That, he could handle.
But the other stipulation was that he had to marry a North Dakota girl. One he chose at the ball that his great-uncle had dictated to be organized before he died.
Even that, he could almost handle.
But the last requirement, the one that had to remain a secret, how was he supposed to do that?
Ridiculous. Whoever heard of such bizarre requirements?
Unfortunately, while Ryder knew they wouldn’t hold up in a court of law, he also knew it would be quicker and easier to do them than it would be to hire a lawyer to fight them. Also, in today’s day and age, there was always the off chance that he might get a judge who was eccentric enough to uphold the ridiculous requirements.
He couldn’t chance it.
Especially if his assets were frozen. Which was what was going to happen if he wasn’t engaged in less than two months. The night of the ball.
“You did what?” The irate voice coming through his car’s speakers belonged to Brad Fouse, his friend and business partner.
“I gave the shoes away.” Ryder looked around at the frozen landscape that hadn’t changed at all in the last two hundred miles.
“You didn’t!” Brad sounded truly upset.
“I did. It didn’t take you that long to make them. I figured you could make another pair, no problem.” Ryder hadn’t wanted to give them away, but he couldn’t hardly admit that to Brad. He’d almost felt like his body was acting of its own accord and he couldn’t stop it.
“I told you they were special. Special shoes for the girl that you choose at the ball.”
“You’ll just have to make me another pair of spec shoes. Plus, there’s no way you can know her shoe size now.” Which reminded him that he had no idea whether the shoes he’d given the woman whose tire he’d changed would fit. He’d known it at the time but just couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“No, you don’t understand.” Brad sounded more upset than the situation called for. Just make a new pair of shoes. Brad was constantly designing things and special ordering them. They had a small factory set up for that exact purpose in Newark, NJ. It wasn’t too far from the warehouse where he unloaded their shipping containers. Of course their company office was in downtown Manhattan. Expensive, but prestigious. Exactly what he wanted.
He was hoping to use the term “live” loosely and be at that office during the week and just live in North Dakota on the weekends. Some weekends. The ones where he wasn’t busy with the New York City social life.
Although he already did have his business covered with someone to take his place for the year. But it was hard to pull his fingers up and just walk away. He’d lived that business for the last ten years. Even before that, he’d been involved. One couldn’t just walk away from a lifetime of work.
It didn’t matter that he was tired of the social life, of the shallowness of relationships and the insincerity of his “friends” in those circles. His business came first, and making the proper rounds was imperative to cultivating the personal relationships he needed to keep his business thriving. It was a big city but a small world. He’d been given a leg up, of course, because of his family’s money, but it was because of that that he felt the need to prove to everyone that he was an exceptional businessman in his own right, not just because he’d been born with money.
There was always something to prove.
“You need to have faith in your abilities. Although, to be honest, Brad, it makes more sense to me for you to wait until after I figure out who I’m going to marry, then make the shoes for her.”
Brad let out a long, audible sigh. Ryder could just see him leaning his head back and running his hand through his hair. This wasn’t the first time Ryder had frustrated him.
“Just...if you can get the shoes back, it would be really good.”
Ryder snorted as he braked for the outskirts of Sweet Water, a blink-and-you-miss-it town. “I don’t even know her name. To be honest, I don’t even know if she lives in North Dakota. I didn’t look at her license plate.” He’d been too busy looking into big, green eyes that seemed to reach the whole way into his soul.
Which was stupid. She was dressed like the homeless dudes in the city who pulled aluminum cans out of dumpsters and carted them off in old shopping carts to sell at the recycling center. He appreciated the green effort, but he’d certainly never felt the need to even stop and talk to someone like that, let alone stand along the road and stare longingly into their eyes.
Thankfully he hadn’t forgotten all he’d learned in the four summers he’d spent on the ranch as a teen and had been able to change that tire.
“I’m pulling in to grab a bite. Talk to you later.” He clicked off as he snagged the spot right in front of Patty’s Diner. It hadn’t changed, either. A little more weather-beaten, maybe.
A tall, thin cowboy with one thumb hooked in the front pocket of his jeans stood out in the cold wind, leaning against the side of the building, a half-smile hovering around his lips.
Maybe it had been a while, but Ryder would recognize the Preacher anywhere. His own lips tugged up, and warmth spread through his chest at the sight of his old friend.
He got out of his car as Preacher pushed off the wall.
“You’re late,” Preacher said, with no animosity.
“I stopped to change a tire.”
Preacher lifted a brow and gave his sports car a once-over. “That thing won’t last through the first blizzard here.”
“Not my car. Some woman in an old pickup.”
Preacher was about the only man he knew that wouldn’t make some kind of remark about that. Pure as the driven snow and arrow straight, Preacher’s nickname said it all. He was one of the few people Ryder considered a true friend.
“I really appreciate you stepping in and helping me after my ranch foreman quit after Christmas.” Ryder opened the diner door and followed Preacher in.
“Happy to help.” Preacher rolled the paper and pen he had been holding and stuffed them into his back pocket.
Preacher always had been odd. It wouldn’t surprise Ryder at all to find he’d written a book of poetry or something.
“You any closer to finding a full-time replacement? I’m heading down to Texas with my harvest crew in a couple months. Hate to leave you hanging, but...” Preacher slid into a booth.
Ryder sat across from him, facing the window. It had been a long time since he’d been to Sweet Water, and he hadn’t particularly loved the town while he’d been here, but, oldness, or laid-backness, was comfortable, and it felt like coming home.
“No, I understand. You told me when you started this winter that you’d be taking off for Texas in the spring.” He sighed. “I haven’t found anyone yet.”
The waitress came over. Preacher gave a sincere smile and asked about her family. She started in talking about her sisters and cousins and aunts and grandparents. Ryder leaned back in the booth, only half listening. Yeah, that would never happen in New York.
Just then, a moving blue vehicle caught his eye. He jerked to the side and looked around Preacher’s head. The driver wore a green hat as she steered the old pickup down Main Street.
His heart spun, and his skin pricked. The pickup didn’t stop, but it was all he could do to stay in his seat. For some reason, the same urge seemed to steal over him that had caused him to hand over the special-made shoes Brad had given him to give to his fiancée. Like he was pulled toward that pickup and could no more stop his feet from moving than he could stop himself from giving the shoes away.
Weird.
Thankfully the urge passed as the pickup disappeared out of sight.
Interesting that the woman he’d changed the tire for must live around. What else would she be doing driving down Main Street?
The waitress moved off, and Preacher focused back on him. “Are you okay? Seems like maybe your back hurts or something?”
Ryder straightened in his seat. “It was a long drive.”
“Why didn’t you fly?”
He’d wanted his car with him, for starters. But he hadn’t wanted to fly with his sister and her kid. Too much drama. He felt bad for her situation, but he couldn’t change it and didn’t want to talk about it.
“Guess I needed a couple days to myself,” he finally said.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about your foreman dilemma, and since you’re going to be in North Dakota for the next year, I figure you could do it yourself.” Preacher gave the waitress a sincere grin, with no flirt at all, as she brought their drinks and set them down.
They both ordered burgers. Ryder waited until she left before responding to Preacher. “I worked on the ranch a couple summers when I was a teen. I might have an inflated ego—” he’d been told that exact thing by more than one woman over the last ten years, “but even I know there’s no way I can run a ranch, especially one as big as Sweet Water.”
“I’ve got some time before I have to go. I’ll teach you.” Preacher smiled, revealing teeth that were white but just a little crooked, indicating a childhood that had been too poor to afford braces for all eight kids in his family.
“I hardly think that’s enough time for me to learn everything. People spend decades on ranches and never become foreman.” The very idea made a mild pinch of panic morph in his chest.
Preacher took a long drink of his water with no ice. He set his glass down carefully and then leaned both forearms on the table. “You run a multibillion-dollar company. Heading up Sweet Water Ranch will be child’s play compared to that. Sure, there are some things you don’t know, but nothing you can’t learn.”
“I’m not that good on a horse.” He hadn’t ridden at all since he’d been seventeen. He’d been okay back then, but it was more than a decade ago.
“We do most of the stuff from four-wheelers and ATVs now. Horses are a luxury.”
“I can’t throw a lasso.”
“The foreman doesn’t have to.”
“I don’t know a steer from a heifer.”
“That’s crap.”
Ryder allowed his lips to turn up. That’s the reason he liked Preacher so well—he wasn’t afraid to tell the truth, even to a billionaire. Even when the truth involved calling bs.
“Consider it,” Preacher said. “You know I wouldn’t suggest it unless I thought you could do it.” His grin became sly. “Plus, everyone knows there’s going to be a big shindig at Sweet Water in six weeks. If you’re playing foreman, you’ll be too busy for the ladies to drag you into helping to plan it.”
“Good point.” Really good point. Of course, soon, everyone would know how much was riding on that “big shindig” for him. That was the evening he had to choose his fiancée.
He didn’t have a steady girlfriend. He didn’t have time.
He knew several girls who would jump on the chance to marry him in a heartbeat, but he was pretty sure they wanted his money. Which might end up being what he had to do—pick a girl who wanted him for his money.
Maybe giving himself the job of foreman and letting Preacher train him wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He could get his mind off the little problem of figuring out which woman would cost him the least. A big problem, actually. It had only been a week since his lawyer had informed him that unless he married a North Dakota girl and lived on Sweet Water Ranch for the next year with her, he was losing the ranch and business he’d been groomed to run since he’d graduated high school.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, he knew money wasn’t everything and all that, but until one was a billionaire, one really couldn’t say how hard it would be to lose billions of dollars. It was all he’d known. It was everything he’d planned for. He wasn’t going to give it up just because of a stupid marriage requirement.
He’d find a girl, have her sign an iron-clad prenup, and deal with it. He’d been around the block enough to know that one girl was pretty much like the next.
Chapter 3
Nell had never exactly been on the property of Sweet Water Ranch before. But three days later when Elaine and Rem returned from Texas, instead of going straight home, she drove to the big sign that stood at the end of the drive back to the ranch.
Everyone in Sweet Water was familiar with the ranch from which the town got its name. But she figured she probably wasn’t the only one who’d seen the fancy sign, knew where the drive turned off the main road just outside of Sweet Water, but had never actually been down said drive, nor had any idea of what the actual ranch really looked like.
She was finding out today.
The brochure said to show up in person and apply. She’d better do it before she went home. Her stepfather was due to go back to work in the oil fields, and he’d expect her to be there to take care of Vinton and the ranch. Whether he’d let her off long enough to work the night of the ball was a toss-up. Maybe, maybe not, but she needed to apply before it even became a remote possibility.
The idea of trying to get a full-time temp job was tempting, but how could she? Her stepfather would never allow her to do so, and she didn’t even want to contemplate leaving her little half brother, Vinton.
After about a mile of fence-lined drive, she drove out of a copse of trees and the massive two-story house came into view. Sprawling over a large, snow-covered lawn, it was dwarfed only by the monstrous barn that sat a hundred yards farther down. Various other outbuildings lay scattered around.
Despite the snow, the place still gave off the vibe of being manicured and well-maintained, although the rooms behind all the lace curtains seemed dark and still. As far as she knew, since the death of Mr. Edwards, the house had been uninhabited except for a few full-time staff. Nell was hardly up on the latest gossip, though, so maybe she was wrong.
She pulled her pickup into the parking area at the side of the house, where a sign pointed with an arrow around back and declared “office.”
The walks were completely cleared of snow.
For being such a big ranch, it was surprisingly quiet as she turned the corner of the walk to the back of the house.
A glass-enclosed greenhouse twenty-five yards behind the house caught her eye. A longing stirred in her chest. Of all the jobs on the ranch, working with the cattle, fixing fences and equipment, feeding and doing field work, her very favorite was doing the garden work. Landscaping around the house. Coaxing little sprouts out of the ground and seeing them explode in all their colorful glory come late August or early September.
Having access to a greenhouse would be heaven on earth.
The clicking of the door marked “office” moved her gaze from the glass enclosure. A tall, slim cowboy strode out of the door. She recognized him from school and from around Sweet Water. One of those people who were unmovable and unchangeable.
“Hey, Clay.” She didn’t have to force a smile. Some people called him the Preacher or something like that, and it wasn’t hard to imagine where that nickname might have come from. Clay was as straight as a North Dakota highway. He’d been known to bring his Bible to school and read it during study halls. He never preached at anyone, as far as she knew, and she’d never gotten the feeling that he judged anyone, either. But it was hard to be in his presence without having the feeling of being pulled up—like just talking to him made her want to be a better person. Like being in Clay’s presence felt like being in the presence of someone who had an in with the Almighty.
She liked Clay.
Clay’s face creased into well-used smile lines as he set his hat firmly on his head. “Hey, Nell. How are things going out your way?” His eyes were shaded by the hat, but he stopped with one thumb hooked in his front pocket, the other hand holding a notebook and pen. He stood like he had all day to listen to her answer.
Where she might have said, “good” or “okay” to another casual acquaintance, with Clay, somehow he brought out more.
“Tom’s been home from the oil fields and is getting ready to go back out,” she said, referring to her stepfather.
“Is he still making you st
ay on the ranch and do all the work while he’s gone?” Clay had been on that same decorating committee as she had been in high school. He’d not gone to the dance, either, but she, and everyone else, probably, had assumed it had been for religious reasons. Like he didn’t believe in dancing or something.
“He is. But I’m really hoping he’ll let me off to help serve the ball that you all are holding here in May.” She reached in her coat pocket for the brochure, like Clay wasn’t the temporary foreman on Sweet Water’s spread. “It says you need servers that night, and it pays well.” She fingered the paper. “I’d really like to come and work before—it says that you need help—but I know he won’t let me.”
Clay tilted his head. “I know what Tom says about all the work on the ranch, but what if you took Vinton with you? Think he’d let you come here a few days a week?”
Nell’s brows furrowed. She’d never considered bringing Vinton. She didn’t want to misunderstand. “Like as a ranch hand?”
The laugh lines in Clay’s face deepened. But before he could answer a little girl with dark hair and eyes came running around the house. “Daddy, Daddy. Can I go with Spencer and have a snack in the kitchen. Aunt Roxie said I could, but I had to check with you. Please? Please?”
“Sure can, Gina. Thanks for asking.” He had a moment to ruffle her hair before she took off again.
Nell had heard that he had a child, but knowing Clay in high school, she hadn’t believed it until just now when she’d seen it with her own eyes. Clay wasn’t married, and she’d never seen him with a girl in high school. Never heard about him with anyone in the years since. It was a small town, she wouldn’t have missed gossip like that.
Clay went back to their earlier discussion. “No. Not a ranch hand. The house needs to be cleaned from top to bottom. Plus, the outside will need to be landscaped, although I know you can pitch in with the cattle and hay if I need you.” He tapped the paper she held. “I know you can do any of it.”
Cowboys Don't Believe in Fairy Tales Page 2