Page 20 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

Owen

I’m not sure about this applicant, and I’m not quiet about it as we wait to interview her in the office this morning. She is the second person we’ve interviewed for the job.

Our first candidate had at least come from a farming background, and while she was a little inexperienced, she knew about animals and the ranching world. This candidate, on the other hand, doesn’t know the first thing about the industry—at least not according to her work or education experience.

“She has no ranching experience at all?” I ask. “That seems like a hard sell, Brock. Why would you even consider her over anyone else? We could even hire internally if we need to.”

“Right, like Lana?” Brock quips.

I snort and look back at the resumé in front of me. “No, of course not. But maybe one of the ranch hands will want the job.”

Brock rolls his eyes. “We’ve already tried to hire internally.”

I refocus my attention on the woman’s credentials and shake my head again.

Emerson Ward. Where did she even come from, and why would Brock bother entertaining the idea of hiring her in the first place?

There’s no photo on her resumé, but a quick internet search gave us her profile on a professional networking site. Her picture had been a generic landscape scene, which I find curious. Most young adults are eager to put their images online. There were no public social media accounts to find. And judging by her education and work experience, she is not very old—not that it matters. In fact, we could do with a more seasoned administrator after the past month of dealing with Andy’s teenage daughter in the office.

Still, I’m intrigued by the woman, mostly because she made it through Brock’s rigid screening process… somehow. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around that, but sometimes it’s better not to understand how my brother’s head works. He’s done us just fine since our Mom died.

“No experience in the industry might be a good thing,” Brock replies. “We can train her to do things our way.”

“But no experience at all?” I doubt this and look to Toby for support. “She needs to know something about dealing with horses if she’s going to work with our clients.”

“Not really,” Brock insists. “She just needs to be trainable.”

Our youngest sibling sits back in his chair, legs extended onto the edge of the desk. He’s been very quiet.

“What do you think, Toby?”

Toby scoffs. “Now you give a shit what I think?”

I roll my eyes, regretting that I asked. I should have recognized he was still sulking.

“Are you still pissed off about this morning?” Brock snaps. “Get over yourself. You were wasting time, and we had an order coming in. I shouldn’t need to get on your ass about basic things every fucking day, Toby.”

“Then don’t!” he fires back, dropping his legs. “This place runs just fine with or without your superior attitude, you know? I’ve never missed an order before, and I wasn’t wasting time. We were trying to break in that new colt.”

“No,” Brock counters sharply. “You were trying to impress the visiting barrel racer with your bullshit. She’s not gonna fuck you, Toby. Just because you own the place doesn’t give you free rein to hit on every woman who comes here. Besides, Joe would kick your ass.”

A smirk toys on the edges of Toby’s lips as he leans forward. “Don’t worry. I would share her, Brock.”

“Just fucking stop!” Brock growls. “Joe is a good ranch hand, and I don’t want to lose him because you have your sights on his sister. Leave the visitors alone!”

Brock flips his comments back to me. “Anyway… from all the applicants we’ve had come through, this Emerson is the most tech-savvy, I think. Her work history looks solid.”

“What the hell does tech-savvy have to do with anything?” Toby demands, but I can’t tell if he’s against the idea of hiring this woman or just going against Brock’s wishes now.

It’s tiresome playing mediator between the two of them sometimes.

Brock gives him a threatening glare. “Everything is automated. And that kind of experience is invaluable.”

There’s a knock on the office door, and Lana pops her head inside. “Hey guys, there’s a broad here for you,” she informs us.

We grimace collectively at the teenager’s crass introduction.

“Thanks, Lana,” Brock chokes. “I’ll be out in a minute to get her.”

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