As I followed the dirt road, it occurred to me that it had to be the longest driveway known to man. Or maybe it was still a road. The GPS indicated that I was sti
ll on track, though, so I continued on.
Please let this be where Hunter Owens lives. Please. I need just one thing to go right in my life right now.
After ten more minutes of driving, I reached a ranch-style house. It was picturesque with its wraparound porch and breathtaking views of the barn, pastures, and horses. The mountain in the background topped off the view. I imagined the landscape out here was stunning in the fall. It reminded me of my parents’ place in Atlanta. I grabbed the portfolio from the passenger seat and stepped out of the car. A few horses frolicked in the paddock to the right of the house. They looked to be thoroughbreds. Dad had several.
A faint smell of honeysuckle filled the air. If I allowed myself, I could get lost in the moment. The horses played. I smiled as I walked up the steps of the porch and approached the door. After debating whether to call, I’d decided it would be better to drive out here and surprise Mr. Owens. Saying no to someone over the phone was easier than in person. Or at least I hoped that was the case.
I pressed the doorbell and waited.
And waited.
But there was no answer.
I pressed the doorbell again. There was a chance he wasn’t home, but based on the big truck parked in front of the garage, I was willing to bet he was there. If not, I’d work from my car until he came home.
“Motherfucker!”
I jumped at the sheer volume. Maybe that was him; the sound had come from behind the house. I hoped it was him and decided to check it out. Maybe I shouldn’t have come? I questioned my decision. I hadn’t really thought about being out on a farm in a pencil skirt and heels. Carefully, I navigated the grass on the balls of my feet to keep my heels from sinking in.
When I came around the corner, the vision that greeted me brought me up short. A man in chaps and a short-sleeved T-shirt stood with his back to me. He cursed as he dusted himself off, removed his hat, and swiped his brow. It was one of the sexiest things I’d seen in a long time. His voice was a deep, thick rumble. The mare he was working with gave a whinny, and I was able to regain some of my composure.
I’d had a secret weakness for cowboys since I was a little girl.
In a calming, soothing motion, he walked toward the mare. “Settle down, girl. Easy.”
The mare calmed a bit but continued to daintily step around him.
I needed to announce myself before he caught me ogling him. “Hi! I’m looking for Hunter Owens. Do you know where I can find him?”
The man whipped around, and I gave a tight smile to hide my nerves. The tattoo sleeve on his left arm looked exquisite, adding a bad-boy vibe on top of the sexy-cowboy image he had going on. Another secret weakness of mine—tattoos.
Get it together. You have a deal to close.
I took another step forward, clearing my throat. “I’m looking for Hunter Owens.”
His eyes did a quick sweep over my body. I usually didn’t appreciate that kind of assessment from strangers, but something about him felt different, and I enjoyed it more than I should. He tipped his hat and smiled, which set off an explosion of butterflies in my stomach. “Looks like you found him. What can I help you with?”
This is Hunter Owens?
The pictures on the internet hadn’t done him justice. And he’d expanded the sleeve of tattoos. When I’d researched him—which had felt more like stalking, to be honest—there had been one photo from his last game where a tattoo peeked out from beneath his short-sleeved shirt.
I took another step forward, making sure to walk on the balls of my feet. “I’m Kendall Wales. Do you have a minute to sit down and talk?”
“About?”
That brought me up short. I wanted a chance to build up my offer, explain why he should basically take a career demotion and come out of hiding. Maybe if I was evasive, he would listen to my offer. “A job.”