Page 14 of The Cowboy’s Reckoning

“No. But it’s not the time to push.” His instincts were good in that regard.

Connery exhaled into the phone. “We may not have a deal.”

Jordan’s jaw tightened. “May not or do not?”

If Connery wasn’t going through with the deal, Jordan wanted to know right now. There had to be buyers who didn’t mind inheriting a tenant. It was simply a matter of finding them. Quick like.

“My buyer is willing to be flexible. To a point,” Connery said. “You need to make this work.” His tone was cool, yet borderline threatening, which meant shit to Jordan, who was rapidly getting tired of the broker’s attitude.

There was tough and then there was tough. He was used to smoothing the waters with guys whose equipment cost megabucks when it wasn’t operating. Those guys had something to bitch about.

Unfortunately, in this case, Jordan wanted Connery to get his way, which made them a reluctant team. The one thing Connery offered that Jordan needed was a quick turnaround and quick cash. An impressive amount of quick cash. Jim Reed had agreed to keep his property off the market for a two-month period, giving Jordan time to arrange the sale. But Jim couldn’t and wouldn’t wait longer than that.

“I’ll broach the matter again in a day or two.”

“Don’t dick around,” Jess said sternly. “My buyer won’t wait forever.”

Jordan hung up without telling the guy to go fuck himself, which felt like a win. He had no idea who Connery’s client was, which wasn’t unusual, but he did wonder why he or she was so hot to get the place. Connery had contacted him before probate had been settled and made an offer that would have been hard to walk away from even if he’d planned to keep the ranch. Someone was trolling for property in the area, and the Willow Creek Ranch fit the bill.

Jordan had tried to put out feelers as to why the property had such value to someone, but having been out of the area for almost a decade, his network was relatively small. Wade and his rancher coffee klatch hadn’t known anything, nor had the owner of the feed store, or the hardware store. Jordan didn’t need to have a horse shod or trimmed, but he was considering calling a farrier anyway because if there was anyone who knew the secrets of a community, it was the local horseshoer.

“You holding up that post or what?” his oldest brother, Hayes, called from where he’d just finished the gate brace. Looks wise, they were as different as night and day, Jordan being dark, and Hayes fair, but their bond as brothers was tight. Which meant he had to take as much shit as he gave.

“Just making sure it’s sturdy.” Jordan put his phone in his pocket and started toward the next hole.

An hour after his call from Jess Connery, the posts were in, and he and Hayes were heading back to the ranch. Jordan almost broached the subject of the live-in trailer with Hayes but didn’t, because it belonged to Bailey. It wasn’t until later that afternoon that he saw her coming out of the foreman’s house she shared with Hayes.

“Hey,” Bailey said as he approached, brushing the windblown hair out of her face.

She was a beauty, inside and out. A feisty beauty who’d hidden a stolen horse for her best friend and ended up engaged to Hayes in the process.

“Hey.” He was glad that Hayes and Bailey had finally reached a place where they could start making a life together. He’d never seen his brother so grounded. “Hayes mentioned that you aren’t using your trailer this summer.”

“Not when my fiancé finagled better living quarters.” She cocked her head. “Do you need it?”

“If you don’t need it, I was thinking I could move in for a while.” He explained about Estelle.

“For sure. If you’re not sharing a room with Trev, then Estelle doesn’t have a reason to turn down the offer.” Bailey bit her lip. “Do you think Estelle will figure out that you’re, you know, vacating for her?”

“If she has questions, I’m just going to tell her I need a private space to work, which I do, and that the trailer is perfect.”

“Excellent. It’s actually ready to go. Tanks are filled and all that.”

“Yeah.” Jordan ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I might have to borrow your shower now and again.” The shower in the live-in horse trailer was minute.

“No problem.”

“And the washing machine.”

Her mouth quirked up. “You want to move in with me and Hayes?”

“No.” He held up hand.

The foreman’s house was too small for that.

“Good,” she teased. “Because we don’t want you.”

He clutched at the pretend knife stabbed into his heart and she laughed.