Secret Billionaire's Stubborn Cowgirl (The Secret Billionaires 1)

Skin burning now, she choked down her anger. It wasn’t going to do her any good. Spinning on her feet, she grabbed her purse from the employee’s rest area. Keeping her stare locked straight ahead, she slammed out the front.

Sliding in the driver’s seat of her battered truck, she put shaking hands on the steering wheel and pulled in a breath. What was she going to do? She needed regular paychecks, meaning she needed a new job fast. But it had been hard enough to get this one. Dave Ennis’ daughter—was she ever going to live down her daddy’s reputation for trouble?

Starting the engine, the truck groaned, coughed smoke a couple of times and finally started. She turned to head home, but at the first stop instead of turning left and going home she turned right to for the Hopkins Bed and Breakfast.

Charlie would know what to do.

Chapter Two

Charlene “Charlie” Hopkins owned the best bed and breakfast in town. It was also the only one and hung onto the edge of town. The country atmosphere gave the place a homey feel, and Charlie worked hard to foster that with bits of old west debris that she made herself. The wagon wheel missing a spoke, the old hand plough, the buckboard—all manufactured by Charlie. Lucy had helped him make most of his antiques.

The place had a few regulars—hunters who came in elk and deer season. The farm attached to the house needed new fences, but Charlie managed to get a crop or two of alfalfa every year. The place had been in the Hopkins family for four generations, but Charlie was the last Hopkins in the county. She’d been Lucy’s best friend since Lucy was eight and had tried to run away from home and had make it as far as the Hopkins. Charlie had talked Lucy into going home again, after feeding her venison stew and apple pie. Ever since then Charlie’s place had been Lucy’s refuge.

Pulling into the driveway of the large house, Lucy’s shoulders eased down. She climbed out of the truck and gave a wave to Jackson who was sweeping off the porch. “Hey, Jackson.”

The boy—another runaway, one Charlie hadn’t been able to bring herself to send home—looked up. Tall and lanky, he carried himself with stoop as if he wanted to make himself smaller. The bruises he’d shown up with—and the broken arm—had healed. His parents hadn’t come looking for him, and Charlie was home schooling him now so he could get his GED this year.

He offered a nod. Jackson never smiled much and Lucy had no idea if Jackson was his first name or his last. “Hey, Ms. Lucy. Ms. Charlie’s out back.” He gave another polite nod and went back to sweeping.

Lucy headed around the massive house with its clapboard sides and its wide, wrap-around porch. Charlie looked up from the little wooden bench under her favorite elm. She’d been shelling peas from her garden. “Hey there, girl. Thought you had to work tonight?” Lucy sat down and took up a pea to shell. Charlie’s wide face pulled into a frown. “What happened?”

Lucy shelled peas and told the story.

Charlie let out a breath. A heavy-set woman, Charlie wore her salt-and-pepper hair crop

ped short and generally had on Cathcart overalls, boots, and a white button-down shirt—summer or winter. She’d tie a scarf around her neck to dress up for going into town. She shook her head now. “Lucy, child, I know that temper of yours.”

Tossing the torn off ends of the pea aside, Lucy folded her arms. “I think I broke Sid Noby’s nose.”

Charlie gave a laugh. “’Bout time someone did.”

“Yeah, it may be funny now, but you know how bad I needed that job.”

“You know my stance. You should go to the police about what Martino did to your daddy. He’s bad and needs to be held accountable.”

Lucy shook her head. “Yeah, we both want fair as fair, but I can’t and you know why. So I just have to find another job and fast.”

“Come on board here. I’m leasing out the farm to this young fellow. He’s gonna need help. It won’t be easy work but it’ll pay well. He’s already said he’s going to offer top dollar. And it’s slow season for me. You could give up that little apartment and stay here.”

Lucy bit her lower lip. She hated giving up her independence—she’d worked damn hard for it. But Charlie was right—it was time to be practical. Putting an arm over Charlie’s shoulders, she hugged her. “What would I do without you, Charlie?”

Charlie patted her hand. “Well, I don’t think you’d perish, but you might come close. Now come and help me with dinner. You’re better in the kitchen than I ever was.”

Following inside, Lucy helped fix a chicken pot pie. She envied Charlie her garden—and how she could grow almost anything. Greens for salad. Tomatoes, corn, peas, carrots. She didn’t stay for dinner—she had to start packing and give notice. Her rent was due tomorrow, and she didn’t think it’d be easy to get a last check out of Roy.

Lucy climbed into her truck made her way back to her apartment. She knew Maritino wouldn’t like her leaving so suddenly. He’d want to know why she was leaving the apartment, but as long as she paid him, he wouldn’t do anything. She hoped. He’d once told her he admired her spunk, but she knew he wasn’t a guy you could trust.

She parked up in front of the red-brick apartment block and let herself into the place she’d called home for the past few months. It took a pitifully small amount of time to pack up and move out—in two hours she had her clothes and a few things she’d hung onto for her mom, for when she was well again and was moved into the back bedroom at Charlie’s.

“It’s not much, but you get the place to yourself,” Charlie had told her. The back bedroom was the room over the old garage, which was really more of a storage shed now. “I squared it with that new fellow and he’s agreed to take you on for the next few months. I told him you were a good worker, so don’t you make a liar out of me.”

“I won’t!” Lucy grinned and then let out a yawn, “Right, I better hit the sack.”

“You better, see you tomorrow morning.”

***

Looking at herself in the mirror, with the morning sunlight catching her curls, Lucy smiled. She’d put on jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt. She grabbed her work boots and sat in the little chair to pull them on. She’d done hard work before—farm work. Hell, she’d been taking care of herself for as long as she knew. Her mom had gotten sick when Lucy was just in middle school, and her daddy was always dragging them everywhere, looking for the big streak of luck. She’d been cook for the family, house keeper, and she’d taken every odd job she could to try and help with the nursing home bills. She’d done everything to hold the family together.