The Grumpy Boss Cowboy Billionaire

Chapter 2

Victor

When I set up an interview with Dr. Emma Pierce, PhD, I couldn’t say exactly what I was expecting. Maybe gray hair, cable-knit sweaters, and some hard-earned worldly experience.

The woman that just left my office was like something out of a dream, with dark wild curls, and amber eyes shielded behind round retro frames. Freckles dotted her smooth skin, and her nose ring drew my gaze down to her full, sumptuous lips. The stretchy navy- blue button-up hugged her full breasts, tastefully hidden beneath a tanblazer and matching slacks. Her work boots gave her the look of someone ready to go hiking, not someone interviewing for a job like this. Still, she carried herself with such assuredness and complete self-confidence. It was even sexier than her soft, luscious curves. Once she opened her mouth, I knew I was in trouble.

She was intelligent, but not egotistical. Just certain in her understanding, something I struggled with on the regular. The way she had lectured me about the cheapening of the cultural and historical significance of Cactus Creek had put me off-balance. And, I have to admit, it was a major turn-on.

Claire, my long-time personal assistant, burst into the office without knocking, concern painted on her face.

“Sure, Claire, just come on in. I wasn’t doing anything important.”

“Well, it’s less important than what I have to tell you—your father’s here.”

My scalp prickled.

She tipped her head toward the door. “There, in the lobby.”

I stood and straightened my suit jacket, ignoring the gnaw of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I stepped around the desk and Claire fell into step behind me as I exited the office into the hall, down to the entry.

James Sullivan stood in the middle of the front hall, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his suit pants grimacing as he glanced around at the dated furniture and peeling paint. Of the four of my brothers, I’ve been told I look the most like my father—and couldn’t be more different than him in personality.

“What is all this, Victor?” His piercing blue eyes bore into mine, and I gritted my teeth.

“It’s an investment, Dad.”

He glanced up at the blackened rafters. “It’s a fire hazard.”

Annoyance tickled the back of my throat, and I cleared it to alleviate it. “Dad, it’s a renovation project. I’m giving the park a facelift and restoring it to its former glory.”

“More like a resuscitation.” He shook his head.

I was used to my father being dismissive. Pacing toward the window, I forced a smile. “Wait until it’s finished before you pass judgement.

“I’m curious–What is your strategy for turning this park into something profitable?” He strode forward to stand next to me. “I would feel better knowing that you’re investing in something worthy of your time and our family name?”

“I spent my morning interviewing Project Managers.” I thought about Emma’s suggestions.

My father looked at this park with thinly veiled distain because he thought it was frivelous. Maybe if I leaned into her mission and philosphy about bringing something meaningful to the public and educating them would speak to his ego, when attatching our family name to the project.

“This is going to be more than just an amusement park, Dad. It will carry real historical significance, including the indigenous tribes, the settlers on the wild frontier, and their way of life.”

What makes you think you won't just abandon it like you do all your other pet projects?” He motioned around the room, at our surroundings.

“Dad.” I clenched my jaw. “This is different from anything I’ve done before. I’m invested in this project, and am willing to see it through to completion.”

“Vic, theme parks take time, people, money, commitment.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, then gestured at me with his hand flattened, palm up. “Paying off women that you’ve bedded and dumped is a drop in the bucket compared to rehabilitating a dusty shithole like this place, son.” He massaged his temple, the thin silver hairs shimmering in the afternoon sunlight.

“You were the one worried that Dana would leak a sex tape that she might not even have.” I shrugged. “Not that it would have mattered.”

“You may not care if your bare backside gets plastered all over the internet, but your mother and I would have been humiliated. Not to mention that assistant of yours…”

“Clair and I have an understanding. She does her job well, and the past is the past. She’s happily married now and she doesn’t pose a threat.”

“But why this, son? No one is interested in the Old West anymore. Did you even consult a marketing team to see if this was viable before you dropped the cash on this place?”

“Of course, I did.” I sighed. “People love theme parks, even if the concept is a bit novel. We can bring people in with the rides and the costumes and give them even more than what they expect.”

“What are you talking about?” His brow furrowed with frustration.

“Look…” I smiled. “I just interviewed a potential candidate and she’s genuinely passionate about the history of this town. What if I can do both? Make a day in our park a once in a lifetime, unforgettable chance to step back through time. Games and rides to get the blood pumping and incorporate a profound learning experience. Maybe we can ignite something deeper.”

“No one will spend their time and money on that.” Dad shook his head. “You’re dreaming, son. Your business plan reads like something out of a fantasy, but I can at least see that you were trying to sniff out a way to make money. Then you changed it to modernize the rides. Now you’ve spent five minutes with someone who’s probably a bigger history nerd than you and your plan is already changing again. This is how a money pit happens.”

My cheeks grew hot. “There are still people that love the old west. And yes, my ideas for the park are still evolving, but I can lock in a clear vision for it, and I’m close. I can feel it.”

He turned his hawklike face toward me sharply. “I appreciate your passion son… But we both know your attention isn’t sustainable. You get all fired up about your latest fixation, and a few months later, you lose interest and move on to something else.”

“That’s not true.” I furrowed my brow, turning to face him. “Investments are never a sure thing. Sometimes things don’t pan out. But I’ve learned from those failures and I’m going to hit my stride.”

He shook his head. “I set up the investment account for you and your brothers and their investments have all been repaid with interest. You are the only one who continuously drains it, first with your Country music streaming and production and now this rediculous Wild West theme park.”

“Dad, I had to adjust the budget because–”

“I don’t care, son.” He held up a hand. “Your brothers are starting families and I want the investment account to grow exponentially when my grandchildren are old enough to try their own ventures. You had your shot, and you blew it. If you want to continue on this path, you’ll need to spend your trust fund to do it.”

“You’re cutting me off?” I furrowed my brow.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” He rolled his eyes. “I just told you, you still have your trust. I just won’t be making the investment account available to you going forward.”

“But my trust pays out a monthly stipend. I need lump sums to do the renovations.”

“Take out a loan.” He shrugged.

“Dad, I’ll pay back everything I’ve taken from the investment account when this park gets up and running. Taking out a loan would hobble us for at least the first two years.”

“Figure it out. It’s not my problem.”

“So, let’s make a bet.” I pursed my lips and nodded. “I would bet my trust fund that I can make this park a success, that I can bring about an Old West revival right here in Cactus Creek. But I need to use the investment account to get there.”

“You’d bet your entire trust?”

“It would more than pay back what I’ve spent.” I held my hands out. “What have you got to lose?”

He shifted his weight, furrowing his brow. “If this goes the way of your last project, you’d be completely broke. You realize you’d have to sell all your properties and get a job.”

“I believe in this place, Dad.” I leveled my gaze. “And I want you to believe in me. But if you can’t, then at least give me the chance to make this work. Don’t cut me off at the knees just because I had one failed investment.”

He rubbed his chin, then tapped his fingers. There was a long pause before he finally answered.

“Alright.” He held up an index finger. “But you’ll only be allowed to use what you outlined in the original budget you proposed.”

“But, Dad…”

“Those are my terms.” He held up his hands. “Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” I stretched to my full height, standing several inches taller than him. “I’ll make the old budget work.”

Sure, he had the power to cut me off whenever he wanted. He could put his foot down and pull me out of whatever I was working on and demand that I be more responsible with my share of the family wealth. But if there was one thing I knew, it was that we Sullivans couldn’t resist a dangerous wager against one of our own.

A cruel smile embraced his face, not quite reaching his eyes, which sparkled with mischief. “Alright.” He shrugged, reaching out to shake my hand. “It’s not like I haven’t watched you burn through millions already. I’d like to see you try.”

“You’ll see me succeed.” I squeezed his hand. “And when I do, you’ll double my trust. Not that I’ll need it when this place takes off.”

He laughed. “When it crashes and burns, I wonder what charity I’ll donate your trust to… Your mother’s recently taken a shine to Gavin’s wife and her horse rescue.”

He turned on his heel and strode away, shoving the front door open and letting it slam behind him. I let out a slow breath and continued to stare at the door where my father had just been.

Claire crept up to stand next to me. “Well, that was…eventful.”

Wordlessly, I trudged back down the hall, and into the study, where I uncorked a bottle of bourbon on the desk, pouring two fingers into a lowball glass, then tossing in a few ice cubes. I took a long pull, focusing on the smoky sweet flavor of the whiskey, and the accompanying warmth that seeped into my mind.

“You okay, boss?” Claire leaned on the doorframe. “I can schedule you a massage.”

I yanked open the desk drawers until I found what I was searching for. Withdrawing the slim box from the drawer, I popped it open and withdrew a cigarette, tucking it in my lip and lighting the end, taking a deep breath of the thick perfumey smoke.

Claire made a face, waving the blue tendrils away from her face. “The least you could do is take it outside.”

I pinned her with a look. “It’s my office.”

She shrugged. “Most people don’t like places that stink like cigarettes anymore.”

I growled, shoving my chair back, and stood, making my way out to the front steps. Leaning against the column, I took another long drag from my cigarette, staring out into the dusty driveway.

"Those things’ll kill you." A soft female voice broke into my thoughts.

I turned to Dr. Emma Pierce, where she had spread out some kind of study area on the steps— books, journals, pencils, and the remnants of a peanut butter sandwich beside where she currently sat, squinting up at me in the bright afternoon light.

"I know.” I chuffed. “Bad habit left over from college. I only do it when I'm super stressed."

She tipped her head toward the circular drive. "Was that your boss who just came in?"

“That was my father.” I took another long drag, savoring the burning in my lungs before self-consciously dropping it, and stubbing it out with the toe of my boot. I pivoted toward her. "Why did you leave the Phoenix Historical Society?"

Her shapely face pinched, and her eyebrows furrowed, forming a small V on her forehead. "They ran out of funding. I found out when I showed up to work, and the building was locked with a 'For Lease’ sign in the window."

“Shit…” I blinked.

She shrugged, eyes shining with unshed tears. “That’s life.”

“You miss it…” I meant to phrase it as a question, but I could tell the answer by the look in her eyes.

"I loved that job,” She shook her head. “I would have done it for free if I didn't have bills to pay." She sighed.

I gave a sharp laugh and turned back to her, leaning my hip against the pillar. "Black sheep, huh? I know the feeling."

“You do?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t let the suit fool you.” I shook my head in disbelief, taking a long pull from my bourbon glass. "I don't even have the excuse of being the youngest."

She frowned at me, a question in her eyes.

I held her gaze and raised my eyebrows. "My youngest brother Jax is a country music singer."

“Ohhh.” Her dark brows raised and her eyes widened as she made the connection. “You’re one of those Sullivans.”

“I take it you’re a fan?”

“Nah.” She shook her head, curls bouncing across her face, then gave me a grin. “I’m more of a metal girl. Metallica and In This Moment are my current obsessions.”

Warmth spread through my chest as I gave her a slow smile. “Those are two of my favorites, too.”

She chuckled, going back to her drawing. “A cowboy who likes heavy metal. Now I have seen it all.”

I reached into my pocket for my keys. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

“No,” She cringed. “Er, I live in Sedona.”

I unlocked my car, the chirp of my alarm causing her to start. “Not a problem.”

She widened her eyes at me. “It’s two and a half hours away.”

“Good.” I gave her one of my most charming smiles. “That’ll give me time to get to know my Project Manager better. You’ll probably need to live on-site… Unless you plan to commute every day.”

“On-site?” I glanced at the dilapidated park.

“Don’t worry.” He smiled. “Not here. I’ll show you when we get back. That is, assuming you’re taking the job?”