by Cat Johnson
Mr. Collins laid a hand on the back of Luke’s neck. “That’s not what this is about. I’m not criticizing, son. Your father was so proud of you. Still is, I’m sure, from up there where he is now. He wanted you to ride and succeed and you did both. Nothing could have made him happier.”
Luke blinked away the moisture in his eyes. “Thank you, sir.”
“What I’m saying is, he wouldn’t have wanted you to give up your career. And your mama can’t run this place alone.”
“No, she can’t.” Luke fought back the nausea, facing for the first time what he’d so skillfully ignored of late. With his father gone the running of the ranch fell to him, and how the hell could he do both—ride and ranch—alone?
He slumped down onto a nearby bale of hay. “I’m going to have to quit riding.”
“That’s one solution. Or you could sell to me.”
Taken totally aback by that suggestion, Luke stared up at him blankly. “What? Sell?”
Mr. Collins nodded. “My place is right next door. Hell, I lease the east pasture from your parents already for my herd. If you sold the acreage, the barns and the herd to me, your mama could retain ownership of the house. She could stay living right here with plenty of money to retire on, but with none of the responsibilities of caring for the farm.”
A dull buzzing filled Luke’s head, adding to his confusion and the feeling that the world was moving way too fast. “This place has been in my family for generations.”
“I know.” Mr. Collins nodded. “That’s why I wouldn’t want the land to go to a stranger. And the house will still be in the family.”
Luke frowned. He’d always thought that one day, when his career was over, he’d retire from riding and he and his father would expand the ranch. They’d raise bucking stock. Maybe get a few bulls good enough to buck in the pros. His father’s death had changed all that now. But to sell?
It was all too much to comprehend. He shook his head. “This isn’t my choice. My mother—”
“I talked to her already. The wife and I spent quite a few hours in the hospital with your mama before you got home.”
The guilt of his being late getting home hit him again. Luke was becoming used to the weight of guilt and sorrow in his chest. So much so, he’d begun to forget what it felt like to be without it. To be lighthearted. Would he ever feel that way again?
Luke held himself together and asked, “What did Mom say?”
“She said the choice was up to you.”
That did nothing to lift the pressure from his shoulders. In fact, if anything it added to it. “She didn’t mention it to me.”
Mr. Collins shrugged. “You’ve both had a lot on your plate the past few days. Besides, I’d told her I would discuss it with you when the time was right.”
Luke’s brows rose. This was the right time? Just hours after he’d seen his father put into the ground?
“Luke, I saw how the guys you ride with turned out to support you and honor your father today. And I saw how you looked when you talked to them. Your heart is on the road. Competing is your life.” The older man stepped closer and laid a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I know it seems like a lot to bring this up now, but I wanted you to know that if you want to go back to competing, we’ll take care of the details. Things would be in capable hands if you sold to me.”
What the entire town knew as the Carpenter ranch would be part of the Collins’ place. All traces of his father’s life’s work would be gone.
The choice was clear as day. Right there before him. Luke only had a few good years before retirement from the pros anyway, barring injury. He could retire now. The thought left a lump in his throat, but the idea of selling the ranch, his father’s blood and sweat in every acre, felt far worse.
Decision made, Luke swallowed hard then met Mr. Collins’s gaze squarely. “No. No sale. I’m sorry and I do appreciate the offer, but the answer is no.”
“Do you wanna think about it some? It’s a big decision.”
“I know it is.” Luke would do nothing but think about the choice he’d just made, probably for the rest of his life, but that wouldn’t change his answer. “We’re not selling.”
“All right. You know where to find me if you change your mind.” Mr. Collins nodded even though his expression still showed doubt.
“Yes, sir, I do.”
Mr. Collins glanced at his watch. “You want me to handle the afternoon chores for you today?”
In a haze, Luke shook his head. “No. Thanks for the offer but I’ll handle it.” He realized he was still wearing the dress pants, good shirt and tie from the funeral. “I’ll just get changed out of these clothes first.”
“All right.” Mr. Collins turned toward the door and, dazed, Luke rose and followed him out of the barn.
Luke heard an errant bellow from one of the cows off in the pasture. In a closer paddock nearby, Luke’s horse, Maverick, pressed against the rail and watched him, his ears forward. He was on alert, knowing he’d be getting fed soon.
This would be Luke’s life now. That of a rancher. No longer a professional bull rider. No more autograph signings. No more photo shoots or sponsors. Just tending to the animals and the farm.
And of course there would also be the chance to be around his good friends the Collinses and his mother more. All the time actually. No more being away from home. The traveling wore on him at times. Trying to look on the bright side, Luke reminded himself of that.
This was what he’d dreamed of for his life after he’d retired from riding pro, wasn’t it? A nice peaceful life on his family ranch.
It was just too soon.
Chapter Eleven
Annie strode toward the media room at the arena where she’d be meeting with her boss, Joe, feeling a bit more human after a shower and a change of clothes.
She’d thought she had it tough with all the travel she did for her job, but flying everywhere and picking up a rental car at the airport to drive directly to a hotel seemed like nothing to her now. Not after crossing a few state lines with Mustang and Slade in that damn trailer. She didn’t know how they did it. It must be a man thing. Give her a nice big shower stall with unlimited water and a few hundred channels on the cable television any day. They could keep their life on the open highway.
Just outside the door of the room they’d be using as home base and for their equipment at this venue, she stopped and drew in a deep calming breath. She grabbed for the handle, only to have it yanked from her hand as a willowy blond who might be twenty-two at most came bursting out. Since the girl was still looking backward over her shoulder and into the room, she didn’t even notice Annie until she’d literally stepped on the toes of her boots and crashed into her.
“Oh, excuse me.” The blonde’s porcelain face was glowing as she giggled. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
No kidding. “No problem.” Annie glanced past the girl and into the room, wondering if she was too early for her own meeting since there’d be no reason for Miss Bubbly here to be conducting business with her network.
Yet the girl disproved that theory by turning back one more time, thanking Annie’s boss profusely by name while Annie watched with raised brows.
Finally, the whirlwind that was Blondie left and peaceful, bubble-free calm filled the space that she’d occupied. Annie stepped into the room. “Hey, Joe. Uh, who was that?” Annie waited for an answer as her cameraman, Carl, came through the door behind her.
Carl smiled in greeting. “Hey, Annie. You get to meet Chelsea?”
“Chelsea. Was that who that was? We didn’t exactly meet, no.” Annie glanced down at the scuff that this Chelsea had left on the toe of her boot while a preemptive feeling of gloom began to creep into her gut. Then she turned her attention back to Joe.
Finally, after what seemed like an inordinately long pause, though that could have been Annie’s paranoia, her boss answered her former question. “We’ve decided to add another interviewer for some of the bigger ev
ents.”
“And that would be Chelsea?” Annie’s brain filled in the word her boss had neglected to use. They’d hired a younger interviewer. That was more realistic than his saying another interviewer. That had to be what this was about. Bull riding was a young sport. Damn, there’d even been a few of the guys who’d still been in high school during their rookie year in the pros. And the younger the new crop of riders got each year, the older Annie became.
“Really. Hmm. That’s interesting. I didn’t hear anything about plans to do that.”
That damned Chelsea looked more like an intern than a reporter. Annie clenched her teeth so tightly together her back molars began to go numb.
Joe nodded. “You know, we get such a good reaction to you from fans, we thought what the hell. It would be doubly good to have two of you.”
What bullshit. “Two of me, huh?”
Did this Chelsea person have a college degree in communications and years of experience in real-world, live, on-air situations? Doubtful. What she did have was youth on her side, and Annie couldn’t compete with that.
Her brain spun, imagining that horrible meeting where she’d be told she’d been totally replaced by Chelsea, who would be the new on-air girl for all the regular season events. Or maybe they’d send Annie down to the touring pro division, or to cover local rodeos rather than the pros.
To hell with that. She’d keep her pride and walk. With the money she’d saved, she could pursue that Masters Degree she’d always promised herself she’d get. Then maybe she’d go teach communications at a college somewhere. Though picturing an entire college class full of bubbly bimbos wanting to be weather girls or whatever job they could get on air twisted Annie’s gut even more.
Annie drew in a breath. She hoped that would calm her and quiet her imaginings careening through her head about the end of her career as she knew it.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Besides Chelsea…
“We’d like you to throw together a piece on the death of Luke Carpenter’s father.”
That stopped Annie’s self-pitying right in its track. Nothing like the cold dose of reality to put things in perspective. “Um, okay.”
“Yeah, I want to really play it up. It’s a great story—”
She frowned. “A great story?”
“Yeah, the dedication of a rider completing his final ride in the short go before flying to his dying father’s side to say goodbye.”
Annie’s gaze narrowed. “He didn’t know about his father until after he’d finished his short-go ride. And they drove home, he didn’t fly.”
Her boss dismissed the details with a wave of a hand. “Whatever. You handle the details, but make it good. The viewers eat up personal stories like this one. They get the blood and sweat in every ride. Today we get to take advantage of the tears too.”
Heartless bastard. Annie felt her jaw clenching again. “I’ll work on it.”
“I want it on air today. We’ll run it during the intermission.”
“Today.” Annie swallowed away her anger. She’d like to see the new Annie, AKA Chelsea, throw together a spot in mere hours and get it on air. In spite of Joe’s calculating coldness, Annie would make this something that both the network and more importantly, Luke, would be proud to have aired. No way Chelsea could do that.
She blew out a breath. “Okay, well I better get going on this then.”
Her boss nodded. “Great. I look forward to seeing it.”
Then he rose from his seat and pulled his cell phone out. Joe left the room and Annie assumed she was dismissed. She turned to her cameraman, who’d been fiddling with one of his lights the whole time.
“Carl, you available to help me with this?”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
The list of what she needed running in her head was too long to mention. “Thanks. I guess we’d better get to work.”
“You’ve already got the script in your head, don’t you?” Carl grinned at her.
He knew her too well. She shrugged. “Kind of. A rough draft anyway.”
Carl shook his head. “That’s why I love working with you. Nothing throws you. Just get it done, no matter what.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Chelsea had thrown her. Hell, Luke had thrown Annie too. Her feelings for him. That night of sex she would never forget. And the sight of Lilly’s hands all over him in the church pew, not to mention the killer looks Lilly had been shooting Annie when she’d seen her with Luke.
Speaking of Luke. Annie reached into her bag for her cell. “I better get a hold of Luke and give him a heads up about this story. Things should be settled down now that the funeral is over.”
“How was that anyway?”
She frowned at Carl. “How was what? The funeral?”
“Yeah. I had a side job. There was no way I could have made it, as much as I would have liked to have been there.”
Annie would never forget that funeral. She remembered one of the toughest men she knew shaking in her arms. “There was a really nice turn out for Mr. Carpenter. There wasn’t a seat left in the church for the service. I was happy to see that, for Luke’s family’s sake.”
“Yeah, he was a good man, Charles Carpenter. You never think of champions like that ever dying. Especially not so young.”
“Champions…” In the middle of that anger about her bubbly, blond replacement, and the anguish of leaving Luke in Lilly’s possession, Annie had temporarily forgotten that Luke’s father had been a champion tie-down roper back in his day. “That’s the angle we’ll take. We’ll focus on Charles Carpenter’s career. Dammit. I wish we had more time. I bet there are some great old pictures or maybe even some footage in the station’s archives.”
Carl whipped out his phone. “I think I can help there.”
“Who are you calling?”
He glanced up from pushing buttons. “My daughter just started interning at the station. I told you, remember?”
“You think she could find us something to use?” Annie’s heart kicked into high gear with excitement. She glanced at the time display on her cell phone. “And can she find it in the next few hours?”
“I’m sure gonna ask her to try.”
As Carl connected with his daughter, their potential savior for today, adrenaline began to surge through Annie. She was going to make this the best damn piece the network had ever seen. That would show them.
“We thought we’d have two of you,” Annie grumbled beneath her breath in a tone to mock her idiot boss and the youth-oriented network that had hired him and Chelsea. “Ha! She is no me.”
This tribute to Luke’s father would prove that.
Annie whipped open her own phone and scrolled down the contact list, through all the riders’ numbers until she hit upon Luke. Then her heart beat harder for a different reason. She dreaded calling him as much as she anticipated it. They were still in that weird place after their night together. But they had promised each other that their professional lives would not change because of it and this was a professional matter. She needed to at least let him know, if not get his approval, for the piece about his father.
She pushed the button and waited. Annie realized she was having trouble breathing normally as she anticipated hearing Luke answer the phone. When she did hear the deep timbre of his voice, it was only his voicemail message coming on.
He must be busy, too busy to answer her call. There had to be a lot to do there on the ranch, especially with his father gone. It wasn’t like he was avoiding her call or anything. Was it?
The insecurity-fueled thoughts in her brain buzzed with a noise that vied with her ability to think rationally and tried to make her crazy. Thoughts like how men didn’t respect women who called them or that he might think she’s bothering him or stalking him filled her brain.
Annie forced herself to leave a message—whether it was coherent or not was up for debate—then she closed the phone. The time on the display flashed at her again, a reminder of
her impossible deadline. She didn’t have the leisure of being paranoid now. She had a piece to do.
Chapter Twelve
“Mom. I got that.”
Luke’s mother struggled down the stairs with a suitcase that probably weighed nearly as much as she did. She relinquished control of the handle to him. “Thanks, sweetie.”
“What is in this thing?” He grabbed the railing with one hand as the weight of the suitcase pulled on his other hand, just as the cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He’d have to remember to check that and see who had been calling. Right now, it was all he could do to not topple down the stairs. How the hell had his mother thought she’d be able to carry this herself? With her superwoman complex, Luke really couldn’t trust her to be alone. It had been the right decision he’d made to stick around.
“Some of your father’s old clothes that are still in good shape.”
Luke set the bag down on the floor and stared at his mother. “You’re clearing out his stuff already?”
The funeral had only been the day before yesterday. He normally admired his mother’s efficiency, but this was one case where he’d rather she drag her feet a little. Everything was moving at the speed of light, and though Luke was used to that from his career—or rather his former career—it was all too fast right now.
“The church is having a rummage sale next weekend. This stuff isn’t doing us any good sitting here gathering dust in the closet. The sooner I can get it over there, the sooner the committee can get it sorted, hung and tagged.” She acted like they were talking about any old junk, not his father’s things. Then again, people all dealt with their grief in their own way. Maybe this, keeping busy, was the way she dealt.
Luke needed to find his own way to deal because so far what he was doing wasn’t working so well.
Accepting this was what his mother needed to do, Luke picked up the bag again. “All right. I’ll put this in the truck for you.”