One Night Series E-book Collection

From Grant: One Night with a Billionaire

I glanced at the number on my phone screen. Dammit. My brother, Owen, had been calling all day. It had to be about Mama Mae’s retirement party. I didn’t have time to make the trek to Texas now. Not with a deal I’ve been working on for six months about to pay off and another one lined up right behind it. But Owen wouldn’t give up.

Mama Mae used to say she couldn’t tell which one of us was the most stubborn back when we were two lost pre-teen boys looking for somewhere to call home. If I had to bestow the title of most determined on one of my brothers, Owen would win, hands down. Which is why I interrupted my current conversation to take the call.

“I’ve got another call coming in, I’ll have my assistant set up another time for us to continue the conversation.”

After putting an end to the conference call, I clicked over to the other line to figure out what had Owen’s boxer briefs knotted into a wad.

“What’s so fucking important?” I practically growled into the phone.

“Shit, bro. Who put a burr up your butt this morning?” Owen’s southern drawl filtered through the phone, making me feel like I was right back in Broken Bend, Texas, instead of taking in a view of Central Park from the fortieth story of a building I owned in Manhattan.

“What do you need?” I pressed my fingertips to my temple and prepared for the inevitable guilt trip. “I told you I can’t get away next week. Just tell me what you have planned for the retirement party and I’ll cover the expenses.”

Owen clucked his tongue. “Not gonna work this time.”

An uneasiness rolled through my gut. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can’t just write a check and get yourself off the hook. Fly in Friday night and you can be back in that concrete jungle you call home by Sunday. Two days of your life, man. After all she’s done for us, you can give her two fucking days.”

I groaned. He was right. As much as I didn’t want to take time away right now, I owed it to Mama Mae to show up at her retirement party. Owed her a hell of a lot more than that. We all did. If it hadn’t been for her unconditional tough love, I probably would have ended up in a state penitentiary instead of on New York’s list of top thirty entrepreneurs under thirty.

“Fly that stupid tin can with wings down for the weekend,” Owen said. The sound of a cow’s low moo provided background noise.

“You in the barn?” Phantom smells of hay and manure appeared out of nowhere to annoy my nose.

“Calving season. I’ve been up for three weeks straight and sure could use an extra set of hands. Want to pitch in? For old time’s sake?”

“Hell no.” I’d left my calving days way behind me, along with everything else in Broken Bend.

“It’s like riding a bike, I swear. It’ll come right back to you as soon as you snap on the gloves…” Owen’s voice trailed off. I could picture him leaning up against a stall in the faded red barn at the back of Mama Mae’s property.

“The only bikes I ride nowadays don’t go anywhere.” I chuckled, thinking of the fifty minutes I’d put in on my spin cycle this morning. Owen couldn’t understand how I could trade a view of the Texas plains for skyscrapers. But it went deeper than that. I had something to prove. To me. To Mama Mae. And especially to the asshole sperm donor who’d disowned me all those years ago.

“What do you say, Grant?”

“I’ll have to fly commercial.” I turned away from the window and glanced at the stack of folders on my desk. “One of my VPs took the corporate jet to the Caymans.”

Owen let out a low whistle. “Sucks to be you, man. I’ll pick you up at the airport. Just text me the details.”

I funneled a hand through my hair, already rearranging my schedule in my head. “Fine. I’ll figure something out.”

“You always do, bro.”