His Takeover: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  The kitchen is standard, though more modern than I expected. Clearly there are a lot of meals made here. The range is a six-burner gas-powered beast that belongs in a high end restaurant. The whole place is well kept, clean, and - as I open a cabinet - well stocked.

  I could get used to this, I think. It’s beautiful, it feels like home, and right now, while it’s quiet, I’m feeling relaxed.

  “Who are you?”

  I spin, my heart slamming at the little voice. A girl stands behind me, her warm brown eyes accusing. Suddenly, I know why the mother isn’t around. I know who Clint created this child with. I know everything.

  Clint

  May’s stare shook me straight to the core. Never has anyone looked at me like that, with a mix of desperation, fear, and tenuous hope. There was something else there, some shrouded secret that’s haunting her.

  But her secrets are her own. And so long as she can handle Grace, I think things will go fine. Grace isn’t a difficult girl. She’s grounded and outspoken, tempestuous, even. She speaks her mind, she’s quick witted, and is often the bane of her teachers. But she’s sweet under it all.

  Perhaps I haven’t raised her right. I don’t force her into dresses. I don’t pigeonhole her into feminine roles. She’s been in the saddle since she could walk. She’s mucked out stalls, she’s able to feed horses, brand mustangs, and tell the men the best move with a new plucky stallion. And she’s still pint sized. But she spends more days with me than without, and I guess I rubbed off on her.

  Which drives Gertie crazy, but I feel that May will have no problem with her.

  “Boss?”

  I glance over at Carson who’s staring ahead. Shane’s riding hell bent for lather where we’d agreed to set camp. As the sun settles toward the edge of the horizon, I feel the tension stirring up around the men.

  No one needs to tell me, but I know that slowing us down was a bad move on my part. Still, this was an unexpected issue and they would have had to wait regardless. Either waiting for me to call Gertie or waiting for me to talk to the new girl.

  Waiting either way.

  Drawing my revolver from the holster, I lift the barrel and pull the trigger. The sound of it reverberates through my skull and under me, Thunder shies a bit. I hold him firm and study the faces that have turned to me.

  I push on, seeing Shane ahead. His horse had startled with the gunshot, and I wait for him to regain control. He does quickly and hauls the animal around to head back to me.

  As the guys form a ring around me, I ignore Shane and his refusal to actually move into line with the rest of the guys. “We’ll ride until twilight,” I say, and the men nod, while some mutter under their breaths.

  I know it’s going to be a long ride, but there’s no reason to kill ourselves or risk a horse stepping into a prairie dog hole. The guys disperse and we all prepare ourselves for this ride. I shove May out of my mind, but something of her nags in the back of my skull.

  We ride out, the guys whooping and hollering as they race each other in good fun. By my side, Carsen keeps close. He’s kind to the old nag he insists on taking out. There have been plenty of jokes about him riding the ancient mare, but he swears she’s the only horse that he trusts. I don’t give a fuck. So long as they can keep up, I don’t give a damn.

  Dad always said the measure of a good animal is its willingness to follow a man, whether or not it’s into battle, or to the barn for dinner.

  If only the old man wasn’t such a thorn in my side.

  He’s got too many demands. For a man who hadn’t built his empire on his own, he’s sure hell bent on protecting it. Protecting it… from me.

  Not that it needs to be protected from me. I’ve got my own empire. I’ve built my fortune. But it would be nice to finally claim my part of the family fortune. But that’s a pipe dream. Dad’s three requirements for me to take my place at the table are just too much.

  I can see him in mind’s eye, his gray hair short and carefully kept. His rich brown eyes reflecting the honey colored lights in the study of the family’s mansion. The stubble he works so hard to keep close to the skin, everything of him reeks of privilege and cushy living. But make no mistake, he’s a shark and he’ll chum the water with you before you can so much as blink.

  He’s never been particularly warm. Not to me, at least. Kate, my little sister, got much closer to him, perhaps because she’s the baby, or may there’s just something different about daughters. Her place at his right hand will be sealed once she’s back from college. Her list wasn’t nearly as stringent as my own.

  Dad required three things of me: I had to prove I’m an asset. Done. I’ve made myself as a business man. I’ve got land, horses, and a net worth in the billions. I had to prove my manliness. Done. Many times over, done. Rough Texas living makes a man or breaks him. But the third thing… that’s the killer.

  The third requirement is that I can be a family man. And being a father to Grace isn’t enough. No, I have to be a husband. After the messy business between me and Amanda… dad’s got no confidence in me, and I’m not all that confident in myself either.

  Kate had it much easier. She had to finish college. And she’s well on her way to graduate early with an impressive degree in engineering. I love her dearly, but she’s always been too brainy for me. But she loves what she does, and it shows every time she opens her mouth. When someone asks her about school, her face lights up.

  But I don’t blame dad for his lack of confidence in my ability to be a family man. The messy fall out of what happened between Amanda and I is proof he was right to be nervous.

  Again, an idea nags, and I latch onto it.

  What if… I asked May to marry me? Not for real, of course, just a sham to get dad to let me in, let me be a part of what I’m owed anyway?

  Still, something whispers in me that I’m not being totally honest. There’s something about May. I want to be near her. I want her to keep looking up at me like she’s begging me to show her how a man like me would touch her.

  And I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want to.

  May

  I stand before the girl, my mouth hanging open like I’m some special kind of idiot. She stares up at me, her eyes lit with a fire I can’t even begin to describe. It’s like she knows who I am, why I’m here, and how to destroy me.

  “Your dad wanted me to watch you,” I say, and she blinks, as if this answer is a total surprise. She tilts her head to the side and her thick, dark hair shifts, revealing a length down her back with some curls near the end, like her heavy hair can’t quite hold the curls but clings to the few it can near the bottom.

  I watch her little face scrunch up as if she’s internally poking holes in my story. “Where’s Gertie?” she asks, and I find myself at a loss.

  “I’m not sure,” I say, deciding honesty is the best idea. She continues to stare me down, then lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

  “I don’t like Gertie. She always smacks my bottom when I’m not ladylike,” she says, her honesty melting my heart.

  “That’s not very ladylike of her.”

  Instantly the girl smiles and it feels like the sun is shining down on me. While I’m doing well, I decide to keep things rolling. “So, what do you usually do when you get home?” I ask, but she pushes toward me, thrusting her hand toward me.

  “I’m Grace.”

  I take her hand and shake it, surprised that her little fingers feel strong. “I’m May.”

  “May flowers,” she giggles, and I smile at her sweet little face. She’s too stinkin’ cute. I want to pinch her chubby little pink cheek, but I’m not going to put hands on her. I know better. Besides, I remember how demoralizing that felt to have people touch me without my permission when I was little.

  “Are you hungry, Grace?” I ask, and she nods. With quick hands, I find some foods that’ll go over well. Comfort food that I choose because she’s adjusting to something new; me. Mac and cheese and hot dogs. The kind of stuff I
have fond memories of as a child.

  “Want to help me?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at her. Her little face lights up and I pull a chair into the kitchen for her to stand on. Shoulder to shoulder we stand before the stove, opening a box of Mac and Cheese, dumping noodles into a pot of water, busy work. Simple work. Things that’ll help her feel independent while she’s safe from harm.

  Things I wish I could have had when I was little.

  “Do you have kids?” She asks me, her little face full of curiosity.

  “I don’t.” I say, my tone bright as I tackle the hard question. I wanted kids. But that bastard… I clamp down and shut out the painful memories. I’m not ready to face them. Besides, little Grace doesn’t need to see me lose it.

  “Are you married?” she asks, and I can’t help but be in awe of her. She’s so very mature. She speaks like an adult. Her mind is bright, curious, and she’s very quick to just talk rather than hang on propriety. It’s refreshing.

  “I’m not.” I say, then turn her game on her. “How about you? Kids? A hubby I need to know about?”

  Her face scrunches up and she laughs. “No!” We laugh together and I realize that this is the first real laugh I’ve had in longer than I can remember.

  In bed, I listen to the house. It’s totally quiet. No traffic noises, no loud, party loving neighbors, nothing. Every once in a while the house settles on a sigh, like it too is winding down from the day.

  Grace had fallen asleep on the couch, but I’d wandered quickly and found her room. One I knew where to take her, I’d carried her into her room and settled her in her pretty bedroom. The whole place had been decorated with horses right down to the blanket on her bed.

  It had been a good night. I felt confident that she would make being here easy. And if this was the work Clint wanted from me, I’d be more than happy to stay on and work as long as he’d have me.

  Outside, I hear what sounds like the slam of a car door and I bolt upright. My heart settles into my gut and I feel like throwing up as I sit straight, straining my ears to listen for anything that might be a sound.

  He couldn’t be here.

  There’s no way he followed me. I was so careful…

  I creep out of bed and toward the living room. The curtains give me a view into the front of the place where my car sits, dejected and alone. The slam happens again and I realize the barn door is ajar. When it catches the wind, it bangs on itself. I can see a chain locking it closed, but the noise still makes my hands tremble like I’m going to barf.

  I’d thought it was him.

  I sink onto the couch, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth as if I can keep back the bile backing up my throat. Tears stream down my cheeks as I think about the fear, the absolute helplessness I feel. He has power over me and he’s not even fucking here! I got away from him and he’s still controlling me across a distance so great I can’t even imagine it.

  My throat aches and I keep my volume to little sniffs as tears stream down my face. It’s just not fair. Life isn’t fair.

  “Why are you crying?”

  I jolt, startled and look into the worried brown eyes of Grace.

  Clint

  At twilight, I pull the guys in for another talk. They form a ring around me and I sense the discord. I want to smooth it over, but I know some things are simply broken and are not meant to be fixed. If they want to walk, they know where the door is. If they want to stay, they’ve got paychecks waiting.

  “Okay,” I say as they settle in and listen to me. “We can camp or we can keep going. If we slow down and head out, we’ll be heading home toward dawn. Or we can camp and head out at dawn.”

  Beside me, Carson takes on this role and offers a good suggestion. “If you want to keep going, we can stop for a meal, drink, and piss break. If you don’t we’ll have that break anyway.”

  I nod, agreeing with him. The men mumble, and I tell them they can think it over, but the resounding responses are that we should break for chow and get back out.

  “What about Bram and Scott?” It’s Shane’s voice ringing out.

  I answer with my usual calculated wariness. “They’ll be happy to get home to their beds earlier rather than later, I’m sure,” I say, and there’s a ripple of agreement. Shane’s glare leaves me and he nods.

  “Chow and then we ride!” He brings his horse around and I want to sock him right in the mouth. It’s not his god damned call. It’s mine. He’s hired help, not the boss. Not on my ranch.

  But I let it go. This isn’t an argument I want. As men step out of saddles and stretch, the sounds of bones cracking and men groaning becomes louder than the chorus of crickets. It’s a welcome sound, but I maneuver Thunder around to do a quick parameter check.

  We’re not safe from cougars and bears here, and I want to make sure they know we’re here and armed. The predators out here are smart, and a gun on your hip is often enough to keep all but the starving critters out of sight.

  I circle, giving another thought to my plan. I’m not proud of it. Tricking dad isn’t my favorite idea, but maybe it’s time to fight dirty. After all, he is. The fortune my great grandfather passed down isn’t really his to guard like this. He’s a rotten bastard, and it pisses me off.

  But it’s not about the money. It’s about getting the recognition I deserve. I’ve fucking worked hard to build myself for the ground up and all he did was impose more rules, more bars for me to meet before I’m good enough to call myself his son.

  Once I’m sure the perimeter is safe, I head back to where the guys have lit up a fire and are cooking and setting coffee to percolate. Carson offers me a mug of coffee and I crack open the can of beans I’d brought and set it in the fire.

  Within minutes it’s hot and I nudge it out and hold it with a leather glove I keep on hand for working. Carson is taking bites of some franks that are being passed around and cooked on skewers. I take one that’s offered to me and dip the molten dog into my beans.

  As we all dig in, the night sky turns from twilight to billions of stars and a chilly night breeze that cuts to the bone.

  Dawn brings sight of the herd we’re here to drive home and the collective sigh is much quieter than last night’s gusto. I’m just excited at the thought of getting home. Getting home.

  I’ve got some explaining to do with Grace. And I’m curious to see how May is doing.

  “Not much longer, Boss,” Carson says as we slow down and watch the guys heading into formation. As we begin to drive the horses back toward home, I sigh with relief. Not much longer.

  As the last horse files into the pasture, I let loose a sigh of relief. We did it. No major calamities. Carsen and I head toward the barn, and he offers to take my horse so I can head into the house. I thank him and feel better the second my boots hit solid ground. I head to the house, looking toward May’s bedroom window.

  I’m not certain why.

  The front door is locked and I grab the key and let myself in. I catch her in the living room with a book in hand and suspiciously red eyes.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” she says, and I shrug. I don’t care. She can lock the doors if she chooses. I make a mental note to make sure she knows where the twelve gauge is and how to use it. I doubt anything will ever happen, but I’d be more comfortable knowing that if something did happen she’d be okay.

  “How was it?” I ask. It’s not the question I want to ask her.

  “Fine. You look tired,” she says, rising to her feet. “Would you like to get some rest? I could make you something to eat.” Her genuine concern warms my heart as she heads to my side. I stare into her pretty blue eyes wondering why she was crying. But as I watch, the misery leaves her expression and there’s a sweet joy there that I want to enjoy.

  “I’m fine,” I say, needing to set her mind at ease. “Are you okay?”

  She seems startled by my question, but her eyes dart to my lips. I stiffen as she sucks her lower lip between her teeth and nibbles it befo
re letting it slide free so she can respond.

  “Um… yeah.” She sounds hesitant, as if she wants to open up but knows better. But I don’t care anymore. All I want now is to touch her again, to feel her surprised intake of breath, her sweet shiver of pleasure…

  But there are other things to think about. Like the fact that she hasn’t said a word about Grace. “How is Grace?” I ask, forcing my mind to stop all these crazy thoughts.

  “She was fine when I sent her off to school,” May says, her expression softening. “She’s such a sweetheart.” Suddenly she takes on a more troubled expression. She bites down on that distracting lower lip and I sense she’s doing that to keep from speaking her mind.

  “What are you keeping from me?” Anger surges up in me. This is my daughter. May better not be hiding something.

  Her blue eyes meet mine as the words burst out of her. “Gertie hits her.”

  May

  I see the fury in his eyes and back off a step. Before he’d come home, I hadn’t really considered telling him. It’s not like spankings are a big deal. Or at least, I hadn’t thought so until Grace told me her father’s stance on capital punishment.

  We’d had many deep talks and I found her a refreshing girl with a perspective on life that was much too old for her age.

  “How do you know?” he says, his eyes so tired they’re fever bright. But the rage in them is unmistakable and I know I did the right thing by telling him.

  “She told me that Gertie smacks her bottom when she’s not ladylike.” I sense he’s nearly shaking with anger, but it’s not terrifying. It’s not aimed at me, nor could I ever imagine him being upset at me. And even if he was, I realize, I can’t imagine being afraid of him. He’s not the kind of guy who’d hurt me.