The Grumpy Boss Cowboy Billionaire

Chapter 1

Emma

My hair was being rebellious, so I slicked it back into a ponytail and rummaged through my hamper for something that smelled fresh enough to wear. I looked at my broken laundry dryer and sighed.

No one wakes up thinking their world is about to get turned upside down. I’d been anxious all night, knowing this interview could make or break a big opportunity.

My dreams of traveling the world were off the table since I lost my job, and I’d burned through what little bit I’d managed to save up. Who knew it was so expensive just to barely get by?

I missed my Uber by a minute, which cost me an extra five bucks, and rendered me unable to call for another ride. Fortunately, my twin brother, Sam, was headed to Scottsdale for a job and said that a detour to Cactus Creek was not a problem for him. Unfortunately, the GPS got us lost twice, unable to find the specific road to get to Cactus Creek, the teeny town, fifteen miles north of Carefree and Cave Creek, about 40 minutes outside of Phoenix. When we finally managed to locate the front gate of the Cactus Creek Frontier Park, Sam dropped me off the front gate, which, unbeknownst to me, was about half a mile away from the main office of the park, forcing me to run, and making me arrive late, covered in road dust, and sweating profusely, for my scheduled interview.

That is how I ended up in a giant room with cream walls and mahogany paneling, in front of a giant, ornately carved mid-century desk that was covered with a litany of papers, facing down a blue-eyed Adonis. My prospective employer looked over my resume as I sized him up.

The man looked like a marble carving in a tailored Hugo Boss suit with a suede vest and leather belt with a large silver buckle. His angular jaw flexed as his eyes danced over the paper in his large hands.

His dark hair was short on the sides, and slightly longer on top, which he’d slicked back. He sank down carefully into the high-back leather chair, a black tattoo peeking out from his sleeve as he adjusted his bolo tie. He placed his hands on either side of a sheet of paper, and I glanced at the turquoise and silver rings adorning his fingers as he focused on the document in front of him.

“Dr. Emma Pierce?” He glanced up at me, pinning me with his cerulean stare.

My cheeks reddened at the sound of his gravelly voice. “Yes. That’s me.”

He continued to look at me, eyes flat above his elegant cheekbones. “You seem awfully young to have your PhD.”

I smirked. “I’m younger than most of my peers, but I’m not as young as you may think.”

His eyes lingered on mine for a moment and then they were back on my resume. “Double major in history and archaeology, with a minor in cultural anthropology.” He raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

“Thank you.” I squirmed in my chair, glancing around the room.

He laid the page on the blotter carefully, and flattened it out, finally lacing his fingers together and resting them on his desktop. He glanced back up at me. “I’m Victor Sullivan.”

“Good to meet you.” I nodded.

“I recently acquired Cactus Creek Frontier Park,” he continued without returning the sentiment. “I’m planning to restore its functionality and put it on the map, along with Cactus Creek, as a premier Western destination.”

He glanced down at the page under his hands again, before looking back at me. “I’m looking for a Project Manager—someone to partner with me on the oversight of the reconstruction, coordinating the different aspects, and ensuring everything runs smoothly.”

I nodded politely, remembering the vague description from the classified ad.

“What kind of renovation do you want to do?” I forced the words out, trying to redirect the conversation to what would be expected of me.

“I want it to be fun…something that families can come and do together, explore, and play games.” He paused, considering. “I want it to be something nostalgic. Like other theme parks, big, colorful, and universally approachable.”

“Thoughts?” He tipped his head to the side, studying me.

“This park, this town, is so rich with color, history, and life...” I took a deep breath, considering. “Utilizing that, celebrating it, would make your park so much more than just another theme park.”

“You want to turn it into some kind of museum?” He arched an eyebrow. “I’m not sure that would bring in the volume of visitors the park used to bring in back in its heyday. Kids don’t care about history. They want adventure.”

“I get that.” I nodded, leaning forward. “But think about it for a second. The history I’m talking about was an adventure. The indigenous people who lived here viewed the land as sacred. Then, in came the settlers and miners, frontiersmen, and trappers, to the prospectors hunting for gold.” I shrugged. “I’d think if you wanted to create a park that gave guests an unforgettable experience, it would be a missed opportunity not to bring in some of that unique culture and history, while also educating people on life in the Old West. In a fun, family-friendly way.” I added hesitantly.

He stroked his chin and stared through me. “You give people too much credit. Most don’t don’t want true historical information and educational material shoved down their throats while visiting a theme park” He tented his fingers on the desktop, studying me across the table. “Most people are only interested in the romantic veneer of the Old West—horse rides, gun fights, cowboys, cactus…they don’t care to dig deeper.”

I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat as I glanced toward the floor. “I respectfully disagree. People are a lot smarter than we often give them credit for. They might surprise you.”

He leaned to one side, raising curled fingers to his chin. “It’s an interesting take. I appreciate your input, and I’ll keep it in mind.”

My heart sank a little as he went through a couple more arbitrary questions about my last job, but he didn’t seem interested in my answers.

“The position pays fifty thousand dollars for three months of hard work—the only caveat being that only ten percent is up front, and the rest is after the park successfully opens.”

My pulse quickened. Ten percent of fifty-grand was a fat lot more than the quadruple goose eggs that currently resided in my bank account.

He scribbled down a couple of notes and then promised to give me a call, but the look on his face told me all I needed to know.

“Well, in any case, I thank you for your time.” I stood and offered him my hand.

He rose and took it, giving it a warm firm handshake.

His unblemished palms and fingers were smooth against my rough and calloused skin and I briefly wondered how they would feel on more delicate parts of my body. If only we’d met under different circumstances… Who was I kidding? There were no good circumstances that would ever find me in a room with a man of his caliber.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sullivan.” I smiled, taking one last moment to take in the sight of those beautiful blue eyes. “Good luck on filling the position.”

I awkwardly skirted around the chair, heading back through the lobby, toward the front doors, and out into the sunshine. I took several deep breaths, and my hands trembled. Disappointment and self-doubt churned in my stomach. The interview played on a loop in my mind, each stuttered word and missed opportunity magnified until it felt less like a fumble and more of a trainwreck. After several long minutes, I finally straightened, head still spinning and told myself, even though I didn’t get the job, there was no point in punishing myself.

What’s done is done…

I couldn’t fault him for being a businessman. He had a vision, but it wasn’t one that I could get on board with. He had no reverence for the heart and soul of this place, but I doubted that would stop him from turning it into a cash cow. Probably with a cartoon caricature of a cowboy twirling a pistol.

So much of what people think they know comes from Hollywood scripts and dime novels, but the true stories—the struggles, the injustices, the resilience of those who lived through it—are far more complex. The whole reason I got my degree was to bring things to light that complete that picture. What’s the point of bringing on an archeological historian if you’re just going to perpetuate an inacurate narrative?

Fifty grand would’ve been nice. I sank down onto the steps of the building to wait for my brother to pick me up. A glance at my phone told me it was nearly three o’clock and I opted to call the only person in the world that could help me put a positive spin on this.

Ashley picked up on the second ring. “Hey, how did the interview go?”

I chewed my lip. “I honestly don’t know. I…kind of argued with him?”

“You argued with the guy interviewing you?” She paused. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve never been the type to keep quiet if you disagree with something. But Victor Sullivan? If ever there was a time to play nice it was today. What did you say?”

I struggled to find the right words. “I kind of… lectured him on peoples’ capacity for learning and having fun simultaneously.”

“Dang, girl. You’ve got some cojones.”

I made an annoyed noise. “You should have heard of this guy. The only thing he cares about is making money and getting people in the door.”

She clucked her tongue at me.

“Em, you need to cut people some slack.” She paused. “Not everyone has had the in-depth education you’ve had and yeah, it makes sense that his priority is making money. He’s a businessman. But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be able to contribute to making the park better.”

I harrumphed, and she laughed.

“You’re the purest soul, you know that?”

“What do you mean?” I forced a defeated smile.

“You’re broke, unemployed, and faced with the opportunity to go for a good-paying job, you took the moral high ground and spoke your mind.”

“Don’t praise me for it too much,” I grumbled. “This oh-so-pure soul of mine might be crashing on your couch soon if I don’t find a way to make rent.

“Oh no…” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “I’d hate to have my best friend in the world for an extended sleepover.”

I laughed.

“Not that it’ll happen.” She chuckled. “You’ll find something, Em. You’ve always figured out a way to make things work.”

She made a thinking sound and lowered her voice. “So, is Victor Sullivan really as hot as he is in the tabloids?”

I scoffed, then thought about it. “First of all, how do you know who he is, when I had literally no clue?” Heat rushed to my face and I shifted my weight as I pictured his warm sunkissed tan and chissled features. “Secondly, yeah…he’s a good looking guy.”

“Mmhmm. He looks like he would smell good.”

I giggled, carefully retrieving my squashed sandwich from my backpack.

“ I didn’t get close enough to smell him.” I shook off the memory of his piercing blue eyes as I peeled back the plastic wrap. I wasn’t sure if Ashley was just trying to make the girl talk or if she was trying to live vicariously. “Besides, you’ve been married for like a hundred years. Why do you care what some billionaire smells like?”

“Karl is wonderful, and yes, I am happily married. I still have eyeballs, and can appreciate a work of art.”

I took a bite of my sandwich and thought about what she said earlier. “I wonder if it would be possible?”

“What?”

“Fusing the culture and history with customer appeal and public attractions.”

“See?” She dragged out the word and I could practically hear her grin through the phone. “As soon as your brain latches onto a puzzle, you always figure out how the pieces fit together. Call him back and ask for a second interview.”

A black Rolls-Royce rolled up in the circular driveway outside the massive building. “I gotta go, I’ll call you back.”

The door to the Rolls-Royce swung open, and an older man, who looked like an aged-up version of Victor, stepped out. His salt-and-pepper hair was immaculately groomed, and his tailored suit fit him like a glove. He exuded authority and wealth with every calculated step. As he buttoned the top button of his jacket, his eyes scanned the building with a practiced gaze, then flicked over to me.

I straightened my posture, hoping to appear more professional, but his eyes narrowed in a way that made me feel like I was being assessed—and not favorably.

He paused at the base of the steps.

“Do you work here?”

I resisted the urge to recoil.

“Not that I’m aware… Not yet, anyway.” I stood up, thumbing toward the entrance. “I just had an interview.”

He nodded brusquely. “Well, I doubt that loitering will help your chances.”

My jaw dropped slightly. “I…I’m waiting for my ride.”

He blinked, looking around as if to confirm that no other cars were parked nearby. “Well, then I wish you luck. If you do get hired, I hope you’ll secure some reliable transportation. It’s important for the office staff to show up on time if this place is going to succeed.

My face heated up as he stepped inside the building, the door slamming shut behind him.