Falling For Fortune. Nancy Robards Thompson
I established a schedule, it went quite well,” Oliver said in a clipped tone, irritated his brother could think him incapable of caring for one small boy. “The nanny I hired is excellent and believes as strongly as I do in the importance of a routine. And she fully understood why I needed to make this trip. Unfortunately she refuses to leave the country.”
Jensen obviously had nothing to add. He didn’t have children. Not even a wife. Not yet anyway.
Oliver glanced down, noting Barnaby had fallen asleep at his feet. He only hoped his son was sleeping as soundly as the dog. The moment he’d arrived at the ranch, Oliver had put Ollie down for a nap. After a sixteen-hour flight from London to Lubbock the day before, even the brief respite in a hotel overnight hadn’t been enough sleep for a toddler.
His son had been fussy after the long flight and had kept Oliver up most of the night. Oliver had dreaded the forty-five-minute car ride from Lubbock to Horseback Hollow, but the child had fallen asleep while Oliver was strapping him into his car seat. He’d slept during the entire trip, not waking even when Oliver brought him inside and laid him on Jensen’s bed.
Jensen’s gaze dropped to the corgi. “What’s his name?”
“Barnaby.” Oliver wasn’t sure who was more surprised at the fondness in his voice, him or his brother.
“You don’t like dogs.”
“I’ve never disliked them,” Oliver corrected. “I simply never had time for one. Diane purchased Barnaby for Ollie when she left me. He’s quite attached to the animal.”
“You’re going to keep him?”
“Are you referring to Ollie? Or Barnaby?”
“Both.” Jensen grinned. “I’ve never considered you the kid or dog type.”
“Ollie is my son. My responsibility. When Diane and I split up, I thought our child’s needs would be better served living with her. That’s the only reason I didn’t fight for custody. I’ve already explained about the dog.”
Jensen stared contemplatively at the animal that had awakened and now sat, brown eyes scanning the room, ears perked up like two radio antennae.
“Corgis are herding animals.”
Oliver nodded. “I observed some of that behavior when he first came to live with me. But that’s no longer an issue.”
“You have the dog on a schedule, too.”
“Certainly.”
“Is Barnaby a dog that goes in and out?” Jensen asked in a tone that was a little too casual.
Oliver cocked his head.
“Could he be an outside dog?”
Oliver thought for a moment, considered. “He likes being outdoors, but I don’t believe he’s suited to roughing it.”
Jensen rubbed his chin. “That presents a problem.”
“How so?”
“Amber is allergic to dogs.” His brother grimaced. “Come to think of it, I probably shouldn’t have let the animal in the house.”
Ah, now Oliver understood. “No worries. I’ll stay with Mother.”
“You’re forgetting something, aren’t you?”
“Am I?”
“Mother is also allergic.” Jensen’s expression was solemn. “Remember the puppy Father brought home? She got congested and broke out in hives.”
Bugger. He’d forgotten all about that episode. He’d been older and away at boarding school, so the fact that the dog had to be returned to the breeder hadn’t affected him.
“It appears I’ll have to rent a suite at a hotel.” Oliver gave a shrug. “Is there one you’d recommend?”
Jensen gave a hoot of laughter. “You saw the extent of our business district when you stopped at the Superette.”
Was his brother teasing him? The way he used to when he was a bit of a boy? “I assumed the more populated area of the city was elsewhere.”
“Horseback Hollow isn’t a city, it’s a town. There are no hotels, motels or even any B and Bs.” Jensen’s expression sobered. “Right now there isn’t even a hotel in Vicker’s Corners. You’ll have to go all the way to Lubbock to find one.”
Oliver pressed his lips together. There was no way he’d flown across an entire ocean and half a continent to stay an hour away. Especially not with a child. The whole purpose of this trip was to spend time with family.
“There has to be a vacant house in the area,” he told his brother. “Do you have the name of a real estate broker I could contact?”
“Now?”
“Since Ollie and I don’t have accommodations for this evening, time is of the essence.”
His brother rose and went to a desk where he pulled out a thin phone book. “I suggest starting with Shep Singleton. He’s a local rancher and I believe he has an empty house on his property. I’m not sure if it would be satisfactory or what he’ll want for rent—”
“Money won’t be an issue if the house is clean and nearby.”
“It’s in a great location.” Jensen pulled his brows together as if picturing the place in his mind. “It may even have a fenced yard.”
“Do you have Mr. Singleton’s mobile number?” Oliver pulled the phone from his jacket, his fingers poised above the keypad. He wanted to inspect this home. One way or the other, he would secure appropriate lodging for him and his son, today.
Because Oliver Fortune Hayes was used to going after—and getting—what he wanted.
Shannon swore under her breath. She and Rachel had plans to see a movie in Lubbock this evening, then check out a Mexican place that had recently opened in the Depot District. Instead she’d had to call her friend and cancel.
All because her father had gotten a call from someone interested in renting the empty ranch house on the property. Apparently that someone had to see it immediately. There was no telling how long this would take. Or who the impatient person would turn out to be.
Her father only had a name...Oliver. He wasn’t certain if that was the man’s first or last name, as he’d been distracted during the call. One of his prize mares was foaling.
Shep Singleton might be focused on Sweet Betsy but Shannon was still his little girl. He ordered her to take one of the ranch hands with her for safety. It made sense, but she hated to pry them away from their duties.
The odds of Mr. Oliver being a serial killer or crazed lunatic were next to nil. Besides, she’d had self-defense training and could hold her own.
When she pulled up in front of the home and saw a dusty Mercedes, a prickle of heat traveled up her spine. Surely it couldn’t be...
Even as she hopped out of her dad’s rusty pickup with the gash in the front end, the man from the Superette stepped from the vehicle. Ooh la la, he looked just as good as he had several hours ago and ready for business in his hand-tailored navy suit.
Smiling, Shannon crossed the gravel drive and extended her hand. “You must be Mr. Oliver?”
“Oliver Fortune Hayes,” he corrected, smiling slightly. “And you’re the helpful lady from the grocer’s.”
“Shannon Singleton.” She gave his hand a decisive shake. “Shep’s daughter. My dad said you wanted to check out the house.”
“Indeed.” Those amazing blue eyes settled on her, warm and friendly. “I appreciate