Carrying the Lost Heir's Child

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Book: Read Carrying the Lost Heir's Child for Free Online
Authors: Jules Bennett
him to sell to me?”
    “I think that’s the issue,” his assistant replied. “You know how he feels about you. He may sell to someone else.”
    Nash raked a hand through his hair. Yeah, he knew how Damon felt about him. They’d been ongoing rivals in the horse industry and for the past two years or so, but they’d pretty much used their assistants to handle all business dealings between them. That gap in time had only aided in Nash’s covert plans. All he’d done was grow a beard, grow his hair longer and put on old, well-worn clothes. Sometimes the easiest way to hide things, or people, was right in plain sight.
    Nash had wanted to purchase several of Damon’s prizewinning horses, knowing the mogul was set to retire after this season, but Damon kept refusing. Nash needed those horses, needed the bloodlines on his own estate because he’d not been faring well in the races and losing was not an option.
    The most recent offer had been exorbitant and Damon still wasn’t budging. Stubborn man.
    Like father, like son.
    “Let me think,” Nash said, heading back toward the front of the stables. “I’ll call you back.”
    He slid the phone into his pocket and rounded the corner. Stepping from the shade to the vibrant sun had him pulling his cowboy hat down lower. He needed to figure out what it would take to get Damon to sell those horses to him because Nash had never taken no for an answer and he sure as hell wouldn’t start now.
    Pulling the pitchfork off the hook on the wall, Nash set out to clean out the stalls at the end of the aisle. Tessa and Cassie had taken two of the coveted horses out for a bit which gave him time to think and work without distractions.
    What if someone else called Damon’s assistant and made an offer? Would the tenacious man consider the generous offer then if he knew the horses weren’t going to his rival?
    Nash shoved the pitchfork into the hay, scooped out the piles and tossed them into the wheelbarrow. He missed his own estate, missed doing the grunt work with his own horses, in his own lavish stables. But he’d left his groom in charge and knew he could trust the man.
    Only Nash’s assistant knew where he was and that he was trying to spy on the Barringtons in an attempt to buy them out. But even his right-hand man wasn’t aware of the other secret that had Nash uncovered here. Nobody knew and until he was ready to disclose his full plan, he had to keep it that way.
    If Damon hated him before, how would the elderly man feel once he discovered the real truth?
    By the time the first stall was clean, sweat trickled down his back. Nash pulled his hat off, tugged his T-shirt over his head and slapped his hat back on. He didn’t often take his shirt off during workdays, but the day was almost done and the heat was stifling. He’d even gotten used to the itchiness of his beard after endless hours of working in this heat.
    After both stalls were ready to go, Nash put all the materials away. Damon kept a clean, neat stable—something they had in common.
    Nash didn’t want to admit they had anything in common, but over the past several months since he had been on the Barrington estate, he’d seen Damon many times, seen how he treated his family, the crew filming there. But Nash hadn’t allowed himself to get swept into that personal realm. He was here for a job, both as a groom and as a businessman.
    Nash’s last order of business was sweeping the walkway, ridding it of the stray straw and dust. The chore didn’t take long, but had him sweating even more. He pulled the T-shirt from his back pocket and swiped it across his neck and chest.
    “Have you ever thought of doing calendars?”
    Nash jerked around to see the object of his every desire standing in the stable entryway, the sunlight illuminating her rich hair, her curvy build.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “Is Cassie around?”
    “She’s out riding.” He took a step closer, since no one was around and he couldn’t

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