The Cowgirl Ropes a Billionaire (2 page)

“How?” she said as she scanned the front end of the clinic to make sure all was ready for the day. Shelves of pet food, common medicines and accessories stocked? Check. Floor swept and front windows clean of streaks? Check. “Oh, you mean how I’ll get all that money? Sure—how can I strike it rich overnight?” She tried not to sound as impatient as she suddenly felt. She was going to lose everything she loved—her clinic, the shelter, the animals who depended on her…

“You’ll be the winning contestant on
Can You Beat a Billionaire
?”

Bella had reached to tug the venetian blinds on the front window a little higher, but stopped mid-pull. “I’ll be what?”

“You know that show—the one where they pit a poor person against a billionaire? If the poor person wins they get five million dollars. If the billionaire wins, he or she gets to pick some humiliating punishment for the loser. Last time the billionaire made the poor guy clean his house for three months. And it was a mansion! As in—huge!”

“You’re kidding, right? You know those shows are all fake. I bet no one actually wins anything.” She shook her head. Hannah was so gullible., Why didn’t Morgan say anything? Morgan was in her thirties; old enough to know better.

She glanced at Rob, whose smile grew even wider. “Some of them win,” he said.

“Actually, they do,” Morgan said. “I’m sure some scripting goes on and the producers stick people in situations guaranteed to show their rough spots, but the contests are real and several people have walked away with the five million dollars.”

“Remember that guy last year who used the money to refurbish a whole block in his inner city neighborhood?” Hannah chimed in. “I read a follow-up article about him. He turned around the lives of a bunch of people. They have testimonials from the families on the website.”

Bella did vaguely remember that. She never watched the show—she didn’t have time—but Hannah watched it religiously and filled her in on the latest gossip every week. Her receptionist cried with relief each time the poor contestant won and got the money, as had happened once already this season, if memory served her. And if the rich contestant won, she’d stomp around angry for a week.

“Okay, so maybe it’s not all fake. So what? I’m just a country vet who’s going broke. I bet they get thousands of interesting applicants—what makes you think they’d pick me?” Satisfied with the height of the blinds she turned around in time to catch the look Hannah and Morgan exchanged. Hannah began to blush, and since she was blonder than Bella—her hair a corn-silk tassel compared to Bella’s honey locks—the red stain was all too obvious on her pale cheeks. Rob leaned forward, as if eager to see how this next bit played out.

Uh oh
. Warning bells went off in Bella’s head. “What did you do?” she demanded.

“Submitted your application,” Hannah said in a small voice. “Three months ago.”

Bella’s mouth dropped open. “Take it back! Make them delete it—I don’t want to be on some stupid reality TV show!”

“It’s too late.” Hannah cringed as if she thought Bella would jump the divider and tackle her. “They already picked you.”

Morgan hurried to add her two cents. “When Hannah first told me what she’d done I reacted like you did, but after I thought about it, I decided it’s a great idea!”

“Yeah, ought to be fun,” Rob said.

“No way.” Bella shook her head, instinctively taking a step back. “You started this and you can put an end to it. Call them up and tell them I’m not interested. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“I can’t.” If Hannah slumped any further in her chair she’d be under her desk, Bella thought. “They’re on their way over right now for your first interview. Besides, you need the money. You know you do!”

Bella’s cheeks heated at the words Hannah didn’t say—they both needed the money. Otherwise, they’d both be out of a job, something Hannah couldn’t afford, even if Bella was determined to go down with her sinking ship.

“I’ve got appointments all day,” she said, grasping at straws. “I can’t do interviews. I don’t want to do interviews!”

“Actually I rescheduled all of today’s appointments,” Hannah said. She stood up and came around the partition to take the clipboard out of Bella’s hand. “Come on, I knew you’d be upset so I left a little time for us to talk. Let’s go out back—I want to show you something.”

“I don’t want to talk!” But Hannah took one arm and Morgan the other, and with Rob taking up the rear, Bella had no other choice but to allow them to lead her through the clinic to the shelter in the back. The facility had both indoor and outdoor spaces for the pets awaiting placement in adoptive homes. Additionally, Bella had built ad hoc sheds around the wide yard to house the pets that probably wouldn’t ever be adopted. A whole band of volunteer schoolchildren took turns coming in the afternoons to feed and play and walk and socialize with the animals, so Bella knew they received adequate love and attention. She also knew that every pet deserved a forever home with a loving person they could call their own, and her heart ached for the ones that didn’t get one. “What am I looking at?” she said brusquely. She couldn’t believe Hannah had added another responsibility to her already crushing schedule. That she thought such a hare-brained scheme could possibly work.

And that she’d told Morgan all about it and never mentioned it to her.

“All of these animals depend on you, and more come in every day. These beauties weren’t here when I left yesterday.” Hannah pointed to the calico kittens, safe now in their own small cage. “Think about what five million dollars could do for these animals. Think of the food it would buy. Think of how much you could expand the spay and neutering program. We could get a truck and do a mobile clinic so people wouldn’t have to try to lug feral cats into town. Maybe we could actually solve the feral cat problem!”

Bella took a deep breath as she considered Hannah’s words. Five million dollars would go a long, long way. If she didn’t have to worry about money every minute of the day, she could do so much good for the animals of Chance Creek.

“Right? It’s a good idea, isn’t it?” Hannah prompted her.

“Maybe,” Bella conceded. “But filming a whole television show? That must take weeks. I have to come to the clinic every day.”

“It only takes one week,” Hannah said and held up a hand to forestall her protests. “Yes, you can take a week off. When was the last time you took any vacation at all? If you keep working like this, you’re going to have a heart attack, and then where will the animals be? Look, I’ve already moved all your appointments for the next two weeks back and I’ve put a notice in the paper that we’ll be closed until you’re done. The volunteers and I will take care of the rest of these beasts while you’re gone, and your brother’s agreed to take any emergency cases that come up.”

Bella grimaced. She hadn’t talked to Craig in months. He probably thought she should just close down her clinic for good. Her older brother was the
real
veterinarian in town—at least, that’s what she’d heard more than one rancher say—the veterinarian who wasn’t deathly afraid of horses. You called Craig when your cattle had hoof rot. You called Craig when your mare was foaling for the first time. You called Craig for any and all problems concerning livestock—the bread and butter of the ranches that ringed Chance Creek. She was just the
pet doctor
—the one who gave Spot and Mittens their shots, rid them of their fleas, and made their last days a little easier. She knew no one took what she did seriously, but she also knew someone had to care for Chance Creek’s pets—they couldn’t all be hotshot livestock vets like her brother.

“We’ll all help out while you’re gone,” Morgan said.

Rob nodded and put an arm around his wife’s waist. “Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ve got your back, Bella.”

“The show’s coordinator is coming in twenty minutes,” Hannah said. “She’ll ask you a lot of questions, go over the paperwork and you’ll have to sign a bunch of forms. Your flight to Canada leaves tonight at seven.”

“Tonight?” Bella squeaked. This was all happening way too fast. “I haven’t even agreed I’ll do the show! And why Canada?”

Hannah bent forward and gripped her face in her hands. “Five million dollars, Bella. Focus on the five million dollars. All you have to do is win a couple of contests. It’s in Canada because it’s located in Jasper National Park—you know they use a new exotic location for each show. Just be grateful you don’t have to fly to Australia.”

“Although Australia would be pretty cool,” Morgan put in. “But Jasper’s great, too. I’ve been there a bunch of times.”

Fine, she was grateful.
Not
. She couldn’t believe Hannah and Morgan were ganging up on her, and just because Morgan—a Canadian by birth—vacationed in Jasper, didn’t mean it would be any fun at all to film a reality television show there. In fact, it sounded downright cold. “What if I lose?”

“Uh… you’ll have to…” Hannah held the clipboard in front of her face and mumbled something unintelligible.

“I’ll have to what?” Bella demanded.

Hannah’s face grew red again. “I already agreed to that part—there’s no way to change it now,” she said, lowering the clipboard slowly. “If you lose, you have to marry the billionaire for a year.”

* * * * *

Evan Mortimer picked up his cell phone on the first ring. “Speak to me.” He sat at an oversized mahogany desk in the plush headquarters of Mortimer Innovations and he’d been waiting for this call from his longtime personal assistant, Amanda Hollister. Amanda was the one person he could count on—he knew this because he paid her ten times her worth, footed the bill for all six of her grandchildren to attend private universities and matched her contributions every year to her rather hefty pension plan. Every expense was worth it. He had to have an ally he could trust implicitly in this cutthroat industry. He’d learned the hard way that people like Amanda were few and far between.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this crazy show,” she said.

“We’ve been over all of that. What’s the dirt on this Bella woman?”

“She’s a cowgirl,” Amanda said flatly. “Wait until you see her photograph—hat and everything.”

A cowgirl? Evan stifled a chuckle. “What else?”

“She’s thirty-one, lives in Chance Creek, Montana, and seems like a nice girl,” Amanda said, making the adjective sound like a dirty word. “Smart—graduated top of her class in Chance Creek Senior High. Did well in veterinary school, too. Attended Montana State University for undergrad, Colorado State University for the vet program. Came back home to Chance Creek to start her own clinic. Specializes in house pets.”

“House pets? You said she lives in Montana—shouldn’t she be handling livestock? I bet she’d make more money.”

“You’d bet right,” Amanda said. “Here’s where it gets interesting. Bella has an older brother, Craig. Five years older. Looks like big brother sewed up the livestock veterinary business and left Bella to take care of the cats and dogs.”

“You’d think Montana might require more than one livestock vet.” Evan ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and gazed out the window at downtown San Jose. If he lived on the east coast, he’d be high over some city in a penthouse office, but no one built skyscrapers in earthquake country. Still, this was home—always had been. San Jose suited him. Some of the best minds in the world toiled away just minutes from his office, and he was positioned to capitalize off the fruit of their mental labor. Mortimer Innovations bought up patents from aspiring scientists and inventors and held on to them until the market suited his exact needs—only then did he resell the patents; right at the point he could make the most money off of the companies dying to get their hands on them. The millions he made each year went to funding his own innovative projects. Evan had a dream that one day instead of factories that ate up resources and produced waste and products that ended up in landfills, he would build closed systems that produced useful objects whose components could be reused again and again.

He remembered the day he’d stumbled on the concept of a factory cleaning the water it used; returning it to the surrounding watershed in better condition than when it entered the plant. He’d been in college, his growing awareness of the damage his family’s holdings were doing to the environment piling up on him like so much trash in a dump, and the idea that it could be different—that industry could help the environment instead of hurt it—fueled him to study engineering and put his family’s money to good use.

Nate thought he was crazy, but while there might be money in oil and natural gas, Evan was sure there was money in green technology, too, and it was the kind of innovation that could put Americans back to work. He saw himself as part of a new breed—both environmentalist and capitalist. He intended to make his money work—for himself, his family, his company, and the rest of the good ol’ U.S. of A.

This Bella person was an idiot if she’d let her brother push her out of the most lucrative segment of her business. But most people were idiots when it came to money. He’d realized as a teenager that his grandfather and father didn’t have any special characteristics that set them above the crowd; they were just willing to think about money morning, noon and night. “What you focus on is what you get,” Grandpa always said. By the time he was fifteen he’d decided to focus on his dual loves of cash and nature. A shy child, and an awkward teenager, he was never happier than when he was either alone in the wilderness, or supervising experiments.