Page 24 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy (The Billionaire’s Bidding #3)
OLIVER
“ Y ou nervous?” Dave asks from the other side of the table, smoothing his tie carefully.
“Nope,” I lie.
I’m just praying to God I don’t have another panic attack, like when we were last in a meeting with these guys. Wouldn’t that be rich? Coming all the way back to Houston, only for me to freak out and spoil the deal.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. Forcing myself to think of good things. Bradley’s laughter. Carly’s smiling face… her lips.
Like magic, I feel better. I can breathe again, can think clearly.
The door opens, signaling that we’re out of prep-time. The team is all here, and it’s time to get to work closing on the biggest piece of real estate my company has seen in years. If we can seal this deal, we’ll go down in history as real estate titans.
The clacking of men’s dress shoes on the parquet floor echoes in the large conference room as they slowly trickle in — crisp suits, sharp ties, briefcases filled with documentation of intentions and expectations.
“Greer.” Ian Coldwell extends his hand. A middle-aged man with hair slightly graying at the temples, he has a firm grip and an equally firm gaze.
“Mr. Coldwell,” I reply, making sure my handshake matches his. “I’m glad we could meet again.”
Coldwell takes a step back, reluctantly releasing my hand. “I hope you’re well.”
He’s thinking of the panic attack — of course he heard that’s what it was. With me being gone for a good month, the news probably traveled fast.
Hopefully, no extra rumors were added to it.
“I’m great,” I say. “I hope you are, too. Shall we jump into it?”
Negotiations are long, tiring — cold facts and figures, harsh business realities, strategic positioning — but they’re also invigorating.
The real estate deal is massive, an investment promise of millions.
My heart speeds along to the rhythm of high stakes.
It’s brutal but thrilling — an old thrill that tugs at something deep within me, a hunger for the win, a thirst for the final nod.
It’s a dance of numbers and words that I know all too well, and I find myself in my element once again.
Coldwell stands firm on some points, compromises on others. The hours tick by as we tirelessly wrangle back and forth.
“You’re relentless,” Ian says at last, his brow knitted in reluctant admiration.
“Always have been,” I tell him, and his lips stretch into a thin smile.
The negotiations carry on well through lunchtime. A spread of sandwiches, cookies and hot coffee are brought in. Coldwell isn’t ready to give up yet, and neither am I. There are stakes to be won, and I’m here to conquer.
By the time dusk rolls in, we’re both weary from hours of circumspection and negotiation. Coldwell finally loosens his grip on a crucial point we’ve been arguing over for nearly an hour.
“You’ve made some good arguments,” Coldwell states, looking at me over the rim of his glass. His gaze is shrewd yet acknowledging.
“I try to improve every day,” I counter, sipping my water and sharing a triumphant look with Dave. Almost there. “Thank you for acknowledging that.”
He regards me for a long moment, his eyes searching my face. Then he sighs and nods once.
“All right, Greer. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
A slow smile curls over my lips, and I stand, extending a hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Coldwell.”
The same could not necessarily be said for him, but he grips my hand firmly and shakes. “And you as well, Oliver.”
Dave claps me on the back as we pack up our things. “You did it,” he says, his eyes alight with excitement.
“We did it,” I correct him, feeling both relief and a burst of exhilaration. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Happy to assist when it counts,” he says, his broad grin demonstrating his satisfaction. “This success calls for a drink.”
“You go ahead. There’s something else I need to do.”
Back in my office, I call Carly, waiting anxiously for her to pick up. When she doesn’t answer on the third ring, my heart sinks. I shouldn’t be disappointed — service is spotty out at the ranch, and if she’s not there, she’s probably with Bradley, doing bath time or making dinner.
Slipping off my tie and unbuttoning my collar, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. The city stretches out before me, barely visible through the tinted glass of my office window. I feel like I’m on top of the world, but the victory is dampened by not being able to share it with Carly.
There’s a knock on the open door, and Dave stands there with a grin. “Ready for that drink?”
“Absolutely. Lead the way.”
I grab my suit jacket and follow him out the door, passing Marie on the way. She gives me a quick look over, and I can tell what she’s going to say before she even opens her mouth.
“Don’t worry.” I stop at her desk, where she’s packing up to leave for the day. “I’m doing good.”
Her shoulders drop with relief. “That’s nice to hear.” She glances at Dave. “Please just… don’t overwork yourself now that you’re back.”
“I’m not staying long.” I shake my head, all too aware of the promise I made to Carly, Bradley, and myself.
“O’Malley’s?” Dave asks, referring to the pub across the street that became a regular haunt years ago.
The city thrums with life, heat curling up from the sidewalk and wrapping around us even though it’s dark out. Inside the typically crowded pub, we find an empty booth at the back. Dave orders for both of us — two bottles of our dishonorably favorite cheap beer.
My phone dings — a text from Carly. Sorry I missed your call. Bradley spilled paint in the kitchen .
Yikes , I text back. I’m sorry. Is this a bad time to tell you my deal went through?
Congratulations! Her text reads, a slew of celebratory emojis popping up beneath the words. You earned it. Don’t celebrate too hard without me .
“Who are you texting?” Dave asks with a knowing smile. “A girl?”
“My girlfriend,” I announce, then quickly find a picture.
It’s one of her on the ranch, with the sun setting behind her and the wind tugging at her hair. I took it on a day we were wrangling cattle. She looked like a goddess in that golden sunset light, laughing as she tried to keep a stubborn calf in line. It remains one of my favorite images of her.
“Wow,” Dave says, eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline. “She’s gorgeous.”
“And brilliant,” I can’t help but add, pride coating my voice. “She’s the ranch manager.”
Dave raises his beer bottle. “To the girlfriend… who you didn’t waste any time finding.”
I chuckle. “Nope. I guess not.”
I glance at her last text again, my heart feeling lighter. “She says not to celebrate too hard,” I tell Dave.
He chuckles, raising his beer in toast. “To not celebrating too hard. Although…”
I pause, the bottle halfway to my lips. “Uh-oh. What does that mean?”
“I don’t want you to work yourself too much, but there’s another deal in the works. You remember that land outside of New Orleans?”
“The one by the bayou?” I ask, my brow furrowing.
“Yeah, that one,” he replies, taking a long gulp of his beer. “Guess who just got back in contact?”
“No.” I shake my head incredulously, setting my bottle down on the table with a clink. “They seemed like they’d never sell.”
“Well, maybe they’ve changed their minds. We’re not sure yet, but it’s worth checking out.”
I lean back against the leather seat, considering this new information.
That land would be another huge acquisition, one worth millions, and potentially billions once developed.
But it would also mean diving back into business full-time, before I’m ready to leave the ranch, Carly and Bradley, even for a short while. And that’s not an easy choice.
“Oliver Greer.” Dave’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts, his gaze intensifying. “Are you considering passing up on this?”
“No,” I say quickly - maybe a bit too quick.
My heart hammers in my chest at the idea of working like I used to, being away from Carly and Bradley for days or even weeks. But another part of me — the part that built my company from the ground up — is thrilled at the prospect of getting that land.
“No,” I repeat, more convincingly this time. “Let’s not miss a good opportunity.”
“Good.” Dave grins, raising his glass again. “To good opportunities then.”
“To good opportunities,” I echo, clinking my bottle against his.