Bad Boy Billionaire: F#cking Jerk 2

by Tawny Taylor

  Hurt.

  Like.

  Hell.

  And then…

  Relief.

  Air.

  I rocked my head to the side.

  Clay was slumped on the ground, eyes open.

  Holy shit! Was he dead?

  My heart pounded against my breastbone.

  What happened?

  I log-rolled onto my stomach and pushed up on all fours. My movements weren’t exactly graceful as I reached for him. My arm stabbed out, instead of moving smoothly. I accidentally smacked him in the face.

  “Ow!” he yelled.

  He yelled!

  “You’re not dead?” I screamed.

  “Not yet. But you and that old coot are trying hard to change that.”

  On hands and knees, I crawled closer, gaze roving over his body, looking for blood. “Ohmygod, no. I’m not trying to kill you. I didn’t see you.”

  Clay grimaced. One arm was resting across his chest. “That’s what he said too.”

  Outside of his scowl and slightly greenish complexion, I didn’t see anything wrong. Why was he on the ground? “What happened?”

  “The bastard shot me.”

  Shot? “What? Where?”

  His face a pale mask of pain, Clay shifted the arm on his chest. “Here.” He inched his arm to the side, revealing a red stain on his shirt, just below his collarbone.

  My heart literally stopped. “Ohmygod!” I froze. Should I touch him? Should I not? What should I do? I’d never been in this situation.

  Get your fucking head together.

  “Easy, kitten. I don’t need you passing out on me too,” Clay said, his voice strained.

  Shit! Shit!

  I blinked. My heart was thumping really hard. I needed to slow it down.

  Shot. Clay was shot!

  And what the hell could I do?

  What was that? That noise?

  Phone?

  Phone!

  I smacked it against my ear. “Are you there?” I yelled.

  “Yes, I’m here. What’s happening?” said the dispatcher, her voice calm and reassuring. “Talk to me.”

  “One of my hired hands accidentally shot the other. We’re out in a field behind my farm. The victim is awake and aware. But he doesn’t look good.” I swung my head left, right. “Where the hell is that ambulance?”

  “Help is on the way,” she assured me. “They’re almost there.”

  “I’ve been waiting forever.”

  “It seems that way, I know. What is the shot man doing now?”

  I looked at Clay. Wow, his lips were pale. Like, white. “Not much of anything.”

  “Is he still breathing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. The paramedics are on your property. How do they find you?”

  “Tell them to come straight back, across the pasture and through the line of trees. I’ll meet them.”

  Clay grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, kitten.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I ran as hard as I could. Legs pumping furiously. I crashed through the tree line and nearly took down two EMT’s in the process. To avoid plowing into them, I swerved and collided with something big and tall...and really fucking hard.

  They immediately turned to me, but I jutted out an arm, pointing in Clay’s direction. I was hurt, yes. But I’d live. I wasn’t so sure about Clay. They needed to take care of him first.

  The two men continued on while I tried to recover from my intimate moment with what turned out to be a tree. Several more followed, and I waved them on when they hesitated.

  I wanted to get back to Clay for some reason. I felt he needed me there. Crazy, huh? It wasn’t like we were friends. Really, it would make more sense for me to stay out of the way.

  Yes, of course it would.

  Still, I couldn’t help dragging my banged-up body back through the trees and out into that pasture.

  Maybe I was afraid they wouldn’t find him. After all, I’d literally fallen over him. But, as I emerged from the woods, I saw they were gathered around him.

  I approached the group but hung back so I won’t be in the way. They had wires and tubes connected to him. And he was lying on a stretcher. Two men carried the stretcher while several others walked alongside with the equipment. I followed them to the vehicle, catching Cockroach talking to a police officer nearby. Once they shut Clay in the ambulance, I approached Cockroach and the officer.

  Cockroach looked like he’d been through hell and back. His hands trembled more than normal, and his face was almost as pale as Clay’s. I felt absolutely awful for him. I knew he would never hurt someone intentionally. This was an accident. No doubt about it.

  The officer turned to me and began hammering me with questions, starting with my name and progressing to more challenging questions as I responded. I repeated the truth, over and over. But for some reason it seemed he wasn’t believing me. He kept asking me the same questions again and again, as if he believed one time I’d slip up and say what he wanted to hear. After an eternity, I told him I needed to go and he handed me a card and told me to contact him if I had any further information to share.

  Feeling as if I’ve just been interrogated (which I had), I watched him go.

  What a fucking day!

  By then there was no sign of Cockroach.

  I headed inside the house and collapsed on the couch. It was after seven o’clock already. Holy shit. Over two hours ago, I’d been heading out to thank Clay for helping me catch up with the work on the ranch. Two hours ago Clay had been healthy and whole.

  Now…I had no idea.

  Was he in surgery? Was he…alive?

  I wanted to go see how he was, but I wasn’t a family member. I doubt I would be allowed to see him.

  Dammit.

  Was this my fault? I’d known Cockroach was crazy-fast with that gun. And I hadn’t warned Clay. I should have warned him. Yes. I most definitely should have.

  Why hadn’t I?

  If I had, maybe Clay wouldn’t be in the hospital now.

  Chapter 4

  Until today I’d never known how fucking slow twenty-four hours could go. Wow, could hours drag. It was absolute torture. But almost twenty-four hours after Clay was rushed off to the hospital, I was able to speak with him. On the phone.

  He was alive and well and coming home tomorrow.

  I knew where he lived. I’d been to his family’s ranch years ago. I never thought I’d go back there.

  Sometimes life threw some wicked curveballs.

  As for Cockroach, he didn’t show for work this morning.

  I did what I could myself and some thousand years later, so exhausted I didn’t care about eating dinner, I literally crashed into my bed.

  This life was hard! There was always work to do. So much work. Hard work. And not enough hours to get it all done.

  I hurt everywhere. My legs. My back. My shoulders. Even my fingers. And my eyeballs.

  I was filthy but I didn’t care. All I wanted was sleep.

  I closed my eyes.

  Damn, this bed felt good. Really, really gooooood…

  I jumped.

  Oh hell. What was that?

  Elvis?

  No. Knocking?

  Knocking. Someone was at the door.

  Fuck it. I was tired. I shoved my head under the pillow and clamped by eyelids shut.

  Bed time.

  Sleep time.

  Sleeeeep…

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  Shit! I smashed my pillow against my head.

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  Who the hell was busting down my door? Why wouldn’t they give up and come back tomorrow?

  Swearing under my breath, I log-rolled across the bed and staggered to my feet.

  All I wanted was some fucking quiet. Normally that was all I got. Quiet. And more quiet. Except for stupid Elvis.

  So what the hell?

  Grumbling a slew of curse words that would make my mother cry in
shame, I dragged my aching body to the door and opened it.

  Something slammed into me.

  A body.

  A female body?

  Harper! My ex-roommate.

  What the hell was she doing in BFE Nowhere? After graduation she accepted a job in Chicago. A great job.

  “I had to come see you!” Harper explained as she practically assaulted me. “I can’t believe you haven’t texted or called me in weeks. What the hell, girl? I thought we were friends,” she jabbered.

  I blinked.

  Harper, it was her, wasn’t it?

  I blinked again.

  Here. In Dawson.

  Harper.

  “This is Wyoming,” I informed her.

  “No kidding!” She laughed, tossing her sleek blond hair over her shoulder. “It sure isn’t Chicago.”

  “Yeah, speaking of which, the job…?”

  “Not for me.” She gave one of her trademark drama queen sighs. “I quit after a week.”

  That sounded like my roommate all right. Quitting a job that paid over a hundred thousand a year after just one week? Sure. Why not?

  “Why?” I asked, flabbergasted as I motioned her inside.

  She flopped down on the couch. “It sucked so bad. I hated it.”

  Sucked? She didn’t know the meaning of the word. My life sucked right now. Sucked balls in every sense of the expression. Sucked so bad nobody would want to be in my shoes…which had to be thrown out because they were caked in shit.

  But it was great having a friend here. It was getting really lonely living in this house by myself. I plopped down beside her. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”

  “Me too. But hey, if it had, I wouldn’t be here now.” She glanced around, eyes huge. “Here. In this…beautiful place.”

  I laughed. “What? Don’t like my place?”

  “You know, it’s a good thing I’m here.” She smoothed her hand over the thousand year old crocheted afghan draped over the back of the couch. “Because if you think anything in this place is acceptable, you need more help than I thought. And, seeing as I happen to have a degree in interior design…”

  Ah, I saw a twinkle in her eye. “Are you looking to make this a temporary thing or permanent?”

  She glanced around. “Though this isn’t exactly my scene, Chicago kind of burned me out. I might consider sticking around for a while. Maybe a year or so.”

  “Well, then you have free reign. Design to your heart’s content.”

  Her face beamed so brightly I almost went blind.

  “But there’s a catch,” I added, knowing that huge grin was about to turn into a serious frown.

  “What’s that?”

  “My budget?”

  She grimaced. “Don’t tell me.”

  “Yeah, it’s…” I stuffed my hand in my pocket and withdrew what I found in it. A buckle from one of the horse’s harnesses, a penny and some lint. I dropped it into her palm. “There you go.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve done more with less.”

  “Then you’re hired. As an interior designer. But on one condition.”

  “I thought we just discussed the sole condition of my employment?” She eyed me warily.

  “Technically, that was a catch, not a condition ,” I explained.

  “Ah, got it.” She tapped the tip of her perfect, pierced little nose. “So what’s the condition?”

  “You help around the ranch. I’m a little short on help right now. I need the hands.”

  She pursed her lips. “Help? You mean, like brush the horses and stuff?”

  “Yeah, like that.”

  She shrugged. “Sure. I can do that. I like horses. I think. I’ve never met one in person, actually. Um, I need to ask one more favor.”

  A favor? Considering what she’d just offered, and the fact that she was my best friend in the whole freaking world, how could I refuse? “What’s that?”

  Another dramatic sigh. “Do you happen to need a roommate?”

  I threw my arms around her.

  She laughed as I cried. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  The next morning came way too soon. Harper and I were up until three o’clock in the morning, talking about everything. We talked about her job. We talked about the ranch.

  We talked about Clay.

  Of course she saw my side and totally got why I was so angry. But she also wanted to give Clay the benefit of the doubt.

  “Maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe he doesn’t want this ranch,” she said as she sat cross-legged on my bed at about midnight, the carcass of a carton of chocolate ice cream lying between us. She took a break from licking her spoon to add, “I mean, if he already owns a butt ton of land, why would he need more?”

  “Can millionaire land tycoons have too much land?” I shot back.

  “Sure they can. They still have to pay taxes on it, right?”

  She had a point, one I hadn’t considered before now. “Still, even if he doesn’t want the ranch, that doesn’t explain why he’s been such a dick to me.”

  “Men are naturally dicks.” Harper sighed like the lead actress she used to be in school. “And who do they treat the worst? The girls they like. I mean, look at my ex. Do you remember how he treated me when we first met?”

  I did, now that she’d mentioned it. I’d forgotten how she’d ranted about him all the time. “Sure, I do. But isn’t that why he’s an ex?” Harper made some good points. But I wasn’t one hundred percent convinced. For one thing, if Clay didn’t want me to fail, why make it impossible for me to hire help?

  Regardless of my suspicions, we both agreed I should go see him today. And so we dressed, swallowed a gulp of breakfast, and charged outside to dig into our chores. To my total shock, a truck bumped up the driveway just as we were heading to the barn to get started. The truck wasn’t Cockroach’s.

  Harper’s brows jumped. Her jaw dropped as her eyes tracked the vehicle’s driver as the truck traveled past us. “Who is that?”

  “That was Mike. And I don’t know why he’s here.” With Harper hot on my tail, I scurried toward the truck, now pulled into a parking spot and shut down. Behind me, I heard the crunch and pop of another vehicle coming up the drive. I suspected it was Cockroach. Stopping next to the driver’s side door, I beamed a grateful smile at Mike. Since firing Clay, I hadn’t had access to a mechanic. There were a lot of jobs waiting for him. “Good morning! Surprised to see you here today.”

  Mike’s gaze ping-ponged back and forth between me and Harper. His smile cranked up to the blinding wattage of a tropical sun at noon. “Yeah, the other job wrapped up early, and Walker said you could use some help.”

  “You can say that again,” Harper piped in. She thrust out a hand, hello-there-stud grin sparkling from ear to ear. “Harper,” she said.

  He accepted her hand and gave it a shake while plopping his hat on his head. “Mike.”

  “Good to meet you,” she said, checking him out from boots to hat. “Are you a real cowboy? You know, like do you ride bulls and stuff?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Wow, that’s sexy,” she purred.

  His responding laugh was sexy. “Most of the time I’m just a mechanic. Which isn’t so sexy.”

  “That depends,” I piped in. “If your car’s dead and you’re desperate, a mechanic is the sexiest man in the world.”

  Mike chuckled again and shrugged. “Was just doin’ my job.” He cocked his head toward what I quickly realized was a long line of approaching vehicles with Cockroach’s leading the train. “No different than the rest of the crew.”

  The crew! They were here! All of them.

  Well, almost all.

  Clay wasn’t coming.

  Harper clapped her hands over her gaping mouth. “What’s this?”

  “The crew,” I said, so happy to see them I almost jumped up and down like a toddler who’d just won a trip to a toy store.

  “I thought you said you were desperate for help?” she asked, brown e
yes practically popping out of her skull. She leaned in to me. “These guys aren’t just men; they’re fucking gorgeous men! What the hell? Did you hire every male stripper in the state? Holy shit! I’m never leaving here! Never!” She flung her arms around me and squeezed all the air out of my body. “I fucking love you! I fucking love Wyoming!”

  That made two of us.

  Chapter 5

  I didn’t even recognize the Walker ranch as I drove up the driveway. It was so different now.

  Back when I’d first met Clay, the old-as-dirt wood frame (shack) house had been a gust away from becoming firewood. That building, with all its late Victorian charm, was gone. And in its place was a rambling brand new, gorgeous brick and stone ranch house.

  I was so freaking jealous!

  And impressed.

  How did Clay go from poor farmer’s son to flipping millionaire? He hadn’t even gone to college. Hell, he’d barely graduated from high school.

  Yet somehow he’d managed to keep his family’s ranch afloat when so many others had either been shut down, gone belly up, or had sold out to bigger outfits. But, seeing the major upgrades he’d made on his family’s ranch, he’d not only managed to keep the ranch afloat but had also turned a healthy profit.

  Now I was beginning to see why my aunt had asked him to work on her ranch. Clearly she wasn’t doing it for him. He didn’t need the pittance he was being paid.

  She did it for her ranch. He knew how to turn a failing business around.

  That made sense. A lot of sense.

  However there was still that issue with the crew. Why did they walk off the job when I’d fired Clay? And why wouldn’t he tell them to go back once I asked him to come back? If he wasn’t out to make the ranch fail so he could take it over, what was that all about? He’d said…or had he?...that the crew worked for him, wherever he said. So why wouldn’t he simply tell them to keep working for me?

  If Clay was up for it, I wanted some answers. If not, I would have to wait. After all, he’d been shot on my property. By my employee. I wouldn’t push him.

  With a million questions whipping through my head, I poked the doorbell and listened to the chimes play inside. Would Clay answer the door? Was he able to?

  No.

  And no.

  A beautiful blond woman answered the door. I couldn’t help noticing her banging body. This was not the typical trying-too-hard, fake-boobs kind of girl I’d seen Clay with lately. This girl was absolutely gorgeous. Even with her hair in a messy bun and wearing barely any makeup.