Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance, Bailey Bradford [best pdf ebook reader for android .TXT] 📗

he didn’t like it. Rory wasn’t going to do a thing to help the man out—he’d keep his expression flat and a chorus of Grandma-Grandma-Grandma ringing in his ears.

“You worked at the Mossy Glenn ranch in Montana for eight years, Mr Calhoun? You seem awfully young to have been working that long.” The skepticism in the man’s voice had Rory itching to poke at him. The implication he was lying threatened to override his common sense, something he could not allow to happen.

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“Rory, please, Mr Galloway. And yes, I did.” Here it comes…

“Yet I can’t call for a reference? Why is that?” Rory was tempted to tell Galloway that if it was possible he should let just a little more disbelief drip from his tongue, but he knew he’d be acting as immature as the older man thought him to be. Taking a deep breath, Rory dropped his defenses just enough to answer.

“That would be because my father, Ian Calhoun, wouldn’t give me one. You can confirm that he is the owner of the Mossy G with a few clicks of a mouse.” Rory twirled his Stetson around and around on his fingers, not giving thought to how much of a tell the action was. “I listed a number for my sister, who still lives and works on the ranch. She can give you a reference and again, it’s a simple enough matter to confirm.”

The darting of Galloway’s eyes to the spinning Stetson had Rory stilling the felt hat immediately. The older man’s eyes stayed on that hat where it rested high on Rory’s thigh.

Queen Elizabeth shot into his mind, dancing a jig.

“Would you…can you tell me what happened to end your employment at the Mossy Glenn?” Chance’s voice sounded distracted as he continued staring at what Rory hoped was his hat, but was beginning to suspect otherwise.

Rory didn’t let the tone fool him. He could almost see the curiosity rising off Galloway.

“No, sir. I can only tell you that it was personal, having nothing to with my job performance.

Again, you can check with Annabelle on that. She won’t tell you the why, either, though.”

Galloway finally met his gaze, considering. He tipped his head to the side, baring a corded neck that made Rory’s mouth water. Giving up on the dancing Queen, he crossed an ankle over his knee and let his hat slide against his groin. Galloway’s eyes narrowed but Rory refused to crack. Stoic, he could do, mostly.

“So what happens, Mr—Rory,”—Galloway caught himself before Rory had his mouth open more than half an inch—“when your dad decides to drop whatever it is that pissed him off?”

Stoicism collapsed under the weight of bitter laughter. “Oh, no, no, Mr Galloway. I can assure you that isn’t going to happen, not at all. And before you ask about the ranch, it’s already been deeded to my sister upon his death. If she tries to sell it to me or let me step one foot on the property, it will be sold to the current foreman, and let me tell you, that man purely hates my guts.” Rory clamped his mouth shut, shocked he’d said so much. Galloway, however, just continued to study him closely. Rory tried not to fidget but felt exposed after RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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his lunatic breakdown. Now if he lost the job, he wouldn’t be able to use the ageism defense.

Galloway leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin as he stared at Rory. For his part, Rory felt like he was dissected by the dark, driven gaze, and it unsettled him in a way that nothing else in recent memory had. He kept his jaw locked tight and did his best to appear sane after his rambling outburst.

“All right, Rory. You’re hired, though I will be checking with your sister, you understand.” Galloway rose and Rory followed quickly, trying to hide his surprise. He’d expected a tougher battle for the job, though inside, he felt like he’d been thoroughly stomped by a bull. Amazing the pain family can cause.

“Thank you, Mr Galloway,” Rory murmured as he took the older man’s hand for a quick shake. He buried the thought that he was certain Galloway hadn’t made Max’s job conditional on a reference check. “I won’t let you down.”

Galloway gave a sharp nod, still watching him with an intensity that belied his disinterested attitude. “You can put your things in the bunkhouse—right now it’s just Max and you. Hopefully I’ll be able to add a couple more hands in a few months.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you again, Mr Galloway.” Rory turned and headed out of the house, willing himself not to babble in gratitude and make himself look like an even bigger fool.

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Chapter Three

Chance flopped back into his desk chair, comforted by the creaking noise the leather made at the impact. His eyes were drawn back to Rory’s file before he could stop himself.

He’d been prepared to find some reason not to hire the man, stupid as it may have been, because he was first and foremost too damned attractive.

Despite being young and having the face of an angel—he even had pale blond curls that framed his gorgeous face, for Christ’s sake, and eyes so deep a blue they almost appeared black—he appealed to Chance on a level that frightened him with its intensity. He’d had to hide his hard on behind his desk until he could get some small manner of control. Rory had given him that with his pain-filled laughter when asked about the reason his own father had fired him.

Fired—hell, disowned was what it was, and Chance had a sneaking suspicion he knew why. Didn’t believe it was wishful thinking, either. When the younger man had let his hat slip down to his lap, Chance had actually gone from having a sneaking suspicion to a damned