Page 9 of Falling Hard for the Billionaire Cowboy

I push him back down. "Easy there, cowboy. How are you feeling?"

Noah winces slightly. "I'm okay, boss. How's the ranch? Did we get the fire under control? Are all the animals okay? Did anyone else get hurt?"

I nod and when I can get a word in, I tell him: "Everything's fine now. You need to focus on getting better. And don't worry about work - you'll have paid leave until you're a hundred percent recovered."

Noah's eyes widen. "Boss, I can't accept that. I don't need …"

"Now don't be stubborn," I cut him off. "You're taking the paid leave, and that's final."

I look at the young man before me, feeling a surge of pride. Noah is a good kid, only nineteen years old, and he is already working harder than any other kid his age I know. He’s been working on my ranch for a year to save up for college. I'd offered to pay for his tuition, but the kid didn't want handouts. As a man, I respect his decision and have supported him as best I can.

Noah also supports his single mother and younger sister, so every dollar counts. I know he'll work twice as hard when he gets back, but for now, he needs to heal.

"Alright, boss," Noah finally agrees, "but I'll make it up to you when I'm back. You'll see."

I nod with a small smile on my face. "I know you will, kid. Now, I've got to head out - promised the nurses I wouldn't stay long."

As I drive home, my mind wanders back to the events of the day. The fire, the injured ranch hand, the barn and the animals,and the unexpected visitor - Hayley Miller. It has been quite a day, especially by the standards of our usually quiet town.

***

As soon as I get home, I crack open a can of beer and settle onto the porch. My dogs, Duke and Rusty, flank me on either side, their warm bodies a comforting presence. At that moment, with the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, I can’t imagine any better scene.

The shrill ring of my phone breaks the tranquil silence. Glancing at the screen, I see it’s an international call. With a sigh, I grab my beer and pad back to my office, flicking on the lights to prepare for a video call.

"Good evening, Mr. Johnson. I'm sorry to disturb you," Zhang Wei, my company's representative in China speaks up, as soon as I accept the call.

I lean back in my leather chair, taking a swig of beer. "No problem, Wei. What's the situation?"

"Sir, we've made progress with the merger between our China and Japan branches. The Japanese team has agreed to our terms, but they're requesting a face-to-face meeting next month."

I nod, my mind racing with the implications. "That's good news. How are the projections looking?"

As Wei rattles off figures and projections, I can't help but marvel at how much preparation he has done. What had started as a single boutique hotel I had inherited, has grown into the Johnson Luxury Resorts, a chain spanning twenty-four countries.

"If this merger goes through, sir," Wei continues, "we'll be looking at a 30% increase in our Asian market share."

"Excellent work, Wei," I say, a smile tugging at my lips. "Set up that meeting. I'll fly out myself to seal the deal."

Ending the call, I decide to tackle a few more tasks before bed. My mind wanders to my other investments. Being a major stockholder in Enterprise Products Partners has paid off handsomely, adding me to the billionaire club.

Yet, even with all the money in the world, nothing can beat those simple moments on the porch with my dogs and a cold beer. Speaking of which, I glance at the beer can I'd brought along – the frost has melted, leaving a ring of condensation on my desk. "Probably doesn't taste as good as when it was cold." I muse, still taking a swig and wiping off the desk with my sleeve.

The hours tick by as I pour over reports and emails. When I finally look up, the clock reads 2:30 AM. "I guess I'll eat at breakfast," I sigh, running a hand across my stubbled face.

As I shut down my computer, my thoughts drift to earlier that day – the fire at the ranch, the injured kid, and the feisty woman who'd shown up at my door. Hayley Miller.

As I finally crawl into bed, I chuckle to myself. "Do I look like a serial killer…"

My last thought before drifting off is of green eyes and a fiery spirit. Something tells me that Hayley Miller might be the most interesting development yet in my already extraordinary life.

Chapter five

HAYLEY

A few hours earlier ...

I sit in the passenger seat of the police car, embarrassment crashing over me in waves as we drive away from what I've always considered my home. The argument with Austin keeps replaying in my head, each moment making me wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

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