I’m getting more and more agitated with the entire situation as Pip and I head toward the front of the property, where everyone has gathered. By the time we reach the group, my blood is boiling over. I’d rather roll around in the dirt than meet the next clueless, rich prick who’s going to run the place I love most in the world into the ground.
Hans notices our arrival and smirks to the person standing in front. “Here they are. The dawdlers.”
“Fucking asshole,” Pip mutters under his breath to me, but I don’t get a chance to agree with him because when a couple of people move out of the way, I get a clear view of the new owner.
My jaw clenches, and my lips press into a furious line as I fold my arms across my chest and find myself staring at none other than Maverick Fucking Benson.
4
Maverick
I wonder if Jackson Hunter is capable of any other type of facial expression when he walks other than looking like he’s about to murder the shit out of someone. Ridge Duporth is probably still sporting a shiner today, and with the way Jackson stomped over to join us and is currently glaring at me with a massive frown wrinkling his forehead and his forearms locked over his torso, it’s more than likely he’s conjuring up a similar fate for me.
There’s no way he’s aware of the news I’m about to deliver. The previous owners indicated they were more than happy to leave the announcement to me, and aside from Ollie and telling my brother Wagner the day I got the news, not a soul knows. So if Jackson is this pissed off now,beforehe learns I’m going to be his new boss, it’s going to be interesting watching his reaction to the news. I’m bracing for full-on nuclear mode.
“Great, everyone is here. Let’s get started,” I say, clapping my hands together now that Jackson and the pint-sized guy he waltzed up here with have joined the group. I introduce myself, then get straight to the point. “I recently reached out to the Wellington family, the owners of Silverstone Sanctuary, with an offer to buy the place.”
My eyes meet Jackson’s. He’s standing at the back of the crowd, breathing hard enough to make his whole frame move, his chest expanding beneath his red-and-black Western snap-button shirt. Those dark, stormy eyes are pinned to me, and yep, this is going just about as well as I expected.
“They accepted my offer,” I announce. “The deal settles in thirty days, however, the owners have agreed to a pre-settlement possession.” When I’m met with a bunch of blank faces, I explain, “That means I’ll be taking over the rescue…” My eyes drift over to Jackson. “Immediately.”
He stares right at me, unflinching.
I offer him a smile, a small gesture that this isn’t the terrible nightmare he might be making it out to be in his mind. That if he’s worried about what happened between us a few days ago, I’m willing to put it behind us and start afresh. Who knows? Maybe one day we’ll even be able to look back on it and laugh?
He says something to his friend, then turns and leaves. I watch as he walks away, expecting him to march away in his customary murderous fashion, but there’s a dejected slump to his gait, as if all the seething rage that was burning inside him moments ago has been extinguished.
It’s a lightning-speed turnaround in emotions, but I don’t have time to process what it could mean. I have a group of trainers, stable hands, admin staff, and volunteers staring at me, so I assure them that there will be no operational changes until I get a proper handle on things before opening it up to questions. Once we’re done, the group disbands, and everyone goes their separate ways.
“Hey. Wait up,” I call out to the guy Jackson turned up with.
He turns around and has to crane his neck to look up at me. A knowing smile plays on his lips. “Hi. I’m Pip,” he says, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Maverick.” He may be on the short side, but dude’s got one hell of an impressive grip. “And what do you do around here?”
“I come in once a week to volunteer.”
“Right. And…” My teeth graze my lower lip as I steal a quick glance in the direction Jackson went.
A single brow arches as amusement gleams in Pip’s eyes. “Yes?”
I huff out a long breath, not liking how off-kilter someone I only met twice, briefly, and who was rude to me on both occasions is capable of making me feel. “Do you know where Jackson went?”
Pip points to the barn. “We were in the middle of checking in on Riven when you showed up.” I stare at the sorry excuse for a building with its chipped and faded, weathered brown siding. Most of the windows on the second floor are boarded up, and the whole structure is so rickety it looks like it could topple over with the slightest gust of wind. “Would you like me to pass on a message to Jackson? Maybe hand him a note? Ask him to meet you behind the bleachers after class?” Pip peers up at me, rocking on his heels, smiling like he knows something I don’t.
My eyes narrow into slits as I take him in. I know I shouldn’t, but…I like the guy. I believe in giving credit where credit is due, and this short fucker has got balls, talking to me like that.
Seems to be a common theme around Silverstone.
“That won’t be necessary,” I answer coolly. “But just so you know, I’ll be reviewing the volunteer program as my top priority.”
That wipes the smile off his face. “Shit. Sorry, I was just—” He stops when he seesmerocking on my feet, hands in my pockets, grinning. Shaking his head, he snickers. “Well played, sir. Well played.”
“Can you give me a minute with Jackson?” I ask, glancing at the barn.
“Sure thing,boss.” With a two-finger salute, he takes off one way, and I head to speak with Jackson.
The air changes as soon as I step through the barn doors. It’s cooler, musty. Just like the exterior, the inside is just as run-down. Walls are peeling and moss-streaked, with one wall showing signs of major water damage. Cracked tack hangs limply from rusty hooks. The hinges of the stall doors are stained with rust, and a few latches are held shut with baling twine.
