Page 29 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy (The Billionaire’s Bidding #3)

CARLY

T he morning air has that crisp feeling that promises to lead to a scorching afternoon. I breathe it in deeply as I step out of my truck, letting the familiar scents of hay, manure, and sage wash over me. My new ranch. I still can’t believe it sometimes.

Bradley was extra clingy this morning, not wanting to go to the first day of school. “But Mom, what if Oliver calls today? I want to talk to him,” he’d said with those big brown eyes, making my heart twist.

I had to lie, telling him Oliver was probably too busy. The truth is I haven’t heard from him in days, not since that cold conversation where he practically threw the ranch deed at me and walked out of our lives.

I can’t think about him. Not now. Not ever.

I’m moving on. Even if it kills me.

Taking a deep breath, I head towards the morning’s work. Miles has already been here and left for the day, taking the first half shift by feeding all the animals.

As I reach the stable, I hear quiet movement inside. Someone humming softly. But it’s not just anyone. I’d know that voice anywhere, even after just a few weeks.

My heartbeat picks up, and I almost stumble over my own feet as I rush inside.

There he is. Oliver, his back turned to me as he methodically brushes down Sergeant, one of our most temperamental horses. He’s wearing worn jeans and a simple white T-shirt that stretches across his shoulders as he moves.

“Oliver?” My voice comes out choked, strangled with emotions I’ve been suppressing for days.

He turns, and our eyes lock, the brush hanging forgotten in his hand. “Carly.”

Just my name. That’s all he says, but there’s so much in it. His eyes are tired, dark circles underneath them, but they light up when they meet mine. A moment of silence stretches between us, pregnant with unspoken words.

“What are you doing here?” I finally manage, trying to keep my voice steady. “I thought you were back in Houston, sealing the deal of the century.”

He sets the brush down, gives Sergeant one last pat and then steps toward me. “I saw a job ad in town. Figured I might apply for the ranch hand position here.”

I blink at him, thoughts racing a mile a minute. “What?”

Is this some kind of joke? Because if he’s here to mess with me —

“I quit,” he says simply. “Well, not entirely. I stepped down as CEO. Kept some shares, but I’m no longer in charge of day-to-day operations.”

I stare at him, unable to process what he’s saying. “You… quit? But your company?—”

“I had a revelation,” he says, taking another step toward me. “I was sitting in this sterile conference room, surrounded by people in expensive suits, and I realized something.” He pauses, his eyes never leaving mine. “I was miserable. Absolutely miserable.”

“But—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupts gently.

“My whole life, I’ve been running. Running from poverty, running from failure, running toward success.

And when I finally got it all, I just kept running because I didn’t know how to stop.

Then I came here, met you and Bradley, and for the first time, I felt like I could slow down. Breathe.”

My throat tightens. “Oliver?—”

“I made a mistake, Carly. I should never have left. Or I should have come back sooner. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to go.”

I cross my arms, trying to shield my heart despite how it’s leaping in my chest. “And what happens when you get bored of playing cowboy? When you miss your fancy penthouse and corporate jet?”

He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his scent — the one that makes my stomach flip even now. “I won’t miss any of it. Not for a second. The only things I’ve missed are you and Bradley.”

“How do I know you won’t leave again?” My voice wavers despite my best efforts.

“Because I’ve spent my whole life chasing things I thought would make me happy,” he says softly. “Money, success, power. None of it compares to what I found here. With you.”

I want to believe him. God, I want to. But I’ve been burned before. “And your company? Your legacy?”

“Still there,” he admits. “I’m still an investor, still on the board.

But Dave’s taking over as CEO. He’s been wanting it for years, and honestly, he’ll probably do a better job than I have lately.

My head and heart haven’t been in it.” He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. “They’ve been here.”

His fingers are rough now, calloused from the weeks of ranch work. Before, they were smooth, corporate hands. The change somehow makes what he’s saying feel more real.

“I signed the papers yesterday,” he continues. “Flew back this morning. Came straight here.” He gestures around. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to stay. Help you run this place. Be with you and Bradley.”

My heart is pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. “And what if it doesn’t work out? What if this is just a phase?”

“It’s not,” he says firmly. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I’ve never felt more myself than I do when I’m with you.”

I search his face for any sign of doubt, any hint that he might regret this decision, but all I see is determination. And something else — something that makes my pulse quicken.

“What are you saying, Oliver?” I need to hear him say it.

“I’m saying I love you, Carly.” The words come out strong, confident. “I’m saying I want to build a life with you and Bradley. Right here.”

My breath catches. Those three words. I’ve been waiting to hear them, afraid to hope for them.

“You… love me?” I whisper.

“More than I thought possible,” he says, stepping even closer. “And if you’ll let me, I want to show you how much every single day.”

Something inside me breaks. It’s the wall I’d built around my heart since he left. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m in his arms, my fingers tangled in his hair, my lips pressed against his in a desperate kiss.

He responds immediately, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me against him like he’s afraid I might disappear. The kiss is hungry, passionate, filled with all the longing and frustration of our time apart.

When we finally stop kissing, we’re both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, his eyes closed as if he’s savoring the moment.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Yes,” I whisper. “God, yes.”

He pulls me in for another kiss, gentler this time but no less passionate. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire, mirroring what I feel burning inside me.

“I should get to the chores,” I say, though my body is screaming for a different kind of attention.

“Already done,” he says, his voice husky. “I got here at dawn and did it all with Miles.”

I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. “Well, I’m impressed.”

“I aim to please,” he says, his hands sliding down to my hips. “Speaking of which…”

My breath hitches as his fingers slip beneath the hem of my shirt, tracing the skin of my lower back. “The tack room,” I suggest, my voice already breathless. “It locks.”

His eyes darken further, and he takes my hand, leading me toward the small room at the back of the stable. Once inside, he slides the bolt home, the sound of metal clanking against metal oddly thrilling.

The room is small, filled with saddles, bridles, and the rich scent of leather. Early morning light filters through the dusty window, casting golden patterns across his face as he turns to me.

“I’ve thought about this every day since I left,” he says, his voice low. “About you.”

Then his mouth is on mine again, hungry and demanding. I respond with equal fervor, my hands sliding under his shirt, exploring the hard planes of his chest. He groans into my mouth when my fingernails scrape lightly across his skin.

“Off,” I command, tugging at his shirt. He complies immediately, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion.

I take a moment to admire him — the broad shoulders, the defined muscles, the trail of dark hair leading down from his navel. He’s even more beautiful than I remembered.

“Your turn,” he whispers, his fingers finding the buttons of my flannel shirt.

One by one, he undoes them, his eyes never leaving mine. When the last button gives way, he pushes the fabric off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

His gaze drops to my breasts, covered only by a simple cotton bra. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, reaching out to trace the curve of one breast with a gentle finger.

I shiver at his touch, my nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric. Emboldened, I reach behind me to unclasp my bra, letting it join my shirt on the floor.

“God, Carly,” he breathes, cupping my breasts in his hands. His thumbs brush over my nipples, sending shocks of pleasure through my body.

I pull him closer, needing to feel his skin against mine. The contact is electric, and I moan softly as his chest presses against my sensitive breasts.

His mouth finds my neck, trailing hot kisses down to my collarbone. I tilt my head back, giving him better access as his hands explore my body, relearning every curve, every sensitive spot.

When his lips close around one nipple, I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He lavishes attention first on one breast, then the other, until I’m whimpering with need.

“Oliver,” I breathe, “please…”

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. “What do you want?”

“You,” I say simply. “All of you.”

His answer is to guide me backward until I feel the edge of a workbench against my thighs. In one swift motion, he lifts me onto it, stepping between my legs.

His hands work quickly at my belt and jeans, and I lift my hips to help him slide them down. He follows the fabric with his mouth, pressing kisses to the newly exposed skin of my thighs.

By the time he’s kneeling in front of me, I’m down to just my panties. He hooks his fingers into the sides, looking up at me for permission. I nod, lifting my hips again as he pulls them down, leaving me completely exposed to his gaze.

He takes his time looking at me, and I feel a blush spreading across my chest and face. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands caressing my thighs.

Then his mouth is on me, his tongue finding that spot that makes me see stars. I cry out, my fingers tangling in his hair as waves of pleasure begin to wash over me. He works me with his mouth and fingers until I’m teetering on the edge, my thighs trembling either side of his head.

“Oliver,” I gasp. “I need you inside me. Now.”

He rises to his feet, his eyes wild and intense. His hands go to his belt, and I watch hungrily as he undoes his jeans and pushes them down along with his boxers. He’s as magnificent as I remember, hard and ready for me.

He positions himself at my entrance, his eyes locked with mine. “I love you,” he says again, the words sending a rush of warmth through my chest.

“I love you, too,” I whisper back, the admission easy and natural, like I’ve been saying it all my life.

He pushes into me slowly, both of us groaning at the sensation. When he’s fully inside me, he pauses, his forehead resting against mine, our breath mingling.

“You feel like home,” he murmurs, and the simple truth of it brings tears to my eyes.

Then he starts to move, his thrusts deep and deliberate. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him. Our bodies move together in perfect rhythm like we’ve been doing this dance for years.

The pleasure builds steadily, each thrust bringing me closer to the edge. Oliver’s breathing grows ragged, his movements more urgent. I know he’s close, too.

“Come with me,” he whispers, his hand slipping between us to where we’re joined, his fingers working magic.

It’s all I need. The pleasure crests and breaks, washing over me in waves as I cry out his name. He follows a moment later, his body tensing as he finds his own release.

We stay like this for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, our bodies still joined, hearts beating in tandem. Neither of us wants to break the spell.

Finally, Oliver pulls back just enough to look at me, his expression serious. “I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere.”

I lean forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Good. Because you’re stuck with us now.”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

And as I look at him, this man who gave up everything to be here with me and my son, I know he’s telling the truth. I know that this is the beginning of something real and lasting, something worth fighting for.

And for the first time in a very long time, I let myself believe in happy endings.