Page 16 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy (The Billionaire’s Bidding #3)

OLIVER

T he heat of the day melts into the kind of night I don’t think I’ll ever get used to, all cricket chorus and the occasional howls of coyotes. I step off the porch, past where the ranch house light spills yellow, and stand with my arms crossed against the ache in my muscles.

Three weeks ago, this would have been the part of the day where I collapsed into bed, dead to the world and barely breathing. But today, I can breathe. I can hear my own heartbeat.

Three weeks ago, I couldn’t tell the difference between a pregnant horse and a wind-up toy, but Carly has changed all that.

She’s changed the way I see this place, the way I see her.

It’s not a game to prove myself to her, to work the hardest and come out on top.

It’s more than that. I want her to know she’s won me over, that she’s got me figured out.

The thought of how quickly she’s seeped into everything is more overwhelming than I expect, and it sends me inside to escape it.

There’s a picture on the table — Bradley’s crayon sketch of a purple horse.

My chest goes warm and light when I see it, when I think of the two of them here that day, working with me and laughing with me and filling up a life that I never realized was empty.

I need to think of something good to get him for his birthday. Something unique and?—

Before I can finish the thought, my phone, sitting on the kitchen counter, starts ringing. My heart does a flip, and I hope it’s Carly, even though she just left here a couple hours ago.

Even spending my whole day with her isn’t enough. I want more, even though I know I shouldn’t.

The name — and face — on the screen belong to someone else, though. Marie.

“Hey,” I say, answering the video chat.

“Oliver!” My assistant sounds more chipper than usual. “I was afraid you’d forgotten about me.”

I chuckle, and even that sounds strange, lighter than I remember. “Only for three weeks.”

“Good.” She settles in front of the camera, probably holding it in one hand while she finishes a spreadsheet with the other. “That’s why I’m here. I want to make sure you’re thoroughly relaxing.”

“I wouldn’t say relaxing, but I’m having a good time.”

She raises an eyebrow and leans in, studying the screen. “You look… tan.”

“I’ve been working outside a lot.” I don’t add the part about Carly working circles around me, making me feel useless and exhilarated at the same time. Making me wonder if there’s more to life than I thought. Making me question my own pace.

“All work?” Marie’s expression grows smug. “Or some play too?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She taps her fingers on the keyboard and looks away. “I just hope that you’re living life while you’re there.”

Even though she’s younger than me, Marie sounds like a wise grandma sometimes.

“I mean, I’m definitely smelling the roses if that’s what you’re asking.” I shrug.

“Smelling the roses…” Her voice trails off. “Sometimes you’re so metaphorical, Oliver.”

“It’s to protect the privacy of the innocent civilians involved,” I joke, but my heart is thumping in my chest.

Marie doesn’t know about Carly — about any of this. But I don’t want to keep it secret. Or maybe I do.

Is this a secret? The way Carly’s laugh lights up the field? Or how Bradley’s questions make me smile and marvel, feel things that I’ve never felt before? Or how being here has changed me, made me rethink the path of my life?

But those are dangerous thoughts, best saved for late at night when the world is asleep and all I’m left with is my own unsupervised feelings. I know enough about myself to recognize that I’m chasing a feeling, a dream that’s more fleeting than I’d like to admit.

“I just meant that, hopefully, time away from work has been positive for you.” Marie looks thoughtful. “We miss you here, of course, but we’re managing.”

“Oh, so maybe I’ll stay gone permanently.”

“Right.” Her disbelief is obvious. “So when are you coming back?”

I think about the tickets I haven’t bought, the plans I haven’t made. “A week or two, maybe? Just for a while. I can’t leave the ranch for long.” I try to sound like I’ve given it more thought, but there’s no hiding it from Marie.

“Ha!” She claps her hands together and startles the screen. “I knew you’d find your groove.”

“It’s been…” I trail off, unable to say what it’s really been. More fun than I thought? Harder than I thought? Both, and neither, and everything?

She tilts her head, trying to read me. “Been what?”

“Different,” I finally say.

“You sound good.”

“I am good.” It makes me smile, thinking about how far I’ve come in such a short amount of time. “And I have you to thank for it.”

“As long as it’s good for your health, don’t thank me.”

I don’t have an answer, and she can tell. “Oliver,” she says, softer now. “Stay alive. I mean it.”

She hangs up before I have a chance to promise, before I can tell her that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Moving to the liquor cabinet, I pour a drink and think about how right she is, how I am finding my groove.

It’s strange that it took a town in the middle of nowhere to make it happen, strange that the person I need to keep my space from is the same person I can’t stop thinking about.

I’m never one to let someone else steer the ship, but here I am, watching my life unfold in unexpected ways, surprised that I’m even still on board.

There’s no music, no city noise to drown me out, but for the first time it doesn’t feel empty. It feels like space. Like I’m stretching into something bigger than me, bigger than all the demands I put on myself, and for the first time in forever, it feels okay.

I step onto the porch, bringing the drink with me, Carly back on my mind. My thoughts are wandering to places they’ve never gone before, and I let them keep going there, wondering how long it will take to get where they’re headed, wondering if it’s a good idea to tag along.

There’s more stillness than I know what to do with, more quiet than I remember noticing since she came crashing into my life. I try to imagine what it was like before, but all I can see is Carly, standing so close to me, as if it’s as natural as breathing. As if it’s always been her place.

I wish she were here right now. I wish she knew. And I wish her knowing didn’t have to change a thing… except for bringing her closer to me.