Out To Get You: An MM Gay Romance Read online

  Out To Get You

  An MM Contemporary Romance

  J.P. Oliver

  Contents

  Hello = )

  Join Our Team

  1. Whitt

  2. Reece

  3. Reece

  4. Whitt

  5. Reece

  6. Reece

  7. Whitt

  8. Whitt

  9. Reece

  10. Whitt

  11. Reece

  12. Reece

  13. Whitt

  14. Reece

  15. Whitt

  16. Reece

  17. Whitt

  18. Reece

  19. Whitt

  20. Reece

  21. Reece

  22. Reece

  23. Whitt

  24. Reece

  25. Whitt

  Get Your Free book!

  Join Our Facebook Group!

  Join Our Team

  Out To Get You

  Hello = )

  Hi there

  Would you love some free MM books?

  Want exclusive bonus chapters and deleted scenes?

  Just join my insider’s club. You will also get emails about new MM romance releases, previews and other private content <3

  Click here to join my club:

  http://authorjpoliver.com/arts-and-letters-optin-1/

  Join Our Team

  Equal Love Publishing is now accepting manuscripts from aspiring or experienced MM Romance Authors. This includes all subgenres!

  Just submit your manuscript at:

  SIGNING BONUSES AND ROYALTY SPLITS TO AUTHORS WITH EXCEPTIONAL WORK AND DEDICATION!

  [email protected]

  1

  Whitt

  I stared around the small, cool cubicle of Maysburg Memorial Hospital already feeling the itch to get my phone out and check my emails and messages. Never mind the warnings on the bulletin board in the emergency treatment room instructing patients to turn off their cell phones. Those weren’t meant for me. I had business to get done.

  With a swish, the curtain blocking the open door into the ER hallway whisked back and Jack Thomas, my regular doctor, strode in with a roll of his eyes and hands on hips.

  “Seriously, Whitt? You text me that you think you’re having a heart attack? Was that before or after the 9-1-1 call?”

  “I wanted you here. Don’t I pay you enough to make that happen?” I sounded like an arrogant prick, but I didn’t care. If the press got wind of the fact billionaire banker Whitt Dailey was taken by ambulance to the hospital, it could tank the entire deal I was trying to close. Who wanted an investment banker with heart problems handling their money?

  “You pay me plenty. I’ve already taken a look at the tests they’ve run and compared the data to the baselines we have on you from your last physical.”

  “And?”

  “You’re not dying today.” Jack stepped closer. “But if you don’t get a life outside of working non-stop, that could change pretty damn quick.”

  I leaned back on the propped-up hospital bed. “So exactly what were the chest pains all about?”

  “Right off the bat, I would say stress. You need a way to decompress. You do know investment bankers are ranked as one of the most stressful careers in the entire universe? I think you might be right in there with air traffic controllers.”

  Jack automatically reached for my wrist and began checking my pulse.

  “I have a life,” I protested.

  He arched a brow. “Really. What do you do other than work?”

  I cleared my throat. “I work out in my gym. I go to fundraisers. I’m on a couple of boards. I think this hospital is one of them.”

  “Fundraisers and board meetings don’t count. Neither does working out in your gym. I’ll bet you’re reading emails or making calls while you run on your treadmill.”

  I felt a blush heat my cheeks. I couldn’t deny that, so I fired back from another angle. “Well if a hobby is so important, what the hell do you suggest?”

  Jack grinned. “You’ve got a big, fancy empty stable on that ridiculously huge estate you hide on. What about horseback riding?”

  “Like cowboys and John Wayne?”

  Now my doctor laughed at me. “Not in this part of Virginia, Boy Wonder. You’re smack dab in the middle of Hunt Country.”

  I sat forward, narrowing my gaze on him. “You’re talking shiny boots, tight britches—”

  “Breeches.”

  “Breeches—whatever—and red coats? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “No. I’m not—and red coats are by invitation only, by the way. I started riding with my wife about ten years ago. Wouldn’t change it for the world. There’s something peaceful about it—caring for the horse as well as riding it. Besides, at the risk of turning this into yet another business outlet for you—one of your clients' rides. But you already knew that, right?”

  I frowned. I had seen something in Maitland’s bio that mentioned him being a horseman but hadn’t paid much attention to it. He’d never brought it up in any of our conversations.

  Jack tossed me the bag with my clothes in it. “Get dressed. You can go, but I want to see you in a week. Sooner if you’re still having any pain. Don’t blow off the idea of finding a hobby. Get plenty of sleep and eat right. For god’s sake, you’re rich. Hire more servants.”

  “I like Maggie. She’s efficient and doesn’t bother me.”

  “Hobby. Rest. Eat right. That’s my advice. I’ll send you a bill.”

  I laughed. “Who didn’t know that?”

  Before Jack could get out the door, I already had my phone out, dialing the limo service. Since I had arrived via ambulance, I needed a way home. Maysburg was just hoity-toity enough to have a local limo company. I used them a lot, especially if I had a client I needed to talk business with while we were on the road, which happened more often than not. I had thought a couple times about putting my own limo driver on staff, but I didn’t want a houseful of servants underfoot.

  I liked my privacy.

  I did.

  By the time I restored my suit and tie to perfection, put my paperwork inside my briefcase, and reached the ER entrance, the limo was waiting. I smiled when I realized it was Fred, the driver who handled the majority of my business.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Dailey.” He opened the rear passenger door, closed it, and went around to the driver’s side. As he put the car into gear, I turned my head to gaze at the passing scenery. I had picked Maysburg deliberately when I decided I needed more privacy than living inside the beltway afforded. That had been too close to the capital, too close to a never-ending press of humanity. I liked having a big house and a lot of land. I could work at home and only had to hire someone to take care of maintenance.

  Besides, that Maysburg address represented stability and gentility—exactly the message I needed to project to prospective clients who tended toward the conservative. Those were the people I wanted to attract so I could cut down on the constant travel. There had to be some perks to being a billionaire.

  Fred turned down a narrow, tree-lined country road. Moss-speckled stone walls ran along either side alternately with dark, wood-paneled fencing. Virginia horse country. I lived right in the middle of it but had never given it much thought. Now Jack had planted the seed, and I noticed nothing else.

  I stepped out of the limo at my front door, gave Fred a tip large enough to make him grin, and let myself inside. After deactivating the alarm system, I paused. I had always enjoyed the quiet before, but now it had a quality of emptiness I had never noticed.

  Maggie Knowles, my housekeeper, didn’t live in. That suited us both. Sh
e prepared meals and left them in the Sub-Zero for me, complete with instructions. She took care of light cleaning and called in a cleaning crew and landscape service once a week. It was perfect.

  I could work from home uninterrupted. The thought crossed my mind I should get back to that, but then my doctor’s words went on replay. You have a big, fancy, empty stable…Maybe what I needed to do was take a look at it. I changed into casual clothes and walked to the empty barn with its white paint and green trim.

  Horseback riding. How the devil was I going to do that? Did I even want to? As I headed toward the stable, I admitted Jack had a point. With success, my workload had increased. My assistant, Will, had become one of my few points of human contact other than clients, and except for rare occasions when I needed him at a meeting, he worked out of his own house.

  Standing in the doorway to the barn, I stared down the empty aisle bordered on both sides by equally empty stalls. Maybe putting horses in here and learning how to ride and maintain them would give me something to care about besides business.

  “Trying to figure out how you can monetize your barn?” a laughing, feminine voice asked from behind me.

  I spun around. “Sherry. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I came to check on you. I was running errands in Maysburg and saw you leaving the ER. Everything okay?”

  I laughed. “Yes, although Jack seems to think I need to take my recreation a bit more seriously. He’s suggested horses. You ride, right?”

  Sherry Rowland leaned against the barn. In her late forties, she lived on the estate next to mine. She’d been a big help suggesting local companies to work on my property along with introducing me to some of the locals. Although she dropped by fairly often to chat, I didn’t know a lot about her. She was widowed. She seemed to know everybody in the area. She rode horses.

  That last one could help me now.

  “Since I was a kid. And Jack suggested it to you?”

  “Why should that surprise you? After all, I have this great barn sitting here…and that riding place there.” I waved my hand at the large, sandy area nearby.

  “Ring or arena. Most people around here would call it a ring.”

  The look she gave me was filled with skepticism. Okay, that kind of irritated me. I had always been successful at everything—well, maybe not family and personal relationships—but everything else. Like business and mergers and buyouts.

  That sounded pretty boring. And lonely. I had sudden visions of ending like Ebenezer Scrooge—alone and bitter. Not the image I wanted.

  If this whole riding horses and learning to be a likable human being was going to work, I was going to need help. I’d start with the horseback riding.

  “Would you by any chance know someone who might be able to work with me to put horses in here and teach me how to ride?”

  Sherry tapped her cheek thoughtfully. “A couple of people come to mind. Both good trainers. I just don’t know what their availability might be.”

  “Names? Numbers?”

  “Either Steffy Burke or Reece Wilder. Steffy’s got her own farm though, so I’m not sure she would be willing to spend a lot of time away from it.”

  “And the other person? They don’t? What’s wrong with them?”

  Sherry’s brows arched. “He’s very talented. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with him. His business is a bit more mobile since he rents a barn. I don’t know that either one of them would be willing to make the kind of commitment you’re probably going to want.”

  I looked around the quiet barn and the empty paddocks and ring. “I will need someone willing to stay here to get this up and running. Someone who can be available to fit my schedule.”

  Sherry stepped away from the barn. “I’d try Reece then. Google him. You’ll find his number.”

  “He’s not some prima donna asshole, is he?” I wasn’t going to deal with someone’s fragile ego. I’d pay enough it wouldn’t be a problem. It seemed to work with almost everything else in life.

  Sherry laughed. “You know. I think Reece and you will be perfectly suited.”

  Whatever that meant.

  I watched her amble back toward her farm. Sherry liked to walk. She’d told me that when I bought the place, and I had agreed to let her continue to do so. After all, she had been a big help. Sometimes, though, I wondered. She had an odd habit of popping up like today. If I were a more nervous sort, she would have scared the crap out of me.

  Shaking my head, I walked back to the house. I had more work to do on the recycling buyout if I was going to hook Quinn Maitland, but first, I was going to find this Reece Wilder person. Maybe I would surprise Sherry and Jack, prove to them that I could both relax and learn how to do something like ride a horse. What was there to it, after all? You climbed on, sat in the saddle, and the horse did all the work.

  2

  Reece

  Sabina, aka Beanie, Barlow was once again racing around the ring in the small pony hunter over fences class like she was riding a dirt bike, pigtails flying from beneath her helmet and her demon pony with his ears pinned back launching himself at every jump from way too far away. Poles flew, and jumps transformed into architectural disasters, but at least the little devil was no longer screeching to a halt and dumping Beanie on her butt in the dirt.

  “Slow down, Beanie!” I called. Why, I’m not sure. I knew from experience that she wasn’t hearing a word I said—not the way the wind was rushing past her ears.

  “They’re doing better, aren’t they?” her mother asked with a hopeful smile, her hands still grasping the top fence rail with a white-knuckled grip.

  “They are, Mrs. Barlow,” I reassured her. “She’s over the last jump and still on top of little Buttercup. That’s a wonderful improvement.”

  I left my post along the side of the ring to head to the entrance gate next to the announcer’s stand. Ripper, my Jack Russell Terrier, trotted at my heels, a thin piece of baling twine connecting his collar to my belt—my concession to the show secretary that all dogs must be leashed. I had no doubt that Ripper would pout until we were back home again.

  One more schooling show and the local summer horse show season would be over. Thank heaven. I met Beanie at the gate.

  “That was so much better than last time, sweetie.” I praised the little girl, taking in her rosy cheeks and her bright, pansy eyes. “You’ve worked hard with Buttercup, and it shows.”

  “Thank you, Weece,” she managed to say around her enormous grin. “Should I go untack?”

  I patted her leg. Most of the rounds in this class had been disasters, so there was a good chance Beanie could still be in the ribbons.

  “Not yet. Stick around until the judge pins the class. You never know.”

  I turned away when my adult amateur client hurried toward me, a pissed-off look pinching his lips and knitting his brow.

  “Reece, the open jumpers are only two classes away. I need you to help me warm up my horse.”

  I bit back the snotty retort that rose to my lips. There were only two schooling fences in the warm-up ring, a vertical and an oxer. If he couldn’t prepare without my help at this point, he didn’t need to be on the horse. My jaw clenched. I needed to get my own horse ready. She had been standing in her stall all day while I worked with clients, and I needed to let her stretch her legs.

  “Help Jordy,” a familiar voice said from behind me. “I’ll get Satin out and saddled. My kids are done for the day.”

  I turned to find my friend, Steffy Burke, smiling at me. I grabbed her cheeks and kissed her on the tip of her freckled nose. “I love you, even if you are a girl.”

  “Let me have Ripper too. He probably needs a drink of water and a dog bone.”

  I glanced at my fur buddy. At the word bone, his ears had perked up.

  “Greedy bastard,” I muttered.

  Steffy gave me a push. “Go. Help Jerky…I mean Jordy. Leave the rest to me.”

  “I owe you.”

  “I know
.”

  I jogged over to the warm-up ring, weaving my way inside an area that would make an air traffic controller stroke out. Horses and riders trotted and cantered in opposite directions in no apparent order. As I approached the oxer to widen the distance between the poles of what the horse would jump as a single obstacle, I heard another rider shout, “Heads up over the oxer!”

  I jumped out of the way. The most dangerous place at any show was the warm-up ring. For the next several minutes, I worked with Jordy and his gelding, tweaking approaches and turns to help prepare them. The man was an annoying ass, but he was also the best paying customer I had. Most of my clients were cute kids like Beanie Barlow, whose riding would slack off as soon as school started again.

  I was late. I needed to put on my show clothes and get ready to ride. I didn’t like to compete head-to-head with my own clients, but Satin needed more experience, and Jordy had decided at the last minute that he wanted to branch out from his usual round of amateur owner classes to try an open jumper class.

  I couldn’t afford to scratch Satin from the class. Not only couldn’t I waste the entry fee I had already paid, but the mare was also my chance to prove myself. She had the talent and the attitude to make it big. I couldn’t fail. Not like my dad had.

  Jordy stopped by my side at the edge of the ring.

  “So, how are you feeling?” I asked, keeping a professional smile firmly in place.