Bossing the Billionaire: Billionaire Brothers Kent - Ryder's Story (The BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES Series)

Intent on freeing himself from the demons
of his past,
Ryder Kent
sets off on a road trip alone. This is the only
way he can find the peace of mind he so desperately craves. But on his way to
Mexico a missed turn takes him to the remote southwest Texas town of Pequoia.
There, an unfortunate turn of events puts him at the mercy of one of the most
beautiful women he's ever met. Instead of his usual role as the 'big boss', in
Pequoia he's lost power and prestige and ends up having to work for this Texas
rose. But Ryder soon finds out that manual labor is the least of his problems.
He hasn't even put his demons to rest and now he's falling for his boss...which,
after what he's been through, is the last thing he needs...

Blake Beaumont
has had enough of men. She's been hurt by one who declared his
undying love for her...until he turned around and stabbed her in the back.
After that, how can she trust any other man? And then, out of the blue, the
perfect one falls right into her hands. Does she dare trust her heart to
another, or is he just too good to be true?

A matter of trust, a matter of the heart.
And, in the end, a matter of love...

CHAPTER ONE

“Where the heck am I?” Ryder muttered the words under his breath as
he stared at the stretch of deserted road ahead of him.

So much for taking the scenic route. He’d gotten so sick of the
dreary monotony of the highway that he’d taken a detour, deciding to try some
of the country roads instead. Now, in hindsight, it seemed it hadn’t been such
a good plan after all, especially considering that he had no idea where in the
world he was right now.

“What kind of a GPS are you?” he grumbled to the device set in the
middle of the dashboard but it only stared back at him, mute and blank-faced.
Ryder gave it a disgusted glare. “Not much of a help, are you?”

The thing was, before Ryder took to the country roads he’d known he
would sort of be on his own for some parts of the journey. There were some
roads that the GPS hadn’t been programmed for. But jeez, he’d expected the
device to pick up most of them, not leave him stranded in the middle of
nowhere. At the thought, he had to bite back another grumble.

For this part of his journey Ryder was on his way to Marfa, a tiny
town he’d heard about at his last stop in Fort Stockton. What he heard piqued
his interest and since he didn’t mind prolonging his road trip he decided to
make a stop there. The directions they’d given him at the rest stop had seemed
pretty straightforward…until now that he was over an hour into the journey and
with no town in sight and with no hope of getting cell phone service way out in
this wilderness. He hadn't seen another living soul since he'd turned onto the
road. God help him if he ran out of gas. The hyenas would gladly have him for
lunch.

It was another half hour before Ryder saw what looked like a tiny
settlement up ahead. “There is a God,” he muttered under his breath even as he
let out a relieved sigh.

In minutes he was rolling into a tiny service station cum
convenience store. As soon as he pulled in, a stout man in checkered shirt and
jeans hurried over. “What’s for you, stranger? Need to fill ‘er up?”

The man gave him a smile so wide Ryder couldn’t help but smile back.
“I’d appreciate that,” he said as he climbed out of his truck. “You guys take
credit cards, right?”

“I ain’t too sure about that,” the man said with a shrug. “I don’t
work here.”

That made Ryder raise his eyebrows in surprise. Was the fellow so
friendly he would offer to pump gas for a stranger? Or maybe he was after a
tip. Ryder had no problem with that. He always had loose bills in his pocket
for pretty much that purpose. He was no stranger to people doing whatever odd
thing they could to make a buck or two on the street.

Still grinning, the man jerked his head toward the glass door to the
convenience store. “Go on in,” he said as he reached for the pump. “You can ask
about the credit card thing inside.”

“Will do.” Ryder nodded and left him to his task. He walked across
the asphalted pavement and pulled the door open. He was immediately hit by a
gust of warm, stale air. He jerked back, holding the door open a while longer
to let some of the outdoor air in. Hadn’t these people heard about something
called air conditioning? This was Texas in the middle of July, for Pete’s sake.

He stepped inside but, momentarily blinded by the dimness, he had to
blink to reorient his eyes. It took a few seconds before he saw the wizened old
man sitting behind the counter, his eyes glued to a newspaper spread out in
front of him. Even when the bell tinkled as the door opened and closed the
white-haired man did not look up. Ryder cleared his throat. Even so, the old
geezer – for want of a better description – continued to ignore him.

He cleared his throat again then seeing that wasn’t working he
stepped forward and slapped his hand down on the counter.

The old man jumped. His head jerked up and he glared at Ryder. “Hey,
where did you come from? What’s with you, young fella, sneaking up on a man
like that? You nigh gave me a heart attack.” He jerked the newspaper away then
folded it up, even as he continued to scowl.

“I’m sorry,” Ryder said. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Say what? You’ve got to speak up, fella. What’s with a big,
strapping one like you whispering at me like that?” Clearly annoyed, the man
threw his newspaper down and got up off his stool. “Come on, speak up.”

“I said I need to ask you a question.” Ryder raised his voice
another decibel for the benefit of the man.

“So ask it. What’s stopping you?”

“Do you take credit cards?”

“Credit what? You joshin’ me or what? We don’t give no credit at
this here establishment. Credit got run out of town nigh on fifty years ago.”

“I didn’t ask you for credit. I asked if you take credit cards.”

“And what did I tell ya? Are you deaf? No credit. Strictly cash at
my establishment.” The man was leaning forward now, looking like he was getting
ready to throw Ryder out.

“Not very friendly, are you?” Ryder knew his muttered statement had
no chance of being heard, not by this one who was obviously as deaf as a
doorpost. This man was the exact opposite of the one he’d met outside. He
reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “No problem,” he said.
“I’ve got cash. How much do I owe you for gas?” He’d seen when his friendly
helper had rested the hose back in its cradle so he knew the tank was full.

“How should I know?” the storekeeper asked as he slid off his stool
and lifted a section of the counter top. “I have to go out and see.”

One would have expected the man to see the total on a computer
screen inside the store but Ryder didn’t bother to question that. He simply
stepped back and let this not-so-pleasant business operator walk past.

Within a minute he was back. “You owe me fifty-five forty-five,” he said
as he stepped past Ryder to retake his post behind the counter. “Strictly
cash.”

“I hear you.” Ryder took out three twenty-dollar bills and laid them
on the counter. “Keep the change.”

Old Mr. Grumpy must have liked the sound of that because his face brightened
and for the first time since he laid eyes on the man Ryder saw him smile. “Hey
there, fella. Now you’re the kind of man I like to do business with. Not like
them noisy whippersnappers who come riding through here on their motorbikes.”

Ryder almost smiled. So that was it. The old fellow must have
thought he was one of ‘them’. He’d probably been harassed by some young, crazy
teenagers riding through the place – although what teenagers on motorbikes
would be doing all the way out here in the boondocks, Ryder couldn’t tell.
Still, the fact that the old man put him in the same category was downright
amusing. At three decades plus one year he was way, way past the teenager
stage.

“So where’re you from?” the man asked, suddenly looking like he was
ready for conversation. “I know you ain’t from around these parts.”

Ryder didn’t return the smile. He would answer the questions but the
man’s cool reception had been a real turn-off. “I’m from Des Moines,” he said,
and left it at that.

“Ah ha. An Iowa man.” The storeowner nodded. “And what are you doing
in this part of Texas? It ain’t like this is Dallas or Houston.”

“I’m on my way to a town called Marfa. I heard about it at my last
stop in Fort Stockton, that there’s this phenomenon that takes place at night.
The Marfa lights in the sky. Nobody can explain it.” He shrugged. “I always was
a sucker for a good mystery so I’m on my way to this Marfa place. Is it
anywhere near here?”

The man chuckled. “You’re standing in the middle of it, young
fella.” He stuck his hand out. “The name’s Simeon. Simeon Harris. Ask me
anything you want to know about Marfa. Been living here all my life.”

Ryder took his hand but as he did he was frowning. “This is Marfa?
This deserted one-storey sha…establishment?” He’d been about to say shack but
he stopped himself just in time.

“Yup,” the man said, beaming, but then his grin turned sheepish. “To
tell the truth, this ain’t quite the middle. It’s just the outskirts but it’s
one of the first establishments in this here town. Was built long before the
town grew so big. Almost two thousand of us now, you know.”

Ryder looked back at him, confused. “So where are the rest of you?
Outside of your…establishment…all I’m seeing is wide open plains and tumbleweed.”

He grinned. “Oh, they're still a ways in. The newer part of the
city’s where they all hang out but me, I like it right where I am. I pick up
the strays before they run out of gas.” And although he didn’t say it, the way
he was looking at Ryder told him he’d just been put in the stray category.
“That’s how I make my dough.”

“So how do I get to Marfa?” Ryder asked. “The city part, I mean.”

“Well, you just head-”

“It’s okay, old Sim. I’ll direct him.” They both turned as the
helper stepped into the already tight space. “I’ll make sure ye get there all
right.”

“Well, okay,” Ryder said then he turned back to Simeon and gave him
a nod. “Thank you.”

“And thank you,” Simeon said. “Come back any time.”

Ryder was surprised when, as they stepped out of the tiny
convenience store, the helpful one stepped closer and gave him a not-too-gentle
pat on the shoulder. “There’s something about you,” he said. “I don’t know what
it is but old Simeon likes you. I can see that much.” Then, his hand still on
Ryder’s shoulder, he turned him to face west. “Now you see that post way over
there? You take the road and go past it and you’re going to take a road
branching off to the right. It will take you a little ways down but never you
mind that. Just keep going until you run into the sign that says Marfa.”

“So I’ll see a sign?”

“You’ll see a sign. Can’t miss it,” he assured Ryder. “And like I
said, if you don’t see nobody for a while don’t be alarmed. It’s still a little
ways off.”

“Okay. I appreciate you telling me that.” Ryder dug into his pocket
and pulled out some bills. “Thanks a lot for your help.”

The man’s smile widened. “No problem,” he said with a nod. “No
problem at all.”

Even when Ryder jumped into the Dodge Ram and drove off the man
still stood there, staring after the truck and grinning.

As he watched the man through the rearview mirror Ryder shook his
head. “Weird,” he said under his breath. They were both weird, the grumpy old
man and the overly friendly one. From two opposite poles, they were. He could
only wonder if the other residents of Marfa would be just as unusual.

Ryder had been driving for the better part of half an hour when he
began to wonder if he’d taken a wrong turn. Texas was known for its wide-open
spaces but he’d expected to be in Marfa long before this. He’d followed his
guide’s instructions to the letter but there was still no sign welcoming him to
Marfa. Where the heck was the place?

So the man had said it was some way away – aways off as he’d put it
– and not to panic if he didn’t see the place right away, but instead of
getting wider the road was narrowing and on top of that it was getting bumpier
by the mile. There was no way there could be a city at the end of this road.

Not knowing if it made sense to turn back at that point, he drove
on. He’d been at it for another ten minutes when the bumpy asphalted surface
got even worse. Now it was nothing but a dirt road. What the heck?

Ryder slammed on the brakes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He let
out his breath in a hiss. Had he taken a wrong turn? Or had he been taken for a
ride?

And then he saw it. Off in the distance, the golden rays of the
setting sun to the back of it, was a building visible only because it was all of
two stories high. At least that was what it looked like from this distance. For
the second time that day Ryder had to breathe a sigh of relief. Not a moment
too soon. He’d been just about ready to turn around and head back the way he’d
come. Now, finally, he’d found Marfa. There wasn’t much to it, just one
building that he could see so far, but he would take it. He was too exhausted
to feel anything but glad to see this sign of life in the middle of the Texas
desert plains.

He pressed on the gas and shot up the dirt road toward the safe
haven. There was still no sign saying ‘Welcome to Marfa’ but he didn’t care as
long as there was food and a warm bed up ahead.

It was when he got closer that he saw how sparse the place really
was. Outside of the building he’d spotted he was now seeing another six or
seven but they were all tiny and all looking in dire need of repairs. Was this
the Marfa he’d been hearing about? He’d been expecting some improvement on the
gas station he’d left behind but this place actually looked worse. He hadn’t
thought that could be possible.

As he approached the main building he slowed down and when he pulled
up close by he read the words painted on the front. Beaumont’s. That was all it
said and even as he got out of the truck he had no idea what kind of place it
was.

With a tired sigh he slammed the door shut behind him and trudged up
the dusty path that led to the front entrance. As he walked he noticed a truck
parked in back, then two. Maybe that was the parking area but it didn’t matter.
Right then he was too tired and hungry to go back and move his truck. He just
wanted some grub.

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