Her Cowboy Billionaire Beast

by Liz Isaacson

  “But?” Colton prompted.

  “But I don’t know,” Hunter said. “Like, I love your baby, Uncle Wes. I just don’t know what to do with him.”

  “Believe me, Hunt,” Wes said dryly. “Neither do I.”

  Colton burst out laughing, and Wes joined in with a chuckle. Even Hunter did.

  “You’ll love that baby so much when it comes,” Colton said. “And you’ll know exactly what to do with him.”

  “Maybe,” Hunter said, and another red flag shot up in Wes’s mind.

  “Keep talking, Hunt,” he said.

  He took a few steps before even making a noise. “I don’t know, it’s just…Dad says I’m not broken. He says it’s okay not to have any feelings about the baby. I just wonder….” He exhaled. “It’s fine. I’m going to talk to Lucy about it next week.”

  Colton looked at Wes again, and Wes nodded. His turn to keep Hunter talking. “Who’s Lucy?” Colton asked. “New girlfriend?”

  Hunter scoffed and shook his head. “She’s my therapist.”

  “Oh.” Colton tugged on Cole’s hand to keep him moving. “How long have you been seeing her?”

  “Couple of months,” Hunter said. “I, uh, kissed Molly, and I told my dad it was kind of weird. I didn’t know if I liked it or not, and that’s when I told him I might not have the same kinds of feelings as other people. You know, because of my mom.”

  “What about your mom?” Colton asked, and Wes was glad he hadn’t had to.

  “Lucy thinks I might have boxed up how I really feel about her leaving me and Dad, and because of that, I don’t feel much of anything.” He looked at Colton and Wes with wide open eyes. He was so innocent and so vulnerable, and Wes wanted to find Gray’s ex-wife and ask her if she knew what she’d done to her beautiful boy.

  “Get over here, son,” Wes said, his voice a little gruff. Hunter stepped between Colton and Wes, and they both put their arms around him. “You’re a perfectly fine human being, Hunter. I love you no matter what.”

  “I do too,” Colton said.

  “I just want to feel things like other people,” Hunter said.

  “I can see why,” Colton said. “I would’ve never told my dad I’d kissed a girl.”

  Wes couldn’t smother his chuckle fast enough, and thankfully, Hunter laughed too. “You’re sure you didn’t like it?” Wes asked, grinning at his nephew.

  “I liked it better the other times,” Hunter said, still smiling.

  “You be careful with the girls,” Colton said, turning serious in a flash. “You’re way too cute to be leading them on.”

  “You sound like Elise,” Hunter said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve heard it all before.”

  “Yeah, well, you have the killer Hammond genes,” Colton said. “Trust me, Hunt. They’re lethal to girls.”

  “Oh, boy,” Wes said, rolling his eyes too. “Don’t listen to him, Hunt. You kiss as many girls as you can.”

  Hunter looked at him, his eyes widening. “Really, Uncle Wes?”

  “Don’t tell your dad I said that,” Wes said, smiling. “And just kiss the ones you like—while you’re not dating someone else. No cheating, Hunter.”

  “No cheating,” the thirteen-year-old repeated. “I can handle that.”

  “And I don’t think you’re broken either,” Wes said. “Either of you. I’ve seen you get really emotional, Hunter.”

  “Yeah, remember when your dad broke up with Elise?” Colton asked. “You were super upset then.”

  “Yeah,” Hunter said. “It just feels like it’s all or nothing. I’m not sure that’s normal.”

  “No one’s normal,” Wes said, and he called to Warren to wait at the corner. The conversation moved on to something else, something lighter, but Wes didn’t forget that his brother was struggling, or that his nephew was in therapy and Gray hadn’t said anything.

  He sent his mother home with Colton and Annie, and he hugged Gray and Elise and told them congratulations, and then he went back to his house with his wife and baby.

  When he knelt down to pray, he spent a long time on his knees, begging God to watch over and help his family. For the wounds he knew about, to the ones he didn’t.

  For Cy, and Ames, who Wes loved dearly. For Gray, who would be running in the Boston Marathon in just three weeks. For a clear mind for himself, and for the love they all needed to feel in their lives. For Grams and her health. For his father, who was alone in Ivory Peaks.

  He hadn’t realized he’d started to weep until Bree’s hand landed on his shoulder and her kind voice said, “Wes, honey, are you okay? You’ve been down there a long time.”

  “I’m okay,” he whispered and climbed into bed with her. He gathered her close and stroked her hair, whispering, “I love you so much, Bree.”

  “I love you, too, Wes,” she said against his chest. Extreme gratitude overcame him, and Wes pressed his eyes closed and left the care of his loved ones in God’s hands.

  Chapter Twenty

  Patsy drew in a deep breath and got out of the car. Betty’s car also sat in front of the farmhouse, and Patsy felt like she was walking into a battle. A major battle, and if she didn’t win it, she’d be out on the streets. Betty probably wouldn’t talk to her for a while, and Patsy didn’t want to be cut off from her nieces.

  She tucked the folder under her arm and climbed the steps, ready for this fight. “You want this,” she murmured to herself. “She doesn’t, even if she fights you on it. Please, Dear Lord. Soften her heart.”

  She knocked on the door and opened it a moment later. “Dad? Betty?”

  “In the kitchen,” her sister called, her voice almost a sing-song. Patsy worked hard not to roll her eyes. Her fingers tightened on the folder as she walked back into the kitchen, where she found Betty sitting with Dad at the kitchen table. They both had coffee cups in front of them, and a bowl of sugar on the table between them.

  “Morning,” Patsy said as cheerfully as she could. She kept the folder with her as she turned toward the coffee pot. It was empty, and it felt deliberate. Patsy turned back to her family, her breath lodging in her lungs. “Do you need anything, Dad?”

  “He’s good,” Betty answered for him, and when Dad didn’t say anything, Patsy got an idea of how this meeting would go.

  She lifted her chin and sat down at the table. “All right. Maybe we should just get started then.”

  “Joe’s not here,” Dad said.

  “He’s not coming,” Patsy said gently. “Remember I told you that earlier this week? He said he doesn’t want to be involved with the orchard anymore. He also said he thinks I should start to manage it.” She cut a glance at Betty, who pursed her lips. “I don’t want to accuse anyone of anything.” She laid the folder on the table and nudged it closer to her father.

  “Dad, I want the orchard. I want to run it full-time, and make sure we’re bringing in the profit we should be, and which will allow us to preserve the land we have into the future.”

  “I can—”

  “I’m going to respectfully ask that you don’t interrupt me,” Patsy said, giving her sister a hard look. “I have things to talk about and show Dad, and then you can say anything you want. Is that fair?”

  Betty’s blue eyes blazed with fire, and she practically burned Patsy with her glare. At this point, Patsy always backed down. But not this time. She stared steadily back, and finally, Betty nodded.

  “Thank you,” Patsy said politely, thanking the heavens above for her courage. Working with the Whittaker brothers had given her a voice, and she’d never been more grateful.

  “Now, let’s start with the maintenance this orchard requires.” She opened the folder. “Dad, you used to do a rigorous schedule of spring fertilization and clean-up in the orchard. I know, because I did the four-step program starting in April with you for several years. According to these records, the trees have only been fertilized once in the past three years, and the debris on the orchard floor has not been raked out once.”

 
She flipped a page. “For the past four years, the north twenty has been neglected. This is a balance sheet on what that section of the orchard made from the previous four years.” She pointed to the six-figure number in the first column. “We made plenty of money when we had people harvesting those apples. You were selling them all over the west, right, Dad?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Hammerstein bought almost all the apples in the north twenty for years. They’re the leading applesauce producer in Idaho.”

  “Hmm, yes,” Patsy said, flipping the page. “And yet, we didn’t sell to them the next year. Or the next. Or the next. Or last year.” She could still see the apples on the ground from last fall. “I’m not sure what happened or why it didn’t get done. But it didn’t.”

  “It was too expensive to hire the people,” Betty said.

  “You’re wrong, Betty,” Patsy said. “To hire the people we need to harvest the north twenty, it costs us fifteen thousand dollars. We make fifty-four from the apples in that section.” She had proof of that too, but no one asked to see it.

  Patsy continued to lay out what had gone wrong and how she would fix it. Ten minutes later, she stopped talking. “That’s it. I want to take care of the orchard. Betty is busy with her family, as she should be. But Dad, the Foxhill Farm has been in our family for generations. We can’t lose it because Betty’s pride will be hurt.”

  She nodded at her sister, who had steam pouring from every hole in her head.

  “This has nothing to do with my pride,” she snapped. “I’m the oldest, and this has already been decided.” She looked at Dad. “Dad, tell her.”

  “Betty,” Dad said. “Is what Patsy saying true?”

  Patsy kept her eyes on the folder, which she’d closed. If Betty lied, well, she’d have to live with that.

  “Some of it,” Betty said. “But Dad, I’m doing the best I can.”

  “It’s not good enough,” Patsy said quietly. “Please, Betty.” She’d told Cy she wasn’t above begging, and she’d just proven it.

  “It’s not fair,” Betty said. “No one taught me how to do this.”

  “No one taught me either,” Patsy said. “I worked with Dad around the orchard, and I know what needs to be done. You have a family, Betty. Don’t you just want to take care of them?”

  “I used to enjoy managing the orchard,” Betty said. “It’s not as fun as you think it is.”

  “I understand that, but—”

  Betty got to her feet and leaned into the table, her expression furious. “You’ve always thought you were better than the rest of us. Perfect Patsy, and her perfect organization.”

  “That is not true,” Patsy said. “I’ve lived in your shadow for my entire life.” She drew in a deep breath, because she had not come here to trade jabs with her sister. She didn’t want to say things she’d regret later. It wouldn’t accomplish anything.

  She exhaled and stayed in her seat. “Dad.”

  “Sit down, Betty.”

  “No, I’m done here.” Betty stomped away, pausing in the hallway and turning back. “I need some time to think about this,” she said over her shoulder.

  Patsy stood up and met her sister’s eye. “Do I have your permission to start the spring fertilization in the meantime?”

  “I’ll do it,” Betty clipped out, and that said, she left the house.

  Patsy sat back down and let her pent-up energy leak out in the form of a sigh.

  Dad reached over and patted her hand. “For the record, Patsy,” he said. “I believe everything you said.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” He gave her a sad smile. “I’ll talk to Betty.”

  Patsy nodded, her chest cinching tight with emotion. “Thank you, Dad.”

  A couple of weeks later, Patsy rocked back and forth in the recliner in Bree’s bedroom while her friend packed. “I wish you were coming,” she said.

  “There’s no way I could,” Patsy said. “I’m going to try to watch on TV. Elise said they show the marathon from beginning to end.”

  “Only the lead runners, though,” Bree said. “Gray won’t be in the lead.”

  “Probably not.” Patsy looked down at the sleeping baby angel in her arms. She did want babies of her own. A lot of them, and she’d started to imagine them with dark hair and eyes like Cy’s. She was blonde and blue-eyed, and she had no idea what a child with the mix of their genes would look like. Both Bree and Wes were dark, so Michael was too.

  “He’s such a good baby,” Patsy said. “You’re so blessed, Bree.”

  “I know,” she said. “Makes me terrified to have another one.”

  Patsy looked up. “He’s five months old.”

  Bree placed a pair of shoes in her suitcase. “Oh, I know. We’re not trying yet. But Wes definitely wants more kids, and he’s almost fifty years old. So he’s not keen to wait.”

  Patsy looked back at the sleeping baby, a vein of joy moving through her. “Well, he’s perfect.”

  “How are you and Cy?”

  “Good,” Patsy said, and that was the truth. “He’s not shy about what he thinks or feels, and I like that.”

  Bree smiled at her. “He seems to really like you.”

  “He says he does.”

  “And you like him?”

  “Definitely.” Patsy grinned back at Bree and stood up. “Okay, I’m not elaborating.” She laid Michael in his swing, and the baby grunted and squirmed while she tucked his blanket around him. “I wish I was going to Boston with everyone, but I’m not, so I need to go say good-bye to my boyfriend.”

  “You do that,” Bree said. “Thanks for bringing that medicine. Wes refuses to stay home.”

  Patsy understood. It wasn’t every year that one’s brother got to run in the Boston Marathon. She drove quickly to the house on the north edge of town and parked behind Cy’s truck. Now that spring was more evident, this house had a beautiful yard with a square of emerald green grass. Two big trees stood in the front yard, and Cy had cleared out the flowerbeds and put in some petunias.

  His house in the orchard would be finished in a few weeks, and Patsy wanted to rent his house if she got to manage the orchard. Betty still hadn’t decided, and Patsy’s patience was growing thin.

  Betty had not done any of the fertilizing, and Patsy had made a bold decision to do it herself. So she had. Most days after a long day at the lodge, with plenty of stress and an endless to-do list, she drove down the canyon and worked around the farm. She’d never seen Betty in the small office in the barn, and she’d arranged to have the orchard raked out, so the leaves from last year wouldn’t prevent the fertilizer from getting to the roots.

  She’d hired the crew to do that, and she’d ensured the irrigation system was working in every row. She’d hired a crop duster to spray for pests the first week of June, and Patsy felt sure they’d have an amazing crop this year. A crop she could sell for a profit.

  She knocked on Cy’s door, and he called, “Come in,” from inside. Patsy entered the house to a living room with comfortable furniture. She’d sat on it plenty of times with Cy while they talked about their lives, watched movies, and expressed their dreams.

  He came into the room from down the hall. “Hey.” He grinned at her and took her into his arms. “You sure you can’t come to Boston with me?”

  “Beyond sure.” She tipped her head back and looked up at him. “Betty hasn’t decided yet, but if she does let me take over the orchard, can I take over your lease here after you move into your house?”

  “Mm, I see what’s happening here.” He grinned down at her, his hands warm on her waist. “You’re using me for my house.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she teased. “This tiny two-bedroom rental on a street all by itself. That’s what you’re good for.”

  They laughed together, and Patsy tipped up onto her toes and kissed him. “Is that a yes?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said. She expected him to release her or kiss her again. He had to leave to make his flight in just a few
minutes. Instead, he gazed down at her, a sober look in his eye. “Patsy, have you thought about a future with us?”

  “A future with us?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “What if we get married? Just go with me, and don’t freak out.”

  “I’m not freaking out.” Yet. Sure, she’d thought about a future with Cy. It was hard not to, because he did speak directly.

  “I own twenty acres of the orchard. If we get married, you could definitely manage that, no matter what Betty says.”

  Hope fired through Patsy’s soul. “Yes.”

  “And you wouldn’t need this tiny rental, because you’d live with me.” He pressed his cheek to hers, and Patsy let her eyes drift closed as she imagined the future he spoke of. She could see it with perfect clarity, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. If it didn’t come true, it would hurt so much. And if it did…she couldn’t hope for such joy. It almost felt selfish.

  “It’s a nice future,” he whispered. “In my head.”

  “Mine too,” Patsy said.

  An alarm sounded on his phone, and Cy touched his lips to her jaw. “I have to go.”

  “I know.” Neither one of them moved, and Patsy turned and dipped her head so she could kiss Cy one last time before he went to Boston.

  A few minutes later, she had Blue Velvet’s leash, her food and water bowls, and her dental treats. Cy told the dog to get in the back of Patsy’s sedan, and she obeyed. He kissed Patsy again, and they both got in their vehicles.

  Patsy went back up to the lodge, her fantasies about the future continuing on a loop. Had she finally found the man who would stick by her side through thick and thin? Who’d notice when she cut and colored her hair? Who cared about the things she was passionate about?

  It sure seemed like it, and Patsy didn’t understand the fear running through her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nervous energy ran from one side of Gray Hammond’s mind to the other. He’d worked for months and months—over a year—to be here in Boston.