Page 15 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

I opened my mouth to ask what he was talking about, but the words caught in my throat.

He went on. “What do you think?” My dad’s eyes met mine, and dread filled my stomach like sour milk.

He wanted my opinion? I wasn’t even sure what was going on. “You—you’re going to sell the ranch?”

“Sure am.” He clapped his hands and got to his feet, which he made look easy considering he was in his late sixties. “As a matter of fact, the buyer is just pulling in. He’s going to have dinner with us.”

Dinner?

Buyer?

Now?

I blinked, and apparently some time had passed, because I found Rick standing in front of me with his hand outstretched. “Come on.”

My gaze darted from his hand to his face and back again.

“Let’s go meet this guy.” He grabbed my wrist and hauled me to my feet.

Was Rick taking me to meet the man who was buying the ranch?

Myranch?

My feet moved of their own accord, and suddenly, I was on the porch watching a black SUV drive too fast along the dirt road.

I narrowed my eyes as my brain made a somewhat random connection.

That was the same SUV that had been at the park.

Chapter 4

-William-

“Are you listening?” my father demanded.

I glanced longingly out the window of the SUV at the rolling hills, swaths of trees, and livestock grazing in fields.

“William?”

I’d mostly been listening to my father, but really, I was waiting for Brooke to return my text. I’d hoped for a swift response, but so far, nothing.

“What are you doing?” my father asked.

I should probably answer him. I took a moment to review what my father had been ranting about for the past few minutes. “The real estate company we’re trying to acquire in Chicago found a loophole in their contract and has demanded a hefty increase in their buyout price.”

My father grunted in acknowledgement.

“I told our people to step away, which they were prepared to do, but you went to the company in Chicago and begged them to reconsider.”

“Watch your tone, William.”

I hadn’t changed my tone and kept it steady now. “Father, it’s Thursday afternoon, and I have a full day tomorrow. Considering the trouble this company has given us, I refuse to address this matter until our scheduled meeting with them on Monday.”

“You can’t leave them hanging over the weekend,” my father said. I imagined him sitting in his office, scowling at a lion statue he’d purchased in China.

“Why?” I asked.

“So they won’t go to someone else.”

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