Billionaire Protector - Alexa Hart Page 0,1

father (and never giving a damn that he had), and always making sure that the velocity of his playtime made up for all of the hours that required him to be a responsible, clear-thinking adult.

Everybody loved Preston – he just had that charming way about him – but sometimes I suspected that Preston wasn’t as happy with himself as he usually appeared to be. He’d been incredibly close to our mother, and he hadn’t seemed quite himself since her passing. I’d tried to broach the subject a few times, but Preston had shut me down with barely a word. He didn’t want to talk about Mom, not even to his closest brother. So, I had learned to just leave it alone, and let Preston be Preston.

“Buddy! My little buddy is home!” He had grabbed me and hugged me, reeking of beer and less than stable on his own two feet. “She’s dead, Penn. Dead. Gone. Pierce won’t come out of his quarters. Betsy is watching the kids. Hell, Dad won’t even come down and have a drink with me either. He’s up there brooding away in his study – probably writing another tragic love story. Ain’t it great when life gives you inspiration so goddamn often? It’s a gift!” Preston had waved his sloshing beer bottle high, as though he were toasting to the horrible events that plagued our family.

First, Mom. Then, Sarah.

“Let’s sit, Pres. You’re hammered,” I’d suggested, collapsing on a sofa in the giant foyer.

“You, little buddy, are absolutely correct. I am hammered, and I frankly don’t understand why everybody else isn’t. This sucks! It suuuucks!” Preston had lifted his arms, his voice echoing off the high ceiling. “Life just can’t stop fucking over the Hardick's!”

I’d pulled him down beside me, my eyes darting nervously in all directions. Those were the last sentiments that Pierce or his children needed to hear. Pierce had lost his wife, and his children had lost their mother. Avonlea was only two, and Braden wasn’t even one year old yet. It concerned me that Pierce had simply left them with our housekeeper and disappeared into his wing. That wasn’t like him – and it definitely wasn’t like Sarah.

I had wondered then how long it would take me to think of Sarah in the past tense, and then wondered if we really should be leaving Pierce all alone up in his tidy maze of rooms.

“Have you talked to Pierce? Is he okay?”

“His wife is fuckin’ dead, Penn. Safe to say he’s not okay,” Preston drunkenly condescended.

“You know what I mean. Is he okay alone? He’s not going to do anything stupid, right?” My eyes were on the giant staircase. I had been hit with a wave of emotion – realizing that we should have all been together in that moment. But Dad was writing, Pierce was hiding, Payden was working, and Preston was drunk. It was possible that Avonlea and Braden had been in the best hands possible at that moment. Betsy loved the entire family like her own, and she’d never had a drink in her life.

“I don’t know. Who can tell? He told me, and I quote, ‘Fucking go away, Preston. I’ll talk when I want to talk.’ Then he slammed a door in my face, and I figured he’d been just about as clear as a man can be. You can’t force anything on him right now, Penn. He’s gotta process.” Preston delivered all of this with a slurred tone of wisdom, even as he made himself another gin and tonic. “This is how I’m processing. Payden’s in the field or something. I don’t fucking know. I cancelled all of the reservations for the week.” He’d slumped down next to me on the sofa then.

“All week?”

“Who the hell is gonna run the office? Take care of the guests? That was Sarah. All Sarah. Fuck. We’re gonna have to hire another outsider.” Preston had scuffed at the marble floor with his shiny black shoe. He’d been dressed to the nines, even though the ranch was shut, and we were all clearly in a disarrayed state of mourning.

“It worked out okay with Betsy,” I’d offered.

“Betsy is like, 95 years old. She was here before you or me. She’s family.”

“Joe and Matt have been good.”

Preston had laid his head back, rolling his eyes dramatically. “There’s a huge difference between mucking out stalls and being the welcoming face of the ranch. We’ll need someone who’s good with people – not just the horses. They’re gonna