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

OLIVER

I inch my car down the main street of the small town of Miralena, pretending I know where I’m going as I pass a feed store, a bar, a cafe, and not much else. It takes about thirty seconds before I’m outside the city limits, on the way to the ranch that might as well be in the middle of nowhere.

The road changes from paved to gravel and I grip the steering wheel as a storm of dust rises around the car.

The property is a few miles off the main highway, but it feels like I’ve left civilization completely.

This would all be easier to navigate if I weren’t on my own.

Edmundo, the realtor, bailed at the last minute, claiming the flu, so I’m on my own, my bags stuffed into the trunk and a nineties rock playlist blaring.

A fence appears in the distance, long stretches of wood with horses grazing in the fields behind it, and I know I’m getting close. I have to admit, it looks better than the pictures. I may not be the ranching type, but I recognize quality when I see it.

The entrance looms up ahead with a wide wooden gate and a neatly painted sign that reads Blazing Trails Ranch. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if this was a mistake, but a sense of defiance makes me speed up instead, and the tires slip on the gravel as I turn onto the dirt road.

Trees line the way, making an arch overhead, like they’re welcoming me to some strange, otherworldly domain.

Parking by a barn, I get out of the car and squint. The dust hasn’t settled yet, and the smell of fresh hay and earth fills the air.

It’s weird how silent it is, with only the sound of an occasional chicken clucking. I’d almost forgotten what silence sounded like.

The size of the ranch is even more impressive up close.

The pictures and write-ups didn’t do it justice.

Expansive fields spread out in every direction, each as well-kept as the next, and horses stand around in the shade.

This isn’t a place that’s struggling, which is what I assumed when I heard it was locally owned and run.

A breeze rustles the nearby oak trees, and I have a moment of wondering if this place is as untouchable as it looks. Maybe my whole plan is wrong for a town like this. Maybe I’m wrong for a town like this.

I wanted my own ranch, a place I can pop in and out of as I wish — once I hire someone to run it for me, that is. The whole idea was that I don’t want to deal with other people, but this… it’s almost too quiet.

Taking a breath, I push the thought away. I didn’t get this far by giving up before I even started. I know what I’m doing, even if no one else does.

Clocking the house, I head toward it, hoping someone will notice me and offer a little direction. My mother used to say I have the patience of a bulldozer, and she was right.

Taking the porch steps two at a time, I raise a hand to knock on the front door, but before I can, it swings open.

A young woman steps out, her light brown hair falling in waves, sun-streaked and catching in the breeze.

She’s tall and willowy, with freckles dusting her face.

My throat tightens in a way I’m not used to, and I have to remind myself to stop staring.

“Can I help you?” she asks, like she’s not too worried about my answer either way.

“Hi. I’m Oliver Greer.” My voice comes out smoothly enough, but there’s a hitch to it that gives me away. “The new owner. I’m here to meet the ranch hand?”

She raises an eyebrow and studies me for a second. “Carly,” she says, pointing to herself.

This is the ranch hand who is showing me the ropes today? I feel heat rising up my neck and wish I had gone for a drink before driving out here.

“Oh. I thought…”

She crosses her arms and leans against the railing like she’s trying to decide what to do with me. “You’re a bit early. We weren’t expecting you until this afternoon.”

“I wanted to take a look around.” I glance past her at the fields again, still impressed. “This is quite a setup you have here.”

“Thanks.” She narrows her eyes. “Oliver Greer. Where do I know that name from?”

I hesitate, not having come out here to advertise myself or my business. I’m supposed to be “chilling to the max”, as Marie put it, not thinking about work one bit.

“Real estate,” I say, trying to keep it simple.

“Oh.” She nods, unimpressed. “Well, Mack told me to show you around. I know you bought all the animals along with the land. I want to warn you, it’ll be a lot of work. It takes three people to run this place, and…”

She trails off, her brow furrowed. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

I feel my face warm. “I’m sorry. I just— When Mack said I would be meeting the ranch hand, I didn’t think it would be you.”

Her gaze hardens. “Why not?”

“Because, well—” I bite the tip of my tongue, already aware that I’ve dug a hole and there’s no way out.

Carly brushes a strand of hair from her face, watching me closely. “Women can be ranch hands too, you know.”

I hesitate again, this time trying to find my footing. I’ve walked into this all wrong, and I’m going to have to hustle to fix it. “I didn’t think?—”

“You didn’t think women could be ranch hands?” She cuts me off, leaning back with a mock-incredulous look. “I wish I could say that’s a new one.”

“No, it’s just that you’re so…” I scramble for something better to say, but I’m off balance and know everything’s coming out worse than I mean it to. I have no idea how to fix this. I meet her eyes, and the words slip out before I have a chance to hold them back. “It’s just that you’re so pretty.”

She blinks at me, her lips parted in surprise, and I’m staring down the business end of one hell of an awkward silence.

“Well, thank you. I suppose,” she finally says, her voice uncertain. “But being pretty has nothing to do with my ability to work. This isn’t a Miss America Pageant.” She steps back and gestures for me to follow her inside the house.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I stammer, immediately regretting my choice of words. My heart is hammering uncomfortably in my throat. Why can’t I think straight?

In the living room, she spins around and faces me. “Mr. Greer?—”

“Oliver.”

Her lips press thin. “I’m here to show you around, to teach you how to take care of the animals, the right way?—”

“Of course?—”

“I’m not interested in anything else, so let’s make that clear right now.”

I nod in understanding, forcing myself to swallow the lump of embarrassment lodged in my throat. “Of course,” I agree again. “I apologize if that was… inappropriate.”

God, what’s wrong with me? Usually, I know exactly what to say and when to say it, but ever since that damn panic attack a few weeks ago, I’ve been all out of sorts. I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

“Great. Let’s get started with the house, and then I’ll introduce you to the animals.”

“Introduce?” I laugh. “Do they shake hands?”

Her eyes narrow the slightest bit. “The house is a little over a hundred years old, and it can get drafty…”

She goes on, explaining the heating, the cellar, the well water, but I can hardly listen. I already felt like a fish out of water driving through town, and now the first person I’ve spoken to in Miralena thinks I’m an idiot.

Hell, maybe I am. Maybe this house purchase and break from work was a mistake. I’m already in it, though, and if I’m known for anything, it’s for seeing things through.

Even when it means getting my ass kicked in the process.