THE BILLIONAIRE'S SOFT TOUCH

THE BILLIONAIRE'S SOFT TOUCH CHAPTER TWO

These days, it was harder than ever, as he’d been paying off medical bills since everything had happened.

His wife’s face flashed across his mind, and he paused, putting a hand on the center of his chest. The thing about losing someone, he’d realized, was that no matter how much time had gone by, sometimes a memory would just hit you by surprise and take the wind out of you. He sucked in a breath, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand and not dwell on everything he’d lost. He couldn’t go down that path today.

He hopped out of his Ford pickup and kicked the door shut behind him. He’d already taken care of the animals. Now he was out by the north end of his property, checking the pipe. Even though he had technology hooked up to move the pipe to water his alfalfa during the day, he always had to make sure it was working. Rushing over to the pipe, he quickly checked the digital equipment. Yep. Like clockwork, the sprinkler shot on.

He was proud of himself. It was a feat to keep up with all the changing tech with farming and ranching and stay in business. Leaning back on his heels, he surveyed the budding crops and the perfect way the sprinkler moved. Yes, it was all working out.

Rossi thought about the letter from the bank that lay on his desk. He and his brother, Tory, co-owner of the ranch, were trying to figure out how to deliver on the back payments. Rossi had put everything into curing his wife, even paid out huge amounts of money for nontraditional treatments, all to no avail.

He sighed and tried to think about something good, but the effort was fruitless. Thoughts of her always lurked in the back of his mind. It’d been two years since the cancer had taken her, but sometimes it still felt like yesterday. He focused on his breathing, trying to calm his heart rate. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, his mind spinning about how to pay back the huge debts he owed between the ranch and the alternative care they’d tried. His hand clenched into a fist; he hated that his brother wanted to help him. It shouldn’t be Tory ’s responsibility, but Troy wouldn’t stop trying to help.

The two brothers had inherited the land from their parents when they’d passed suddenly five years ago in a car accident. At that point, Rossi had taken over and managed everything, but now Tory had come home. Troy was a doctor and still had a lot of student loans, but Ross was still grateful Troy was here.

A text showed up from his sister-in-law, Katy. Thanks for doing extra chores for us while we’re gone. We fly out at ten tomorrow morning.

He smiled. Troy and Katy and their son were finally going on a family vacation, which Kathy had won on the radio. He texted Katy back. No problem. The least I can do for all the times you watch Kinley. Have fun in Jamaica! You deserve it.

Bobby loves to play with her.

Rossi hurried back to his truck, thinking about how Kinley and Bobby, almost the exact same age, were a bit of trouble together. He grinned, remembering the text with the smashed mud pies against their house last week. Though he hadn’t been smiling when he had to help clean it up.

Suddenly, a flash of red registered in the corner of his eye. Stopping, he turned and saw what looked like someone on the ground at the edges of the tree line by his property. Who would be out here at six thirty in the morning? And who would be on his property?

He jogged toward the person, who looked like a woman. “Hey!” he called out, but as he got closer, he saw she wasn’t hiding. She was just lying there, maybe asleep—then he saw the blood.

“What do you mean, she was just lying on the field in the north forty?” Tory asked, yanking on the gurney and pulling the woman into the hospital with the help of another ER worker.

Rossi had acted on instinct, picking her up, rushing her to his truck, and taking off for the hospital twenty minutes away. On the way, he’d called Troy, because of course he would call his brother, the doctor. He’d told Troy to be ready to intercept them at the ER. Ross could have called 911, but that would have been a waste of time.

After that, he’d called Katy and asked her to go to his house and get Kinley. Kinley wouldn’t freak out if he wasn’t home to get her, because she was used to being alone a lot, but he was thankful Kathy could go pick her up.

Rossi hovered next to the gurney, feeling somehow responsible. The woman was alive—he’d felt a pulse—but there was so much blood on her head. He’d found himself praying all the way to the hospital. “I went to check the sprinkler pipe, and I caught a flash of red,” he explained. “When I got closer, I found her like this.”

Tory swore and pushed the gurney into the ER. “You know the cops will be coming. You’re going to have to miss the drama camp today.”

Now Ross swore. It was true.

“Stay there. I’ll be back.” Troy disappeared behind some doors in the ER.

Ross turned back to the waiting room. Reluctantly, he whipped out his phone and called Theresa Smart, the other acting teacher at the high school. She was constantly hitting on him, so he didn’t like calling her.

“Ross,” she answered, a bit out of breath. “I’ve been running. Sorry, I’m a bit breathy.”

He explained the situation and asked if she would cover for him at the camp.

“If I recall,” she said, a hint of irritation in her tone, “you made it clear you didn’t need a partner to put on this camp. You didn’t want a partner.”

“Theresa.” He swallowed back his own annoyance. She was right: she had offered to help, and he’d told her very adamantly that he didn’t need her. “Please.”

She sighed. “I don’t usually give up any of my summer days. We’ve talked about this.”

“I know.”

“But I will on one condition.”

Relief washed through him. “Thank you.”

“You’re going to owe me a date for this.”

“We’ll work something out. Thanks again.”

He hung up as she continued talking, but he didn’t feel bad. The woman would take her pound of flesh, and he would worry about that later. Now he had to focus on the police.

He pressed the number for his friend the police chief, George Harper.

“What’s up, Charm?” George asked, using Ross’s last name. Old football habits died hard in a small town.

“George, I have a situation . . .”

It was an excruciating three hours later when George finally showed up and brought a detective with him.

Tory emerged out of the ER doors right as George showed up, announcing, “She’s stable, but she took a hard hit. I don’t know when she’ll wake. From the tests I’m running and the specialist out of Rapid City I’m consulting, it looks like a coma.” He grunted and turned to Ross. “So you just found her?”

George exhaled. “Yes, please tell us how this woman got there.”

Ross threw up his hands, frustrated. All he’d been able to do for the past three hours was pace with worry about the redhead he’d brought in and remember the last time he’d been in this ER, with his wife, Brook. “I told both of you. I was checking the sprinkler this morning on the north forty, and I saw her there on the ground. I—” His voice caught, and he said more quietly, “I was worried she was dead, to tell you the truth, with all that blood on her head.”

“Head injuries bleed a lot,” Tory said, nodding.

George frowned. “Was there anything on her that identifies her?”

Ross hadn’t searched her; he’d just gotten here as fast as possible. “I don’t know.”

Tory shrugged. “The nurses found a can of pepper spray.” He tugged it from his pocket and handed it to George.