Page 2 of Paper Horses

With my brow raised, I studied him. The telltale signs were there. I knew my brother too well not to notice them.

“What are you up to?”

He pulled a file from his drawer and slapped it on the desk.

“I bought a farm. Well, we bought a farm since it’s under the company name, and I used company money.”

“A farm?” I gaped at him. “And Tori let you do that?”

“She loved the idea.”

“What the hell do we need with a farm?” I plunked my cup down on the desk, leaning forward. “We invest in real estate holdings and companies, not farms.”

“A farm is like a company.”

I snorted, my hand shooting up to cover the sound before he noticed and called me out on it.

“A farm is nothing like we have in our portfolio.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose, trying to fathom how he had talked Tori into this.

“It’s a fully functioning farm. We won’t run it. The former owner will stay on to oversee the daily operations.”

“And why is he selling?”

“He sold because he ran into some financial trouble, and he’s had difficulty recovering.”

“So, we bought a farm from a man who couldn’t run it, and now we expect him to manage what he couldn’t before?”

This was completely unlike my brother. Gabe was concise and careful with every acquisition. He took risks, and they always paid off, but they were calculated risks. Nothing about this sounded calculated.

“I want you to fly out to Montana⁠—”

“Montana?” This was getting worse by the minute. “You bought a farm in Montana? What the hell has gotten into you?”

His eyes narrowed before he continued as if I hadn’t cut him off. “And assess the situation, determine what our options are for bringing it back up to par—staffing, animals, equipment, anything else you think we’ll need to get it up and running again.”

“You’re serious?”

He closed the folder he’d been flipping through and rested his elbows on the desk.

“Dead serious.”

With a shake of my head, I sighed and asked, “When do I leave?”

“I scheduled the plane for tomorrow morning.”

My hand hit the desk. “Tomorrow, as in Friday? I can’t just up and leave.”

“Why not? Do you have a date planned? Other than with your manicurist.”

“That was low, and no, I do not, but that doesn’t mean you can⁠—”

“Yes, it does, and I am. Take half a day today and go home and pack. The car will pick you up at five.”

“Tonight?” Because there was no way he wanted me to be up that early.

“In the morning. The plane leaves at six.” He spun the folder and sent it toward me, ignoring my flabbergasted expression. “Read up on the farm on your way there. I hear the weather in Montana is cold this time of year, so take a coat.” He stood and stretched, but I was still reeling from the flight time. “Oh, and pack for the weekend. I told the former owner you’d need the weekend to sort things out.”

That had me jumping up from my seat. “The weekend? As in three days?”