Page 9 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy (The Billionaire’s Bidding #3)

CARLY

B radley skips along the walkway to my mom’s house, his hair catching the sunlight. He clutches a drawing of a horse that he made last night, all waxy crayon and wild scribbles, and talks without taking a breath, words colliding in his excitement.

“Can I see the horses?” he asks as I follow him up the path, pausing when he gets to the door.

“Um, at some point,” I tell him.

“I bet they missed you, huh?” he asks, turning those big brown eyes up at me as I kneel in front of him.

“I wasn’t even really gone. I wasn’t there for a whole day, but that’s normal for them.”

“And what about Oliver?” he asks, and my eyebrows go up.

“What about him?”

“Do you think he likes horses as much as you?”

To protect Bradley’s sweet innocence, I won’t be telling him what I think. “How could anyone not?”

“And that’s why he needs your help?”

“Yep,” I say, standing and trying to brush the dust from his shirt. “I’ve gotta show him how it’s done.”

The door swings open, and my mom stands there in curlers and a robe, one hand on her hip as she surveys us with a grin. “Show who how what’s done?”

“Mom is going back to the ranch,” Bradley explains.

“You know she can’t stay away.” My mom winks at him. “She loves those animals too much.”

I shrug and try to make light of it, even though I know it’s true. Bradley watches me closely, studying me with an intensity that doesn’t match his years.

“Let’s not make a big deal out of it,” I say. “We don’t know what’s gonna happen. This guy might turn out to be a complete…” My mom gives me a look and raises her eyebrows, and I trail off.

“Okay, buster,” I say to Bradley. “You be good for Grandma, okay?”

He nods, and they head inside, chatting about breakfast and rabbits and whatever other creatures Bradley has planned to fill her house with. I watch him until the door swings closed and he disappears from view.

When I get back to the truck, I sit for a second, gripping the wheel and looking at my reflection in the rearview. This is what I wanted — to stay at the ranch, to help the animals. Now, on top of it, I’m getting paid way more than I was before.

But why am I so nervous about it all? Like I know the rug could be pulled out from under my feet at any moment?

Shaking my head, trying to push away the anxiety, I back out into the street and wind my way through Miralena, past all the old familiar places. The diner, where we had birthday breakfasts when I was a kid. The library, where I still take Bradley for story time on Thursdays.

I pass my aunt and mom’s bar, with its bright new coat of blue paint, and the small storefronts that line the main drag, all colorful and neat but barely making it by.

My eyes linger on the thrift shop where I get most of Bradley’s clothes.

Maybe, for the first time, thanks to this raise, I can buy him some brand-new clothes for school this year.

Not that it matters to him all that much. He’ll be seven by the time school starts, but it’s still a few years yet till he probably starts caring about what he looks like.

With this raise, though, Christmas will be much better this year. And our next vacation can be a proper one; maybe we’ll spend a few nights at the beach. I could even afford to bring my mom, Ferris, and my aunt Gina. I can save a little bit more each month and start that college fund for Bradley.

As the buildings thin out, I realize that Oliver might be the best thing that’s happened to me in a while. And as much as I love getting to stay around for my animals and getting the pay bump, it sucks that the good graces are coming from someone so cocky and insufferable.

But with Mack gone, I need the paycheck more than I need to be right. Oliver’s not offering the world, but the salary he quoted was generous, and it was clear how clueless he was when he threw it out there.

Remembering all of this, my grip loosens a little as I turn off the highway and hit the narrow stretch of country road leading to Blazing Trails. Just because something is good doesn’t mean it’s about to be taken away, despite how some of my past experiences have turned out.

The long dirt drive crunches under my tires as I pull up, and I take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of grass coming through the open window. The duplex I’ve lived in since Bradley was two might be our house, but this ranch is home.

And currently, it looks like no one is here.

“Oliver?” I call, getting out of my car.

No answer.

I find him in the stables, his tall frame hunched as he stares at his phone with a frown. The horse next to him eyes him suspiciously, mirroring my own feelings.

He doesn’t even notice me until I’m right next to him, his head buried so far in whatever he’s reading. When he does, he spooks, nearly dropping the phone.

“I guess I was wrong.” I fold my arms. “You are up and at ’em.”

“I was brushing up on brushing,” he says. “But the internet connection’s not very reliable out here.”

I laugh as I reach out to take the brush from his hand. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

His shirt is already covered in dust, and I have to admit he looks good even with a mess on him. Maybe even better - more human, less untouchable.

He pockets the phone and gives me a little nod, a knowing look like he expected this all along. “I’m glad you decided to come back, Carly.”

It’s such a genuine expression of gratitude — one that I would have never expected from him — that I freeze. This is probably the nicest he’s been to me so far.

Although, I know I’m in part to blame for that. I haven’t given him the easiest time since he arrived.

“I’m glad too.” I clear my throat, oddly aware of my heart, which seems to be beating harder than usual. “Besides, you need me.” I grin playfully.

“Oh, I know.” He laughs out loud, and damn, it’s a good sound — deep, vibrant.

I grin even bigger. “You could watch videos all day, but you’d still have no idea what you’re doing.”

His dimples show as he watches me, a hint of warmth in the way he smiles. “And she doesn’t hold back, of course.”

“I call it like I see it, boss.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“That’s good because—” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because a chicken zips past us, flapping its wings in a frenzy.

“Not again.” Oliver groans, but there’s a smile on his face as he gives the chicken a head start before chasing it down.

I laugh, enjoying the sight of city boy Oliver trying to outrun the hen. I could tell him that he doesn’t need to worry about corralling the chickens — they always come home to roost — but it’s too much fun watching him run around like this.

There are a few times when he almost grabs the chicken, but each time, it swerves out of reach. Frustrated and panting, Oliver stops and leans against a stall door, his shirt sticking to him with sweat. He shoots me an exasperated look.

“What?” I shrug innocently. “You didn’t ask me how to catch chickens.”

“Ha-ha,” he says dryly.

Deciding to take pity on him, I wipe my hands on my jeans and make my way towards him, calling out to the hen in a sing-song voice. The bird slows down, momentarily confused by the sudden change in pace, just long enough for me to gently scoop her up into my arms.

“It’s all about strategy,” I say, trying not to sound too smug as I walk over and hand him the hen that has been evading him for the past ten minutes. “You can’t just run at them. You have to be smarter.”

Oliver doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he takes the chicken from my arms and holds it close to his chest, looking mildly surprised that he now has the creature under control. It only squirms momentarily in his grip before settling in, seemingly accepting its fate.

“And how exactly does one go about being ‘smarter’ than a chicken?” he asks after a moment of suspicious silence.

“You have to get to know them,” I answer simply as I walk back to the horse, grabbing the discarded brush. “Each one has a different temperament. Some are bold, some are timid. You learn to read their behavior.”

I hear him huff behind me.

“It sounds complicated,” he says.

“All the best things usually are.” I can’t help but add, “Don’t worry, newbie, you’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

He releases a slow breath, relinquishing his hold on the hen, who bolts from his grasp and flutters away. He doesn’t chase after it this time. “I never needed to catch her, did I?”

“Nope.” I giggle.

“You just wanted to see me sweat.”

I shrug. “What can I say? It looks good on you.”

Too late, I realize what I’ve said. Oliver glances down at his sweat-soaked shirt, and my gaze inevitably follows. He catches me looking at his chest, the defined muscles on clear display thanks to the damp, thin fabric, and my face catches on fire.

Kill me now.

“Typical Carly,” he says, shaking his head with a wide grin. “You can fling hay and shovel shit better than anyone, but you sure don’t mince your words, do you?”

“No.” I rip my gaze away from his chest, focusing instead on the horse.

I sound calm, composed even, but I can feel the heat in my cheeks. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“And why should you?” He shrugs. “We’re gonna be working together a lot now, after all.”

“Yeah,” I reply, my tone hollow. “Working together…”

I can feel him studying me from behind. Does he sense something too, or is it just me?

But then he joins me again, and we tend to the animals together in companionable silence. He still fumbles and bumbles around a bit, but he’s quick to learn and eager to help, which comes as a pleasant surprise.

The truth is that working with Oliver is not as insufferable as I thought it would be. In fact, it’s almost comfortable.

But that makes me nervous. This is foreign territory, and I don’t know how to navigate it. I can’t have a crush on my boss — for a truckload of reasons.

Maybe I’m just getting thirsty. It’s been a long time since I’ve even been on a date and longer since I’ve, uh, taken things further . Maybe I’m just horny or lonely — or both — and I need to get out there and meet some guys.

Trouble is, a town this small isn’t exactly teeming with eligible bachelors. And I’m not quick to trust. Not after…

I push the thought — the memories — out of my head. Not here. Not now. This ranch is my happy place, and I’ll be damned if anyone or anything will take it away from me.

“I saw some fencing that needs to be fixed,” Oliver says, breaking the silence.

I try to hide my surprise over his awareness, afraid he’ll misinterpret it as flirting. “I’ll grab the toolbox. Lead the way.”

He does, and even though I’m sure I’ll soon be forgetting about this little hiccup — crush, flirtation, whatever it is — I have to admit, the view from behind is pretty good.