The Cowboy's Promise: Love Triangle Billionaire Romance (The Wentworth Cowboy Billionaire Series)

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The Cowboy's Promise: Love Triangle Billionaire Romance (The Wentworth Cowboy Billionaire Series) Page 18

by Elizabeth Grey


  “Always has been,” I agreed.

  I didn’t outright panic until the suits arrived. Sam froze as soon as he spotted the ranch’s local attorney and the head of the accounting team. He swore under his breath.

  “Listen,” I said, leaning towards him, “I know things are weird right now, but if you know something and you don’t tell me, I’m going to throw you straight into the biggest manure pile I can find.”

  “I’d help, but I’m not allowed to lift over ten pounds yet,” Crystal added.

  Sam shook his head. “I swear, Sky. I don’t know any more than you do.”

  Dad was obviously in his element. At a minimum, it was worth it to see him laughing and smiling again, showing more of the confidence he’d lost in recent weeks. With a pang, I realized that my father had probably missed his friends now that he was less mobile and often unable to stay awake for extended periods. We’d all had to make difficult adjustments lately, just for different reasons.

  After about half an hour of this bizarre social ritual, my father motioned to the furniture that had been moved into a rough square sometime earlier this morning. He brought his drink over to the table and stretched out onto one of the loveseats. He looked at Crystal and me, then turned until he found Beth. “Ladies, would you mind giving us some privacy?”

  “For what?” I asked.

  He scowled at the interjection. “I have some business matters that I’d like to discuss. Why don’t you take Crystal and… pick some flowers?”

  I wanted to argue, but I’d learned that bickering in public only further solidified his point that I was too emotional to be in charge. The rest of the cowboys acted like this was a perfectly reasonable request, though Gus did purse his lips when he saw Crystal gathering her things. She’d always been the exception. “Sounds good,” she said, always more diplomatic than I was.

  As soon as Dad turned his attention elsewhere, Crystal mimed vomiting onto the floor behind his back. I choked involuntarily and had to smack my chest to recover from the laugh. “Sure thing, Dad.” When Crystal and Beth were over the threshold, I deliberately left the doors open to be as annoying as possible.

  “Seriously, though, I’m going to pick some flowers,” Crystal said, giggling. “My dad’s place smells like too much Taco Bell and general grossness. He won’t let me clean.”

  “You’re supposed to be resting.”

  Crystal rolled her eyes. “And you’re supposed to not be pissing off your daddy so that you can become the boss lady. Doesn’t mean you’re doing it.”

  “That’s fair.” I watched Sam close the door. “What do you think they’re talking about in there? Obviously, it has to do with the ranch.”

  “I have no idea,” Crystal said. “Not like we won’t find out anyway.”

  I grabbed a pair of ordinary scissors from a drawer in the kitchen and tucked a few plastic shopping bags in my pocket for the flowers. “I’m a little worried that something is going to happen while they’re keeping us in the dark.” Like Dad deciding to sell the ranch. “The attorney was there. It has to be serious.”

  To her credit, Crystal put up with my speculation the entire time we were outside. I was so distracted that I didn’t care if she picked every single flower in the yard. “I’d say he was taking a vote, but we both know your daddy doesn’t listen to anyone else,” she said after hearing the bulk of my tangent.

  I tried to stick to the plan and play nice when we were invited back into the sitting room to say goodbye. I hugged Remy and Crystal as they prepared to depart, pretending like I hadn’t just been shunned. I was all smiles, at least on the outside.

  I sidled up to Sam by the front door. “What’s the scoop?” I mumbled out of the corner of my mouth.

  He physically cringed, his shoulders bending inward. “Sky, I promised your father I wouldn’t tell a soul. And I want to tell you, I do, but this isn’t the kind of thing you can hear and not react to.”

  “I’ll just pretend that I don’t know.”

  Sam pressed his lips into a stern line. “I’m sorry. You won’t be able to fake it. Just trust that I’m trying to look out for you, okay?”

  I could feel my eyes literally bulging out of my head. “Trust you? Do you hear yourself right now? ‘Oh, Sky, just let us men make all of the decisions and don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Trust us.’ Because that’s never backfired for women before. This isn’t the eighteenth century.” I folded my arms. “I’m equal to you, Sam, whether you admit it or not.”

  “That isn’t what I’m saying,” he pleaded. “You know I respect you. You know I’m not like your father. But this is his castle.” He gestured to the house around us. “We’re on his gameboard. We have to play. That’s what you don’t get. And if I tell you what’s going on and your dad finds out, he’ll cut me out, too. That won’t help anything except to give you fewer allies in the room.”

  I bit my lip to stem the tears blurring my vision. “How am I supposed to look at myself in the mirror if I play his game? I’d just be admitting that I’m not as good as a man, that I don’t deserve this ranch.”

  “I’m not asking you to compromise your principles.” Sam held his arms out in conciliation and I folded myself against his chest, not caring that there were still other cowboys and cronies milling about. “And I’m not asking you to trust me because I’m a man. I’m giving you a third option.” He smiled down at me. “Have a little faith in me because I’m your friend, and I wouldn’t waste that.”

  “You mean it? Even after our fight?”

  Sam laughed at nothing as Lowell walked by us. The moment we were alone again, he grew somber. “My friendship was never wrapped up in that. It’s not a package deal. I’m not angry with you because you don’t love me. You can’t help that.”

  “But you left me at breakfast.” I squinted at him, a headache already forming. “You moved out.”

  “I was frustrated because it’s like you want all of this to work out without having to budge one inch. You don’t want to play by your father’s rules, but then you’re trying to make all of us play by yours. This is going to take compromise.” He paused and sighed. “I blew up at the diner because you were telling me you don’t love me and then talking in circles trying to make the impossible happen without actually coming up with a plan. It was too much at once. I’m sorry I left you there.”

  “I’m sorry, too. I don’t mean to be inconsiderate of how you feel. I just know that we’re not meant for each other.” This is the conversation I’d been hoping to have, though I would have chosen a different location for it. The last thing I wanted was for the hole in our friendship to become so insurmountable that we couldn’t repair it. “Does this mean you’re moving back in?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sam replied. “I didn’t leave because I was upset with you. That was only part of it. I also need some space of my own. When I’m here, your dad basically has me captive. He can barge in whenever he wants.”

  “Maybe I should move to a hotel, too,” I joked.

  “I should head out. There’s a lot going on that I need to process. And your dad is also staring at us, so we should probably not look like we’re having a moment.”

  “Yup. Off you go.” I practically threw him down the front steps.

  Chapter 21

  The mystery continued the next day and the day after that. At the one-week mark, I made it a point to tour the ranch as often as I could to be accessible to the people attending the frequent closed-door meetings at the main house. I found excuses to be around Lowell and Cooper. I even made myself available if Beth and Gus wanted to approach me in secret.

  None of them did. They’d probably sworn similar oaths to Sam’s.

  I texted separately with Crystal and Hailey, but neither Remy nor Zane let anything slip. I became obsessed with knowing, even going so far as to ask Brian about his opinion. “I try to run away as soon as the food is served,” he explained. “They don’t talk much around me anyway.


  As time went on, I grew more desperate. I checked the mail before Beth could and confirmed that Dad’s personal laptop really was password protected. I felt like a frantic secret agent trying to decipher the big plot.

  At least it kept me from thinking too much about Will. Crystal promised to tell me if there was any news about Bella. It was another reason to envy her and the flexibility that came with not being a Wentworth. Crystal had friends far and wide. She didn’t let feuds and politics affect who she wanted to spend her time with. If anyone objected, she’d simply say something like, That is 100% above my pay grade. I don’t have any Black Gold secrets to give away. I’m just a cowpoke.

  Sam fed me snippets when he could. He finally admitted that they were debating what to do with the ranch in the future, but he wouldn’t tell me any specifics. He’d taken to referring to the group as “the jury.” But unlike a true jury, he wouldn’t be able to hang it if the deliberations turned against me.

  In the back of my mind, I knew that every passing day made returning to New York less likely to happen. Not only did it increase the likelihood that my old firm had replaced me, but it also meant that I was becoming more attached to winning this power struggle.

  Will and my friends had been absolutely right. I’d been jumping all over instead of choosing a way forward and following through. That’s what I needed to do. If I hit a dead end, I could pivot then. But I wasn’t going to jump ship at the first sight of the iceberg.

  When it came to my father, we mostly acted like nothing at all was afoot. We exchanged pleasantries and tolerated each other. Although our interactions were stilted, the tentative peace also gave Beth a break from refereeing our behavior at every meal.

  It couldn’t last forever, though. And finally, after a second week had passed, Dad decided to lift the veil. He asked me to meet him in the library, where I was surprised to see Beth and Sam already waiting at the second of the oversized tables. My face flushed at the sight of the mess I’d left on the other, having assumed—wrongfully, I now knew—that no one came in here anyway.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, still determining whether this was an ambush or not.

  “It’s time to get a few things settled.” Dad folded his hands on the table where there were already four matching leather portfolios with the ranch insignia. “Have a seat.”

  I looked to Sam for reassurance. He nodded once. His presence was honestly a testament to how much my father admired him. I couldn’t recall a single other time Dad had ever let an “outsider” sit in on a family conversation of this magnitude.

  And I knew that it would have enormous implications simply by the formality of it all. Despite Dad’s flare for flaunting his wealth with mansions and his top-of-the-line Range Rover, he usually didn’t insist upon this type of business etiquette among his inner circle.

  I eased into the chair next to Sam, shoving my hands under my thighs to keep myself from reaching for the portfolio. I held my tongue and waited for Dad to speak first. I was so nervous that I didn’t think I could form words anyway.

  Dad cleared his throat. “I’ve spent the past couple of weeks considering the future of this ranch and our family as a whole. I solicited opinions up and down the chain in addition to talking to your brothers.”

  I noticed that he hadn’t cared enough to ask for my opinion. Or maybe my feelings were so obvious that he didn’t need to bother.

  “As you know, I don’t exactly approve of your choices, specifically when it comes to men.” Dad eyed Sam sidelong. “But Sam has expressed that his feelings for you aren’t quite up to the level of marriage, and I can’t think of another appropriate suitor.”

  I tried to telepathically thank Sam while leaning the edge of my knee into his.

  “But I heard that you broke it off with the Blythe boy, which tells me that you’re hearing me,” Dad continued. He scoffed at my shock. “Oh, please. Do you think I’m a fool? I knew what you were doing.”

  “You were testing me?”

  “I was observing you. And contrary to my own serious reservations about your leadership skills, many of the people who weighed in seem to believe that you can handle the responsibility.” He blew out a breath. “This is not my ideal scenario. I’d hoped for Sam to be able to provide some stability and sensibility, but unfortunately, he needs to return to his own obligations on the west coast.”

  “You’re going home?” I asked, turning to Sam. “When?” When I’d asked before, he hadn’t had a set date in mind.

  “Tomorrow, actually. I stayed as long as I could.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know that you had a plan at all.”

  “I told my company that I was going to play it by ear. I’ve been logging in remotely, but there’s just some things that I need to do in person.” He rationalized it well, explaining about an upcoming demo, but I suspected that he’d used his departure as a tactic to pressure my father. Otherwise, this might have dragged on for months.

  It occurred to me then that Dad had known about Will but hadn’t disowned me. Maybe I had more power here than I’d believed. Sam had his own life and my brothers wanted nothing to do with the ranch. If my father tossed me out, there wouldn’t be anyone left to take the literal reins except for the faceless buyer behind that purchase offer.

  Dad opened his portfolio and reached into his pocket for a pen. “This first document is a power of attorney. Take a minute to review it. It gives you authority to make decisions on my behalf when it comes to the business.”

  With shaking fingers, I lifted the cover. The paper was there. It was real.

  This was really happening.

  As an attorney by trade, I thought I’d become immune to the tediousness of paperwork. I was wrong. After three hours of reviewing the various legalities of transferring control of the ranch to me, my brain was practically melting inside my skull.

  As expected, Dad had built in some convenient clauses that allowed him to wrest some power away if he felt that I wasn’t living up to my end of the bargain. Still, I sensed that the worst of the war between us was over. “That should be it,” I quipped, placing the numbered copies in order and sliding them into the center of the table. “Unless I’m overlooking anything?”

  Dad pushed himself back from the table and eyed the decorative rug that was bunching beneath his wheelchair. He smoothed it, then headed for the door. “It’s done. I’m off to sleep now. The rest is incidental.”

  Beth went after him, but I remained behind with Sam. “I guess I should have known better than to expect any congratulations from him,” I mused. He acted like a man off to his own execution. Was it really such a failure to have to hand his legacy off to a daughter instead of a son?

  Sam scrubbed at his face with both hands. “I need alcohol. Do you want to get a drink?”

  “Here?” I pointed towards the sitting room.

  “Let’s go to Stan’s or something. I need a change of scenery.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Eli drove us, the radio tuned to a soothing classical station. I caught sight of myself in the reflection of the window. “We look like hell,” I commented, laughing. “That was… a serious brain drain.”

  Sam had melted, his knees smashed against the seat in front of him. His head bounced and rolled with the motion of the car. “I may never think again.” He smiled at me. “How does it feel to be official?”

  “I’m still processing,” I admitted. “It hasn’t hit me yet. I didn’t even ask Dad if there was going to be some kind of a formal announcement.” That must fall under the “incidental” category.

  We put aside talk of the deal as Eli pulled into the parking lot and let us out by the front door. The place was packed for such an early hour, but with the weather in such a dreary, muggy state, it’s possible that people just wanted to be in the air conditioning. I didn’t blame them after hours cooped up in the staleness of the library, where the temperature and humidity were controlled to the exact percentage point to ke
ep the books in peak condition.

  “Do you want to sit at the bar?” Sam asked, craning his neck to see if there were available stools at the end.

  I was always leery of sitting too in the thick of things if I was going to be chatting with Stan or scrolling through my phone. There were too many cowboys here—both from Black Gold Creek and Wild Brook—that I might not be able to spot. I couldn’t afford to have someone eavesdrop and leak it to the paper.

  It had happened before when someone caught wind of a pending deal that Dad had struck in the strictest confidence. After interrogating half the ranch and launching an all-out manhunt for the culprit, Remy eventually discovered that the person responsible wasn’t even a ranch employee. The banker who’d handled the wire transfer had been gossiping about it in church.

  There was a two-seater spot in the corner opposite the pool tables. “That looks less crowded.” And farther away from familiar faces who could potentially be listening in.

  We practically fell into the chairs. Sam grabbed the laminated drink list stuffed in the napkin holder and read through the list. “No Domaine Leroy on their wine list. Huh.”

  I laughed. One of the things I routinely failed to appreciate about Sam was his ability to fit into both of my worlds. He could go out branding with me on Monday and crack jokes about ten-thousand-dollar bottles of wine on Tuesday. “Have you ever had stuff?”

  He looked insulted. “No way. I could have a trillion dollars and still think it was absurd.”

  I rubbed the tattoo on my wrist as I mulled over the fact that if Will had that same adaptability, New York wouldn’t have to be out of the question. A little voice in my mind also reminded me that if I was more adaptable, Wyoming wouldn’t have to be out of the question. “Am I a hopeless brat if I don’t feel any better now that I’ve gotten my way?”

  “Maybe a bit,” Sam admitted, though not unkindly. “But it’s kind of a backhanded compliment, isn’t it? Your father didn’t do this because he wanted to. He did it because there wasn’t a better option. That has to sting.”

 

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