Melody Anne's Billionaire Universe: Against the Billionaire's Will (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Love Against Odds Book 3)

by Mandy Harbin

  “With that many mares we should be selling more offspring.” He cocked an eyebrow, and she stiffened, already knowing where he was going with this. She should have known he was going to bring into question her breeding preference. His grandfather had supported her decision, but this whole enterprise—her livelihood—was nothing more than a hobby-style tax break.

  “Pasture breeding allows the horses to be animals, Dawson, and your grandfather agreed.”

  “In-hand breeding is more structured.”

  “So you’d prefer restraints and making it happen on a schedule?”

  He flashed a smile, showing perfect, white teeth. “Whatever’s the most efficient,” he said with what she thought was a hint of innuendo.

  She felt her face flame and knew he’d see with how pale she was. There was no hiding the evidence when she became embarrassed. Or mad. Or excited. But she ignored her physical response to his iffy remark and said, “Yeah, well, men are pigs. Horses, on the other hand, are beautiful creatures and need to be treated with respect.”

  “Business is business, Brindle. One stallion can breed fifty mares a season. Can mate three times a day without losing potency. But last year less than half the herd were impregnated.” His tone hadn’t changed. Maybe she’d misheard him a moment ago. Whatever, she needed to focus on the topic anyway.

  “Because it was the first year after we transitioned to pasture breeding. We had to watch them more because the stallions were too aggressive. Once we can release them into their own herds for good, we’ll be able to limit human interaction and let nature take its course. Pasture breeding has an over ninety percent success rate.” She shouldn’t have to defend how she ran this ranch to him! “You’re here for business reasons. When it comes to the animals, I’m the expert in this room.”

  “Like I said, business is business. This is a business. Turning a profit wasn’t important before. It is now. If you want to acquire this ranch, you’d do well to heed my advice.” He stood. “Show me around, and then we can dig more into the business plan and finances.”

  He was out the door before she got up. She bumped her knee on the corner of her desk rounding it quickly to follow.

  “We’ll take my truck,” he said as he got in, not giving her time to disagree. She groaned as she marched to the passenger side of his SUV. The smell of new leather assaulted her as she climbed in, but when she closed the door, she also caught the scent of him again. He smelled like chocolate whiskey.

  “Yeah? You smell earthy.”

  She gasped, her head whipping in his direction. He smiled as he pulled onto the road. The look of knowing charm. Good grief, she had said that out loud. What was wrong with her? Men never got her flustered. The last time she got all goofy over the opposite sex it ended in an awkward working relationship.

  And Trent Presley still worked at the ranch.

  She quickly pushed thoughts of her ex to the side, stiffened her back, and said the first thing that came to her, “It’s horse shit. Better get used to it.”

  He chuckled as he followed along the dirt road. “I do believe that was the first time those words have been said to me in a literal sense.”

  “Take a left here,” she said. “If you don’t want your truck to smell like it, then better take mine while we’re on the ranch.” She looked at the dash and added, “Though it doesn’t have Bluetooth.”

  “I know how to rough it,” he said, deadpan.

  She wanted to giggle at his dry joke, but she looked out the window instead. Not only was he smart, he was charming. Two qualities she hadn’t been exposed to in years. She had to repress her womanly urge to flirt. Just because he ticked off the things on her man-wish list didn’t mean anything could come of it. They’d be working together, and so far, he was all business. Not stuffy, but focused on his task of making the ranch turn a profit since that was his specialty.

  He’s rich, too. A quality most women would salivate over, but that knowledge made her more nervous than anything. She hadn’t come from money, far from it, but her dad was always out for the latest get-rich-quick scheme. When she got out on her own, she made a point to never make money a priority for her, which was good since she never seemed to have any.

  “So how do you keep the horses from getting out?”

  “Er, a gate?” she replied more like a question than an answer.

  It looked as if he almost smirked at that. “Let me rephrase. How do you keep the horses from escaping? People sneaking in? That sort of thing.”

  “Oh, well, we do have a security system. The horses are tagged so we know when they get out of their assigned area. Plus, the gates are rigged with silent alarms that alert me if they’re opened after-hours, but it’s a new system. Still working out the kinks. Once it’s ready, we’ll roll it out all over the ranch and train the staff on it.”

  “Ahh. Is that the barn we’re headed to first?” he asked pointing to the side.

  She looked forward and muttered an agreement. Trent was over in this area, and his truck was already in view. She hoped he was still out in the field helping Autumn, but when rope flew into his truck bed, she knew she wouldn’t be able to prolong the introduction.

  “That’s the In-Hand Breeding Director. And you’re here because your grandfather left you the ranch and you’re trying to decide if you’re going to keep it.”

  “Good cover story.” Dawson parked next to Trent’s truck, gave her a stiff nod, and got out. She bit her lip as she slid off the supple leather and shut the door.

  Trent whistled. “Nice ride you got there, buddy.” She remembered a time when that voice would have her tingling in all the right places. Now, those places hid in shame and wanted a do-over button.

  “Thank you.” Dawson stuck his hand out and Trent shook it. “Dawson WINTHROP.”

  “Trent Presley.” He nodded at Bindle. “When Brindle here finishes showing you around, you can come see me for the real tour.” He nodded at Dawson, opened his truck door, and said, “Nice meeting ya, Mr. Winthrop.” He cut a glacier gaze to Brindle before slamming the door shut, digging out some of his favorite chewing tobacco, and driving off.

  “What a pleasant man,” Dawson said dryly.

  “He’s a tool.”

  Dawson turned toward her. “I sense some tension between you two. What’s the story?”

  “He’s a mistake.”

  “Ah, well, since he’s your employee how big of a mistake are we talking? Lapse in judgement or illegal?”

  The breath she took was sudden and swift, her brain almost too shocked to formulate a response.

  Almost.

  “He was not my employee. I wasn’t even—we were both ranch hands.”

  “I just want to make sure everything is on the level,” he said gently, and it defused her bubbling anger in an instant.

  “Okay,” she said softly. The last thing she wanted to talk about was her ex. “You’ve met Trent. You have a lot more people to meet and things to see.”

  He followed her into the barn, and she opened her mouth to being reciting some of things she’d wanted to discuss about the history, when another thought came to her.

  “You implied earlier that Mr. Henry is your attorney, too.”

  “I didn’t imply it. I said he was.”

  She rolled her eyes before looking over her shoulder. “Anyway,” she said slowly. “Is that not a conflict of interest or something?” Since he was all for keeping things legitimately clean.

  “How so?” he asked and grabbed the lever before she could.

  Shrugging, she said, “He’s the executor of your grandfather’s estate. Your grandfather left conditions that Mr. Henry will have to decide. If he’s your attorney too, seems like he could play favoritism. We want to keep things on the level.” She couldn’t help but smile at getting to turn his words back on him.

  “He’s not my only attorney, Brindle. I have a team of people. Just like my grandfather did.”

  She doubted she’d ever get used to the idea o
f someone being that rich. What could she say in response? Oh, that’s cool. No way.

  “Actually, I met Henry through a college buddy of mine. Tanner Storm. Henry represents him, too. I didn’t learn about the connection to my grandfather until after putting him on retainer. Henry’s a good man and a thorough attorney. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his reputation.”

  Dawson’s words came across as an attempt to reassure her, and she appreciated it. Not the context, but the sincerity itself. It was also the first time the words out his mouth weren’t strictly business—her momentary lapse in reading him earlier not included. This gave her hope that maybe he’d lighten up a little while he was here. After all, his inheritance wasn’t dependent on the outcome of this little training period. He had nothing to lose.

  She had everything to lose.

  If either of them needed to be uptight, it was her.

  It was beyond time for her to push thoughts of his cologne, looks, or personality aside. None of that mattered. This was business.

  Better a little late than not at all, she thought as she began. “In 1923, the Buckley family…”

  Chapter Three

  Dawson rolled over in his bed, groaning at the light peering through the window. He was technically awake, but he was still exhausted from yesterday. After a few bumps with Brindle first thing, he’d been worried she wouldn’t have the muster to oversee a ranch of her own, but after they’d run into Trent Presley, something had shifted in her. She’d become focused, determined even.

  God, she was beautiful.

  He huffed at his wayward thought as he got out of bed. Yes, Brindle was a beautiful woman. There was no denying that, but he had no right letting his thoughts drift toward her in any regard that wasn’t work related.

  He reminded himself of this as he brushed his teeth.

  Under the hot spray of the shower.

  As he donned a pair of jeans and boots.

  While he read the morning news on his tablet.

  When he was sure he had all inappropriate thoughts of Brindle Attree lassoed, he left his room in search of coffee, thankful to find a pot still on … and that there was no sign of Brindle.

  “I need a few more minutes,” he muttered as he poured a cup.

  He was used to pushing any personal feelings aside when business was the objective. He was pro at it. No feelings, in and out, and on to the next business deal. He’d encountered beautiful, refined, powerful women many times over the years, too. He was man enough to acknowledge their beauty privately, but also smart enough not to allow anything sexual—whether mental or physical—get in the way of business. It was second nature to turn that part of him off.

  Until he saw Brindle in Henry’s office. He’d figured he’d just been intrigued by her, by the woman his grandfather never talked about but had one way or another set up financially for the rest of her life after his death. But it went beyond that. Any lie he’d told himself that night flew out the window after he saw her get out of her old truck yesterday. His attraction to her was strong, and not something he was used to.

  Taking a sip, he walked to the window overlooking the plains. In the distance, he saw someone on a horse with blonde hair flying behind her. He knew instantly it was Brindle. Jesus, she was ethereal as she rode. What he wouldn’t give to be out there with her right now.

  He found his feet moving before he realized his brain had ordered them to do so. That or she was a siren, calling him to his death. He wasn’t ready to talk to her just yet, but he didn’t have the power to command his body to stop.

  I’ll just join her for a ride. Maybe getting up on a horse would help distract him from his musings.

  He didn’t buy it, but he also didn’t care.

  After walking outside, he hopped in the all-terrain vehicle and made his way to the closest barn. The one nearest his grandfather’s house—Brindle’s house—was one where she kept Autumn, the stud who mounted her, and a couple of other mares. When he’d asked why they weren’t in a larger group, Brindle had told him it was Autumn’s first foal and that the stud, although broken, was a spitfire. He did better with a smaller herd.

  Dawson pulled up next to the barn and killed the engine. When he looked up, he saw Brindle heading toward him. Within seconds, she slowed and he walked towards her.

  “Saw you driving this way,” she said as her leg swung over and she dismounted, the movement fluid, like a flag slicing in the wind.

  “Figured after meeting the staff, checking out the stalls and buildings, and doing a cursory overview of monthly expenses, I figured I should start this day with the animals. Are any of the others already saddled?”

  “You mean you want to ride?”

  “Yes.”

  “A horse?”

  He almost chuckled. “Unless you can think of something else?” Where the hell had that come from? He quickly cleared his throat and silently cursed himself. “Yes, a horse,” he added quickly.

  “Yes, I saddled Annabelle before taking Nellie out, but maybe we should find you a nice pony to start out with.”

  He ignored the pony comment and asked “Nellie?” instead, unable to stop the chuckle this time. “As in, ‘Whoa Nellie’?”

  She snorted. “I wasn’t the one who named her.” Brindle led Nellie toward the stalls, and Dawson followed on the other side of the horse. Once inside and Nellie was secured to the post, Brindle began brushing her. To keep from watching, he looked over at Annabelle, and immediately felt drawn to the horse. She was beautiful. Big, and brown, with white socks.

  “Hey, girl,” he said as he ran his hand along her mane.

  “Do I need to show you how to work the saddle?” Brindle called out with a chuckle.

  He shut his eyes, fighting a smile at the sound of her laughter. “No, I can manage.” And the for fun, he added, “Where are the pedals?”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  “You know it was funny,” he said as he grabbed ahold, and swung his leg over the horse. He hadn’t done this in years, but when he was a kid, he always loved being around horses. “You know my grandfather is the one who taught me to ride,” he said, gazing at the roof, not sure where that had come from.

  “Really?” her voice came from beside him, and he looked down, surprised he hadn’t heard her approach. “That’s great. You know he rode with me sometimes when he came out here.”

  “He always loved them. Horses, I mean.” He leaned forward and patted Annabelle.

  “Yeah. He was a good man,” Brindle said softly.

  His gaze locked with hers as emotion filled his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried but in this moment his eyes burned. Oh, he loved his grandfather very much, but emotion was a sign of weakness. He’d been taught at an early age to push anything sad or intrusive away. He blinked once. Twice. The feeling was gone almost as quickly as it had come.

  “Yes, he was,” he said, sitting back up.

  “Hold on, I’ll saddle Sebastian and ride with you. There’s a great spot up in the hills with a big pond. It’s breathtaking.”

  Alone with Brindle in the middle of nowhere? He wasn’t sure if he could handle it. But instead he said, “All right.”

  He watched her bustle around, gaining more appreciation for her by the minute, until she disappeared outside and led the stud in. She made quick work out of securing his saddle, and within no time she mounted herself.

  “Are you ready to see one of the most beautiful things you’ll ever lay your eyes on?”

  When she smiled, he was quite sure he already had.

  “Lead the way.”

  * * * * *

  Brindle had been mentally kicking herself all the way to the pond. It was only the second day the man was here, and they were already going to be alone at an intimate location. Sure, she could tell herself it was part of giving him the complete tour of the ranch, but she knew better. Him acquiring knowledge of a small area on the land that had nothing to do with the horses or their breeding wasn’t relevant t
o anything remotely related to business. So why even bring it up?

  You know why. She sighed, knowing full well she did. She was attracted to Dawson, and some part deep down had a need to gain his approval even on something as personal as her pond.

  Her favorite spot was an area she could escape to when life got to be too rough. Or a place to go when she needed alone time for less dramatic reasons. It was easy to get swept away in the peaceful serenity of the landscape. Sometimes she just needed a recharge, and it was her place to do just that. Whatever she needed, the pond seemed to pull the answers or the strength right from her.

  “This is remarkable,” he said trotting up next to her as they neared their destination.

  She hummed in response, as she looked across the horizon. She’d been leading the way up the trail and had been grateful for the time to collect herself. She felt more prepared now, but she needed to learn from this and figure out a way to keep herself from blurting out suggestions like this again.

  They came to a spot next to a bending tree, adjacent to the pond. They dismounted and tied the horses before strolling toward the sloping edge of the water.

  “How did you find this?”

  “Google Maps,” she said, displaying false seriousness, but couldn’t stop from cracking a smile.

  “You have no poker face,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching, although she knew he was allowing her to see his reaction.

  “I think you were born with one.”

  He laughed at that. “It’s never a good thing to show your hand before you’re ready.”

  “I’m horrible at cards—”

  “Because you have tells—”

  “Stop,” she said with a chuckle. “I was going to say, I’m horrible at them because I don’t know how to shuffle.”

  “What?” he asked, looking genuinely shocked. “How did you go your whole life without picking up that skill? Everybody can shuffle.”

  “Not me. I don’t even own a deck. I do play solitaire on my tablet, though.”

  “That doesn’t count.”

  “Figured you’d say that,” she said and rolled her eyes before sitting on the grass. He took a seat next to her, so she distracted herself by pulling out a weed and twisting it around in her hands.