Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I thought about it for maybe half a second. It wasn’t like I was rolling in cash these days. But I actually wanted to buy this stuff with money I’d earned. That was the point.
“No, thanks,” I told her. “But… er… Boone loaned me money to buy a pair of boots a couple of weeks back. I don’t know if he put it on his tab or not, but do you think I could pay off the cost of those as well?”
“You sure, hon?”
I knew Boone hadn’t given buying those boots a second thought, especially now that I knew how wealthy he was. But it was important to me to pay that debt back. I nodded, and she pulled out a cash box from under the counter.
“If that’s a Silver Fork Ranch check, I’m happy to cash it for you. Save you a trip down the street. That sound good?” she asked.
“That sounds perfect. I feel so silly,” I said with a little laugh. “It’s been a while since I got paid with a paper check. I’m used to it going right in my bank account.” I didn’t know why I was babbling, but I felt a kind of excitement bubbling in my gut.
At the thought of fixing up my new clothes, I remembered how much I’d enjoyed helping James with his cosplay costumes and helping my friends trick out their outfits for Pride. Hell, I’d even had a reputation for a while for jazzing up my club clothes after an unfortunate experience at Vive when Dom Sanchez and I had shown up with the exact same outfit. Ever since then, I’d vowed only to club in a Richard Dunning original.
Maybe it was time to show the Silver Fork Ranch a little Richard Dunning style too.
I walked out of the tack shop a few minutes later with a bag of cheap clothes in one hand and a wad of cash in my pocket.
I’d never felt more content.
I whistled as I walked to the diner to grab a cherry pie as a surprise for Boone. And I grinned as I let my imagination run wild with the possibilities of trailing the cherry goodness across his abs and licking it off. I lost myself in the fantasy for most of the drive back to the ranch in the gathering dusk and was just pulling down the driveway, wondering if I could convince Boone to indulge in a little dessert before dinner, when my phone rang.
I glanced at the screen and frowned when I saw my father’s name. The muscles along my shoulders instantly tightened, and my heart rate picked up. I answered it immediately, the possibility of declining it not even entering my mind. “Hey, Dad, is everything okay?” I hadn’t talked to him in months and couldn’t think of a reason for him to call unless something had happened.
“Your mother tells me you’re in Wyoming,” he said in response. I guessed that was his way of saying things were fine.
“Yes, sir. Been out here a couple of weeks.”
“Good. I got a bead on a land deal over in Jackson Hole. Old man is selling a large swath of acreage that’s been in his family for generations. It’s a hell of a steal, and he knows it. He’s playing hardball, so this one’s going to take more of a personal touch. He needs to know how serious I am about buying, but there’s no way I can get away right now, and he’d see it as an insult if I sent an underling.”
I had no idea why he was telling me all of this. And to be honest, I’d only been half listening as I parked the truck and gathered my packages. “Okay?”
“So here’s what I need you to do,” he continued. “I’ve set up a meeting with him first thing in the morning out at his property, which means you’ll need to get up there tonight. My assistant has already booked you a room in town. She’s pulling together all the information you’ll need and will be emailing it shortly.”
I blinked, convinced I hadn’t heard him correctly. I sat back in the truck. “Wait, you want me to go to Jackson Hole? Tonight?”
“I want you to do what comes naturally: charm the pants off the guy and close the deal. It might take a couple of days, especially if he tries to turn it into a bidding war. If that happens, you’ll have to—”
“Dad,” I said, cutting him off. “I can’t.”
There was a long pause.
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“I can’t go to Jackson Hole right now.”
“You said you were already in Wyoming,” he said, as if my location was the issue.
“I am,” I told him. “But I’ve got work tomorrow.”
“Yes. In Jackson. Like I said.”
“No. Dad… I don’t work for you anymore. Remember? I work for someone else now.”