Faking It with my Billionaire Grump

2. Jake

2

Jake

We’re in the stables, and Mr. Reynolds is down on one knee, taking a long look at Greta. When I was riding my mare over the land yesterday, she hit uneven ground and jolted me so hard that I was nearly flung from the saddle. That takes some doing. At nearly six feet tall, I’m a big guy. Apprehensive of the damage she’d done to herself, I walked her back, which took a while, but I didn’t mind. My legs are just fine.

But now I’m worried.

The vet beside me has looked after my animals for nearly ten years; he did the same for Dad when he was still alive. He’s been there for me many times, whether it’s been difficult births, injuries, or the animals needing inoculations. I know this man.

He’s creeping into his sixties, his white hair thinning a little, but he’s strong. He’s a few inches shorter than me—most people are—but he’s broad and looks after himself. I also know when he thinks there’s a problem, even if he is trying to hide it.

“It’s bad, right?” I say, lowered on my haunches beside him.

“It isn’t good, Jake. But I’ve given her a shot, which will help with the pain. Let’s see how she goes. I might be getting ahead of myself, and she might be just fine.”

I stand then, and resting my hands on my hips, I heave a sigh.

“Hey.” Marty stands and looks at me. “Let’s not jump the gun, okay? In twenty-four hours, we’ll know more.”

For a man who runs a ranch, I get far too attached to my animals. I know that. But I suppose that’s why I love what I do. These wonderfully powerful beasts make my day better, and against plenty of advice, I’ve named every one of them. And there are a lot.

When he’s finished, I walk Marty to his truck. He takes a long look around the acres of property that surround us, and he smiles and shakes his head. “You’ve done a great job here, Jake. Your father would have been proud.”

Marty and Dad were good friends.

I glance up to the sky. “Maybe he still is.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He nods with a slow smile.

Dad bought this place before my brothers and I were even born. It was far smaller then, but we grew up helping Dad with the land. Mom died when we were all still in school, and I think the ranch helped each of us with our healing in one way or another.

When he was old enough, my older brother, Cal, went off to make his fortune. He was the smart one of the family. He now lives over a thousand miles away with a booming business in real estate. Something he taught me after his own success. Joey married young. He’s my younger brother. He still lives in Baskington, but after he moved out, there was only me and Dad.

Both of my brothers knew I’d inherit the ranch. Dad left them some money, but there was never any doubt in my mind that this is what I wanted to do. A lot has changed since then, though, and the ranch is now five times bigger than it was. That’s mainly due to Cal teaching me how to make my money work for me and the fact that my portfolio includes far more real estate than just the ranch.

Marty still hasn’t moved, and he’s looking at me curiously, like he wants to say something.

“Spit it out, Marty; it’ll be dark soon.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m just thinking how nice this place would look with a Mrs. Coulter. You’re in your early thirties, Jake. I thought you’d have found yourself a nice girl to share all this with by now.”

I shake my head. “I’ve got everything I need right here. I’ve got my horses, my cattle, my pigs, and my land. They keep me busy enough. Besides”—I smirk—“I like the quiet.”

Marty grins, but I can see he isn’t convinced. “Still,” he says, “a good woman could be the making of this place. No man is an island, Jake.”

I smirk as he quotes John Donne to me. Yes, I know I might look like a cowboy with my boots, hat, and muscular build, but believe it or not, I can read, too. Go figure.

At that moment, Elsa, my trusty German shepherd, comes to sit at my heel. She’s been my constant companion since she was a pup. She’s that well-trained; I hardly need to give her commands anymore.

I nod down at her. “There’s only one lady in my house,” I reply. “Besides, I can’t have Elsa getting jealous now, can I?”

The older man laughs again and then shakes his head. He reaches out a kind hand and strokes Elsa’s huge head. “No, you sure can’t.”

Once he’s climbed into the truck, Marty hooks an elbow on the door and looks back at me. “I’ll call over again tomorrow and see how Greta is doing. Just keep her comfortable.”

“Sure thing.” I nod.

The engine roars, and the truck moves off, the tires crunching over the stone gravel of the track. A plume of dust rises in Marty’s wake, and after a minute, I slip my hands into my jeans and blow a long breath out. There’s always something when you run a ranch as big as mine, and right now, I’m worrying about losing my oldest horse.

“Come on, Elsa. Let’s go back and see how Greta’s doing.”

Passing the four other horses I have in the stables, I get to Greta’s stall. The mare is still lying down, and crouching down next to her, I talk to her gently.

“It’ll be alright, girl. Don’t you worry. We’re going to fix you right up.”

Elsa has a good sniff and then sits obediently beside me. I glance between my two girls and shake my head. “Did you hear what Marty said? Like I could ever have anyone replace either of you two.”

There was someone once, but she hiked it off to New York, never to be seen again. I’ve had dates here and there, but I’m not interested in commitment. Not after what happened.

What do they say? Once bitten, twice shy.

Well, it was some bite. It was so deep that I’ve still got the teeth marks.

An hour after Marty left, my phone rings, and seeing the caller ID, I pick up.

“Hey, Joey.”

“Hey,” he replies, sounding miffed.

“What’s going on?”

“Sheila’s pregnant again,” he huffs.

“Wow!” I gasp, a little taken aback at the blunt news.

“It’s not ‘wow’ for me,” he grumbles. “I thought I was done with screaming babies and sleepless nights. Now, we’re going to have to do it all over again.”

I grin. “You did have some part in that, you know.”

“Shut up, Jake,” he bites back.

With a chuckle, I say, “Well, congratulations.”

My brother already has three children, all girls and all under the age of ten, so he’s pretty outnumbered. But my nieces are beautiful, if sometimes a little hard work. They love coming out to the ranch, and I know Sheila and Joey love bringing them. By the time they’ve run around and spent hours seeing all my four-legged companions, they’re pretty exhausted and fall asleep in the truck on the way home.

Katy, the youngest, was supposed to be the last child my brother and Sheila had. They’d given up trying for a boy. Or so they told me.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky this time,” I say, still smiling.

“Three was bad enough. How the heck am I supposed to cope with four kids?”

“Oh, come on, man. You’ll be fine. Besides, let’s be honest. It’s Sheila that does the lion’s share of the work.”

I can hear Joey sigh again before he says, “Yeah, I suppose so. Still, it’ll be another mouth to feed.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic,” I quip.

Joey laughs then, and I can imagine him nodding at the other end of the line. “Yes, maybe I am. And like you said, maybe we’ll get lucky and I’ll finally have a son.”

“Exactly.”

“Anyway,” he continues, “what’s new with you?”

“Marty just left. I was out riding yesterday, and Greta’s injured her leg.”

“Oh, man. Is she okay?” Joey asks, now more concerned with my problems than his.

“I don’t know yet. Marty’s given her a shot to help with the pain, and he’s coming back tomorrow to see how she is. The leg’s not broken, but there’s tendon damage.”

“Is that worse?” Joey asks.

“We’ll have to wait and see. She might need several months of rest.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Joey says. “That sucks.”

“It does, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed for good news.”

“Ever the optimist, huh?”

I chuckle. But he’s not wrong. I’ve always been a bit like that. My Dad was the same, so it makes sense that I picked up my glass-half-full point of view from him. I mean, if you can’t control it, what’s the point of worrying about it, right?

“Listen, I’ve got to run. Elsa needs food, and I could do with some myself, so I need to head into town. But give Sheila a hug from me and tell her congratulations.”

“I will. I’ll see you later.”

Heading to the truck, I open the passenger door. Elsa comes everywhere with me. She jumps inside with the agility of a typical active dog. When I slide into the driver’s side, she’s already got her head out of the window, raring to go.

“Alright, pup,” I say, rubbing my hand against the soft fur of her back. “Let’s go.”

I’m fifteen minutes out of the main town, and when I get to the parking lot, Elsa gives me a longing look. “Not this time. You stay and mind the truck.”

Once inside with my cart—I hate the darn things, but as big as my arms are, I can’t carry everything—I wave to Mrs. Windrow, who’s busy serving another customer, but that doesn’t stop her from hollering at me.

“Hey, Jake.”

Ten minutes later, I’ve picked up all the groceries I came in for, with a few extras for Elsa. I’m making my way back to the register when someone comes flying around the corner and crashes into my cart.

“Oh, I’m so—” But she stops short when our eyes meet.

Her eyes fly wide, and my jaw falls open as I gape at the last person I expected to see. Tilly Collins, the woman who left her mark so many years ago, is standing there, and for what is likely the first time in her life, she happens to be speechless. I certainly don’t remember her that way.

The shock doesn’t leave me, but I recover quicker than she does.

“Are the aisles bigger in New York?” I snarl. “Or are you just a bad driver, period?”

“I’m not Superman,” she snaps back. “I can’t see around corners.”

“Well, in this town, we have more consideration for each other,” I retort. “Not that you’d know anything about that.”

I’m gripping the handle of my cart so tight that my knuckles are white, and though I should really just turn and walk away, I can’t help myself.

But Tilly was never one for backing down. “I know all about this small town. I was here for twenty long, boring years.”

“If the city’s so exciting, then maybe you should head right back to it.”

I yank my cart to the left and push past her. If I don’t get out of here soon, there’s going to be a brawl, and we already had one of those ten years ago.

“I’m not staying,” she calls as I round the corner.

Good. I couldn’t be happier to hear it.