Fortune's Homecoming Read online

  “Haven’t worked with any other Realtor?”

  His eyes drifted past his boots to land on the curve of Billie’s hip where she sat. The chair was black, making the white of her skirt seem even whiter. Below the hem, her smooth thighs were golden. “No, ma’am. You’re my first.”

  He caught a wisp of blush rise in her cheeks and saw her moisten her lips again. He couldn’t help smiling a little. Women often blushed around him, but none quite as charmingly as she.

  Blushing or not, she stayed on course. “You’re probably anxious to get on with properties to view, so we can finish up the rest of the details along the way.” She tapped her glass-driven mouse and tiny images filled the screen. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for? You want your forever home? Or something more short-term?”

  Until Gerald Robinson came calling, he’d considered Paseo to be his home. “Forever.”

  Her smile deepened, as if his answer pleased her. “What kind of home? Single family? Condo? Any particular square footage in mind? Number of bedrooms? Lot size?”

  “No condos. Only bedroom I care about is mine.” But logic made him consider. He’d need more bedrooms if his brothers came to visit. Jayden and Ariana didn’t have kids yet, but considering they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, it was only a matter of time before they did. And Nathan and Bianca already had her little boy, EJ. Then there was his mom. He’d need a room for her, or even a guest house that she could call her own. One appealing enough to keep her safely away from Robinson.

  “I guess six bedrooms ought to do. A guest house would be a plus.” He banished Gerald Robinson from his thoughts. He was enjoying Billie’s company too much to ruin it thinking about the bastard.

  “Any deal breakers? Something that would rule out a property right from the start?”

  “No property. I need acreage for my horses and stock. I can always build my own barn, but I’ll need the land first.”

  “Would you consider undeveloped land? Build your own house, too?”

  “I’m hoping for something that won’t take that long. I’d like this wrapped up before summer’s done.”

  She nodded. “Any particular features in the house that you require?”

  “Like what?” He saw the same ripe blonde who’d already passed Billie’s office several times make yet another round. Bolder than most, she gave him a direct smile and pressed her hands together over her heart. He automatically grinned a response and she stopped dead in her tracks. At least until an older man with a frown passed her, and she scurried away.

  “If you prefer single-story, or must have a wine cellar, fireplace, pool,” Billie was saying. “Things like that.”

  “I’m more beer than wine.” He shrugged. “No particular preference. Just want a place I can put away the bedroll.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Bedroll?”

  “Figure of speech,” he said dismissively. Though it wasn’t. He still traveled between rodeos with a bedroll in his truck. He could afford hotels now, but sometimes it was easier to bed down with the horses in the trailer, or under the stars. “I’m on the road a lot. Just need a place to land. And not too close to the city.” He would never be able to replicate the ranch in Paseo, but he could try. “I like my space and my privacy. As for the house, I guess a fireplace for cold days. AC on hot.” He grinned. “Running water and electricity.”

  Her smile edged toward impish again. “I’ve always thought they were convenient.”

  “’Course, that’s when the fireplace comes in handy...good place to keep warm. ’Specially with the right company.”

  Her cheeks pinkened again. “And your budget?”

  Did he have one? He supposed he should. He kept his eye on the broad levels, but Deborah kept her finger on all of the finer points. He knew he could walk away from rodeoing tomorrow and all of his resulting endorsements without personally missing the money a speck. Grayson Gear had become far more profitable in the last decade than anything else he did. But he had rodeoing in his blood. It kept Grayson Gear’s name prominent, and as a result, he was able to keep his charitable efforts funded.

  Which meant as long as he was physically able to rodeo, he would. Even if the rest of the rodeo world was starting to consider him ancient.

  Billie was still looking at him inquiringly. Her hair had slipped free of her enticing ear and she tucked it there once more as she waited.

  He felt thirsty all over again.

  He tapped the toe of his boot. “Darlin’, when I find the right one, no price’ll be too high.”

  Her eyes did flicker at that. Still the model of decorum, though, she looked back at her screen and glided her fingers on her glass pad again.

  “Does it get to you, working in a fishbowl like this?” He gestured at the clear, short walls, and the middle-aged redhead who’d been passing Billie’s office with the speed of a snail suddenly picked up her pace.

  Billie looked wry. “Everything here takes some getting used to. Particularly knowing the boss is always watching. He has a very strict code of ethics that I guess he wants to ensure we’re all following.”

  “What does he expect to catch y’all doing? Stealing cucumbers and water?”

  She smiled. “One of these days, I’m sure I won’t even notice all this glass at all. But it is very disconcerting when you first experience it.”

  “No kidding.” His working life was fishbowl-ish, too, though it sure hadn’t started out that way. Like a lot of the guys and gals competing in rodeo day in and day out, he’d done so in obscurity until a championship buckle was on his belt, and suddenly he had endorsement offers landing at his feet. “Probably not easy to get used to.”

  “No, but it’s like what you’ve done in rodeo. You have a job to do and you get on with it.”

  His toe stopped tapping. “You do know who I am.”

  “It’s hard not to know who you are. You’ve been on the news a few times this week. And then there are the Grayson Gear billboards around town.” She smiled slightly. “Despite the impression of our local lookey-loos, you’re not the first celebrity who’s chosen to work with Austin Elite. All I care about is finding a perfect property for you, Mr. Smith.” She waited a beat. “But if you prefer a more experienced agent—perhaps Elena. She’s the blonde who has traipsed by a dozen times and she’d be entirely—”

  “God, no. You, uh, you just surprised me for a bit.” Bemused him, more like. “And it’s not really Smith. It’s Fortune.”

  She looked only mildly curious and he almost wished he hadn’t said anything. Grayson Smith was simply the name he used on his professional bio. But at least his real last name hadn’t raised any obvious flags for her.

  Considering the way the Fortune name had been in the news since the revelation that Austin icon and bazillionaire Gerald Robinson was actually Jerome Fortune—an heir to even more millions who’d supposedly died a lifetime ago—it was a relief.

  It was time to leave the subject of his name well enough alone. “Mind if I pull my chair a little closer so I can see better?”

  “Please do.” She rolled her own chair a few inches over so he could edge nearer to the desk.

  Nearer to her.

  “I apologize again for the close quarters. I’m still the smallest fish in the pond here, so I don’t get the pick of offices just yet. Or the pick of clients, so I have to thank you again for requesting me specifically, Mr. Fortune.”

  His mother had requested Billie, but who was he to correct her now?

  “Just Grayson,” he replied. He hadn’t set out to be known only by his given name any more than he’d set out to be a celebrity. Over the years, it had sort of cemented itself in the public eye. But ever since his mother had admitted that she hadn’t simply decided to use the last name Fortune because of her good fortune when she gave birth to healthy triplets, but had actually given them their father’s name, he’d been increasingly happy not to use it.

  Which was a line of thinking certain to put
him in a bad mood.

  And Billie—young or not—was too much of an unexpected pleasure for him to be in a bad mood thinking about the bastard who’d sired him and his brothers.

  He maneuvered his chair almost next to her. It meant he had to stretch one leg out her office door, where someone might trip over it as they dawdled and gawked, but he didn’t much care. “And I’m not complaining about the tight space.” He nodded toward her computer screen. “All right, darlin’. Show me what you’ve got.”

  Chapter Two

  Thirty minutes later, Billie watched Grayson stride out the Austin Elite front door. She held her breath and turned to face the receptionist.

  Amberleigh Gardner was fanning herself. “That man makes even an old woman like me feel faint. And you’re the lucky girl who gets to work with him.” She winked. “You know he’s not married.”

  Hoping that she was hiding the shakiness she’d felt since realizing that her prospective client Mr. Smith was The Grayson—famous rodeo rider, local business owner, endorser of everything from beer to saddles—Billie calmly started back to her office. “He’s a client, Amberleigh. No more or less important than any other client. His marital status isn’t relevant.”

  Right.

  Which was why she’d darn near tripped over her own feet in shock when she’d come out to greet her new client and recognized him. “Besides, you know the rules.” No romantic involvement with clients. It was DeForest Allen’s sacrosanct rule after having seen too many deals go south because of it.

  “Keep tellin’ yourself that, hon. Some girls would think losing a job over a guy like that to be well worth it.” Amberleigh smiled knowingly as Billie passed her.

  Once in the office that she’d been assigned three weeks ago when she began working with Austin Elite, she moved the chair Grayson had used back to its usual position before sitting down in her own chair.

  Then it felt like all the strength in her body left her and she dropped her head onto her desk. Not caring if anyone did see.

  From the top of his wavy, caramel-brown hair to the bottom of his expensive boots, Grayson was six-plus feet of drop-dead gorgeous.

  Her skin felt flushed and her heart was racing.

  She definitely needed to get herself under control before she met him the next day.

  “How’d it go with the reigning King of Rodeo, Belinda?”

  She sat bolt upright, assuming a confident smile for her boss. She didn’t believe for one second that DeForest Allen had known who her prospective client was before Grayson arrived, any more than Billie had. “It went very well, Mr. Allen. I’m setting up a tour of six properties for tomorrow morning.”

  He nodded his silver head. “Close the deal quickly, Belinda. We don’t want another Dickinson situation.”

  “No, we don’t, sir.” But inwardly, she’d tensed. She’d hoped by moving from Houston and back home to Austin, she’d have left the Dickinson situation behind her. She reminded herself that she’d been here only a few weeks, though. And trust took time.

  Plus the proof of signed sales contracts. Dickinson aside, Billie had had plenty of those since getting her license years earlier. Reminding her boss of them, though, was probably not very politic. Despite her track record, she was still surprised he’d hired her. Austin Elite was the premiere agency in town. She’d never actually expected to be offered a position there.

  He cupped the steel door frame of her cubicle, oblivious to the clear fingerprints he left on the glass. He was the firm’s owner and broker, so they were his glass walls to smear up however he wanted. “Don’t wait for the weekly status meeting to keep me posted.”

  “I won’t,” she promised.

  She waited until he’d entered his own office before letting out another breath.

  Did he think she wanted another Dickinson situation? Rhonda Dickinson, reeking of Texas oil money, had been a nightmare of a client, pulling out at the last minute on three different sales because she’d happened to find something that looked “just a teensy bit better” each time.

  Of course, they hadn’t been better in the end, either.

  Ultimately, she’d blamed Billie—and subsequently the Houston-based agency she’d worked for—for her own inability to commit, and took her business to their chief competitor.

  Last Billie had heard, Rhonda still hadn’t signed her name on the bottom of a purchase contract. It was some small comfort, she supposed. If Billie would have been able to get the woman to commit, it would have been her largest sale to date. But now Billie had Grayson Smith—make that Grayson Fortune—as a client.

  The Fortune name was a big one around Texas. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was connected to it.

  Her phone chimed musically and she automatically reached out to answer it. “Billie Pemberton.”

  “You goin’ to Selena’s birthday party this week?”

  At the sound of her cousin Max’s voice, Billie glanced at the photos sitting on top of her filing cabinet and plucked one from the collection, of Max taking down a steer. She’d used the excuse of putting Grayson’s water glass there earlier to turn the shot of her cousin away from her new client’s view. “I’m bringing the cupcakes and Mom’s hosting, so yes. You?” Selena was the daughter of a mutual cousin.

  Max laughed. “You know I’d skip it if my ma wouldn’t make my life miserable for it. Too bad I’m not on the road somewhere.”

  “When are you heading out again?” Even though they each had four older siblings of their own, she and Max had been close as thieves their entire lives. Didn’t hurt that their mothers were sisters, so they’d been raised more like brother and sister than cousins. Now, when Max wasn’t out at some rodeo, he stayed with his folks, Mae and Larry. Billie had a one-bedroom apartment in downtown Austin, into which she was still moving her stuff from Houston.

  She opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet and tucked the picture of Max inside. She’d leave it there, where there would be no chance of her newest client spotting it.

  It was pretty unlikely the rodeo star would care that she had a photo of the young man who’d bested him in El Paso, but she wasn’t going to take chances.

  Nor was she going to take chances that Max would learn the identity of her new high-profile client. After what had happened earlier that year, he’d consider it treason.

  “Coleman starts the day after Selena’s deal, so we’ll drive over once it looks like I can git along without Mama getting ticked.”

  “Travis going?” When Max’s buddy Travis Conrad wasn’t competing in tie-down roping, he hazed for Max.

  “Yeah. Hopefully, we’ll still have enough time to catch some z’s before slack.”

  “Slack,” she knew, was the time scheduled for overflow contestants to compete, because they couldn’t all be scheduled into the regular nightly performances. It was generally free to get into, whereas the performances were not. Fortunately for the competitors, a slack event counted just as much as a performance event. Like Max said, the paycheck was the same whether there were paying crowds in the grandstand or not.

  Of course, a lot of times that paycheck was a big fat zero. Considering the entrance fees, as well as the cost of getting themselves, their gear and their horse, if they even had one there in the first place, rodeoing often meant cowboys headed on down the road already in the hole. Max loved it, though.

  Personally, Billie liked having a bank account that wasn’t always in need of life support.

  She turned back to face her desk. “And after Coleman?” She tapped her glass keyboard, systematically printing off the listings Grayson had liked, as well as a few more to recommend if needed.

  The Fourth of July was less than a month away and she knew Max would be particularly busy. “How many rodeos are you packing in this year?”

  The few weeks in and around the Independence Day holiday were affectionately known as Cowboy Christmas because of the sheer number of opportunities a person had to enter the most rodeos for the most money.
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  “Long as my truck, trailer and gear hold out, seven, including Reno. Got three saddle bronc riders plus Trav hitching rides with me. Helps a lot on expenses and the driving when we’ll be covering some four thousand miles.”

  She grimaced, just thinking about five men packed into such close confines. She remembered one year after he’d returned from Cowboy Christmas. Ripe didn’t even begin to describe the state of his truck. She wondered if Grayson would be caught up in the frenzied schedule, too. If he were, it would definitely put a crimp in his availability to see listings. “Going to Calgary?”

  “The earnings don’t count toward the standings. Cowboy Country’s will. So that’s where I’m planning to be. You gonna make it over for the rodeo?”

  Her fingers paused on the glass. Cowboy Country USA was a popular Western-theme amusement park in Horseback Hollow, where their mothers had grown up. It was a good five to six hour drive. “Depends on work.”

  Max made a sound. “Everything depends on your work. You’re gonna get old and dull, Bill. You need to get out and have more fun. And by fun, I mean sex.”

  Her fingers paused. “And the last time you had some fun?”

  He snorted, laughing. “About a week ago. A chick I met at Twine.”

  “Obviously, you’re not still brokenhearted from Bethany.” Bethany Belmont was the barrel racer Grayson supposedly stole from Max back in March. Max claimed Bethany had been the love of his life until Grayson lured her away. It was then that Max had made it his goal to unseat the reigning rodeo champion.

  “Being brokenhearted ain’t got diddly to do with sex.” Max’s voice had gone flat.