Page 6 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

Instead of staying out on my own for a couple of nights, I turn and ride home.There’s no point in sleeping under the stars when I already know I won’t find any peace.

How could I, knowing I’ve got trespassers to deal with?Trespassers of the mysterious and beautiful kind.The kind who wear thigh-high go-go boots to chop wood.

“Get your head back in the game, asshole,” I say aloud to myself.This causes DG to toss his head and whinny, as if he’s offended by the insult.I pat the side of his muscular neck.“Not you, asshole,” I assure him.“You’re handling this like a pro.”

And he is.I wouldn’t trust just any horse to this rugged series of strait-down trails and switchbacks.DG isn’t even challenged by the steep decline.I’m not sure he even notices.

Once we make it down off the ridge, I cue him to a gallop, give him full range of his head and neck, and we go flying.

We cover about six miles of grazing land when I detect the scent of barbecue on the breeze.When we reach the ranch lane, I bring DG down to a gentle lope, followed by a walk.Once at the horse barn, I dismount and hand the reins to Joe, who leads the panting and sweaty roan to the tack area and wash stall.

I use my hat to beat the dust off my jeans.I run my fingers through my hair and wash my hands in a barn sink.Then I follow the line of smoke to Dad’s place.

When I arrive, I’m not surprised to find my whole family sitting down to lunch.I take a seat at the far end of the long table, as usual.Dad’s lifting steaks off the grill and stacking them on a large platter Evander’s holding.

It’s very unlike Evander to go near anything that might splatter grease on his custom-made suits, but I guess domestication has loosened up that rule of his—and a few others, as well.My middle brother’s wearing slacks and a button-down shirt today.No jacket.No vest.No tie.

No shit—the man looks half-naked.

Dad’s dressed in his usual fashion, though.He’s wearing an apron that reads: “Whatever Happens, We’re Eating It.”He has an impressive collection of these dumb-ass aprons.There isn’t an apron on earth too ridiculous for Jamie MacLaine.Declan once whispered to me, “That man must have balls the size of church bells to wear stupid shit like that.”

Dad’s as fearless as they come, so I guess Declan’s right.

Unfortunately, my seat at the far end puts me too close to Summer and Declan.I’m in the line of fire as they shoot googly eyes at each other across the table for the fuckteenth time today, I’m sure.These two gross me out.I think I liked them better when they pretended they weren’t hot for each other.

“So did you find ‘em?”

“What?”I stare at Summer, shocked by her question.

First of all, I thought she was still undressing Declan with her eyes, which is disgusting, but at least it keeps her occupied.But also, how could she already know about the woman at the Washoe Ridge cabin?Is she reading my mind?

“The cattle,” she clarifies, squinting at me.“Did you find the five head of runaway cattle?”

Oh.“No.”

Everyone’s gathered at the table now, the whole baker’s dozen of MacLaines.There’s Dad and Aunt Phyllis, the second wife of my late uncle.There’s Cal and Victoria.Finn has his daughter Jasmine and his new wife Emma.There’s Evander and his fiancée Phoebe, and Declan and Summer.

And me.

I’m the last holdout of the MacLaine men.The only one who’ll forever stay a bachelor.

It’s a badge of honor.

I accidentally glance down the table in time to catch Evander kissing Phoebe on the cheek.They’re planning their official wedding for mid-June at her family’s Travis ranch next door.Even though Evander wanted to elope.

“Whatever Phoebe wants, Phoebe gets,” Evander told me a while back, making me almost choke on my tongue.Evander is the biggest asshole of the whole bunch of us, and I always assumed he’d stay a bachelor like me, just because no woman would ever be able to tolerate the guy.

But Evander’s crazy for Phoebe, and for some reason, she adores him right back.The woman’s a saint.

I look around the table at the domestic bliss.Everyone’s happy.Everyone’s laughing.Summer’s beginning to show, and by the fall, there will be fourteen souls around this table.

How the fuck did this even happen?

Summer’s staring at me.She does that a lot.She’s done that since the day she came to work for us a dozen years ago.Sometimes I catch her looking at me like I’m a science experiment.

Like I’m a slime mold from a far-off galaxy or something.

“What is it, Summer?”I ask her.