Page 86 of Betting on the Brainiac

She is a constant surprise. “Buying stuff so the makers would get paid?”

“We pay them when we purchase the inventory from them. But indirectly, yeah. Buying something from one of our makers means the store will place another order with them.”

I cock my head to study her. “I’ve been all over your condo. Where are you keeping all this stuff?”

She smiles. “I usually buy jewelry or handbags, smaller things that I can give my servers as monthly bonuses.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

“But seriously, cancel your lease and stay at Gatsby’s, only for free now. I was going to tell you that anyway.”

I shake my head. “That’s generous, but the lease is already signed. We’re going to start moving even faster now, and it makes more sense for me to be onsite. I’ll just be a better manager and set a boundary around interruptions.”

“Oh. Okay.” There’s a flash of hurt in her eyes.

“Just so you know, it’s definitely personal.”

“What?”

I shrug and make my face likewhat do you expect me to say here?“You’re too fun, Madison. I can’t get as much work done as I need to.”

She pokes my shoulder. “So mean, Oliver.”

I stay in character. “You should’ve been less fun.”

“Impossible,” she says. “But that’s fine. I’ll spend all day here while you’re at work, and the kittens are going to like me best.”

“No way.” I pick up Tuxie and nestle the kitten against my chest. “Why do you think I’m wandering around shirtless? I’m imprinting on them so they’ll remember I’m their favorite.”

“Diabolical.”

Tuxie digs its claws into me right then, and I hiss and set Tuxie down. “Never mind. I’m changing plans until they can retract their claws.”

Madison scoops Tuxie right up. “Good baby.”

“Rude. For your information, I’m starting a file of proof so they catch you when you kill me for the insurance money, and this is going in it. Be right back.” I run upstairs to grab a shirt, glad to have a reason to do it.Hold the line. When she touched my shoulder, I wanted to grab her wrist, flip her on her back, and pin her there, then see how long it would take her to recognize my kiss.

I return in a T-shirt and sit down to pick up Smudge, who immediately begins to scale my chest, but it doesn’t hurt.

“Locke Creek Ranch?” Madison says, reading my shirt.

I glance down at the name printed across the silhouette of a galloping horse. “My parents’ place.”

“Save me a google?”

“They raise champion quarter horses.”

“If you live in Texas—even if you’ve never gone to a rodeo in your life—you know what it means to have a champion quarter horse. But I have been to rodeos. We loved going to RodeoAustin every year. You’re saying they’ve had champions, like plural?”

“Rodeos?” I can’t hold back a smile. We don’t do rodeos. “These are cutting horses. Different sport. My parents are a pretty big deal in the cutting horse world.”

“How big?”

“Several big earners highly sought after for breeding.”

Madison sits with that for a few moments, staring at me like she’s trying to puzzle through something. Then one side of her mouth twitches up and before long, she’s laughing. A soft, low laugh that makes my abs tighten to fight the shiver the sound sends down my back.

Madison Leigh Armstrong plus Oliver Locke equals all jokes, all the time.

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