Philip ran a tight ship on his "business." It was just a gang, hidden behind some ranch façade in Montana that laundered money through horse races and cattle, along with other illegal proceedings.

The one thing he found hard to control was you. His little firecracker who yelled and screamed when angry and upset. Philip liked your spicy attitude, even unleashed it on people sometimes.

Though, when you tried to get bratty with him, it was a whole other thing. Even more so when he was trying to help groom the horses. You just had to come in screaming and hollering, scaring the poor Arabian and making it kick.

Philip sighed and stared at you, angry and disapproving, "Now, darlin, we talked about this. You can't come in here, causing a ruckus like that. You know better."