Snowbound Surprise for the Billionaire

She rounded the corner of the pen where the galvanised iron shelter finally hid her from the homestead. Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, she swung herself over the fence, upturned the feed bin, collapsed down onto it and finally gave way to the sobs that raked through her.

The huge Hereford stud bull—ex-stud bull, he’d been retired for a few years now—nuzzled her ear. She leant forward, wrapped her arms around him and cried into his massive shoulder. He just stood there, nuzzling her and giving off animal warmth and a measure of comfort. Eventually though he snorted and stamped a foot and Addie knew it was time to pull herself together.

She eased away to rest back against the wooden palings behind and scrubbed her hands down her face. ‘Sorry, Bruce Augustus, what a big cry baby you must think me.’

He lowered his head to her lap and she scratched her hands up his nose and around his ears the way he loved. He groaned and rocked into her slightly, but she wasn’t afraid. He might be twelve hundred pounds of brute animal strength, but he’d never hurt her. They’d been hanging out since she was eight years old. She’d cried with him when her mother had died two years ago. She’d cried with him when her father had died four months ago.

And she’d cried with him when her best friend, Robbie, had died.

She closed her eyes. Her head dropped. Robbie.

Finally she’d thought she’d be free to keep her promise to Robbie, had practically tasted the freedom of it on her tongue. But no. Flynn Mather in his perfect suit and with his perfectly cool—some might say cold—business manner had just presented his contract to them all. A contract with an insidious heartbreaking condition.

She stood and turned to survey the fields that rolled away in front of her, at the ranges way off to her right, and at the stands of ancient gum trees. She propped her arms on the fence and rested her chin on them. In early December in the Central West Tablelands of New South Wales, the grass was golden, the sky was an unending blue and the sun was fierce. She dashed away the perspiration that pricked her brow. ‘How long do you think Robbie would’ve given me to fulfil my promise, Bruce Augustus?’

Of course he didn’t answer.

She made herself smile—might as well practise out here where no one could see her. ‘The good news is we’ve found a buyer for Lorna Lee’s.’

A sigh juddered out of her. She and two of her neighbours had joined forces to sell their properties as a job lot. Frank and Jeannie were well past retirement age, while Eric and Lucy were spending so much time in Sydney for four-year-old Colin’s treatment their place was in danger of falling into wrack and ruin. Addie and her father had helped out all they could, but when her father had died it was all Addie could do to keep on top of things here at Lorna Lee’s. One person really did make that much of a difference. And when that person was gone...

She stared up at the sky and breathed deeply. No more crying today. Besides, she’d already cried buckets for her father.

She leant a shoulder against Bruce’s bulk. ‘So our gamble paid off.’ Putting the three properties together for sale had made it a more attractive venture for at least one buyer. Flynn Mather. ‘Your new owner is a hotshot businessman. He also has a cattle station in Queensland Channel country—huge apparently.’

Bruce Augustus snorted.

‘Don’t be like that. He knows his stuff. Says he wants to diversify his portfolio.’ She snorted then too. Who actually spoke like that? ‘And he plans to expand the breeding programme here.’ She practised another smile. ‘That’s good news, huh?’

The bull merely swished his tail, dislodging several enormous horseflies.

‘We have a buyer. I should be over the moon.’ She gripped the wooden paling until her knuckles turned white. ‘But you know what I’d really like to do?’ She glared at gorgeous golden fields. ‘I’d like to take that contract and tell him to shove it where the sun don’t shine.’

Bruce Augustus shook his head, dislodging the horse flies from his face. Addie grabbed the plastic swatter she’d hung on a nail by the fence and splattered both flies in one practised swat. Bruce Augustus didn’t even flinch. ‘That’s what I’d like to do with Flynn Mather’s contract.’

Two years! He’d demanded she stay here for two whole years to oversee the breeding programme and to train someone up. He’d made it a condition of that rotten contract.

A well of something dark and suffocating rose inside her. She swallowed. ‘That means spending Christmas here.’ She straightened and scowled. ‘No way! I’m not some indentured servant. I’m allowed to leave. I’m not spending Christmas on the farm!’

The anger drained out of her. She collapsed back onto the feed bin. ‘How am I going to stand it, Bruce? How am I going to cope with two more years in this godforsaken place, treading water while everyone else gets to live their dreams? When am I going to be allowed to follow my dreams?’

Robbie hadn’t lived her dreams. She’d died before her time. Leukaemia. But Addie had promised to live them for her. Dreams of travel. Dreams of adventure in exotic lands. They’d marked out routes on maps, made lists of must-see places, had kept records of not-to-be missed sights. They’d planned out in minute detail how they’d office temp in London, work the ski lifts in Switzerland and be barmaids in German beer halls. They’d teach English as a second language in Japan and save enough money to go trekking in Nepal. They’d even taken French and Japanese in high school as preparation. Robbie had become too sick to finish her studies, but on her better days Addie had done what she could to catch her up with the French—Robbie’s favourite.

But now...

But now Robbie was dead and Addie was stuck on the farm for another two years.

She dropped her head to her hands. ‘You know what I’m afraid of, Bruce Augustus? That I’ll never leave this place, that I’ll get trapped here, and that I won’t even have one adventure. I’m scared that I’ll get so lonely Aaron Frey will wear me down and before I know it I’ll find myself married with four kids and hating my life.’ And if that proved the case then Robbie should’ve been the one to live. Not her.

She glared at a bale of straw. ‘All I want is to see the world. Other than you, Bruce Augustus, there’s nothing I’ll miss from this place.’ Not now that her parents were dead. ‘Of course I’d come back to see you, and Molly Margaret and Roger Claudius and Donald Erasmus too. Goes without saying.’

She tried to battle the weariness that descended over her, the depression that had hovered over her since her father’s death.

‘If it were just me I’d tell Mather to take a hike, but it isn’t just me.’ She stood and dusted off her hands. Jeannie and Frank deserved to retire in comfort and ease. Little Colin with Down’s syndrome and all the associated health challenges that presented deserved a chance for as full a life as he could have, and his parents deserved the chance to focus on him without the worries of a farm plaguing them.

‘You’re right, Bruce. It’s time to time stop whining and suck it up.’ She couldn’t turn Flynn Mather away. Given the current economic climate there were no guarantees another buyer could be found—certainly not one willing to pay the asking price. Flynn hadn’t quibbled over that.

She let out a long slow breath. ‘The pity party’s over. I have a contract to sign.’ She kissed Bruce Augustus’s nose, vaulted the fence and set off towards the main house—chin up and shoulders back, whistling as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

* * *

Flynn watched Adelaide Ramsey saunter back towards the house. He rested his head against the corrugated iron of the shed and swore softly. Damn it all to hell!

Looking at her now, nobody would guess all she’d confided to her bull.

He moved around to glance in the pen. The bull eyeballed him and his head lowered. ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m the villain of the piece.’

One ear flicked forward. ‘The problem is, Bruce Augustus—’ What a name! ‘—I have plans for this place, big plans, and your mistress knows her stuff. She knows this place better than anyone on the planet.’ Her expertise would be key to his success here.

The bull snorted and Flynn shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I’m talking to a bull.’

When am I going to be allowed to follow my dreams?

It had been a cry from the heart. His chest tightened as if in a vice. He couldn’t afford to lose Addie and her expertise, but he didn’t traffic in other people’s misery either. He didn’t want her to feel trapped here. He scratched a hand through his hair. Was there something he could offer her to soften her disappointment, something that would make her want to stay?

His phone rang and the bull’s head reared back. Flynn knew enough about bulls to know it was time to beat a hasty retreat. He glanced at the caller ID as he moved away and lifted the phone to his ear with a grim smile, turning his steps towards the Ramsey homestead—his homestead once she signed the contract.

‘Hans, hello,’ he said to the lawyer.

‘Good news, Herr Mather. The will is due to go through probate in two weeks’ time. After that the premises you’re interested in will go on the market and you can bid for them.’

His heart beat hard. His smile turned grimmer. ‘Excellent news.’

‘I take it you will be in Munich for Christmas?’

‘Correct.’

I’m not spending Christmas on the farm!

Flynn straightened. ‘We’ll confer again soon.’

All I want is to see the world?

He snapped his cell phone shut and vaulted up the stairs to the veranda. Voices emerged from the front room.

‘Look, lass, we know you want to leave this place too. We can wait to see if another buyer shows interest.’

‘Don’t be silly, Frank.’ That was Adelaide. He recognised the low, rich tones of her voice. ‘Who knows if another buyer could be found, let alone when?’