The Billionaire Renegade. Catherine Mann

      Felicity seemed to be a natural.

      Now confident she could hold her own, he led his horse out by the reins. The sun was high and bright, reflecting off the snow in a nearly blinding light. Closing the barn door behind him, he led Jackson a few steps away from the steel-reinforced door. Conrad pulled himself into the saddle, hands adjusting the reins by muscle memory.

      Pressing his calves into Jackson’s sensitive side, he urged the horse toward an open gate. He figured this enclosed area would be safer—just in case Felicity lost her seat. Much easier to contain than potentially chasing Patches through the wilderness.

      Felicity skillfully picked up the reins, bringing Patches to attention as she set her horse beside his. “Have you heard anything more about your niece?”

      “We’ve locked down a time for Brea’s arrival. We’ll be meeting with her attorney present—at her request.” The hair on the back of his neck bristled at all the ways things could go badly.

      “This can’t be easy for any of you.”

      He pushed his weight in the saddle, grounding down. Nothing about Brea’s return had been something he could have imagined. At least not like this.

      “We never dreamed we could have her back at all. We’re staying focused on the fact she’s alive.” Truthful, but it didn’t negate the hell of wondering what led her to infiltrate the company, to resent and mistrust them all to this degree.

      “I hope it’s not awkward if I ask, but is there a chance her mother is alive, too?” An eagle soaring overhead cast a wide-wingspan shadow along the snow ahead of Felicity.

      “No, none,” he said without hesitation. “Mary’s body was thrown from the plane. They were able to make a positive ID. With Brea, they only located teeth in the charred wreckage.”

      It never got easier discussing that part of the aftermath.

      She shivered. “Your family has been through so much.”

      “Nothing guarantees life will be easy.” The glare of the sun along the icy pasture was so bright he shielded his eyes with his hand. “We’re just lucky to have each other for support along the way.”

      “That’s a healthy outlook.”

      Her words made him realize she was listening with a professional ear. “I recall you saying you became a social worker because of growing up in foster care. What made you decide to switch to the hospital position?”

      Her posture grew surer as she answered him, guiding Patches around snow-covered bushes. “As a child, I saw what a difference a caring professional could make, in my life and in others’. There are so many components, from the caseworker, to the courts, and yes, too often, hospitals. This gave me another avenue to make a difference.”

      “You’re certainly doing that.” He respected her devotion to her job, one of the many things that had attracted him to her. He’d thought her career focus would also make them a great pair. He’d thought wrong and needed to figure out another way around to win her.

      “I’m grateful to your family for what they’re doing for the hospital.” Wind blew flurries around her horse’s hooves. “The children in oncology... I don’t need to spell out their needs for you. You saw it with your niece Naomi.”

      “I did. What kinds of needs do you see for the children in the hospital?” he asked, to make the most of working together. And because he found he was genuinely curious in her input.

      “That’s such a broad question.”

      He tilted his head, looking forward on the trail in the pasture and checking for uneven ground that could be masked by the snow. “Say the first thing that pops into your head.”

      “I have a list in my office on staffing and structural needs,” she said, still not answering his question.

      But he understood how her professional instincts might be in play, not wanting to commit to an item when there was a more important need.

      “Send me the list. I feel certain we can address those issues. What else?” he pressed. “Something you didn’t even imagine could go on your wish list.” He pushed Jackson into a slow trot, the palomino’s stride putting slight distance between them. Glancing over his shoulder, Conrad saw a determined smile settle on Felicity’s face.

      Keeping her hands low on Patches’s neck, she clicked her tongue, coaxing the horse into a smooth jog. Though the horse’s pace increased, Felicity’s seat stayed steady. Flawless execution.

      “Well, the children in behavioral health could use more pet therapy teams.”

      Felicity’s roots might be Texan, but she held her own with the horse and the cold like she’d lived here her whole life. He was surprised and impressed. “We’re on it. Isabeau Mikkelson is on the committee for PR and she brought up that very subject in an earlier meeting.”

      “She and her husband live on a ranch outside Juneau, right?”

      “Yes, she just arrived in town today. They’re staying with the family during her last trimester of pregnancy. She’s high risk because of her diabetes, and they want to use the same doctor Naomi had for the delivery.”

      “I’m glad they have the support of so many relatives. Are you sure she’s up to the task of helping with this?”

      Even with Isabeau being high risk, he hadn’t considered something could go wrong. “She checked with her doctors first and got the okay. She’s been going stir-crazy taking off work and this was a good compromise. She’s been helping pick up slack, too, that would have been covered by Jeannie’s former assistant, Sage Hammond.”

      “What happened to Sage?”

      “She took a sudden sabbatical to Europe. Really left the family in a lurch, kind of surprising since she’s related to Jeannie.” He shrugged. “Anyway, Isabeau raised the idea of pet therapy since she has a service dog for her diabetes. Even though a service dog is different from a therapy dog, Isabeau’s a great resource on the topic. She’s familiar with the various roles a pet can play in health care.”

      Felicity nodded. “A service dog performs a task for one person for life, and a therapy dog provides comfort in groups or for a number of different people individually.”

      “Exactly. We’re looking into therapy dog programs for individual room visits as well as group settings. Having a couple of dogs present during reading time would be a great place to start.”

      “That sounds wonderful. You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this.” She glanced at him. “Your family, too. It’s not just a...”

      “Not just a promotional tool? No. That’s not to say we aren’t happy for the good press, because our success gives us more charitable options.”

      “I’ll do my best to be sure the money’s spent wisely so the foundation can do even more.”

      “I’m sure you will.” Applying slight pressure with his reins, Conrad looped his horse back toward the barn. Created somewhat of a bad circle in the snow.

      Felicity maneuvered Patches to follow him. “How are you so certain?”

      “You were willing to come riding with me today in spite of pushing me away with both hands,” he said with a cocky grin.

      Silence fell between them. The only sounds echoing in the air were the crunch of horse hooves against fresh snow.

      She shook her head, her smile half amused. “I don’t dislike you.”

      He laughed, appreciating how she didn’t dish out flattery just because he had money to donate. “Watch it, or my ego will overinflate with the lavish compliments.”

      “I don’t mean to be rude. I just want to be sure we’re clear that this is business.”

      He needed