Her Captivating Billionaire Cowboy Boss
Billionaire Hearts Club
Blake Andrews
Copyright ©2019 by Blake Andrews
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, with the exception of brief quoted passages left in an online review. This book is a fictional story. All characters, names, and situations are of the author’s creation. Any resemblances to actual situations or to persons who are alive or dead are purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; this copy is not available for resale or to give to another reader aside from any transaction through Amazon’s e-book lending program.
Contents
Her Captivating Billionaire Cowboy Boss
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Preview Of Her Charming Billionaire Doctor
Chapter 1
Preview Of The Cowboy’s Match
Chapter 1
About the Author
Her Captivating Billionaire Cowboy Boss
Billionaire Hearts Club
Chapter One
San Antonio, Texas
Doug scooted his chair back away from the table, standing. “Thanks for another pleasant evening, gents,” he said to his friends. “I need to be heading back to the ranch.” No matter how often he said that, he still found it amusing, not least of all because instead of it being a silly expression, it was actually true in his case. He often visited New York to see his friends Ashton, Craig, and Tim at the club called The Executive while he was in town to work on his new resort ranch up north near Poughkeepsie. The ranch he spoke of now was not the one in New York, though. He actually had a lot of work to do back home on his family’s ranch in San Antonio, Texas. The transition from proper cattle ranch to a resort one wasn’t going as smoothly as Doug would have liked.
“Have fun,” Craig said with a smile.
“Give my best to the family,” Ashton said.
“I hope everything goes smoothly,” Tim added.
Doug’s friends understood, at least somewhat, what he was going through. He liked to try and brush his familial problems under the rug and be silly most of the time, but it didn’t mean they didn’t still exist.
He left the social club and stepped into his waiting limousine, riding off to JFK airport so he could board his family’s private jet. Doug liked to think of it as his ‘family’s’ jet, but really it belonged to him now that his father was gone. Fred Crofton had been a hard-working, enterprising man who’d had big ideas for the future of his ranch. A type A personality, he worked himself to death and died a few years back of a heart attack at the age of fifty-seven, leaving the control of the ranch in Doug’s hands.
After taking the reins, Doug decided to go in a different direction from the one his father would likely have taken, much to the shock – at the time – of his mother, Helen. He’d shifted things towards a ranch resort that catered to weddings and other large-scale events rather than continuing the trajectory the ranch had more or less been on since the 1960s. Doug was confident that this would bring even bigger success to the family, and indeed it had since he had moved to open another ranch resort in New York. His mother warmed to the idea when she realized she could put some of her event planning skills to work instead of being in the backseat like she’d been while her husband was alive.
Doug was grateful to finally have his mother’s support, but she was also the reason he was now on a plane back to Stony Creek Ranch. He didn’t like to stay away from home for too long, but he did have a lot of work to do for Red Rocks Ranch in Poughkeepsie, too, and he didn’t like being a distant CEO…
He also didn’t want to be a distant father.
His five-year-old son Devon lived back in San Antonio, looked after by a very professional and helpful nanny named Edith whenever he invariably had to make a trip for work. Edith was a Godsend for him because his mother and his aunt were often too busy with resort affairs to deal with the child. Doug sat in his cushy seat on the jet and looked out the window, thinking about his son instead of work matters for a while. As always, he had a small souvenir for Devon in his suitcase, but he knew he couldn’t pay a bunch of money to make up for time not spent with him.
I’m becoming my dad, Doug thought. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t and here I am doing it anyway.
During the four-hour flight, he looked over expense reports and the event schedule on his laptop, not overly worried about things getting done as much as he was worried that his mother and aunt would kill each other. The women were sisters, close in age, and therefore prone to fighting and failing to see eye-to-eye much of the time. Doug was happy to have their help, but it was often a challenge to get them to work together. This was the reason he’d decided to rush back and get things back under his control. He told himself it wasn’t worth panicking about while he was up in the air and couldn’t do anything, but it was easier said than done.
When the plane finally landed at San Antonio International Airport, Doug felt more than ready to greet his family. He’d had enough time to get up to speed with things on the ranch and even take a nap. A limo was there to greet him as soon as he’d gathered his suitcases and left the airport. The drive out to Stony Creek was a doozy, but it was all right with Doug because he enjoyed gazing out the window at the rocky hills and green valleys that made up the landscape. As much as he loved New York City, there was no way he planned to become a city-slicker. No way, Jose, not in this lifetime.
The limousine finally stopped at the gate outside of Stony Creek Ranch and the driver showed his I.D. so they could drive on through and up to the main house. No one who came to stay on the resort actually stayed in the house where his family lived, but it did indeed make a nice backdrop for wedding photos. Doug smiled, getting out of the car and looking up at the red-clay-roofed house with its orange-tan stone exterior. It looked like something Daniel Boone might’ve lived in and that was just how Doug liked it.
“Daddy!” a little boy’s voice bellowed.
Doug looked down towards the front entrance and saw the form of his son Devon running towards him at breakneck speed. His smile only got bigger.
“C’mere, rascal,” he said, kneeling down and bringing the little boy into his arms.
Devon hugged him tightly, not crying or overly emotional but clearly glad to see his dad again.
It didn’t take long for Edith to come bustling out of the house. She smiled as soon as she saw Devon in Doug’s arms. “I thought it must be you,” she said. “He’s been talking about you all morning.”
“Good things, I hope,” Doug said with a wink to the nanny, standing back up and quickly slapping the dirt off the knees of his jeans. “How have things been here?”
The little boy stayed close to him rather than running back to be beside his nanny like Doug had expected. The time away really did make Devon want to be with him more. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. He hoped the child was fond of him.
“Oh, you know, the same as ever,” Edith replied with a quick roll of her eyes. She was a woman in her mid-forties, with slightly graying blonde hair and fuchsia glasses that made her appear more youthful. Doug was proud of himself for finding and hiring her. “They never can seem to agree on anything. We just do our best to stay out of their way, don’t we,
Devon?”
The little boy looked over at her and nodded his russet head. “They’re loud,” he remarked.
Doug chuckled and reached down, tousling his son’s hair a bit. He had the same hair as his father, but that was where the resemblance ended, in Doug’s opinion. Devon had the keen, emerald eyes of his mother, and the same deep dimples in each cheek when he smiled. He hadn’t been graced with Doug’s freckles, which Doug thought should be a relief to him. No one was going to call him ‘Opie’ when he was a little older. Then again, people in Devon’s generation likely didn’t know who Opie was. Doug could thank his parents for that one…
“Let’s see what your daddy can do about that,” he said to his son, picking him up and holding him against his left hip as he carried him into the house. The chauffeur followed with his suitcases, working with a butler to take care of putting the clothing in its proper place.
“Oh, there you are,” his mother Helen said, coming immediately over to give Doug a hug. He carefully set Devon down on the floor so he could hug her back, wrapping his strong arms around her. She’d gotten thinner over the years, slightly smaller, but she was still the tough woman she’d always been. Ever since giving her the reins of the events portion of his newly transformed dude ranch, she’d really blossomed. The living room in which they now stood was evidence; they’d done away with the sofas and chairs and essentially turned the room into her giant office. At that very moment, papers were tacked against the wall, outlining the schedule and plans for the rest of the year at Stony Creek.
Helen didn’t look like she’d been getting enough sleep, but she somehow also looked happy. She patted Doug on his cheeks as they broke away from their hug. “How was New York?” she asked him, moving back over to the wall so she could resume her work, organizing papers covered in color-coded Sharpie.
Doug went over to the desk chair nearby and sat down, watching her work with mild curiosity. Devon, meanwhile, busied himself with the toy box on the opposite side of the room. It may have been designated as an office, but there still had to be toys for the kid. No one wanted him to stay cooped up in his room all of the time.
“New York was good,” Doug answered. “My friends all say hello. The ranch out there is looking great. It’ll probably get a lot more attention than this one does, no offense. The area back there is just more attuned to tourism and entertainment.”
His mother waved that off. “I know,” she said. “I don’t think I could handle too much attention. If we have more than five big weddings here a year, I have heart palpitations.”
Doug laughed slightly. “I hope you only have figurative ones,” he said. They both knew, of course, how his dad died. It was a good sign they could joke about it, especially her because she’d been so lost without her husband at first.
“Yes, of course,” Helen said with a laugh. “But, you know, I can handle stress but not too much. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
He smiled at her. He knew. One thing he’d been thinking about and sort of grappling with was the idea of making some new hires. Some fresh blood, younger minds could be good for Stony Creek, but he knew his mother wasn’t going to take kindly to that idea. Neither would her sister.
“What about Aunt Bea?” he asked her. “How is she handling all this added new stress?”
Helen made a face, a sort of exasperated, ‘you already know’ expression. “She’s handling it the way she always does, by taking out all of her frustrations on me. Which I guess I can’t blame her, because she’s the first one I gripe to as well.” She chuckled a little, but it sounded just as frustrated as amused. “Ever since she stepped down as chair of her BBQ place and started being in charge of catering here, she’s been throwing everything into it. I think she misses the homelike atmosphere of her restaurant, but she’s not going to give up on working here at Stony Creek. I just never knew she could be such a drill sergeant in the kitchen. I feel bad for the staff.”
Doug laughed softly, but he also felt concerned about what she told him. He couldn’t have his aunt scaring his catering staff or he was liable to lose them. “Well, hopefully now that I’m here, things can settle down a bit. I don’t want either of you to work too hard, or scare away our staff. A good staff isn’t easy to find, as you well know.”
He didn’t want to stay in his mother’s hair while she was working, though. He was feeling pretty tired from the change of time zones, and he also thought it was a good time to sit and relax with his son for a while. Standing from the desk chair, Doug moved over to where Devon was playing and sat down cross-legged on the floor beside him. “Whatcha doing?” he asked him, curious.
Devon held a green plastic army helicopter aloft in one hand while the other held a small plastic person. Doug was curious about whatever drama was playing out in his son’s mind, though it was likely to only make sense to Devon. “I’m being an army pilot,” the boy explained. “He’s capturing this guy’s land.”
“I see,” Doug said. “Well, that’s not very nice of him. Why are you capturing this guy’s land?”
“Because he lost it in a war,” Devon said matter-of-factly.
This made sense to Doug, but he did have to wonder where the five-year-old had learned about war already. He hoped the child hadn’t been watching the news or history documentaries. Who knew what his mother or aunt put on at night when they were settling in before bed? Doug also hoped his son went to bed well before the older women did. He trusted Edith to know what was best.
“I brought something back for you from the city,” he informed his son with a big grin for emphasis. “Do you want to see what it is?”
Devon gasped, looking at his father with such surprise. As if he didn’t often come back with presents for him. Even though he worked a lot and was therefore absent a lot, he always made sure to remember him and bring him back something fun from his travels. “Yes!” Devon said excitedly, dropping the little man figure and setting down the helicopter. “What is it?”
“We have to go to my suitcase to find out,” Doug told him, enthusiasm pouring into his voice. Whether it was for his son’s benefit or due to his own actual feelings was anyone’s guess.
Taking Devon by the tiny hand, he walked from the room and out into the hallway of the ranch house. They went up the stairs together, down the hall and into Doug’s master bedroom. The suitcase from his latest New York excursion was sitting on the floor at the foot of the giant bed. It had already been opened by one of the maids most likely, which meant that Devon’s present was left alone inside. Thank goodness I had them wrap it or the surprise would be ruined, he thought. He walked over and scooped it up before Devon could grab it.
It was wrapped in blue paper with red and gold stripes, and the shopkeeper had even added a swirly gold bow to one corner. He wanted Devon to appreciate the wrapping before tearing into it to see what his dad had given him this time.
“What is it?” Devon asked, clambering onto the bed with a lot of effort.
Oftentimes, when he was home, Doug would let Devon sleep in the bed with him. Partially because he wanted his son to know he was close and partially because he wanted to be close to him. Ever since his wife Roxanne had passed away, sleeping alone had been difficult for him, so he considered Devon almost like his security blanket sometimes. At least he had him. They had each other.
He sat beside him on the bed, still grinning about the most excellent present he’d bought for his son. He handed it over to Devon, who of course immediately ripped all of the pretty paper off to reveal the LEGO pick-up truck and caravan set. “Wow, cool!” the little boy shouted, quickly doing his best to tear into the box as well.
Doug laughed. “Here, let me help you. Actually, as a matter of fact, why don’t we move into your playroom so we don’t lose any pieces in here?”
They took each other by the hand and did just that, sitting on the floor on top of the rug with a railroad map design painted onto it. Doug took his keys from his pocket and used one of them to rip the
tape and help them open the playset box. Devon excitedly pulled out the pieces to make the red pickup truck and the white caravan, ignoring the little yellow people that would ride in them for the time being. Doug noticed his son didn’t much care for action figures of the people in his playsets, but he thought he wouldn’t always be like that. Little kids were always changing interests and hobbies.
“I wanted to get you your own ranch set, but they don’t make those for kids your age,” he explained while Devon put together his new truck. There weren’t as many small parts in sets made for ages five and up, because five-year-olds were still at risk for choking on small pieces, even though he didn’t think Devon would do something like that. Devon could do no wrong, in his eyes. But he may have been a tad biased.
“That’s okay,” Devon said, totally engrossed with his new LEGO vehicles. “I don’t need a toy ranch when I live on a real one.”
Doug laughed and nodded. “That’s true. Do you like living on a ranch?”
Devon nodded. “Uh huh. There’s lots to do here.”
There wasn’t really a lot for such a young child to do on a dude ranch, but Doug knew as Devon got older, it would become more thrilling for him. He didn’t really care for parties with a bunch of rich adults he didn’t know, and who could blame him? Doug didn’t always go for that sort of thing either, but he would gladly profit off of it anyway.
He sat in the playroom with Devon and mostly watched as his son played with his new toys, helping to put them together but letting Devon’s imagination take the wheel.
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