Page 27 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy (The Billionaire’s Bidding #3)

CARLY

T he sun glares through the trees on Blazing Trails Ranch, and I lean into it, hoping to forget how I felt before Oliver left. How perfect it was, how happy.

My eyes burn and water, and I don’t know if it’s the light or the heartache, but I push the thoughts aside, urging myself toward something else. I’ve done it before. I can do it again.

Grabbing my phone, I call my lawyer, hoping to get his voicemail. Instead, it’s his chipper voice that greets me.

“Carly! How’s the future ranch owner?” he asks.

“Great,” I lie. “Any update on the transfer?”

He goes over the details, talks about paperwork, says it’s all coming together. I hold my breath, not knowing whether I’m hoping he’ll say it will be done tomorrow or next month.

“We should have it finalized in a few days,” he tells me. “There are a lot of moving pieces with this amount of property.”

“I’m sure.”

He hesitates, his voice growing softer. “This is a huge opportunity, Carly. You and your boy will be set for life.”

Not just a local lawyer, Steve is someone who’s known me since I was a kid. He’s seen my ups and downs in life, knows how I live and breathe the land.

“I know, Steve. Thank you. I should get back to work. Talk soon.” I hang up and pocket the phone.

The horses are out in the field, the sky wide above them. I should be with them, running wild, but instead I’m standing here, trying not to feel abandoned.

The truth is, I should have known better. I should have listened to my gut when it came to Oliver. If I had, I wouldn’t be standing here so heartbroken.

But at least I have the ranch. I had swallowed my pride and texted him to tell him that I’d accept it. That counts for something, right?

Focusing on the next steps, I call a few numbers, seeing if I can find help for everything I want to do. Miles is a hard worker, but this ranch is too big for only two people to run, even as it is. If I want to add more events, I’ll need to staff up big time.

I head to the stables, thinking of the birthday parties I’ll book, the weddings I’ll need to arrange.

I should be excited, but the plans feel like obligations now, like something I didn’t sign up for.

I go over them anyway because I have to.

Because that’s who I am. I go over and over the plan, like a broken record, hoping if I say it enough, I’ll believe it, hoping if I say it enough, it will make me forget him.

It will take three new hires, maybe four. I’ll have to rely on my mom and Ferris, too, to help with Bradley more. Then maybe hire a few high school kids for weekends and busy seasons.

I need to make a list, need to get organized, but my brain is all over the place and the only list I can make is a mental one. A family that I’ll never have. A dream I’ll never reach. A heart that will never stop getting broken.

I push harder, throwing myself into the work, ignoring the empty feeling that nothing I do will fill.

I do what I’m good at - making do. There’s enough furniture from Mack’s time here that I can sell some of it to cover Miles’ wages for the next month.

And Oliver paid me so much that I was putting most of it in savings, but now I’ll have to rely on that, at least until things are properly up and running.

The house looks different already, and I like to pretend it’s all mine, all Carly, nothing of him left behind. But I know the truth. I’m as much a coward as he is. As much as I pretend I’m not bothered, I’m the one still running, still moving out before I move in.

The sitting room is already empty since Ferris and Miles helped me move out the couches the other day. There are two chairs in the living room, the only pieces I didn’t move, and I thought it would be enough, thought the empty house wouldn’t make me think of him. But it does.

There’s still too much Oliver here, too much of what we were supposed to be. I feel out of place, a stranger in the life I thought I’d have. I want it to be home, but it feels like heartbreak.

I’m more tired than I know, more exhausted than I’ve been in a long time. It’s all hitting me at once, and I finally sit, finally let myself sink into the chair, finally let myself think of everything I’ve been trying not to.

There’s a book on the other chair, and I stare at it, my eyes going hot again. It’s the one Oliver was reading when he left. He had it with him on the porch the first week he was here.

Why didn’t I notice it before? I should have packed it up, should have sent it to him, should have gotten rid of it before it broke my heart.

He left so fast. I don’t even know if he was really here. It’s only been a few weeks, and already I wonder if he even loved us, or if it was just a game — if he was playing house like he was playing cowboy.

I hold my head in my hands, trying to breathe through the hurt, trying to tell myself it will be okay. It doesn’t work because I know the truth. It’s always the same.

A clean break is best, I remind myself, though it doesn’t feel that way. It doesn’t feel like the best of anything. It feels like I’m fooling myself… and not very well.

The book sits there, a ghost, a reminder, a crack in my already broken resolve. I don’t touch it, won’t let myself.

I try to stand, to do something with myself, but my heart doesn’t know how to carry me. It stops when I get to the bedroom. I’ve avoided it all day, left it until the last, but there’s no running now. It’s the worst, the hardest.

It’s too real, too much him. I should be grateful he’s not here, not in my life. Should be grateful I saw it before it was too late.

But it was already too late. I’m already in it, already too far to turn around.

The bed is big, with more space than I need, more than I’ve ever had to myself. I’ll move it out, too, bring mine from home, make this place small enough to manage, small enough to call my own. I’ll make it work, like I always do. I’ll have to.

For now, I let myself sink onto the mattress, and that’s when I see it. One last reminder of him. A notepad on the bedside, one of the many he kept in his pockets to scribble to-do lists in. I bite my lip, fight back the tears, but they come anyway, hot and furious.

I was stupid to think I could do this. Stupid to think I wouldn’t care.

He’s everywhere on this ranch, and he’s sunk so deeply into my heart that I might never get him out of there. So what’s moving on, really? Instead, maybe I should focus on surviving.

At least that’s something I know how to do.