Page 19 of The Billionaire and the Runaway

“I heard we had a lamb born last night and I wanted to get some photos for the socials,” she says as she holds up her phone.

“Socials?” I ask as I scratch my jaw.

“Social media?” she clarifies.

“Oh, right. Uh, yes. But we have to be quiet. I have the lamb and mom resting in the barn,” I explain as I lead her over to the stall.

I lean on the door of the stall and Ariana comes to stand beside me.

“Oh! It’s so tiny,” she whispers. I look over to find her staring in awe at the newest member of our farm’s animal family. She snaps a few photos.

“What do you think we should name her?” I ask.

“Her?” she confirms.

I nod.

She grins. “How about we come up with a few names and have folks visit our website and vote?”

“I like that,” I answer. I motion to the stall. “You want to pet her?”

“I don’t want to bother them,” she whispers as we watch the lamb feed from its mom.

I open the stall a little. “It’s OK, Ruby,” I say quietly to the mother sheep.

I motion for Ariana to come over to me. She slowly joins me. We crouch down and pet the lamb who has just finished nursing.

“Like this,” I instruct as I pet the lamb.

She starts to reach out but hesitates, so I gently take her hand in mine and place it on the lamb. We stroke the soft coat of the lamb together.

“It’s so soft,” she says in a barely audible voice.

“It is,” I reply.

Her hand stills, and for reasons I can’t explain, I don’t move mine for a long moment. I leave it resting over her much smaller one on top of the lamb. I feel like I can’t breathe. Like I’m in some weird trance and I can’t move, I don’t want to move because I don’t want to break whatever spell has been cast over us.

“Are you coming back out here to help?” Earl grumbles.

I finally move my hand and Ariana yanks hers away.

“I should go back,” she says and quickly scurries away. I watch as she leaves, her curvy body silhouetted by the sunlight outside.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I run a hand over my face.

I get back to work, trying to concentrate on anything that isn’t my social media marketing manager. Nothing good can possibly come from that.

* * *

The day went by quicker than I wanted it to. Buck found some rotting wood in the barn, and we spent the afternoon fixing it. By the time I made it back to the office, Ariana and Joy were packing up for the day.

“Name That Lamb is live and people are starting to vote!” Ariana says happily. Joy smiles over at her.

“I think that’s a great idea,” she says as she grabs her purse to leave. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“’Night, Joy,” I say.

“Bye,” Ariana practically sings. I grin to myself as I look over at her. She’s admiring our social media page. I can tell she’s proud of herself. Hell, she should be proud. In two weeks, I can already see an increase in our profit margins. Whatever she’s doing, is working, slowly, but it’s working, and I haven’t even talked business with her yet.

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