The Rebel and the Cowboy (The Carmody Brothers Book 2)

by Sarah Mayberry

  Her armpits were cold with nervous perspiration by the time she arrived at the library. Despite her concern about being late, she was actually ten minutes early and she sat in Big Bertha and tried to calm the hell down.

  You’ve done this a dozen times. You know your shit. They’ll see that. Just go in there and let them see how much this means to you.

  That was the problem, though—this meant too much to her. She didn’t want to come across as desperate or nervous.

  But it was entirely possible that wasn’t a factor she could control.

  She took a deep breath, then let it out, visualizing all her nervous energy flowing out of her body. Then she collected her printouts and laptop and made her way into the library.

  A tall, good-looking man and a slim, blond-haired woman were standing together in the foyer, talking quietly, when she entered. They were both wearing work clothes—Dickies pants, and some kind of uniform polo shirt. The woman’s hair was up in a high ponytail, and her steel-capped boots were scuffed. Eva almost walked past them before noticing the logo on the breast pocket of the man’s polo—McGregor Construction.

  “Hi,” she said, stopping in front of them. “Almost missed you. I’m Eva King. Thanks so much for seeing me.”

  She could feel more nervous words filling her throat but she managed to stem the flow somehow.

  “Heath McGregor,” the man said, offering her his hand. “And this is my wife, Andie.”

  “Good to meet you, Eva,” Andie said, her gaze warm and direct.

  “Good to meet you. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting?” Eva asked. It would be too freaking ironic if she’d been sitting in her car killing time when they’d been waiting for her.

  “We’re early,” Andie assured her. “And Jane’s not here yet.”

  “Hate to contradict you there, Andie.”

  They all three swung around to face the blond, well-dressed woman who had just entered, a slightly harried air about her.

  “Jane McCullough, good to meet you,” she said, shoving a hand at Eva. Her focus was on Heath and Andie, however. “I’m slammed, so this needs to be quick for me.”

  “I can be quick,” Eva said, smiling brightly even as her stomach got tight with anxiety. She was almost certain no one had told Dane he would have to be quick when he had his meeting. Which meant she’d been right when she guessed she was not really a genuine contender for the project.

  Despair made her eyes burn with sudden emotion, but Eva had never given up on anything in her life without putting up a fight.

  “All right, let’s go through to the conference room,” Jane said, juggling her coat, handbag, and papers as she bustled ahead of them.

  Eva smiled at Andie and Heath, hoping they couldn’t see how rattled she was, and fell in behind Jane. She edited her presentation mentally as she walked, making lightning-fast cuts in her mind to ensure she could hit the highlights in the time allotted.

  Ahead of her, Jane flung open a heavy, ornate door to a wood-paneled room that boasted a huge table surrounded by at least a dozen chairs.

  “There’s power there if you need it,” Jane said, indicating an outlet on the wall near the door.

  “Thanks, but the battery is fully charged,” Eva said, pulling out a chair near the head of the table and setting down her things. Aware she was on the clock, she opened her laptop and hit return a couple of times to bring it to life before passing a printout of her proposal to Heath, Andie and Jane.

  “Since time is short, should I just jump in?” she asked.

  “Yes, thanks. Sorry, I know it’s not ideal, but we’ve got a bit of a crisis in the works and if I don’t smooth some feathers tonight we might lose a major sponsor for this year’s rodeo,” Jane explained.

  “Totally understand,” Eva said. “So let me just get this out of the way first up—I know I’m the underdog in this process. I know you sought Dane out because you’ve seen his work. But that means you’ve also seen my work. For five years, we’ve worked side by side on every project. I’m familiar with every technique, every process, every logistical consideration required to complete a project like the Clarke grain elevator. I want you to know that I can deliver this project on time and on budget.”

  Heath and Andie both nodded, but Jane was busy taking notes on her phone. At least, Eva hoped that was what she was doing. Eva swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed her shaking knees together under the table.

  Come on, Universe. Give me a break here.

  “What I can’t give you is Dane’s name. I know that, and that’s why I would be prepared to take on this project for half of what you’d pay him,” Eva said.

  Heath’s eyebrows shot up, while Andie frowned.

  “Is that viable for you? My understanding is that this process can take several weeks, maybe months to complete,” Andie said.

  “I want the boost to my profile this project would give me,” Eva said frankly. “I’m prepared to put something on the table to win the commission. It means a lot to me. Which is another reason why I’m a good choice for this project—I will give you everything I’ve got, and more. I’m hungry, I’m talented, and I’m passionate. This won’t be just another job for me.”

  Andie glanced at her husband, and Jane looked up from her notes to consider Eva for a beat.

  “Do you have any examples of your solo work we can look at?” Jane asked.

  “Of course. If you turn to page ten of the printout, you can see some pieces I did in my home city of Detroit,” Eva said.

  Everyone dutifully turned to page ten, and Eva watched as they studied her work, flicking through the five pieces she’d included.

  “These are on a much smaller scale than our project,” Jane said.

  “I know, but I can assure you, that won’t be a problem for me,” Eva said.

  Jane glanced at her watch, and Eva decided to just go for it.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking for the site at the moment,” she said, turning her computer around so she could show them the graphics she’d mocked up this morning. “The elevator is one hundred and twenty feet by forty-two feet. That’s a huge and beautiful canvas. The timber boards are in good condition, and I think repair work would be minimal. I’d like to propose a triptych on this structure, three portraits that represent the community of Marietta. I’d stagger them to make full use of the height, and Copper Mountain would serve as the backdrop, uniting the three portraits.”

  Eva clicked through to the graphic depicting her proposed allocation of space. The images she’d used as placeholders were taken from studies she’d made before for previous projects with Dane, the style more her own than what the finished works had been.

  “You don’t think a more tourist-type idea would be more suitable? A landscape, or something referencing the local industry?” Jane asked.

  “People connect with people. It’s like when you look through shots from somebody’s holiday—the ones with the people in them are always the most emotional and compelling. My job will be to tell the story of Marietta through the portraits,” Eva explained.

  Heath asked a question about the sort of equipment she’d require on site, and Eva spent the next ten minutes answering questions. She was heartened somewhat by the fact that Jane instigated many of them—surely, if giving the commission to Dane was a done deal, the other woman wouldn’t bother making Eva jump through so many flaming hoops?

  “I’m sorry, but I need to run,” Jane said suddenly, wincing as she checked the time on her phone. “Eva, it was great to meet you. I love how passionate you are about this project, and thank you for your honesty.”

  “Thanks for the opportunity to pitch for the commission. I know I pretty much forced myself on you all,” Eva said.

  “Sometimes you’ve got to make your own opportunities,” Heath said, and Eva hoped she wasn’t fooling herself that there was a glint of approval in his eyes.

  Jane gathered her things and threw goodbyes over her shoulder as she left, and Eva offered
her best, most confident smile to the McGregors.

  “Do you have any more questions?” she asked.

  “You’ve been really thorough. I think we’ve got everything we need to make a decision,” Andie said.

  “Can I ask when you think that will be?” Eva asked.

  “We want to get the ball rolling as soon as possible, so we’d be hoping to sign off on things tomorrow. If you got the commission, when would you be able to start?” Andie said.

  “Straight away. My schedule is clear at the moment. Although that may change,” Eva fibbed.

  “Great. We’ve got your number, and we’ll read through all of this properly,” Heath said, indicating her proposal. “We’ll let you know sometime tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. And thanks again for your time,” Eva said, standing and leaning across the table to shake hands with them both. Her hands were shaking as she reached out to gather her papers, and she hoped they didn’t notice.

  She left the McGregors in the meeting room, exiting to the marble-floored corridor before heading for the exit. She didn’t let herself relax until she was in her van and on the road. Then she let out a huge sigh and felt her shoulders drop.

  Well, it was done. She’d done her level best in the time available. They’d listened, they’d asked questions. She sensed she’d caught their interest with her offer to halve her fee. And all three had appeared impressed with the mock-ups of her ideas.

  But had she done enough to make herself a true contender?

  She had no idea.

  And now that she was done and there was nothing left to do but wait, she felt jittery with residual adrenaline. The time between now and tomorrow seemed to stretch ahead of her like a desert highway, endless and comfortless.

  God, she hated waiting.

  Almost without consciously willing it, she steered Bertha back to Main Street. She was pretty sure she’d seen a bar or a saloon along here somewhere yesterday, and the thought of a calming shot of something fiery and alcoholic sounded pretty good to her right now.

  She found Grey’s Saloon just a block down from the diner, but had to go a block further to find a parking spot for Bertha. Tucking her laptop under the seat, she locked up the van and headed for the bar.

  She had to push her way past honest-to-God saloon doors to enter. The space she found herself in featured a battered bar on one side, booths on the other, with tarnished mirrors on the walls reflecting the late afternoon sun coming through the front window.

  Eva headed straight for the bar where she slid onto an empty stool and waited for the bartender to notice her.

  “Afternoon. What can I get you?” the man asked once he’d finishing drawing beers for a group of cowboys down the far end of the bar.

  “Vodka, straight up,” Eva said. Then she thought about it and added, “Make that two.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Eva knocked the first drink back ten seconds after it was in her hand, wincing as the alcohol burned its way down to her belly.

  The bartender raised his eyebrows. “Bad day?”

  “Don’t know yet,” Eva said. “The jury is still out on that one.”

  The bartender went off to tend to another customer and Eva gave a small, heartfelt sigh as the warming alcohol worked its way through her bloodstream, throwing a warm, calming blanket over the adrenaline still pinballing around her body. Her phone beeped with a text as she sipped her second drink more slowly.

  It was from her sister, Syd, back in LA:

  Yo. Want to let me know you’re alive and well? People who give a crap would like to have proof of life.

  Eva smiled and tapped out an answer to her sister: Sorry. Phone reception sucks out where I’m staying. But all good this end.

  Her sister immediately fired back: So how did the big pitch go? It was today, right?

  Eva took another sip of vodka before typing out her response: Just finished. Won’t know until tomorrow. No idea how I went. Sacrifice chocolate to the god of good things for me.

  Dots filled the screen before Syd’s response appeared: Will do. Hang tough, babe. Gotta go now, but love you.

  Eva was just selecting the blowing kiss emoji when the sound of deep male laughter made her glance toward the group of cowboys at the end of the bar. Her gaze sharpened as she recognized one of the three men as Casey Carmody. He had a beer in hand and was talking with his friends, his expression relaxed and open.

  He tilted his head back, swallowing beer, and she admired the way his biceps flexed and the muscle at his throat rippled.

  Okay, that’s enough of that.

  But before she could look away, he glanced across and caught her eye. For a beat he simply looked at her, his expression arrested. Then he nodded, his mouth tilting up at the corners ever so slightly as though he was pleased to see her.

  Eva lifted her vodka glass in his direction in silent acknowledgment before shifting her attention back to her phone.

  If he comes over, do not encourage him, the voice in her head ordered. Stay smart, stay focused.

  Eva kept fiddling with her phone, even though she was really waiting for him to make an approach, trying to decide what to say, how to handle it. When a minute passed, and then another, and he still didn’t come over, she risked a second glance his way.

  He was laughing with his friends again, apparently oblivious to her.

  That’s a good thing, in case you were wondering, the smartass in her head pointed out.

  Eva rolled her eyes and swallowed more vodka, which was when she registered that the glass was empty and the world was looking more than a little fuzzy around the edges. She frowned—she was no lightweight when it came to drinking—then it occurred to her that she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. No wonder the vodka had hit her so hard and fast.

  “Excuse me, do you have a menu?” Eva asked the bartender.

  “Absolutely. Give me a shout out when you know what you want, but these will keep you going in the meantime.”

  The bartender slid a basket of pretzels in front of Eva as well as a laminated menu offering the usual bar fare—buffalo wings, burgers, nachos, fries. Eva was trying to decide between nachos with the lot or a burger when she became aware of a large group arriving, their noise and laughter causing her to glance across her shoulder toward the door.

  Her stomach did a drop and roll when she saw who it was—Dane, with his crew. Who used to be her crew, too.

  Damn. Shit. Damn.

  Eva whipped her head back around and closed her eyes, fervently, desperately hoping Dane wouldn’t notice her.

  Just go to a booth, be your usual self-centered asshole self, and give me a chance to get out of here.

  Even though she hated the idea of scampering away because he’d arrived, she really, really didn’t want to see him or talk to him.

  “Eva.”

  Fuck.

  How unlucky was she? In town less than twenty-four hours and she’d already run into her ex.

  She opened her eyes and turned face the man she’d once thought was the love of her life.

  “Dane.”

  His dirty blond hair was longer than when she’d last seen him, caught up on the back of his head in a man-bun, and his beard had been trimmed back to three-days’-growth length. His black linen shirt was wrinkled, his eight-hundred-dollar jeans folded at the cuff. A wallet chain hung against his thigh, the links made up of tiny black skulls.

  She’d bought that chain for him for his birthday last year. She wondered if he remembered that.

  He was looking her over, too, his expression verging on disdainful.

  “You’re wasting your time here,” he said.

  Great, they weren’t even going to pretend to be polite.

  “That’s not your call to make.”

  “You know I could sue you for trying to steal this commission out from under me,” he said.

  “Knock yourself out. I look forward to discussing the way you denied me credit on every project we work
ed on in a court of law, for all the world to see.”

  He laughed, the sound nasty and hard and mocking. “You are so arrogant and deluded. You were my assistant, Eva. That’s all you ever were. Every commission we did together was because of me, because of my vision, my talent, my reputation. You should be grateful I let you ride on my coattails as long as I did.”

  She could feel anger bubbling up inside her as he mouthed the same old lies. They both knew how hard she’d worked behind the scenes to help build his career. The calls she’d made, the website she’d built for him, the stories she’d shopped around to art magazines to burnish his reputation and grow his profile, the commissions she’d hustled for him. They had spent hours sketching ideas and talking about themes for projects, all of it based on the exhaustive, deep research she pulled together, and she had stood side by side with him on cherry pickers, cleaning rigs, and scaffolds around the world, helping to bring his vision to life.

  But according to him, she’d just been his assistant.

  “You wouldn’t have completed a single work in the last five years without my help,” she said. “In your heart you know that. If your ego wasn’t so ridiculously fragile, you’d acknowledge me and give me the credit I’m due.”

  “Here’s what I’ll acknowledge—you were great at keeping the bills paid, and you made things run like clockwork. You always booked great hotels, and you are an awesome technician when it comes to painting. But you’re not an artist, babe. You know how I know? Because you sat by for five years and never did a stroke of original work. It’d kill me to do that. Seriously, my fucking head would explode if I couldn’t get my ideas out there into the world. So don’t sit there and blame me because you don’t have a career—that’s on you, Eva. All of it.”