The Grumpy Boss Cowboy Billionaire

Chapter 8

Victor

“It's a tempting offer, but I’m not sure that our school is the best fit for what you are looking for.” The University Director stroked his scraggly goatee. “Our focus is teaching digital filmmaking, and not...” He gestured with his hands. “Performance art.”

"Ah." Emma blew out a frustrated breath and pushed back her mop of dark hair, sending an intoxicating scent of pineapple and orange wafting in my direction. Not wanting to interfere with her process, I'd remained a silent observer, but it seemed, at this point, she was floundering.

"Mr. Grant." I sat up, smoothing my jacket, enjoying the way Emma's body stiffened as she glanced over at me, her breaths shortening, chest heaving beneath her thin tank top. “Believe me when I say, your students would be the perfect fit for us. This is a unique way to showcase your program, and to highlight the burgeoning talents coming out of your school. I think what Miss Pierce--

"Dr. Pierce," Emma corrected.

A gave a slight nod. "What Dr. Pierce was telling you was that this will give your students real-world experience and it would be a great way to gain the attention of additional investors.”

“I don’t know, it’s an unconventional situation…” Grant shifted back in his chair, eyes narrowing.

Emma glanced over at me again, her gaze a mixture of gratitude and irritation.

"I completely understand." I stood and smiled. “New ideas can be risky and you're well within your rights to pass. Thank you for your time, Mr. Grant." I stood up and reached out to shake his hand. You were our first choice, but we have an appointment with the Tucson campus and I don't want to waste any more of your time.” Emma stood and I touched my fingers to the small of her lower back and pushed her gently toward the door.

“Wait!” We had made it most of the way out of his office before he took a deep breath and slowly rounded his desk. “I won't lie, Mr. Sullivan, it would be complex to implement, but I'm not one to shy away from challenges... Especially when it could potentially create future jobs for my students. It would take some time, but I have a group of adminutstrators that I can get to set up a hiring fair.”

“That's excellent to hear Mr. Grant." I reached out and shook his hand. "Though, I should tell you up front, time is a factor and the more time you can give your students to hit my deadlines, the greater our chances of making this a success will be."

“Understood.” The director shook my hand again.

“Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Grant.” I gave him a million dollar smile. “Miss... Dr. Pierce will contact you for the hiring fair information. Feel free to reach out if there's anything we can do to expedite things.”

Emma made an annoyed noise as we stepped out into the blistering sun, striding in unison over to the restored 1987 Jeep CJ. “How do you do that?”

I grinned and slid into the driver seat. “Do what?”

She rolled her eyes, reaching over to buckle the safety straps I had recently added to the overall safety rating of that vehicle. I leaned over, sliding the clasp out of her small hands and drew it swiftly across her luscious frame. Satisfied she was safe, I sat back up and she shivered, despite the heat.

“Yes, that exactly.” She gestured wildly. “You just take control and act like you're already in charge and somehow he's more receptive to you than he was when I gave him all the same information. It doesn't make sense the way you just dazzle people with a smile and get what you want.”

I leaned back toward her, pleasure flooding through me as she swallowed hard, clenching her thighs close together in response to my movements. “Do I dazzle you, Dr. Pierce?”

She shook her head, laughing. “I’m not even going to entertain that with a response.”

Grinning, I started the car. “Where’s our next destination?”

Her eyes brightened as she leaned forward. “Lauderdale Ranch. We’re going to see the trainer and his horses!”

I nodded and put the Jeep in gear. “We’d better head to the mansion for supplies.”

She giggled and I glanced over at her in her Bermuda shorts. “And perhaps a change of clothes.”

Back at the mansion, an hour later, I knocked on her door. “Emma, are you about ready? It’s 30 miles away and we need to anticipate traffic.”

She appeared in the doorway wearing an acid green satin button down shirt and khaki slacks, tucking her thick hair back into a well-managed bun. I felt a flutter in the bottom of my stomach as I studied her and clenched my rabbit’s foot keychain in my pocket. “Are you really going to wear that shirt?”

She looked offended, and I immediately wanted to eat my words. “This shirt is perfectly presentable, Mr. Sullivan.” I never knew whether I wanted to scream at her or kiss her when she wielded my name like a swear word.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath, searching for another way to phrase myself. “It’s considered bad luck to wear green on a horse.”

She turned and glanced at me over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a superstitious man.”

I shrugged lightly, suddenly feeling uncertain.

“Guilty as charged, I suppose.” My stomach tightened, worried about her reaction.

She grinned. “Do you carry a salt shaker in your pocket?”

"I'm not that extreme." I smiled, glancing at my feet as she had put her fingers to her buttons and the green shirt hung open, permitting me the barest glimpse of her breasts, bra, and belly as she turned, walking to her closet. She took a deep breath and let out a sigh, muttering about how she should have brought more. My groin tightened and I shifted my feet as she turned to face me again.

“Since none of my shirts work, can I borrow one of yours?”

“You…er, what?” I cleared my throat.

She sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “You probably have more button ups than you'll ever ware, may I please borrow one?”

My cheeks grew warm and I tried not to let my eyes flit down to her open shirt. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”

I excused myself from her room to cross the hall to mine. Leaning against the wall, I took several deep breaths to will the blood flow back from my dick into my brain. After what I hoped was not an uncomfortably long time, I straightened and went to my closet, grabbing a red shirt and bringing back to her across the hall. Without another word, I made my way downstairs and sat in the truck, waiting for her.

She didn’t keep me waiting long, stepping out of the mansion looking even more mouthwatering in red, and I was grateful to be seated. She slid into the passenger seat. I turned toward her.

“So, where's this ranch you're so excited about?”

She grinned. “The Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Okay then.”

She chuckled. “Just drive, I’ll navigate.”

When we rolled up his long gravel driveway in my Land Rover, the owner looked one step shy of giddy with delight at our visit, his russet skin weathered by the sun, puckering into crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, and his hands gnarled and broken from hard work. Notah Harvier wasn't a tall man, but he seemed to embody a lot of space. Standing just under five-foot-ten, he easily encompassed twice that much room with his big personality, his loud laugh, and his bright observant gaze. His dark eyes were shaded beneath the brim of his ballcap, and his long black hair swirled around his shoulders, dust settling on his worn, steel-toed boots.

“You must be Emma.” He said in a clear, rumbling bass voice as she stepped out of the car.

“You must be Notah!” She hurried over, shaking his hand vigorously. "It's such a pleasure to meet you. You've done some excellent work in the community."

I pulled my keys from the ignition and pocketed them, then walked around the front of the vehicle. He sized me up as I approached, his eyes hardening to two pieces of sharp obsidian. “And this must be the developer that just moved into town.”

Emma laughed and patted his arm. “This is Victor Sullivan. He owns the park, and none of this would be possible without him.”

I offered my hand, putting on my best manners face. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

He glanced down at my hand, then stepped past it close to me. “A piebald is lucky, but a skewbald brings you bad fortune. What’s the difference between the two?”

I took a deep breath, remembering conversations with my grandfather and my older brother, who would sit for hours having obsessive conversations about horses while we were growing up. “A piebald is a paint with a black-based coat, while a skewbald is a chestnut or bay base. Black horses are typically revered as lucky and sacred, except to the Bedouin, and oddly enough, the Romanians, where it is the reverse.” I blinked and met the older man’s steady gaze. “How am I doing?”

He studied me for a moment longer before letting out a laugh and chucking me on the shoulder. “Pleasure to meet you, Victor. Come on out to the barn and we’ll introduce you to the horses.”

Emma fell into stride behind him as though she’d been doing it all her life, and I followed suit, fully appreciating my ability to enjoy the view of her from behind.

“My family has had this farm since before the surrounding area was colonized. My father’s father sharecropped here until he saved up enough to buy the land himself.” Notah’s bowlegged walk was faster than I'd have expected and we rapidly found ourselves at the stable door.

“How long have you been focusing your energy on performance animals?” She asked, following him into the dark barn.

I ducked in behind them, narrowly dodging getting hit in the head by a stray pigeon. “Performance animals? Like barrel racers, and show animals?” I queried.

“We have some of those, too,” Notah laughed. “But our main business is with animal actors. “He gestured with a wide sweep of his arm toward the wall behind him.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I felt my jaw drop in awe. Floor to ceiling, the wall was covered in photos and clippings of various horses participating in films, movies, and national advertising campaigns. I recognized the majority of the animals from each one. “These were all your horses?”

Notah nodded, looking around at the memorabilia. “My great grandfather started the business, providing horse extras for the silent westerns, and later background animals for western shows, like the Lone Ranger.”

Emma approached the wall, fingers extended, but not quite touching. She took several long breaths, then glanced back over her shoulder to our host. “Notah, if you had all these incredible animals, why are you struggling so hard?”

I was taken aback, and turned to look at her, amazed that she was so brash to ask such a question.

“The lawsuit took most of my money. The rest was lost on medical bills while my wife was dying.”

I froze, turning to look at the older man. He gave us a teary smile and moved past us down the aisle of the barn.

He introduced us to our mounts, and helped each of us tack up. Emma was more than willing to brush, but looked a little lost at sea when it came to picking feet. I stepped up next to her, taking the pick from her hand. Running my hand down the horse’s leg, I tickled her chestnut until she lifted her foot, then cradled it with my hand. “See this V-shaped thing here? That’s the collateral groove, and this triangular bit in the middle is the frog.”

“The frog?” She snickered.

I nodded. “It’s the sensitive soft part of the foot. You use this piece right here,” I demonstrated with the curve of the pick. “To clean the gunk out of their feet.”

She wrinkled her nose and I stood up, trying to think of a good example for her to understand. “It’s like removing a rock from inside your shoe. It may be small, but over time, it can cause them a significant amount of pain. And they walk around on their hooves, so they can’t relieve that pressure without our help.”

“Your man knows his horseflesh.” Notah leaned over the back of her mare.

“Oh, he’s not…” She said, flushing red.

“I’m not hers…” I said simultaneously.

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure you’re not.”

We finished tacking up without further incident, and led the horses from the barn, out to the paddock, where Notah tightened his cinch, and climbed up on the fence, swinging his leg over the top of his big bay gelding. I followed suit, mounting up with ease, my quadriceps protesting as I settled back against the worn leather. Emma stood beside her horse, suddenly looking terrified. I leaned forward onto the horn of my saddle, studying her. “Do you know how to get on?”

“I don’t need help.” She grouched. “I can do it.”

I sat up straighter. “I asked if you knew how to do it, not if you needed help.”

She glanced between the fence and the saddle, looking lost. I kicked my foot free of the stirrup and threw my leg back over my horse, sliding down to the ground. I stepped over to where she stood, lifting the flap on her saddle, checking the cinch. Her horse had puffed up a fair bit, so I had to tighten it down, then turned back to her.

“I’m going to lace my fingers together and you’re going to put your left knee in it. Then I’m going to lift you up to slide into the saddle.”

She had turned a green shade of ash, but nodded, putting her hand on my shoulder. “One…two…three.” I hefted her up and into the seat.

She squeaked and grabbed the saddle horn, hunching up on herself.

“Emma,” I murmured. “You have to sit up straight.”

“I feel like I’m going to fall.” Her eyes were pinched tightly shut.

I put a hand on her thigh, then extended her leg down, sliding her toes into the stirrup. “Feel this, beneath your foot?”

She pressed down into her toes. “Yes?”

“That’s solid, that’s safe. You can open your eyes.”

She straightened and slowly opened them, peering around her before glancing down at me. “Wow, I’m on a horse.”

“If you feel insecure about your seat, stand on your toes.” I nodded, giving her a warm grin. “This is only the beginning.” I handed her the reins before ducking under her horse’s neck and climbing back up on my mount.

Notah had watched the whole interaction wordlessly. He nodded and circled his horse, leading us away from the barns, onto a dirt trail up into the wilderness.

He led us away from the buildings and farmland, out into the scrub desert, past beautiful rock formations and saguaro groves. A lizard darted through the sand at our horses’ feet, and they never faltered, never hesitated. I could see as Emma’s confidence grew, her spine straightening up with each step. Notah praised her quiet hands, and I admired her bravery, especially as we sped up to a jog and a lope. Her dark hair came loose from her hair tie, cascading down around her shoulders, dancing in the slight breeze.

We pulled up on the top of a rise, staring down into an endless sea of golden grasses that terminated in a red clay desert. Emma closed her eyes and drew a deep breath into her nose. Shifting in her saddle, she looked over at our host. “What was the lawsuit over?”

I felt my ears redden and I opened my mouth to explain what she meant when he looked over at her, soft smile on his lips. “I like you, Dr. Pierce. You ask the big questions, with no fear of getting big answers.” He glanced up at me. “You could learn a thing or two from her, Mr Sullivan.”

He turned back to gaze out at the horizon. “A film company sued me for breach of contract.”

“Breach of contract?” Emma’s voice was curious and inviting.

He smiled sadly, turning back to her. “My horses were contracted to be used for filming in their movie. I pulled them out of the shoot and brought them home.”

I sat up straighter. “Why did you pull them out of the shoot?”

He looked at me, eyes welcoming for the first time since we’d met. “I didn’t like the way they were treating my animals.” He shrugged. “I caught a groom beating one of my mares.”

Emma gasped and I felt heat flash in my chest. “That’s why they sued you.”

He nodded. “That’s why they sued me.”

I looked down at my saddle horn, then back up at the older man. “We’d like to hire you.”

Emma’s head snapped toward me. “We would?”

I gave a single nod. “The man obviously respects his animals—if he’s willing to risk a breach of contract lawsuit to protect them, then he is worth investing in.”

Notah’s dark eyes welled with tears and he grinned wide. “I have three children in school, and have been without regular income for quite some time. It has been a struggle. If you are certain, Mr. Sullivan, I would be grateful, but make no mistake, I won't tolerate the guests or employers in your park mistreating my horses.”

“I won't tolerate that either.” Warmth filled my chest. "And call me Victor. If my park succeeds, your struggles are over."

We all rode back to the barn in silence, each lost in our thoughts. Emma and I brushed down our horses, put up our tack, and promised to visit Notah later in the week, with a contract ready to be signed. We loaded back up in the Land Rover and headed towards Cactus Creek in deafening silence, which would have been novel had it not felt so loaded.

“You disapprove of my hiring him,” I said.

“I think we should worry about the construction before hiring horse trainers; otherwise there won’t be a park for trained horses.” Her brow furrowed and she crossed her arms.

“One problem at a time, Doctor.” I patted her leg.

She grumbled. “It doesn’t take a genius to see we’re just digging ourselves a deeper hole.”

Her words stung and I turned to focus on the winding road and tumbleweeds. My mind drifted back through the years to the biggest professional blunder of my life and my hands went numb on the steering wheel as remembered the last time someone smarter than me issued that warning.

“Victor, you’re just digging us into a bigger hole!” Alisha pounded her hand on the accounting statements on the desk in front of her.

“What?" I held my arms out. "They’re only here to make singles. They don’t need the whole album to build their brand.”

“Exactly, Vic. We have enough budget for one artist, maybe two to focus on their marketing strategy. This is too much.”

I recoiled, insulted by her words. “You asked me to find talent, I found you talent. They were only to happy to sign for singles. They all thought it was a great opportunity.”

She cupped her forehead, blowing out a long breath. “We didn’t have the money to pay them all for their time. Now we’ve taken their songs and have nothing to pay them with, unless we clip somewhere else, in which case we'll shortchange another area of the process.” She shook her head. “We asked you to find talent for us to bring in and vet them as prospects, not hire a horde of indie nobodies with big dreams and average talent. You have no idea what goes into building a solid brand image.”

"This was the right call, Allie." I simmered. “I did you a favor.”

She stood, resting her palms on the desk. “You’re a spoiled impulsive brat, and are going to destroy this platform before it's ever off the ground.”

I stormed out of her office, slamming the door so hard behind me, I heard the crash of glass as framed awards fell from the wall.

“Earth to Victor, you okay over there?” Emma waved her hand in front of my face. "You missed the turn."

"Sorry." I blinked, returning to the present, and flipping a Uturn. The rest of the car ride was heavy with silence that lingered as we entered the house, parting ways on the stairs, as I beelined to the study.

My fingers drummed anxiously on the desktop until the phone rang and I saw my older brother's name on the screen.

“Hey.” I took a deep breath. “Dawson. Tell me I’m not making a mistake.”

“Whoa. Back up," he said. "Can I get a little context?”

“Dawson." I put a hand to my forehead. "I know Dad told you about our bet.”

My brother laughed. “Alright, you caught me. He told me the park was a firetrap and a dump. I told him he would regret underestimating you, especially with money on the line.”

"I don't know." I scrubbed a hand over my face, unsure on whether to be upset in his faith in me or grateful. “How can you say that when I have failed so spectacularly in the past?”

"Everyone makes mistakes, Vic." I could hear the shrug in Dawson’s voice. “Besides, the music thing was a learning experience.”

I scoffed, stalking back across the office, pressing my forehead to the front of the mantlepiece. “I bet him my trust fund.”

My older brother whistled. “You’ve got some balls, I’ll give you that."

"God, I'm so stupid." I shook my head, peering through the curtains at the desertous expanse. "I'm all in on this and it's too late to back out now. What if--"

"What if doesn't matter...Not yet." Dawson took a deep breath. "Look, your past ventures were a little half-baked. You went into this with a clear vision. You've been talking about that park since we were kids. I know you’ll make it happen.”

“How? How do you know that?” I rolled my shoulders, shaking my head. "Did I mention I'm up against a real estate developer who's gunning for me too."

"Since when does something like that, shake you?"

"Since his pockets are considerably deeper than mine." I rested my forehead against the warm glass window. "I've relied heavily on falling back on Dad's money. Not to mention our family name that has lost a little swing thanks to me. I feel like I'm painting myself into a corner that I'll never be able to get out of. I don't know, man. This might be the nail in the coffin for me."

Dawson laughed. “You remember that kid who used to pick on Jax?”

“The tall one? Red hair?” He sighed. "He picked on all the smaller kids. What was his name? Charlie? Chester?”

“Cullen.” I laughed slightly, remembering the eighth grader who had terrorized my little brother.

“Cullen! That’s right.” He chuckled. “You didn't need money to stand up to him?”

“I distinctly recall a bloody nose and a shiner.”

“That was part of it," he said. "It came with a three-day suspension, during which you plotted further retribution. I was more referring to when you came in on Thursday morning with an entire petition written out and got signatures from the entire seventh grade class, most of whom he had also been picking on, to have him suspended or you would have Mom and Dad press charges.”

A bubble of laughter rolled up through my chest as recollection rolled through me. “What does that have to do with anything?”

I could hear the proud smile on his face. “You know how to inspire people, Vic. You can build a team, lead them toward a goal, and achieve it. But only if your heart is in it. And you've never shied away from confronting a bully.”

I took a long breath. “So who is the bully: Dad, Hastings, or my budget?”

“None of them...All of them, doesn't matter. My point is... You're at your best when you believe in something. And you fight the hardest when you're advocating for someone you care about. So invest more than your money in this. Find the people involved in this with you that are counting on you and fight for them. If you do that, I know you'll come through.”

My thoughts returned to Notah and my promise to him. And to Emma...what would be left for her if I didn't see this through?

"You're right." I nodded. "There are some good people counting on me. I just...I can't afford to let them down."

"So don't," he said. "I have faith in you, little brother. I always have."

The weight on my chest lightened

"Thanks, man. That means a lot."

"Anytime, Vic." He paused, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Don't be afraid to lean on others, too. The kind of bonds that are made when fighting for a common goal tend to last. A lot of those kids that you brought together ended up staying friends with Jax all the way through high school. Hell, he ended up marrying that skinny kid's sister."

"Sydney..." I chuckled. "Yeah, those two are pretty cute together."

"Hold to the course, Vic." Dawson said. "I believe in you."

"Thanks, bro. Talk to you later."

I hung up the phone and sank back in my chair. The sun sank slowly behind the mountains in the distance and I thought about what Dawson said. This had to be about more than me, more than the bet with my father. It had to be about my employees, my staff, and the future of the park.