King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3) by Marie Johnston (great novels .TXT) 📗

“No.”

“A website?”

“Nope.”

Then what did he do? Query here and there and give up when he was rejected? I wanted to ask, but photos of handsome men stalled my questions. Each one had a chiseled face, dark eyes, and dark hair.

He stopped at one brooding man a little older than me. He was sitting at a table with a pretty woman by his side, but he was ignoring her and on his phone. “That’s Aiden, the uptight workaholic, and his wife, Kate.”

The picture and his description answered any questions I had. Kate’s expression and demeanor screamed that she was a kind soul, but also lonely. Aiden looked exactly like an uptight workaholic—rigid posture, pristine clothing, and a permanent scowl. He could walk into Abbot Security and even my father would think he worked there.

The next handsome man had softer features but only because he was looking at a petite woman with a pixie haircut.

“Beckett and Eva, the newlyweds.”

My heart twisted. They looked so in love. How I’d wanted to look when I’d married. But we didn’t have any photos of our impetuous, happy day.

The third man had a devil-may-care grin and a relaxed stance that matched Xander’s.

“My baby brother, Dawson.”

He was the last thing from a baby. Four good-looking men from a dad they all resembled, but out of all of them, Xander was the hottest. In my humble opinion.

As he showed off image after image of his ranch—his most obvious inspiration—I asked about the farming details, startled by how interested I was. The only data I had on farming and ranching and their effects on climate change were from books and papers. I’d learned about all the big, bad ways they hurt the environment and I’d studied a little about the attempts being made to offset and reduce the effects. Hearing it firsthand, how the Kings decided what to do on the ranch and thought about how it’d help or hurt them and the cattle and the land, was fascinating. From testing the soil to determine what minerals they needed to supplement the cattle with to what they grew for hay. Protein mattered for cattle too. Who knew? It was like learning about a foreign world for years and then someone opening the door and inviting me inside.

The analogy described my career in a nutshell. I learned about everything, but from the outside looking in. I was in this glass bubble, privileged and protected. My parents weren’t the type to take me and my sisters camping in a nature preserve. Mother wanted spas and fine dining. Chief was the uptight workaholic of our family. He went where she wanted and brought his work with him.

I’d only learned about the world, I hadn’t experienced it. Xander had.

“Researching it is different than living it,” I said.

Xander paused, his finger hovering over the arrow key, ready to bring up another picture that would prove how inexperienced I was at life. “We can change that.”

“The last impulsive thing I did ended up with us both here.”

His brow furrowed. “And that’s bad?”

I sighed and rolled to my back. “No, but I feel responsible. I want to do it right, Xander. I know that if we stay married for eleven months, some huge treasure chest will unlock and rain money down on us. But I want a plan. I want a plan A, B, and C, all the way to Z if necessary.”

“I’m not big on planning.”

I turned my head, gazing up at his hard profile. “How’s that going for you?” The muscle in his jaw jumped. “All I’m saying is that I should work for Chief, for a little while, save money. Then . . . we’ll see. Maybe you can work on that article.”

His gaze slid to his screen and the stunning sunset. Purples and reds layered across the sky, making the green of the buttes stand out like a lawn of emeralds. That land called to me. It was his home. Was it the same for him?

No, otherwise he’d be there.

Was there anywhere he could stay and be happy?

Xander

“It’s no problem,” I assured Mrs. Abbot, hating that I had to explain myself, where I was going, and how I was going to get there. I was twenty-nine damn years old. “The bus is fine.”

Mrs. Abbot feathered her fingers along her collar. From her expression, one would think the bus stop was rife with muggers and murderers. “You can use our driver. I’m working in the office all day.”

Three weeks had gone by and I still had no idea what Mrs. Abbot did for work. Savvy said she volunteered and ran the house. I only had childhood memories of my mother running our house. She’d also run the cattle, which included the tractors, the trucks, and anything else with an engine that could turn over. Mama had done chores with us, spent some time in the office to pay bills and balance the accounts, then come back out for more chores.

I had no idea what it took to volunteer or run a house that only held a wealthy couple and two of their three grown kids, but it must take all damn day.

I tried my best placating smile and edged toward the door. So close to freedom. “I like experiencing the city and I can’t do that with a driver.”

“Sapphire,” Mrs. Abbot called, her hand still on her chest. If I gave the woman a heart attack, I’d feel bad, but seriously. It was the bus. I could come and go wherever I wanted according to the bus schedule and not have a driver huffing and looking at his watch while I roamed and took some pictures. “Wait here.”

When she was out of sight, I dropped my head back, fed the hell up with Savvy’s controlling parents.

Last week, I’d used a cafe to work on that farming article I’d told Savvy about and Davis the Driver had lapped the coffee shop every fifteen minutes on the dot. I’d gotten all of one