Page 1 of Saddles & Suits

ChapterOne

Jack

I savethe infernal spreadsheet I’ve been working in and close it with a sigh. As a rule, I enjoy my job running the family’s charitable foundation, but some tasks aren’t fun no matter what the job—and budget administration is one of them.

I open my calendar and the attached tasks list and scroll through. Surprisingly, I’m ahead of the game—I might even get out of the office on time today. Well, before dinnertime, anyway.

An item on the list catches my eye, and I frown. “Sarah,” I call. A moment later, my assistant appears in the doorway.

“You bellowed?”

“I don’t bellow. Much. What’s this about Sebastian’s birthday?”

Sarah strolls into the office and settles into the chair across from me. “I thought it was pretty clear. It’s Sebastian’s birthday next week. You usually buy gifts for your employees on their birthdays, and?—”

“Ialwaysbuy gifts for my employees on their birthdays,” I correct. I may not be a candidate for the Nobel Peace Prize, but some things are just common decency.

“Yes, always,” Sarah concedes. “And we appreciate it.” She fiddles with the diamond bracelet that was her last birthday present. It’s a little more extravagant than what I usually go for, but I literally could not run my office without her, and she’s been with me for nearly ten years. “But as I was saying, it’s Sebastian’s birthday next week, and you need to get him a gift. Which is what I put on the list.”

I lean back in my desk chair and blow out a breath. “It feels weird,” I admit. “I mean, I don’t really know Sebastian. We’ve never met. I don’t think we’ve even spoken.” I frown. Is that true? Sebastian’s been working for me for nearly nine months. How have we never spoken? “What would I even get him? I have no idea what men of his age like.”

Sarah blinks. “I’m… sorry?”

“Well, think about it. The only older men I’ve ever been even close to are my dad and Uncle Warwick. Dad hates every gift he’s given unless it’s expensive whiskey, and Uncle Warwick only ever wanted a donation made in his name to one of his pet charities. Does Sebastian drink? I could get him whiskey, but I don’t know if he’d like that.”

“That’s… um, that’s a valid point. Do you, uh, know exactly how old Sebastian is?”

Shrugging, I swivel my chair to look out the window over Collins Street. The foundation offices take up a floor of the Tarrant Industries building, and the view, while not stellar, isn’t bad either. “I always figured he had to be Uncle Warwick’s age, so maybe early seventies? It’s been at the back of my mind to ask him if he wants to retire.”

Sarah nods. “Right, right. Uh, he’s never indicated that he was thinking of retirement when I’ve spoken to him. Have you reallynevertalked to him?”

“I don’t think so,” I say slowly, thinking about it. “No, pretty sure I haven’t. When Uncle Warwick’s estate was first settled last year, I meant to go down there and assure everyone they still had jobs, but that got canceled when we had to activate the disaster relief team for the tsunami in Indonesia. Then he and I played phone tag for a while, and finally settled into our current system of texts and emails.”

It's been a rough nine months since Uncle Warwick died. Warwick was the one to set up the foundation forty years ago, and even though he retired from running it and handed the reins over to me nearly seven years ago, his death still caused upheaval. Grieving isn’t made easier when you’re dealing with work pressure.

The only good thing to have come from Uncle Warwick’s death is Sebastian. Never in my life did I ever imagine I would want a steward—I didn’t even know what the wordmeantin this context when the lawyer first told me I’d inherited one—but after just a few months of having Sebastian in my life, I knew I couldn’t live without him.

Sebastian looks after the property and agistment on the Mornington Peninsula that I also inherited from Uncle Warwick, including a twelve-bedroom house and seventy acres of land. And “looks after” means I never have to deal with a single detail, despite the fact that managing lodging stables and running a riding school is a pain in the behind. Somehow, he also manages my social calendar and apartment here in Melbourne—and now that I think of it, it's definitely weird that we’ve never run into each other, even with Sebastian’s biweekly visits to the city to stock my pantry and fridge, take my clothes to the dry cleaner, and make sure the cleaner’s doing a good job. The way I figure it, Sebastian’s been in my home almost twenty times. How do we keep missing each other?

Well, whatever’s keeping us from meeting, Sebastian’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t ever have to worry about anything but work, and I still have a clean, welcoming home and order in my personal life. Sebastian even buys me new underwear and shirts—andhe manages to buy the brand of shirts I like the most.

If anyone deserves a great birthday present and the promise of a comfortable retirement when he’s ready, it’s Sebastian.

“I know!” Sarah declares with a gleam in her eye that spells trouble. “You should go down to the farm this weekend. You haven’t been in years—even before Warwick died, he always came up here to see you. It would be a nice break for you, and you can get to know Sebastian and decide what to get him for his birthday.”

It’s a good idea. There’s nothing about it that should make me suspicious. But there’s something about the way she said it….

Still. What reason do I have not to go? And it really is time I meet Sebastian. It’s a bit wrong that I’ve only ever texted and emailed with the man who buys my underwear.

“Sure,” I agree. “It’ll be good to get away.” And maybe do some riding. I haven’t ridden a horse in way too long, and I miss it. I practically grew up at Uncle Warwick’s, after all, and was on my first pony almost the moment I could walk.

Yeah. This is going to be a great weekend.

ChapterTwo

Seb

I checkone more time that the master bathroom has plenty of clean towels, then straighten the already perfectly straight duvet before I force myself to leave the room. It’s stupid to be this nervous, but Jack hasn’t been down to Bliss Vale since he inherited the place—before that, actually. He hasn’t visited since before Warwick hired me. So… nearly six years?

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