Jerk: A Bad Boy Romance (9 page)

It was clear, from the look of Mr. Hardin’s small and extremely modest office, squeezed between a bakery and dry cleaner, why. Obviously there was little need of attorneys in Dawson, Wyoming.

I was sitting at his ancient wooden desk, in his crummy old office. The 1970’s paneling and flickering florescent lighting made the place feel depressing and grungy. The threadbare carpet added to the ambiance. And the appearance of the man himself, with his equally worn-out suit and stained shirt, matched that of the surroundings.

What he said made me want to cry. “I’m sorry, Miss Pierce. But there’s nothing I can do. The will is legal and binding. If you aren’t able to adhere to the required conditions of the will, the estate will be transferred to the other party named.”

My mind was blown. Why would my aunt back me into this corner? She loved me. She loved the ranch. I know she never wanted it to go to a big corporation. She’d had several over the years offer to buy it. Did she simply assume that wouldn’t happen because I wouldn’t let it? Or was this a test of some kind? “Maybe I could talk to a representative of the company, see if some kind of deal can be worked out?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Are you able to give me a contact name? A phone number?”

“Certainly. He pulled a card out of the folder and handed it to me. I wish you the best of luck.” He offered his hand for me to shake.

“Thank you.” I accepted the card with a smile, shook his hand and stood, hooking my purse over my shoulder before peering down at the card.

My heart literally skipped a beat as my eyes found the name printed in the center of the card.

Clay Walker

Owner and CEO

Pronghorn Holdings, Inc.

That fucking jerk!

“Y
ou asshole!”

I couldn’t help myself. I threw my fists at that cocky face, determined to turn it into face-burger.

So maybe this wasn’t the time or place for a fist fight. And maybe I was making a total ass of myself. Okay, not
maybe
. I
was
making a total ass of myself. After all, it was a bright and shiny Monday morning and I was standing in the middle of the Pronghorn Holdings’ main lobby. A main lobby full of people.

So what? I was furious. And why was that? Because I’d just learned from my aunt’s attorney that I was on the verge of losing everything.

And it was all
his
fault.

His. Clay Walker. The scumbag who was trying to steal my inheritance.

He was going to pay for this. Dearly.

Between swings at his irritating, infuriatingly gorgeous face, I yelled, “I know what you’re doing—trying to make me give up so you can get the ranch and everything else. Well, it won’t work. Because I’m on to you now.”

“Whoa!” the asshole said, shielding himself with his arms. “Wait a minute!” He clamped his hands around my wrists to stop me from pummeling him. “I’m not trying to make you give up. I’m trying to help you.”

Like I’d ever believe that. That was so funny!

He was trying to
help
me? Did he think I was a total moron?

Yes, he probably did think I was stupid enough to believe his lies.

Fatal mistake.

I wasn’t an idiot. I had a bachelor’s degree. I even graduated with honors. And I wasn’t just book smart, either. The kid of a piss-poor single mom, I’d had to be street smart too. So Clay Walker wasn’t dealing with some flighty airhead.

I yanked my wrists out of his grip and gave him a death glare. “I don’t need your brand of ‘help’, thank you very much,” I said, making air quotes around the word help.

“Okay.” Wearing a dark suit coat and crisp white shirt, instead of his usual grimy plaid shirt and well-fitting jeans, Clay lifted his hands in surrender. But I knew it was just for show. Clay Walker never surrendered to anyone, especially me. “Okay. If that’s what you want. Fine.” He took a step back and folded his arms over his chest. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

Another lie. That was all that came out of this man’s mouth. Lies. He had no intention of doing what I wanted. Absolutely none.

I was ready to call his bluff.

“Hand over everything. Today. Now,” I demanded. “It’s mine.
My
aunt.
My
inheritance.
My
ranch. It’s the right thing to do.”

Clay’s expression changed, from haughty to somewhat apologetic. He motioned with a hand. “Can we go into my office and talk about this? In private?”

Was he worried about soiling his pristine reputation? Well, too bad. I wanted everyone to know how this man operated. He stole from people. He was a scammer. A thief. A wolf in... fucking designer clothing.

Of course he could afford tailored suits. He ripped people off. How else could a guy who’d been practically penniless four years ago become a millionaire?

I’d done a little research into his company. It (he) owned thousands and thousands of acreage, not just in the Dawson area but also in Montana and the Dakotas too.

He had so much, more than I’d ever have in a lifetime. He was crazy rich. And I owned a shitty car that didn’t run half the time... and... well, outside of my clothes, that was it.

Why did he need my ranch too? Why?

I shook my head. “No. I’m not going anywhere with you. We can talk here.”

He swung an arm toward the grouping of chairs in the corner. “Then, can I at least offer you a seat?”

I looked at the chairs then at him. I shrugged and ambled to the chairs and dropped into one. Then I cocked a brow at him.
Well?

He sat, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I can’t give you the ranch.” Hey, for once he was being honest. I had to give him credit for that much, even if I didn’t like what he was saying. “I’ve already talked to your aunt’s attorney. He said if I refuse to adhere to the conditions of the will, everything goes to a charity.”

“Why?”

He actually looked as bewildered as I felt. “I don’t know. Sandee never talked to me about the will. Before she died she only asked me to stay on and help you.”

“Well, shit!” I slapped my upper thighs. This was so frustrating. I didn’t understand any of it. Why would my aunt do this to me? “Why did she make this so damn complicated?”

“I wondered the same thing,” he said to his clasped hands.

Why wasn’t he looking me in the eye?

Lies. More lies.

“You know more than you’re telling,” I challenged, feeling tears starting to gather. Dammit, I didn’t want to cry. Not here. Not in front of Clay Walker. In his stupid fancy building, with the stupid fancy chairs, and him wearing his stupid fancy suit. I just wanted what was rightfully mine. Why was that such a big deal?

If I lost this ranch... I didn’t even want to think about it.

Ironic. When I’d first come to Dawson, Wyoming, I’d been really bummed. I’d left behind all my friends, my school, my life... everything... to live in Nowheresville, USA. But since then I’d come to realize this ranch was everything to me. It was my father’s family’s past.

And it was my future.

“No, I swear I don’t know any more than I’ve told you.”

“Whatever.” I sighed hard. What could I do? How would I salvage this? I needed to get control. Of the costs. Of my head and emotions. Of everything. “There’s nothing in the will that says I can’t fire you, right?”

“Right. But you don’t want to do that, Morgan.”

Of course he’d say that. “Because then you won’t be able to fuck me up?” I asked, laughing. God, he was so transparent.

“No. I haven’t tried to fuck you up.”

Really? Was he serious? Since I’d come back to Dawson all he’d done was fuck with my head. At first he was just crude and disrespectful. And then, when I (being a total sucker) started to have some doubts about him being a total jackass, I’d accepted an invitation to dinner and the snake sweet-talked me right out of my panties. And then he’d thrown me aside for some slut. “You haven’t gone out of your way to mess with my head since I’ve come back? Are you suggesting you’ve been treating me like shit just because you’re an asshole?”

“Maybe it looks that way to you, that I’ve been treating you like shit. And I get why you would think that. But it isn’t true. I haven’t. Not intentionally.”

I let my jaw drop. “Do you really think I’m going to believe that?” I asked, absolutely flabbergasted. I didn’t even understand how this man’s brain worked.

“I hoped you would.”

“Nope.” I threw my thumb over my shoulder. “You’re out. Done. You don’t need the money I’m paying you. And I don’t need you.”

“All right.” He hesitated for a moment but said nothing before standing. “Good luck, Morgan. Really. I mean it.”

“Good riddance!” I stood, looped my handbag over my shoulder, and tromped out of Clay’s building and his life.

I had no idea what my aunt was thinking when she wrote her will. I always believed she loved me. But after everything I’d dealt with since coming back to Dawson, I wasn’t sure how she felt anymore.

Was her real wish that the money and property go to charity? Was that what she ultimately wanted?

If only I could ask her!

As I plunked down in my rusty beater, I decided there was no reason to sit around, wishing for the impossible. Aunt Sandee sure wasn’t going to be resurrected from the dead and tell me what the hell she’d been thinking. And I couldn’t change the situation.

So I was going to have to make the best of it.

That, I could do, I decided as I drove back home. I could play the game. Play it fair. And win the prize.

I’d already made one giant leap in the right direction. I’d fired Clay. Now it wouldn’t be so easy for him to undermine me.

I turned down the ranch’s long driveway, gravel crackling and crunching under the tires. I parked.

Where was the crew?

No trucks were packed into the dirt parking area in front of the barn.

No beautiful cowboys were saddling up the horses or repairing the fences or tinkering with the broken equipment.

Where the hell was everyone?

I checked my watch. It was almost eight-thirty. Work started at seven-thirty. Did they all leave because I wasn’t home?

The steer were making a racket, probably voicing their anger over empty food and water troughs.

Strange.

But there was no time to think about the hows and whys. I had hungry animals to feed and water. I ran to the barn to start my chores. Ten hours later, I practically crawled across the lawn to the house. I was dirty, sweaty, and exhausted. I hadn’t eaten at all. Not since breakfast—before I’d driven into town. But I didn’t care. I was too tired to even feel hungry. I stumbled into the bathroom and scrubbed off all the grime and then fell into bed.

Tomorrow my help would be back. Right? None of them had come today because of some kind of mixed signals. They’d thought they had the day off. Maybe it was some holiday I’d never heard about. National Cowboy Day or something.

Yeah.

I blinked.

My body was heavy.

The room was a fucking oven, the air hot and stale. But I didn’t care.

My head was on a pillow, and my body was horizontal.

And...

***

F
ucking rooster!

That was it. Elvis was going in the pot!

I jerked upright and slapped my hands over my bleary eyes. The sun was scorching my retinas.

Tears turning the world into a watercolor, I stumbled into the bathroom. By the time I exited, my vision was clearer, my stomach was rumbling, and I was ready to get to work. Outside, the sound of hungry steer made me rush to stuff a couple of pieces of toast into my mouth. I threw on a pair of shorts, a worn out t-shirt and Aunt Sandee’s boots then clomped out to the barn, checking the parking lot for signs of life on the way.

One truck was parked in the lot.

One.

And I knew who it belonged to.

What the hell was going on? Where were all my pretty,
strong
cowboys?

I stomped into the barn, determined to find out.

Clay was working on Rocket’s stall door, which was about to fall off its hinges. I gave him some serious get-lost mean eyes but he didn’t see them because his back was to me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, sounding exasperated. “And where’s the rest of the crew?”

“I came here to talk to you,” he said as he stroked Rocket’s velvety muzzle.

“Talk about what?” I strolled around to his side to glare at him. His was the last face I imagined I would see this morning. “I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about... unless you want to explain why my parking lot is empty.” I jabbed my index finger in the general direction of the parking area.

He finally turned to face me. “Sorry to tell you this, but if you don’t hire me back, you’ll be working the ranch on your own.”

“Bastard!” I screamed. Everything went red. And fury raced through my body, burning like acid. “What did you do? Call them all and tell them not to come?”

“Well, yes. They work for me, after all. That’s the arrangement I made with Sandee. It has to be that way. I go, they go.”

“What?”

“I. Go. They. Go.”

What the hell? I was so furious I wanted to punch him in that smug face. “What kind of asinine arrangement is that? Why don’t they work directly for the ranch? I never heard of such thing.”

“It’s an arrangement the boys need and have to keep. So if you want them, you gotta hire me back.”

“Over my dead body,” I raged. There was no way I was going to allow Clay Walker to blackmail me into letting him come back. No way!

“Suit yourself.” Clay waved a hand, scratching Rocket’s neck with the other. He gave the horse one last pat and brushed past me toward the door. A tiny electric arc buzzed between us.

I ignored it.

I jerked up my head.

So be it. If that was the way it had to be, I’d find another way to get the help I needed. “I’m sure I can find some other men to hire. They can’t be the only men in this godforsaken town who need jobs.” Even as I said those rash, brave words, I started having doubts. Dawson was not the booming metropolis from which I’d come. It was a dusty town with a shrinking population. There was a decent chance that those men were the only ones in need of a job.