The Single Dad's New Twins (Billionaire Cowboy Romance) Page 6

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I say.

  Christy frowns. “This Garrett guy—does he know yet?”

  I shake my head. “No. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about,” I say. “I’m not sure how to tell him.”

  “You guys slept together, and that was it?” Christy asks. “Did you go out again after that?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t hear from him for like a week. Then he left me a voicemail, but it was all about the job I applied for… nothing personal. I got an email from him and it was all business, too—about the job I didn’t get. I deleted it without responding.”

  “The nerve of him…” Christy says. “You sleep with the guy, and he thinks that emailing you about a job is appropriate? What a jerk.”

  I cringe. “What should I do?” I ask.

  “Karla, don’t let your one night with the guy fool you. He was putting on an act just to get with you. I know you’re smart. You’ve always dusted me when it comes to the intellect department. You’ve got to use your head now.” She taps the side of her head.

  She’s right. I have to think strategically.

  She continues. “You know that GFC Bank is going to take our house in July?”

  Her question surprises me, as does the wobble in her voice. As her best friend since childhood, I know that wobble well. She’s holding back tears. “Ian and I don’t know what to do. We haven’t told the kids yet.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say.

  She takes a breath, squares her shoulders and says. “I don’t mean to turn the conversation to me. You’re pregnant for crying out loud—you’ve got bigger problems. Okay… I know what you have to do.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “You have to demand payment from him. Say you’re going to get lawyers involved. Threaten to go to the press and tell them what an inconsiderate jerk he’s been to you. Pull out all the stops.”

  “But he hasn’t been a jerk,” I say. “We haven’t even talked since that night.”

  “See?” Christy says. “If he had half a heart, he would have called you the very next day. At the very least, when he did contact you a week later, it should have been to ask you for a second date—not to pester you about some work thing.”

  The fact that Garrett didn’t ever ask for a second date does bother me.

  Christy reaches for her phone, which is sitting on a basket in the middle of the counter. “All you have to do is send him an email,” she says. “Demand payment. Make some threats. Let him know you’re not messing around.”

  “I don’t know…” I say.

  She starts tapping on her phone. “Like this,” she says. “I’ll start a draft email for you to get the ball rolling. ‘Dear Mr. Green. This is the woman you slept with and then never bothered to ask out again. I’m pregnant with your child, and I demand the payment that I deserve. If you do not immediately deliver a payment of… ten million dollars to me, I am going to take the matter to court and—’”

  “Ten million?!” I say. “Christy, that’s absolutely ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” she says. “The guy is a billionaire, Karla. I think he can spare ten million. Besides, you’re going to have to raise this kid on your own. That means you’re going to have to say goodbye to your dreams of starting Karla’s Kitchen, and that could have easily made you a multi-millionaire. I’ve seen how hard you work, and I’ve tasted your food. It’s the best cooking I’ve ever had. You were on the way to owning an iconic brand. He should be giving you more than ten million.”

  “This doesn’t feel right,” I say.

  Christy ignores my statement. “Finish with something about lawyers and the press. How about… ‘If I do not have this payment within the week, you will hear from my team of lawyers. I am not bluffing, Mr. Green. I will gladly take the story to the press, as well, and tell them how you have mistreated me. Sincerely, Karla Moretti.’”

  “Mistreated me?” I say. “Seriously, Christy, he didn’t mistreat me. He was very nice.”

  “Because he was trying to get you to go to bed with him?” Christy says with a scoff.

  I swallow hard and feel myself blush. “Maybe,” I say. “But it doesn’t matter. Maybe he was pretending to be a good guy just to get with me, but I’m just as much at fault as he is. Even if he’s a jerk, I could never threaten him like that. I don’t want to use my child as leverage to get money.”

  I place my hand on my abdomen again and think about the life growing there. “I want my baby to be healthy and happy—and that’s all,” I say. “We don’t need millions.”

  Christy sees the gesture and puts down her phone. “Of course you want your baby to be healthy and happy,” she says.

  I nod. “I don’t know how Garrett is going to react to this news, but I know if I send an email like that he’ll be defensive right out of the gate, and that could stop him from ever having a relationship with the baby.”

  Christy nods.

  I continue. “I want to at least give him the option of being involved,” I say in a hushed tone. It’s the first time I’ve thought this through with this much clarity. In her own way, Christy actually helped me figure out what to do. “I need to contact him and present the news in a mature way,” I say.

  She lifts her wine glass. “You’re right,” she says. “Of course you’re right. You’ve always been the smart one, and I’m the emotional one.”

  “That’s why we’re such good friends,” I say, flashing her a smile.

  She returns it. “Through thick or thin… and man, are times thin. Speaking of thin… will you check out this broth? I tried a new stock recipe and I think it’s missing something.”

  We make our way to the stove and the soup that’s simmering there. The broth is bland, so I help her add a touch of cream and some tomato paste, and then we set up the dining room table for the meal.

  I can’t say no to staying for dinner, so it’s after dark by the time I return to my apartment. I’m so tired that my air mattress feels like a bed at a five-star hotel.

  The emotional chaos I’ve been experiencing is so draining, but hopefully I will find more clarity soon. I already found some tonight, thanks to my talk with Christy. I now know that I want to offer Garrett the option of being involved in this child’s life. I still have to gather the courage to actually call him, but that can wait until tomorrow. For now, what I really need is sleep.

  * * *

  I wake feeling refreshed and centered. Today is the day that I’ll call Garrett, set up a meeting with him, and finally get some answers. I feel as though I’ve been standing on pins and needles, and my conversation with Garrett will finally bring relief. At least once he knows, the ball will be in his court and I can simply allow him to make some decisions of his own.

  I’m feeling confident about the day as I dress. I need to leave my house at a quarter after seven, but am ready on the hour. Rather than leave early, I linger at the kitchen counter with my laptop in front of me, reading articles about Garrett Green. I want to know more about him before I share my news.

  I’m deep in an article about Garrett’s rise to wealth through several international export companies when my phone rings. I see it’s Christy, and I pick up.

  “What’s going on?” I say, greeting her on autopilot as my eyes scan a list of companies that Garrett owns in Asia.

  “Oh my God, Karla!” Christy says. She sounds upset. Her tone snaps my attention away from the computer screen and to the conversation.

  “What happened?” I say. “Are you okay? Are the kids okay?”

  “Everyone’s fine except for me,” Christy says. “You’re going to kill me when you find out what I just did.”

  “What did you do?” I ask.

  “Remember that email I drafted last night?” she asks, and a cool sensation of fear grips my heart.

  “What did you do, Christy?” I ask again.

  “I hit send!” she says. “I was about to delete it, but I was distracted. The kids were bouncing all around
me, Ian had a job interview and couldn’t find his pressed shirt, and I just—I don’t know where my mind was… it was on a million other things, and—” Her words are coming out in a torrent, but I cut her off before she can gush on.

  “You sent that email to Garrett Green?” I ask. “This morning?”

  “Just a few minutes ago,” she says. “Karla, I am so sorry.”

  I glance at the clock on my stove. It’s now twenty after seven, and I really have to get going.

  “Christy, I have to go. It’s still my first week and if I’m more than fifteen minutes late, I could fail my probation.”

  “You hate me, don’t you?” she says.

  “I don’t hate you. I love you. I just hate that you sent that freaking email.”

  “I’m sorry,” Christy says. “I really am. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. You’re coming over tomorrow, right? I set up the guest bedroom for you, and Stella picked out a movie from the library for movie night.”

  “I’ll be there,” I say. “I have to meet my landlord here for a walk-through at eight in the morning, and then I’ll head to your place.”

  She apologizes again, and we hang up. I close my laptop, slip my phone into my purse, and shoulder my bag. I feel panicked as I recall little details from the message Christy drafted. It was so rude! So aggressive! I hurry to the door, slide my feet into my flats, step outside and close the door behind me.

  I can’t believe she hit send! What am I going to do about it? I’m going to have to explain the mistake to Garrett, along with everything else.

  But first, I have to get to work.

  Chapter 8

  Garrett

  The manila folder filled with printed emails that Justin hands me is thicker than usual.

  “Happy Friday, sir,” he says as he places a coffee down next to me.

  “This seems abnormally thick,” I tell him.

  “There’s a worker strike at one of the branches, some issues at your ranch out in Willow Creek, and few financial reports seeing as it’s the first of the month,” Justin says. “Oh, and a message from a woman that I thought you’d better look at. It might just be junk mail… someone fishing for money, but I put it in there just in case.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “Set up a meeting with one of the guys on my investing team, will you? Maybe after lunch some time. I want to talk about the Kirtmore stock options I bought last week. Oh, and Justin—I don’t want the meeting to be with Marty. Get me someone who really knows what they’re doing.”

  He nods. “Someone on the investing team but not Marty,” he repeats. “Got it. Anything else, sir?”

  “That’s it,” I say. “Thanks.”

  Justin leaves, and I settle in with the most urgent messages of the day. There are some fires to put out, as usual. The strike at one of our banks out in the suburbs takes most of my attention for the first hour, as I speak to the CEO and then a team of managers on the phone. When I’m finally done with that, I move on to the next crisis at hand.

  I scan the email about my ranch out in Texas. It’s from the caretaker that I hired to look after the place, a man named Bill. He lives at the ranch, cares for the horses, and does a few minor property management tasks once in a while, like cleaning the gutters and painting fences. He’s been there for two years now, and in all my communications with him it seems he enjoys the position.

  As I read the email, I see that things have changed. Bill’s met a woman online, and he regrets to inform me that he’s going to leave my ranch to be with her in Hawaii. The note is his formal resignation, effective immediately—as in today.

  His plane leaves the Dallas, Texas, airport at noon.

  I glance at my watch.

  It’s eight in the morning. Bill’s probably already packed his living quarters up by now. He might even already be in his truck, headed for the airport.

  I curse under my breath. What about the horses? Someone has to feed them, give them water, clean their stalls…

  I pick up my phone and call Justin.

  “Sir?” he says as soon as he answers.

  “Justin,” I say, “the caretaker at my ranch in Texas quit on me. I need you to start looking for a caretaker who is available to move out there immediately—like tonight. We might have to patch something together… a temporary house sitter for a while, until we can find someone more permanent. I’ll leave that up to you. The important thing is that they’re good with horses. I have two out there, and they need to be cared for by someone who knows what they’re doing. Ask them a few questions and make sure they sound capable.”

  “Understood,” Justin says. “I’ll see what I can do. When you say ‘take care of the horses’ you mean give them water and food, right? What do they eat? How many meals?”

  “Mostly roughage,” I say. “They eat it throughout the day, a little at a time. The amount depends on how much exercise they’re getting.”

  “Wait… I’m writing this down,” Justin says. “Now, by exercise… what exactly do you mean by that? Does this house sitter actually have to have experience riding, or do the horses, I don’t know, like, walk themselves?”

  I sigh. It’s clear that my assistant doesn’t know much about horses. “You know what, Justin?” I say. “Why don’t I handle the caretaker thing myself. I’m pretty particular about those horses. I want the right person on the job.”

  Justin agrees that would be best, and I feel the beginnings of a stress headache behind my temples as I make a few notes to myself on a legal pad. Interviewing caretakers is about the last thing I want to do today, but it would be even worse if Justin hired someone who was ill-suited for the job. I love my two horses. I’d hate to think that they were being neglected or poorly looked after.

  I rub my temples and lean back in my chair.

  I picture my horses, two Appaloosa beauties that I haven’t seen in months. When was the last time Colt and I went out to the ranch? I think back and realize it was almost a year ago.

  Too long.

  Rather than ruin my day by hunting for a caretaker, what if I pick up Colt from school and we drive out to Texas this evening? I could feed and care for the horses myself.

  Come to think of it, Cinda’s been talking about how Colt has a break from school next week. His school does a trimester system, and next week is their time off between spring and summer semesters.

  Colt and I could stay out there for a whole week.

  I could work from the ranch. I could enroll Colt in one of the summer camps that the little town of Willow Creek is known for. Some time out in the country will be good for him. He’s been getting into so much trouble lately…

  I place a call back to Justin and tell him to clear my late afternoon schedule. I’ll leave the office at three, and Colt and I will be at the ranch by seven or eight.

  Next, I call Cinda and tell her that she’ll have next week off. I ask her to line up a camp for Colt in Willow Creek, and she agrees.

  When I get off the phone with Cinda, thoughts about my work schedule for the week ahead thunder through my head. There’s so much to do, including a sale of my Trade Express company which is scheduled for Wednesday. Hopefully the internet will be working out at the ranch. Sometimes it’s spotty, which will make it difficult to communicate with my staff.

  My headache builds as I flip over to the next page in the stack of printed emails in my folder.

  I scan the message. At first I think it’s a hoax like Justin assumed. It reads like a scam message. However, the name at the bottom of the message makes me almost choke on my coffee.

  Karla Moretti.

  The woman I spent the evening with, over a month ago.

  I narrow my eyes and read the message again, more carefully this time.

  Dear Mr. Green,

  This is the woman you slept with and then never bothered to ask out again. I’m pregnant with your child, and I demand the payment that I deserve. If you do not immediately deliver a payment of… ten million dollars to me, I am going
to take the matter to court and you’re going to pay.

  If I do not have this payment within the week, you will hear from my team of lawyers. I am not bluffing, Mr. Green. I will gladly take the story to the press, as well, and tell them how you have mistreated me.

  Sincerely,

  Karla Moretti

  Is Karla seriously pregnant? Is she really so cold as to demand payment from me, without having the decency to even speak to me in person? She never called me back, never answered my email, and now I learn she’s carrying my child… like this?

  My pulse thuds in my temples. I rub the side of my forehead, willing the stress headache to go away, but it will not. I read over her words for a third time.

  How can she be so callous? So cold? How can she have so much disregard for my feelings?

  I sit, growing more and more hurt. More and more angry.

  How should I handle this? I have half a mind to contact my lawyers, but that feels wrong. Karla stooped low when she chose to threaten to get lawyers involved without talking to me first. I can’t stoop that low along with her. I have to take the high road. One of us does.

  I have to talk to her directly and tell her what’s on my mind.

  I quickly pull up the HR department’s website and enter my company password. It’s easy to find her online résumé, which GFC Bank kept on file. Like most online résumés, it’s updated often, and I see that Karla is now working at a skin-care company on 6th Avenue. I know the street well, and it’s not far from here.

  I stand, grab my Stetson from the corner of my desk, and stuff it over my head. Then, head down, I barrel out of my office, heading for Karla’s place of employment.

  Chapter 9

  Karla

  I need to reach him before he opens that email, I think desperately as I hang up the phone. Ever since I arrived at work, the phone has been ringing off the hook. I glance at the little clock on the corner of the desktop computer in front of me. It’s already ten a.m.!