Page 20 of Faking It with my Billionaire Grump

Adversely, Tilly was not impressed at all, which surprised me a little. She used to be down with all that silliness. Clearly, city life has beaten all the fun out of her. No doubt she went home and jumped straight into the shower. I mean, she did have ice cream in her hair, so I can’t blame her.

Checking my watch, I clock the time. 6:28 a.m.

The sun is well up, the birds are singing, and by the hazy sky, it’s going to be another hot one. I’ve already decided what I need Tilly to do, and feeling smugly satisfied, I smile to myself.

The sound of a diesel engine carries over on the stillness of the air, and I’m surprised to see Tilly coming down the long track. She’s right on time. After her reaction last night, I didn’t think I’d see her before 7:00.

Elsa goes nuts as Tilly reaches the house, but with a high-pitched whistle, she comes launching back to me.

“Heel,” I command. A second later, she’s sitting beside me on the porch.

“Can you not put that wolf away somewhere?” Tilly asks once she’s climbed out of her truck and walked a few feet toward the house.

Looking down at Elsa, I give the command. “Stay.” Then I place my coffee on the table and walk down the steps to meet her. “Not a chance. You’re a guest in her home, remember?”

Tilly sighs and nods, clearly not pleased by my reply.

“Great to see you came dressed for work,” I say drily, noting her overalls and boots. She’s wearing a vest top underneath that shows off the shape of her collarbones and slender throat.

She gives me a snarky smile. “Well, I was going to wear my ballgown, but it’s at the cleaners.”

“Yes, so is my tux,” I quip back. “Right. Come on. Let me show you where you’ll be working today.”

She follows at my side, but as we go, she throws a glance back over her shoulder.

“She won’t move,” I say reassuringly.

“Wow.” I can actually hear how impressed she is. “That’s a well-trained dog.”

“Her name is Elsa,” I say, feeling a little touchy at Tilly calling her “dog” all the time.

“Elsa. Right.”

We walk across the yard to the stables in silence, and then Tilly says, “I am sorry about last night. It wasn’t exactly how I expected the evening to go.”

“That’s okay.” I smile down at her as we reach the entrance. Stepping inside, I grab the spade I’ve left there and hand it to her. “Now you can make amends.”

Tilly’s eyes fly wide. She looks at me, then at the spade, and back to me again.

“You can’t be serious. You want me to—?”

“Yep.” I smirk. “Every stall apart from the one at the end needs mucking out.”

“No way!”

“Hey,” I counter, “a deal’s a deal. You said you’d be willing to do anything.” I gesture to the stables. “Off you go.”

I turn on my heel with a huge grin on my face. Even as I walk away, I’m imagining her rage-filled eyes boring into the back of my head. Finn, my largest and strongest horse, is waiting for me at the fence. We need to go and check on the cattle. It’s going to take a while, so I’m leaving Tilly to it.

By noon, it’s so hot that I can hardly breathe, and Finn and I make our way back to the house. I can’t help but wonder how Tilly’s doing. At least she’s in the shade. I wouldn’t want her collapsing from heat stroke. I’m not that cruel.

I leave Finn at the fence and wander over to the huge building that houses my horses. As I enter, my eyes widen. The place is spotless. In fact, it hasn’t looked this good in months. I really need to hire some help. I’ve just been too busy to get around to it.

The irony.

Passing each stall, I can’t seem to find her. I know she hasn’t left because Gerry’s truck is still parked outside. I reach the other end of the building, and as I get to Greta’s stall, I have to swallow a gasp.

Tilly is there, lying in the straw, softly brushing Greta’s coat.

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