Page 116 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

Brooke nodded, then said, “Now for my question.”

“Go ahead.”

Her eyes narrowed, as if she was ready to catch every word that came from my lips and analyze it. “Why do you want a ranch so badly?”

If she hadn’t just told me a very personal story, I never would have been willing to share mine. However, she’d been honest with me, and I owed her the same courtesy. I decided to start with my great-aunt. “Has Victoria told you about Greta?”

Brooke grinned. “She has.”

“Greta is my great-aunt. She’s one of the only people in the family that stays out of the money issues, although I’m fairly certain that she’s sitting on a large fortune.”

My mind went back to the time I’d spent at her house as a kid, and I let myself get carried back to then. “One summer, when I was ten, my parents went to Europe for six weeks. Instead of taking Courtney and me with them, or sending us to a boarding school, they left us with Greta. She has a large piece of property in eastern New York where she spent the warm months of the year on her ranch.”

Brooke raised an eyebrow and started eating a pastry.

“I’d always been fascinated with horses, but I’d only been allowed minimal interaction with the animals from Harris Inc., even though my mother had gifted me one a few years earlier. I had no idea how to take care of them.” A smile played on my lips at the memory. “On our second day there, I woke up early and went to the horse barn, determined to force the groom to teach me to ride. He was a grizzled man with white hair named George, and he told me I could ride the horses after the stalls were mucked out.” I leaned back. “After my first stall, I had excrement all over me, including in my hair. George laughed and laughed, then he hosed me off and sent me back to the main house to ask Greta for work clothes.”

Brooke chuckled. “So you know what it’s like to be covered in poop.”

“I do, and the experience had been humiliating enough that I went back and asked George to teach me how to do it right.”

“Is this what started your habit of having people train you?”

I nodded. “George taught me everything he knew, and I was determined to do it better than him. After spending hours in the barn each day, Greta told me that George wanted to pay me for my time.” Even now, I remembered the confusion I’d felt at the offer.

“Wait.” Brook held up a finger. “Your great-aunt’s stable hand wanted to pay you?”

“He did. Obviously, I didn’t need the money, but George or Greta, or both, decided that I should be rewarded for my hard work. Greta told me I didn’t have a choice, so I let them.”

“How much did you make?” Brooke asked with a laugh.

“Four hundred and sixteen dollars.”

“You remember the exact amount?”

“Of course.” How could I forget? It was the first thing that I’d ever earned on my own. “Do you remember me telling you that I was buying your father’s ranch with my own money?”

“Yeah.”

“The moment I got home, I learned how to invest, and that four hundred and sixteen dollars has turned into enough to buy and refurbish your family’s property.”

Brooke’s lips formed an ‘o,’ and she shook her head. “You started investing when you were ten?”

“Eleven.”

I took a bite of my own eggs and chewed. As usual, Lorenzo’s offerings were delicious.

Brooke eyed me. “That still doesn’t explain why you want your own ranch.”

After I swallowed and patted my lips with my napkin, I answered. “That summer with Greta was perhaps the best of my life. I learned to care for horses, which quickly grew into my primary passion. I learned that I could add value to the world outside of Harris Inc. I learned that I enjoyed the simplicity of physical labor, and the experiences of that summer helped me understand more about how people who don’t have private planes worked and lived.” The statement sounded pompous, but it was my truth. “I’ve been searching for that feeling of accomplishment and peace ever since.”

“And our ranch gives that to you?” Brooke asked.

Her question gave me pause. Yes, the Shaw’s property did as she said, but there was something there much more alluring than the possibility of having my own ranch. I reached for Brooke’s hand again and said, “Partially.”

“Only partially?” she asked in a quiet voice.

I nodded, and opened my mouth to answer, when my phone rang.

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