5. Owen
CHAPTER 5
Owen
I ’m not sure about this applicant, and I’m not quiet about it as we wait to interview her in the office this morning. She is the second person we’ve interviewed for the job.
Our first candidate had at least come from a farming background, and while she was a little inexperienced, she knew about animals and the ranching world. This candidate, on the other hand, doesn’t know the first thing about the industry—at least not according to her work or education experience.
“She has no ranching experience at all?” I ask. “That seems like a hard sell, Brock. Why would you even consider her over anyone else? We could even hire internally if we need to.”
“Right, like Lana?” Brock quips.
I snort and look back at the resumé in front of me. “No, of course not. But maybe one of the ranch hands will want the job.”
Brock rolls his eyes. “We’ve already tried to hire internally.”
I refocus my attention on the woman’s credentials and shake my head again.
Emerson Ward. Where did she even come from, and why would Brock bother entertaining the idea of hiring her in the first place?
There’s no photo on her resumé, but a quick internet search gave us her profile on a professional networking site. Her picture had been a generic landscape scene, which I find curious. Most young adults are eager to put their images online. There were no public social media accounts to find. And judging by her education and work experience, she is not very old—not that it matters. In fact, we could do with a more seasoned administrator after the past month of dealing with Andy’s teenage daughter in the office.
Still, I’m intrigued by the woman, mostly because she made it through Brock’s rigid screening process… somehow. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around that, but sometimes it’s better not to understand how my brother’s head works. He’s done us just fine since our Mom died.
“No experience in the industry might be a good thing,” Brock replies. “We can train her to do things our way.”
“But no experience at all?” I doubt this and look to Toby for support. “She needs to know something about dealing with horses if she’s going to work with our clients.”
“Not really,” Brock insists. “She just needs to be trainable.”
Our youngest sibling sits back in his chair, legs extended onto the edge of the desk. He’s been very quiet.
“What do you think, Toby?”
Toby scoffs. “Now you give a shit what I think?”
I roll my eyes, regretting that I asked. I should have recognized he was still sulking.
“Are you still pissed off about this morning?” Brock snaps. “Get over yourself. You were wasting time, and we had an order coming in. I shouldn’t need to get on your ass about basic things every fucking day, Toby.”
“Then don’t!” he fires back, dropping his legs. “This place runs just fine with or without your superior attitude, you know? I’ve never missed an order before, and I wasn’t wasting time. We were trying to break in that new colt.”
“No,” Brock counters sharply. “You were trying to impress the visiting barrel racer with your bullshit. She’s not gonna fuck you, Toby. Just because you own the place doesn’t give you free rein to hit on every woman who comes here. Besides, Joe would kick your ass.”
A smirk toys on the edges of Toby’s lips as he leans forward. “Don’t worry. I would share her, Brock.”
“Just fucking stop!” Brock growls. “Joe is a good ranch hand, and I don’t want to lose him because you have your sights on his sister. Leave the visitors alone!”
Brock flips his comments back to me. “Anyway… from all the applicants we’ve had come through, this Emerson is the most tech-savvy, I think. Her work history looks solid.”
“What the hell does tech-savvy have to do with anything?” Toby demands, but I can’t tell if he’s against the idea of hiring this woman or just going against Brock’s wishes now.
It’s tiresome playing mediator between the two of them sometimes.
Brock gives him a threatening glare. “Everything is automated. And that kind of experience is invaluable.”
There’s a knock on the office door, and Lana pops her head inside. “Hey guys, there’s a broad here for you,” she informs us.
We grimace collectively at the teenager’s crass introduction.
“Thanks, Lana,” Brock chokes. “I’ll be out in a minute to get her.”
I can see he’s struggling to hold back his annoyance, but since Lana is helping us out until we fill the position, there’s nothing we can really say.
“Okay.”
She almost slams the door behind her.
Brock exhales in frustration. “And that is why we need to hire someone quickly. Right now, Lana is all we have.”
“But—” I interject.
“We need an administrator in here immediately,” Brock cuts me off. “I don’t want to deal with a sixteen-year-old girl who can barely answer phone calls.”
“Keep it together,” I warn him. “She’s still Andy’s daughter.”
“Right, and Andy’s our ranch manager. You’d expect him to teach his daughter about responsibility, instead of letting her spend all day on her phone,” Brock says angrily as he gets to his feet.
“Fine,” I comment dryly as he moves toward the door to get our interviewee. “Let’s get the position filled. It will be better for everyone if we can get Lana out of here.”
Brock points a finger at me. “See, that’s more the reason to hire outside. The nepotism around here is getting out of control. I shouldn’t have to tiptoe around a teenager who can’t do her job.”
Brock opens the interior door and disappears into the hall to retrieve the new applicant.
Toby and I exchange a look.
“Behave yourself in this interview,” I warn my younger brother.
His scowl intensifies, but he doesn’t have a chance to respond before Brock returns with a petite, auburn-haired woman, sporting a pair of simple, circular glasses.
Unexpectedly, my heart rate quickens, and I sit upright, taking in her professional attire: a pair of gray slacks and a white button-down shirt.
Inquisitive green eyes dart around the book-lined office, taking in the mounted trophies on the wall before ultimately resting on my face. My brow furrows deeper, and an odd sense of déjà vu flushes over me.
Did I dream this? So eerily familiar…
“Boys, this is Emerson Ward,” Brock introduces her. “Ms. Ward, my brothers Owen and Toby Collins.”
She makes eye contact with each of us. “Thank you for meeting with me today, gentlemen.”
The hairs on my neck rise, but I can’t understand my reaction toward her. The reaction isn’t one of dislike, but I’m definitely reacting to something. It’s odd, a feeling I’ve never had before, and I can’t describe it.
She’s undeniably gorgeous, yes, but something about her nags at me.
Do I know her? I wish I had her resumé in front of me again to check if our paths crossed somewhere
Emerson extends her hand to take mine, then Toby’s, and Brock gestures for her to sit.
Obligingly, she perches on the chair between us as Brock takes his place behind the antique mahogany desk.
My intuition is triggered when she doesn’t do a double-take when looking at us.
She’s not impressed by the fact that we’re triplets.
That is the first time I’ve ever seen that with anyone in my whole life, and I’m almost offended by it. I look at Toby to see if he noticed, but he appears smitten by her, almost as intrigued as me.
It’s not just me. She has a hold on him, too!
“So, you’re from Austin?” Brock begins, picking up her resumé.
She nods, sitting back slightly to set her purse on the ground. “Born and raised.”
She’s nervous, but keeping it together well, given the circumstances. I know the three of us can intimidate the most seasoned of men, let alone a petite, unassuming woman in a job interview. I’m already impressed with how she’s handling herself.
She sits up straighter, maintaining eye contact with Brock directly across from her while Toby and I sit in chairs slightly behind her.
“And you have a place there?” Brock asks.
She shifts uncomfortably in her chair and looks at me, her emerald stare captivating me for a moment. Another twinge of familiarity overtakes me, but it’s gone again as she turns away.
“My lease ends in two weeks,” she answers slowly. “I’m planning to relocate within commuting distance of my new position, wherever that might be.”
“You do understand the job is a live-in position, don’t you? That means you wouldn’t be going home every night. Although you will have days off, of course,” Brock tells her. “So, if you have another house, you won’t be there full-time.”
Her shoulders straighten, and she smiles. “I do understand that.”
“We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” I interject.
I feel like Brock is ready to hand her the job without interviewing her at all.
Emerson turns back to me, her face falling slightly, but she maintains her polite expression. “Yes, of course,” she agrees. “But I want you to know I am fully committed to the demands of the job, whatever they are.”
“You can’t know that.” I arch a brow. “You don’t know what the demands of the job are. You have no experience on a ranch. The demands are insane.”
Toby jumps in. “Fuck, Owen, relax. Let’s take her on a tour.”
I catch my younger brother’s gray glare.
Fuck… Toby isn’t just intrigued by her; he’s attracted to her. Stifling a groan, I look at Brock, hoping he nixes this before my horny brother lets this go too far, but to my amazement, he stands and nods.
“That’s a good idea. Let’s walk and talk.”
Dumbfounded, I let Brock lead as always, watching the sway of Emerson’s hips in her tailored pants.
Woah. Down boy, I snap to myself, raising my eyes upward.
I instantly lock eyes with Toby again, who grins mischievously. He saw me checking her out, and he’s never going to let me live it down. For all the times we’ve given him shit for chasing women, he now has something to throw back on me.
We exit the cabin that functions as our ranch’s main office. Strategically positioned between the storage building and the main barn, it’s the first stop for visitors after they pass through the entrance gates.
Emerson comments on the design as soon as we exit.
“This is very welcoming,” she tells us. “No one has to go searching for help or drive around looking for signage. Everything is clearly identified. Whoever designed this was clever.”
Brock’s face brightens at her observation.
“Yes!” he agrees. “It’s easy to get lost here. We want new guests to be oriented, and we need to keep an eye on our people, too. In addition to the main barn and storage building, we have an indoor riding arena, paddock areas, turnout areas, a foaling barn, and a rehabilitation area. The ranch is almost three hundred and fifty acres.”
“Three hundred and fifty acres!” she breathes. “Does that mean you have one hundred and fifty horses?”
Her knowledge of horses seems more extensive than I expected. “Why would you guess that?”
“Oh, well, I read up on ranching a bit, of course.” Her cheeks pinken under our collective scrutiny. “And it said that each horse needs an acre or two of land? I assumed, given your reputation, that you allotted for more acreage per horse, rather than less…”
She trails off as if she can tell she’s babbling and bites on her lower lip. I don’t blame her. It’s a very bitable lip. I dart my eyes away and force myself not to think about that.
“Our reputation?” I drawl. “What reputation?”
“It’s good from what I read online,” Emerson replies. “Of course, I didn’t delve into the dark web.”
I whip my head toward her, and she grins wickedly. Ah, she’s joking.
I smile weakly.
Toby laughs.
My initial doubts about Emerson begin to slip away while we walk, and Brock points out the bunkhouse and supply shed, explaining the staff and their housing. Eventually, the conversation turns to Emerson’s potential job.
“Your job as administrator will be to ensure that operations run smoothly,” he tells her. “That includes scheduling, inventory, staffing sometimes. There will be fundraisers and parties, not only to attend but to organize. We’re very active in the community. But we are all here to help, too.”
We turn down one of the smaller trails leading toward the ravine, and I hear her exhale slightly. When I look back, I realize she’s awe-struck.
“That’s our house,” I say, following her gaze toward the glass and wood structure on the slight hill.
“Is that…” she swallows. “Is that where I’d—I mean, if I got the job?—”
It takes me a minute to understand what she’s asking, but Toby gets it right away, amusement flooding his face.
“No,” Toby laughs, slapping his leg. “Can you imagine the liability if you lived in the same house as us? Although if you want to come and visit sometimes?—”
He winks suggestively.
Brock gives him a scathing look.
I grimace. “What Toby is so eloquently trying to say, is that you would have your own accommodations in the coach house. And our office door is always open to you.”
My brow furrows when a hint of disappointment flutters over her face.
Okay, that’s weird, right? She shouldn’t want to stay in the house with us.
I can’t help but be charmed by her. I was drawn to her from the moment she entered the office, and she’s growing on me more by the minute. But at the same time, something is off.
We should send her on her way, but if we do, I feel like I’d never stop thinking about her. But then again, I already feel like I’ve known her from before.
We finish our tour on foot, and Emerson’s enthusiasm for the position shines all the way through.
“We have a few more interviews to conduct, but we’ll get back to you by the end of the week,” Brock tells her as we see her to her car.
She proffers her hand again and smiles. Each one of us takes it, and I find myself relishing the softness of her skin, holding it for familiarity.
“Thank you so much for the interview and for sharing your beautiful ranch with me. Honestly, the photos don’t capture the essence of this place, and regardless of your decision, I’m very glad I got to experience it.”
Her heartfelt departure lingers with me as we watch her drive down the paved driveway.
“You’re not really doing any more interviews, are you?” Toby asks Brock as she leaves in a circle of dust.
“Oh, fuck no,” he laughs, glancing at us. “She’s the one, right?”
“She’s definitely the one,” Toby and I agree.