Chapter 6

Austin

I leave that conference room with my head held high.  I walk or rather limp my way to my truck.  Once inside, I hit the steering wheel with my fist.  I tried to do the right thing, but the brothers only thought about my grandfather.  I am not my grandfather, damn it. So why did I come back here and put myself through this misery? Alright, enough with the pity party.  I have work to do. Yeah, that is how I deal with my feelings, get mad and move the fuck on. Life must go on. 

As I sit in traffic, I can't help but replay the events of the day in my head. And who am I replaying? That damn Cortland Carter. I mean, seriously, why does he have to look so good in everything he wears? I was already attracted to him in his casual jeans and t-shirt, but when he showed up in a suit today, I swear my heart skipped a beat.

I know it's ridiculous to get all worked up over someone's clothing, but damn. I couldn't take my eyes off him all day. And let's be real, he could wear a potato sack and still look amazing. Ugh, why does he have to be so hot?

Cortland's quiet demeanor during the meeting made me wonder what he was thinking. I couldn't help but feel a little nervous about telling him that I was the elusive owner he had been trying to track down. But, I guess he was just trying to read my reaction to the news.

 Honestly, I don't know why I was so worried about his reaction. It's not like we were going to start dating or anything. Plus, his family's feud with mine would make it impossible for us to have any kind of relationship. But, my mind tends to wander and imagine all kinds of scenarios. 

I arrive home around five in the evening.  I headed inside to change into barn Clothes.  When all I want to do is lie down and elevate my ankle with an ice pack.  I pop some over-the-counter pain relievers and step out onto the front porch.   Nothing like the fresh smell of the farm, beats the smells of the city anytime. 

 I noticed dust from a vehicle coming down the driveway. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I need to get that dog to warn me when people are coming.  But I need the farm hand to feed the dog when flying for business. I see the truck rounding the curve in the driveway and know exactly who decided to show up at my home.  I said that man I didn’t need his help.

Cortland Carter parks his truck and gets out. I don’t know why I poke the bear, but I must poke the bear.

“No means no, you know,” I say loud enough for him to hear. 

“Well, I decided to take my cue from the smart-ass woman that put all the Carters in their place today,” he smirks, grabbing a bag from the back of the truck and walking toward me on the porch.

 But first, why the hell does he have a duffle bag?  He doesn’t think he is staying here. I hope not. It takes me a second, but I catch on to what he says about the smart-ass woman.  Cortland references when I ignored their father when he told me ‘no’ to the deal.

“Well, someone had to do it; it might as well be me,” I chuckle and continue.  “I’m not sure what your plan is here, but I don’t think we are at the step in our non-existent relationship where you stay over.”  Gesturing to the bag slung over his shoulder.

That earns me a genuine laugh and a shake of his head.  He can’t believe I said that or is enjoying my smart mouth.  Maybe he would like my smart mouth, nope, not going down this road. 

“I can’t very well help you do farm chores in my suit, now can I?’  He responds like his being here is normal. 

“I thought I was clear. I could do this alone,” I replied, squaring up and putting my hands on my hips. 

"And here I thought we established that my listening skills are on par with yours," he snickers, sauntering over to me. "But it seems your fashion sense is even more questionable than your hearing. One boot and one sneaker? Come on now, that's just asking for trouble." Cortland says teasingly. 

I roll my eyes, knowing he's right. "Okay, okay, my foot is swollen, and I need help. But don't think for a second that I'm completely helpless." I responded, annoyed that he thinks I’m incapable of caring for my horses.

"Well, let me at least take care of the horses while you go ice that foot," he offers. "We have plenty of experience with barnyard animals at our place." 

I nod, grateful for the assistance. "The bathroom is to the left. And just so you know, I'm not completely reliant on you. And I won’t allow you to care for my horses alone."

He laughs, "I swear, you're so stubborn."

"Well, this is a pickle, not sure if I am offended or proud." I ponder, feeling a mix of insult and flattery. It's a shame our families have a history like a bad soap opera.

"Definitely proud, girl!" he declares, strutting into my humble abode to change. "You convinced my pops to see the light. That's no small feat."

As he disappears behind closed doors, I'm left standing on the porch, scratching my head. Me, strong? Ha! I mean, sure, I'm a bit stubborn. But my mom likes to call it "passionate." And hey, I always stick to my moral compass. Can't anybody sway me once I've made up my mind.

I hear the bathroom door creak open, and out saunters Cortland. I swear on my collection of novelty mugs, this guy could make a garbage bag look good. He's rocking some jeans, a tee that hugs his biceps like a desperate koala, boots, and a baseball cap. I'm totally checking him out, and he catches me red-handed. Ugh, busted!

"You like what you see?" he smirks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "I could always take off some layers if you want the full experience."

Did this dude seriously just go there? Well, I guess I did start it with my smart-ass comment earlier.

"Nah, I don't wanna ruin my mental image," I reply, trying to keep a straight face. Cortland looks at me like I just grew a second head. "Let's just get this show on the road, Cortland," I say, heading towards the barn.

With just two strides, he's next to me, and he says, "You can call me Cort. So, do you want to share the mental images you have of me?"

I hesitate, not sure if I want to reveal my thoughts. But he challenges me, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

We continue this banter as we walk towards the barn. It's like a game of back and forth, just like basketball. When we finally arrive, I turn to him and question, "Cortland, what's going on? You've despised me for so long, and now you appear to be my knight in shining armor. You help me when I'm hurt, but then you make suggestive comments."

My words hang in the air as I wait for his response. It's like we're walking on eggshells around each other, unsure of where we stand.

“I just want you to know, Austin, that I never held any ill will towards you. I recognized that you were just a young girl caught up in a feud that had nothing to do with you. Truthfully, it was simply the mention of your name that would trigger memories of my frustrating dealings with your grandfather. I had to write him check after check because he stubbornly refused to accept any of our offers. But today, you've made things right in a big way by offering to make Stacy a saddle - not just any saddle, but the very first one despite the insults your company endured from my brothers. And to top it off, even my father admitted that he was proud to call you his potential daughter-in-law. Speaking of which, I hope you will call me Cort instead of Cortland. It just feels more intimate that way”. Cortland explains his stance on the issue. 

"Plus, maybe I see something in you that I find attractive," Cortland replied, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "But fear not, my dear. I have no intentions of getting intimate with you...yet."

Cortland's words left me feeling a mixture of both flattery and uneasiness. I couldn't help but wonder what he finds attractive about me. Is it my sense of humor or intelligence? Or maybe it was something superficial like my appearance? Regardless, I appreciated the compliment but made a mental note to keep her guard up around him.

I raised an eyebrow at his comment, but he continued before I could say anything.

"I admire you for standing up for what you believe in, for creating a successful business at such a young age, and for risking your own safety to save someone else," he explained. "Those qualities are rare and commendable in this day and age."

I nodded, feeling a sense of pride and gratitude for his words. It was refreshing to have someone acknowledge my hard work and selflessness without any ulterior motives.

I swing open the barn door, revealing the knickers of the horses inside. As always, the sight catches me off guard. Barn time is my therapy session - a chance to spill my problems to a listener who won't interrupt. Maybe I should coin a term for it, but that's a joke.

Cortland’s voice interrupts my thoughts. "You've got a nice setup here, miss."

I smile back. "Why, thank you kind sir," I say, attempting a British accent that falls short.

I reached for the wheelbarrow, and Cort offered to take it from me, motioning for me to proceed. With pitchforks in hand, we made our way to the first stall. As we worked, Cortland inquired about the horses and their lineage, as well as my plans for them and my business. To my surprise, our conversation flowed smoothly and comfortably. I had anticipated some tension, but there was none. As I considered all the possibilities for Cortland and myself, none of them involved the mundane task of stall cleaning. Perhaps it was time to bury the hatchet and move forward.

As we strolled towards my workspace, he inquired, "So, how do you plan on managing your business from here and having your workforce back in Ohio?"

I responded, "It's not like my employees are bound to their desks. They're always on the go, visiting the horses."

He looked puzzled, so I proceeded to explain the intricate process behind our custom saddles.

"Our saddles are designed to fit the horse perfectly. We map the horse's body using a saddle pad that's equipped with sensors. Then, we take the horse to the arena and ask the rider to perform various gaits. The sensors record the pressure points and send the data to me. I then send it to a 3D printer that produces the tree, which is later covered in leather and customized for the client."

Impressed, he asked, "That's quite innovative. What inspired you to come up with this process?"

"I'm curious, how did you come up with this idea and what inspired you to pursue it?" he inquired.

"I actually majored in Equine Studies and Business in college. As part of our business course, we were required to start our own business. At the end of the semester, my professor saw potential in my idea and shared it with some investors. They were impressed and offered to invest in my business. The agreement was that if my business took off, they would receive their investment back with an additional ten percent. It was a nerve-wracking but exciting process to get started," I explained.

As I push open the door to my workspace, Cortland surveys the room, taking in the sight of the lumber stacked haphazardly in the corner and the empty shelves lining the walls.

"I see you've got some work ahead of you," he remarks.

I nod, acknowledging the task at hand. "Yes, I'm still waiting on the delivery of my three-D printer and leather, but I brought my tools with me. Once everything is set up, I'll need to build a saddle rack to get started."

Cortland raises an eyebrow. "Sounds like quite the undertaking. And I'm assuming you'll need some technical assistance?"

I chuckled. "You could say that. While I studied business and equine studies in college, I'm not exactly a tech expert.”

Cortland inquired about the saddle-making process and who handles the technical and IT work. I responded by explaining that Declan is in charge of the technical aspect of the business. “When I first came up with the idea to map out designs for saddles, I sought the expertise of the IT department and met Declan. His role was to ensure that the designs were compatible with computer programming and to develop the necessary sensors for the business.”

Cortland was impressed with my dedication to making the business work. He acknowledged that most college students would have simply written up a concept without bothering to see if it was feasible. He then asked if the saddle rack needed to be completed in time for the printer's arrival.

"I appreciate your offer, but I think I have it under control," I reply confidently. Although I can't deny that his presence has a distracting effect on me, I know better than to let my focus waver. I don't want to risk any mistakes or setbacks.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his tone suggesting he won't take no for an answer.

I pause for a moment, considering his persistence. Maybe having a helping hand wouldn't hurt. "Alright, fine. But only if you promise not to distract me," I concede.

As we make our way towards the house, I come to a halt and fix him with a penetrating stare.

"Let me ask you this," I begin, my voice low and measured. "Are you planning to force your way into my life, regardless of my wishes?"

"Austin, I can't thank you enough for what you did for my niece. Your bravery hasn't gone unnoticed, and I'm grateful for it. I also saw you rectify a situation that wasn't your responsibility, which showed me what kind of person you truly are. You're stunningly beautiful, but it seems like you're intentionally keeping me at arm's length. It's left me feeling conflicted and a bit bruised. I feel like I owe you for all that you've done, and I'd like to get to know you better. I understand if you're not interested, but I hope you'll give me a chance." he says.

"Fine, if you insist on being involved in my life, I suppose I can at least provide you with a meal. I'll have dinner ready for you when you come over tomorrow," I relented, resigned to his presence.

As we discuss food, Cortland suddenly asks, "How about we go out to dinner this Saturday?"

I shake my head, regretfully saying, "I'm sorry, I can't."

Cortland's face falls as he runs a hand over his neck, "Alright," he concedes with a disappointed tone.

I catch Cortland's eye and hold his gaze. "Listen, I can't make it this Saturday," I say firmly. "I've got a Barrel Race to attend. It's a shame, but I won't be able to make dinner."

Cortland's interest is piqued. "Which race are you going to?" he asks.

"Casper," I reply. "I'll be taking all four of my horses. The young ones need some experience before the rodeo circuit. I'll be exhibitioning them."

Cortland's face brightens. "Funny you should mention that" he says. "We'll be at that same race. We should grab dinner then."

I hesitate for a moment, then nod. "Sure, why not?" I speak.

Cortland smiles. "Great. I'll see you tomorrow. And don't forget to ice that ankle and elevate it," he adds before driving away.

As I watch him walk away, I can't help but feel a sense of loss. Cortland Carter had brought a spark into my life that I didn't even know was missing. His rugged good looks and confident demeanor were enough to make any woman weak in the knees. But it was his charming personality and unexpected tenderness that had me hooked.

 I had never really considered myself the type of woman to be dominated by a man, but there was something about Cortland that made me want to explore that side of myself. The thought of him taking control and showing me everything I've been missing was both thrilling and terrifying. I couldn't deny the physical attraction between us, and as he disappeared from view, I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever see him again.