Page 17 of Rescued By My Small Town Billionaire

I sit beside him, careful not to jostle the kitten. “Let me check the bandage. It might need freshening up.”

Mike hesitates, clearly not used to being fussed over, but finally nods, allowing me to undo the makeshift sling I’d rigged the night before. As I unwrap the gauze, I try to keep my movements gentle, though my hands tremble slightly. Years of arranging flowers have kept my fingers nimble, but this is different.

“You’re good at this,” Mike murmurs, his voice softer than I expected.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” I reply, thinking of the countless times I’ve patched up friends or family. “You’re not the first stubborn person I’ve had to take care of.”

His lips twitch, almost a smile. “Stubborn, huh?”

“Oh, definitely,” I tease, meeting his gaze. “But I think that’s what makes you good at what you do. Stubbornness is just determination in disguise.”

Mike chuckles, a low, warm sound that makes my chest tighten. “You’ve got me figured out, huh?”

“Not yet,” I say, grinning. “But I’m getting there.”

As I finish rewrapping his bandage, we settle into an easy rhythm of conversation. Mike surprises me by opening up, sharing stories from his time as a firefighter and the challenges of running the ranch.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” I ask, curious.

He shakes his head. “This place is home. It’s not perfect, but it’s where I’m meant to be.”

I nod. “I feel the same about the shop. It’s not just a business—it’s a part of me. When it burned, it felt like losing a piece of myself.”

Mike’s expression softens, and for a moment, the silence between us is filled with an unspoken connection.

“What about you?” he asks. “What got you into flowers?”

I smile, the memory both warm and bittersweet. “My aunt. She taught me the language of flowers—how each bloom has its own meaning. She said flowers can say the things we can’t.”

“She sounds like she was a special person,” Mike says, his tone gentle.

“She was,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I try to honor her every day in what I do.”

Later that afternoon, Pete stops by to go over the day's tasks with Mike. He's sharp, confident and has an easy way of talking that makes people trust him.

“You’re in good hands with me,” Pete says with a grin as he sits across from Mike. “I’ve got everything under control.”

Mike leans back against the couch, looking more at ease than I’ve ever seen him. “I know. That’s why I hired you.”

The two of them talk shop, going over everything from grazing rotations to equipment maintenance. I listen from the kitchen, impressed by the quiet respect between them.

“You’ve done a lot for this ranch,” Mike says, his tone serious. “I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time to make it official.”

Pete raises an eyebrow. “Official how?”

“Offering you a stake,” Mike replies. “You’ve earned it.”

The surprise on Pete’s face quickly turns to gratitude. “I don’t know what to say. That means a lot, Mike. Thank you.”

Their handshake seals the deal. For the first time since his injury, I see Mike completely relax.

“Tea to celebrate?” I ask, beaming.

They both laugh.

***

The next morning, I head to the newly rebuilt shop to start organizing the space for the grand reopening.

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