonstrates the steps. “You just gotta practice lots.”
“Even if I practiced a lot, I’d still never be as good as you,” I tell him.
He unties the rope, then hands it back for me to try again. I do, fumbling with the knots as we both watch my awkward progress. He points to the places I should fix and laughs a little, and I feel both clumsy and impressed. When I’m finished, I hold it up like he did.
“How’s this one?” I ask, and he grins.
“Almost as good as mine,” he says, taking it back and jumping to his feet.
“Come on, Oliver! We have to check on the kitties!” He runs toward the barns, looking back to make sure I’m following.
The day feels full of promise, stretching ahead of us with so much to do, and I hustle after him. It’s still hard to believe this six-year-old knows as much as he does. But even harder to believe Carly has a kid.
Is she still with Bradley’s father? Or have they split up?
Do I even want to know?
Bradley stops at one of the barn doors and waits for me to catch up. “Mom said I can work like a real ranch hand today,” he tells me. And I have to admit, he’s probably more useful around here than I am.
“You’re gonna work better than a real ranch hand,” I say, opening the door and ruffling his hair as I pass him.
“I know,” he says. His voice is certain, like he expects to do exactly that.
The morning speeds by, and for the first time since arriving on the ranch, I’m actually enjoying the day. Bradley is a miracle worker, and Carly must be one too, because we seem to get everything done in record time.
“It must be lunchtime,” Bradley announces. “My tummy is going growl, growl.”
After washing our hands, we collapse against the sturdy cottonwood tree next to the driveway, dry earth under our feet, dusty grass clinging to our shirts. It’s the filthiest I’ve ever been, and I love it.
Carly unpacks a picnic lunch while Bradley talks about animals, breathless and excited, each word tumbling over the last.
“Oliver knows tons about them, Mom,” he says, twisting his whole body toward her while he talks, like it’s important to include her in every bit of it.
“Sounds like it,” she says, smiling as she hands me a sandwich.
I don’t take it. “I’ll go?—”
“I packed it for you.” She keeps holding the sandwich out.
I stare at her, my chest warm and gooey-feeling. “You didn’t have to do that. I can make my own lunch.”
She shrugs a shoulder and lowers her gaze. “It was nothing.”
But it was. It’s everything.
For a moment, it feels like the whole world fades away. All I can see is her, the sun catching in her hair, the pink fullness of her lips. I think of her in her kitchen, whatever it looks like, laying out bread, selecting sandwich ingredients.
But then the fantasy shatters when I realize that she might not have been alone in that kitchen. For all I know, she’s happily married. Not everyone wears a wedding ring, and if she has one with a stone, it would probably catch on items around the ranch.
Clearing my throat, I unwrap the sandwich. Does it even matter whether or not Carly is taken? She’s my employee, which should make her strictly off limits. Not once in my whole career have I ever crossed a boundary with someone at my company, and it’s something that I pride myself on.
Bradley is talking a mile a minute, mouth full of food, telling me about local wildlife, birds, fish, insects, their habitats and what they eat.
“Please don’t talk with your mouth full.” Carly watches him, an affectionate smile tugging at her lips.
“Blue herons eat so much, they have to fly real slow!” Bradley says, completely ignoring his mother. “Some caterpillars get sick on leaves and then never touch them again! Fish are the fastest, and that’s why they’re hard to catch!”
“Where’d you learn all this?” I ask him, and he thinks about it.
“Books and movies,” he says. “But I know some of it myself.” He’s got a proud look on his face, and I know he’s serious. He’s probably picked up a lot by being on the ranch and watching nature do its thing.
He looks at Carly. “Mom, tell Oliver what I want,” he says, like it’s a secret he wants her to share.
She smiles at me, wiping her hands on her jeans.
“What does he want?” I ask.
“A dog!” Bradley says before she can answer.
“Or a rabbit,” she adds, raising an eyebrow at him.
He laughs and leans against her. “Or a rabbit,” he agrees.
She runs her fingers through his hair. “Or a llama, or a cow, or an ostrich…”
“Not an ostrich,” he says.
“Are you sure?” I ask, giving him a doubtful look. “I thought everyone had an ostrich.”
“No way,” he says, his voice suddenly serious.
“Guess I got that one wrong,” I say.
Carly nudges him gently with her elbow. “You’ll talk me into a rabbit someday, I’m sure.”
“I know,” Bradley says.
I watch the two of them, that bittersweet tugging feeling returning to my chest. It’s been at least a week since I talked to my mom; she left me a message a couple days ago, and I need to get back to her.
I know she’s worried about me, which is why I’ve been avoiding her.
I don’t want her to think I’m in over my head on this ranch.
“I need to go say hi to Mama Kitty,” Bradley announces, clambering to his feet.
“Mama Kitty?” Carly’s eyebrows rise.
“Yeah,” Bradley chirps, his voice so squeaky he sounds like a bird. “She’s got babies in her belly.”
“Which cat?” I look to Carly, but she just shrugs.
Bradley is already on the other side of the driveway, on his hands and knees, trying to convince a soft gray cat to come to him.
“He likes you a lot,” Carly says, settling into the crook of the tree. Her voice is softer, meant for me alone.
I don’t know what to say, but my chest feels too tight and my hands feel like they need something to do.
“He’s super smart,” I tell her, looking at Bradley, who has managed to pet the cat’s head. “I’ve never had a ranch hand teach me so much.”
She laughs. “I’m the only ranch hand you’ve ever had! But, yeah, he might be smarter than me. He’ll probably ask you a million more questions before the day’s over. Be prepared.”
“I’m ready,” I say. “Can I ask one first?”
“Sure,” she says, tilting her head toward me. Her hair catches in the breeze and glows like fire in the sun. I can’t tell if I’m more eager or afraid to hear her answer.
It’s on the tip of my tongue — Where is Bradley’s dad? Are you still together? Are you single? Are you… interested in changing that?
I’m too aware of the dynamics at play, though. I’m her boss, and it would be inappropriate for me to even suggest having feelings for her. I would hate for her to think that in order to keep her job, she needs to date me.
Plus, I don’t know how often I’ll even be in Miralena. Though I bought the ranch, I’ll need to return to work in Houston at some point. After discovering how much work this place is, it’s pretty obvious I need to hire someone to run it when I’m not here.
And the most suitable candidate is her. Which makes all of this even messier.
That doesn’t drive her out of my mind, though. I’ve never met anyone like her. She juggles everything and clearly still finds time to be a good mom. A great mom.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I tell her, and it comes out with more awe than I expected. “How do you do it?”
It’s not the question I originally planned on asking, but it will have to do.
“Maybe because I’m six and a half too?” she says, and I laugh. I can picture what she must have been like at Bradley’s age, and I think about how my own mom would love the two of them.
My heart pounds like it’s about to tell on me, and I take a breath, then say the one thing that scares me more than anything.
“Bradley seems happy,” I say, though what I mean is so much more.
“I hope so.” Carly smiles and gets up on her knees to put the leftovers back in the cooler. “But I guess everyone is afraid they’re messing their kids up, you know?”
“That’s something only a great parent would worry about,” I say, and she turns a little pink.
I want to say more — want to make her blush more. I want to see her lashes flutter and her breathing speed up. Want to draw her closer and inhale her scent and…
She snaps the cooler shut and wipes the back of her hand over her forehead. “Well. Back to it.”
“Yeah.” Why does it feel like there’s sawdust coating my throat? “Back to it.”
I still want to ask her about the dad, but I don’t want to find out something that will disappoint me. Not when I already feel so caught up in this.
Maybe I’m a coward, too afraid of being disappointed to face the truth.
Carly heads back to the barnyard, and though I stand as well, I linger a little longer, trying to shift gears but finding it nearly impossible. I’m more curious than ever, and as I watch Bradley from the corner of my eye, I know it will take Herculean effort to stay away from these two.