Page 25 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy (The Billionaire’s Bidding #3)

CARLY

“ M om, when’s Oliver coming back?” Bradley asks for what feels like the hundredth time this week as I tuck him into bed.

“I told you, honey. He’s working on some important business in Houston.” I smooth his hair back from his forehead, willing my voice to stay steady. “He’ll be back as soon as he can.”

“But it’s been forever.”

“It’s only been ten days.”

Ten days that have felt like ten years. Ten days of increasingly shorter phone calls. Ten days of texts that take hours, sometimes even a full day, to be answered. Ten days of trying not to check my phone every five minutes like some lovesick teenager.

“Does he miss us?” Bradley’s eyes are wide, reflecting the glow of his dinosaur nightlight.

“Of course he does.” I press a kiss to his forehead. “Now, go to sleep. It’s getting late, and we have trail rides to lead tomorrow.”

After Bradley falls asleep, I head to the kitchen to clean up the mess from dinner. My phone sits silent on the counter. Oliver was supposed to call two hours ago, but I’m not surprised that he hasn’t. This is becoming a pattern.

I scrub harder at a spot on a plate, trying to channel my frustration into something productive. The ranch is running fine without him. Miles is working out great as our second hand. I should be able to run things fine without Oliver, too.

But it’s not just about the ranch, is it?

My phone finally buzzes, and I practically lunge for it, hating myself a little for being so eager.

“Hey,” I answer, trying to sound casual.

“Carly,” Oliver’s voice sounds distant, distracted.

There’s a cacophony of voices and clinking glasses in the background. “Sorry I’m late calling. Things have been absolutely insane here.”

“It’s fine,” I lie, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder as I finish rinsing the dishes. “How was your day?”

“Productive. We closed the Mason deal.”

“Congratulations,” I say, trying to pretend like I remember which one that is.

“Thanks.” There’s a pause, and I can hear someone calling his name. “One second, Carly?—”

His voice becomes muffled as he speaks to someone else, and I’m left waiting, listening to the background noise of what sounds like a celebration.

A full minute passes before he returns. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”

“The Mason deal,” I prompt, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

“Right. It was a tough negotiation, but we pulled it off.” He sounds pleased with himself, energized in a way I haven’t heard since he left the ranch. “Dave thinks we should celebrate tonight, which is where I am now. The whole team’s here.”

“That sounds fun.” I don’t mean it, but what else can I say?

“How’s everything there? Bradley doing okay?”

“He’s good. He helped me with the horses today.” I feel a swell of pride, momentarily forgetting my frustration. “He’s getting really confident with Thunder, even though that horse is twice his size.”

“That’s great.” He sounds like he’s only half-listening. “And the ranch?”

“Everything’s running smoothly. Though the irrigation system on the south field is acting up again. I had to?—”

“Sorry,” he interrupts, “can you hold on a second? Dave’s trying to tell me something.”

Before I can respond, his voice becomes muffled again. I wait, staring at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand tick past once, twice, three times around the clock face.

“Sorry about that,” he finally says after nearly five minutes. “Dave just got some news about another potential deal. What were you saying about the irrigation?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, suddenly too tired to explain. “It’s handled.”

“Are you sure? I can help troubleshoot.”

“From Houston?” The words come out sharper than I intended.

There’s a beat of silence. “Carly?—”

“It’s fine, Oliver. Really. I’ve been managing the ranch just fine.”

“I know you have.” His voice softens slightly, though I can still hear that his mind’s elsewhere. “I never doubted that.”

I close my eyes, counting to ten. I don’t want to fight. Not when our conversations are already so few and far between.

“Bradley was asking when you’re coming back,” I say instead.

“I miss him. I miss you both.”

“We miss you too.” I swallow hard. “So… when are you coming back?”

The silence that follows makes my stomach twist.

“Soon,” he finally says, but there’s something in his voice that sets off alarm bells. “There’s just… something else came up.”

“What came up?”

“Another property deal. A big one.”

I grip the edge of the counter. “And that means…?”

“I need to stay in Houston longer than planned.”

“How much longer?” My voice comes out steady despite the heaviness in my chest.

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe another week. Maybe a little more.”

A week. Maybe more. I close my eyes again, trying to keep my voice level. “I see.”

He originally planned on being gone for a day or two. Now it’s been over a week. Now it might be yet another week?

“Carly, I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can wrap this up.”

“Sure.” I don’t know what else to say. What can I say? I have no claim on him, no right to demand he choose me — choose us — over his business. I knew who he was when I fell for him.

“Wait—” His voice becomes distant again. “Dave, I’m on the phone. Can it wait?” A pause. “Seriously? Right now?” Another pause. “Fine, give me one minute.”

He comes back to me with a sigh. “Carly, I’ve got to go. Something urgent just came up.”

“Of course it did,” I mutter.

“What?”

“Nothing. Go handle your business, Oliver.”

“I’ll call tomorrow, okay? Earlier, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Carly.”

“Goodnight.”

The call ends before I can say anything else. I set the phone down carefully, like it might break. Or maybe like I might break.

This isn’t the first time a man has walked out of my life, promising to return. Bradley’s father made the same promise, and he never came back. I told myself Oliver was different, that what we had was different.

But what if I’m wrong?

I grab my phone and text Ferris: Are you busy?

Her response is immediate: Just watching trash TV. What’s up?

Need to talk. Can you come over?

Be there in 10 with wine.

True to her word, Ferris shows up at my door exactly ten minutes later, bottle in hand. One look at my face, and she wraps me in a hug.

“Wine or whiskey?” she asks as she pulls back.

“Whiskey,” I answer, letting her in.

She heads straight to my kitchen, familiar with where everything is kept. She pulls the bottle from the cabinet, pouring two fingers into a pair of glasses.

“Oliver?” she guesses, handing me one.

I nod, taking a sip. The whiskey burns going down, but it’s a good burn. Clarifying.

“What happened?”

“He’s staying in Houston longer. Another big deal.”

She sits beside me on the couch, tucking her feet under her. “How much longer?”

“He doesn’t know. A week. Maybe more.”

She studies me over the rim of her glass. “And you think he’s not coming back at all.”

It’s not a question. Ferris has always been able to read me too well.

“I don’t know what to think.” I take another sip, letting the warmth spread through my chest. “Ten days ago, he promised he’d be gone for one day. Now it’s ‘a week, maybe more ’.”

“Business trips get extended all the time, Carly.”

“I know that.”

“But?”

I stare into my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “But what if this is how it starts? What if Houston reminds him of who he really is, what he really wants? What if Miralena, the ranch - me and Bradley - what if we were just a vacation for him?”

“Is that what you really think?”

I shake my head, unsure. “I don’t know. I just… I can’t shake this feeling that he’s slipping away. He barely had five minutes to talk to me tonight. He was at some celebration, surrounded by his team, constantly being interrupted. He sounded… energized. Like he was exactly where he belongs.”

Ferris sets her glass down and takes my free hand in hers. “Have you told him how you feel?”

“How can I? I don’t want to be that person who makes him choose between his business and me. I’m not his wife. We’ve only been together a few weeks.”

“A few incredibly intense weeks where you both fell hard for each other,” Ferris reminds me. “And he’s crazy about Bradley. That means something.”

“Maybe.” I finish my whiskey in one swallow. “Or maybe he just got caught up in the romance of it all. Playing cowboy, having a ready-made family. But now he’s back in the real world, and…”

“And what?”

“And I’m afraid he’s remembering who he really is.”

Ferris refills my glass without asking. “Who do you think he really is?”

“A workaholic billionaire who built an empire from nothing. A man who’s driven and ambitious and whose life is in Houston, not some tiny town.”

“You don’t think people can change?”

“I think…” I pause, trying to organize my thoughts. “I think people can want to change. I think they can even try to change. But when push comes to shove, they go back to who they’ve always been.”

Like Bradley’s father, who swore he was ready to be a dad until the impending reality of a crying baby hit him. Like my high school boyfriend, who promised he’d wait for me but found someone new the minute he left for college.

“Not everyone leaves, Carly.”

“My track record says otherwise.” Even my dad left, though it was in a different way.

Ferris squeezes my hand. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you’re scared. I think you’re looking for reasons to push him away before he can hurt you.”

The words hit too close to home, and I pull my hand free. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Ferris raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop since the day he arrived. Even when things were going well, you were holding back, waiting for him to mess up.”

“That’s not true.” But even as I say it, I know she’s right. I’ve been bracing for this, expecting it, maybe even creating it with my doubt.

“Talk to him, Carly. Tell him how you feel.”

“And say what? ‘Please choose me over your billion-dollar company’? I’m not going to do that.”

“How about ‘I’m scared you won’t come back’? Or ‘I miss you’? Or even ‘I love you’?”

I nearly choke on my whiskey. “I don’t?—”

“Oh, please.” Ferris rolls her eyes. “You’re in love with him. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

Am I? Is that what this feeling is, this constant ache in my chest, this fear of losing him?

“It doesn’t matter,” I say finally. “If he’s going to stay in Houston, then he’s going to stay in Houston. Nothing I say will change that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” I set my glass down, suddenly exhausted. “I should probably get to bed. I have an early trail ride tomorrow.”

Ferris hugs me before she leaves. “Think about what I said, okay? Talk to him.”

“I’ll think about it.”

After she’s gone, I check on Bradley, who’s sleeping soundly, his stuffed horse tucked under one arm. Then I get ready for bed, going through the motions mechanically, my mind still whirring.

In bed, I stare at the ceiling, listening to the distant sound of coyotes. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach for it automatically.

It’s a text from Oliver. Sorry about the rushed call. Crazy night.

No question about my day. No mention of missing me. Just an excuse.

I type back: It’s fine. Hope your celebration was fun.

It was. The team really pulled through on this one.

My heart twists a little. No mention of coming back, no mention of us.

Congrats again, I text back because what else can I say?

Three dots appear as he types, then disappear, then appear again. Finally: Got another early meeting tomorrow. Talk soon .

Not even a good night. No promise to call. Just ‘ talk soon ’, which could mean tomorrow or next week for all I know.

Goodnight, Oliver , I text anyway.

I wait five minutes, but there’s no response. He’s probably already moved on to something else, someone else demanding his attention.

I set the phone down and roll onto my side, staring out the window at the stars he once claimed to love so much. The same stars I’ve looked at my whole life, the same stars that have watched over every hope and heartbreak.

I wonder if he can even see them from his high-rise office in Houston. I wonder if he’s even looking.