Home > Bossing the Billionaire (The Bad Boy Billionaires #17)(9)

Bossing the Billionaire (The Bad Boy Billionaires #17)(9)
Author: Judy Angelo

“You betcha.” Moonwalker grabbed the handle, pulled the door open and hopped in beside her. When it came to negotiating prices, Moonwalker was the man. She never did any major business deals in Fort Stockton without him.

His dark eyes gleaming with amusement, Moonwalker turned to look Blake over. “You don’t seem any worse for the trouble that stove must have given you this morning. No breakdowns? Nothing blew up?”

Blake smiled back. “Surprisingly, no. Old Blue decided to behave today. Maybe it was because I had a newbie working her. She didn’t want to scare him.”

Moonwalker shook his head. “You finally hired old Fred to help you with the breakfast crowd. I knew he’d wear you down.”

“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t hire Fred if he was the last man on earth. Last time I gave in to him he almost burned the place down.”

“Yeah, I remember.” The elderly man was chuckling now. “You’re lucky Beaumont’s is still standing.”

Blake rolled her eyes. “Don’t I know it.”

They were silent for a while, enjoying the easy comfort of each other’s company. Several minutes passed before Blake’s companion broke the silence. “Seriously, though, you seem in a darned good mood today, not frazzled from a morning feeding a house full of hungry beasts. What gives?”

She glanced at him then turned her eyes back to the road. “You won’t believe this but I found myself an assistant this morning. He just sort of landed on my lap.”

Moonwalker raised his eyebrows. “Explain yourself.”

So Blake did. With a chuckle she launched into the story of Ryder’s unexpected arrival and the dilemma he’d found himself in. She told Moonwalker how she’d taken full advantage of the turn of events, making him work harder than he’d probably ever done in his life. She’d taken full control of the situation, wringing every last cent out of him, and she wasn’t ashamed of it, either.

Moonwalker grimaced then shook his head. “I’m scared o’ you,” he said. “Talk about a mean mama.”

“I am not. I’m a sweetie-pie, and you know it.” She reached out and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.

He shrugged. “Well, that’s true. Compared to how you were when you first got to this town, you’re practically Mother Theresa.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

They fell into another momentary silence then Moonwalker spoke again. “When you came to Pequoia you were really messed up. It took you a while to get out of that funk.”

Blake drew in a long, deep breath and then she let it out slowly. “It seems so long ago. I can’t believe I’ve only been here five months. It feels like five years.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” He gave her a wry grin.

Blake gave him a mock frown. “No need to be sarcastic. I didn’t mean I was bored, it’s just…I just feel like I’ve known you guys all my life, you know?”

His withered face wrinkled as his smile deepened. “I know what you mean.”

“And when I needed to escape I’m glad this is the place I chose. I couldn’t have found better friends than you, Ted, Peggy and the ladies from the sewing circle.”

“You mean, this place chose you. You’d never have come here if old Bart hadn’t up and died and left Beaumont’s to you.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She cocked an eyebrow back. “That too.”

More silence and then Moonwalker turned his head to gaze at a wide field dotted with cows in the distance. “You were in pretty bad shape…” His voice trailed off like he’d fallen into deep thought.

“Yeah,” she said, but nothing else. She really didn’t want to talk about it. She’d managed to bury that era of her life, pushing it far back into the dark recesses of her mind. She had no intention of going back there and digging through that musty old trunk.

Wanting to divert Moonwalker’s attention she murmured, “That Ryder Kent, he’s one big bag of surprises. He’s holding the fort for me right now.”

“Is that so?” He didn’t turn around from gazing out the window. “You said he’s about your age, right?” When Blake didn’t answer he kept on staring out the window.  “Maybe it’s a good thing,” he said, his voice so low it was almost inaudible, “that this guy showed up on your doorstep. I’ve never seen you look happier.”

Blake drew in her breath but this time she didn’t let it out right away. She was too surprised. Moonwalker had seen a difference in her. Had it been that obvious?

As easy as that, this stranger named Ryder Kent was having a heck of an impact on her.  Well, she didn’t like it. Not one bit.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ryder had just finished washing the last of the dishes and was heading for the nearest chair when he heard the tinkle of the bell above the front door. He groaned. His butt hadn’t touched a seat for the last few hours and it looked like it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. When was he going to get a break?

Still, he couldn’t afford to keep one of Blake’s customers waiting so, suppressing a second groan, he made his way across the spacious kitchen and pushed a path through the swinging doors. When he saw who the visitor was he came to an abrupt halt, his brows lifting in surprise.

“Well, well,” the woman said, looking him up and down, “so this is the stranger I’ve been hearing about. They didn’t tell me you were handsome, too.” Her eyes flashing with open curiosity, she walked right up to him and tilted her head back to look into his face. She had her head thrown back so far her flower-bedecked hat almost fell off, making her slap her hand onto the crown to keep it in place. “How old are you, young man?”

“Thirty-one.” The answer was out before he could even dwell on how inappropriate it was, he’d been so thrown by the question. The woman looked like she was around sixty. How would she like it if he asked her age?

She twisted her lips. “I would have guessed a little younger. Maybe twenty-nine. But you’re close enough.” With those words she stepped back and walked over to one of the tables then sat down, leaving Ryder staring after her, perplexed.

He left the doorway and walked over to the counter and leaned against it. “Close enough for what?” he asked.

“Close enough in age,” she said, her tone unapologetic. “Blake is twenty-seven and you’re thirty-one. That’s not too bad.” She lifted her hefty handbag and dropped it on top of the table. “So what do you think of our Blake?”

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