by Anne Carrole
* * *
Walking around the outskirts of the arena, Ty looked out on the sizeable Greenville rodeo grounds and listened to the tinny sounds of work that permeated the early morning air. He’d flown his plane, a Cirrus Gold, down to Greenville, Colorado, so he could arrive early, before Mandy and the crew.
He wanted time to familiarize himself with the venue and meet with the committee members, seeing he was the new kid on the block. The large, round arena, built on cinderblocks, sat to the right, and to the left was a field of campers parked in haphazard fashion. Those campers were likely filled with sleeping cowboys and cowgirls ready to enter the night’s events.
Ty spotted the livestock trailers of the subcontractor, the Rustic Rodeo Company, in the distance. Given they were Colorado based, that didn’t come as a surprise. The owner, Stan Lassiter, had been the only person JM had mentioned as a potential buyer of Prescott, which could make for an interesting weekend.
The acrid scent of manure filled his nostrils as he strode on past the stable area filled with competitors’ roping and barrel horses, but with plenty of stalls left for the broncs. Mandy had said that often the horses were just pastured, but Greenville, apparently, was a first-class operation with its own barns. A few cowboys were about, feeding their horses and mucking out stalls. Ty touched the brim of his hat in acknowledgement and turned toward the arena and the chutes, where workers were hammering together the pipes that would secure the horses.
There was a lot more to putting on a rodeo than he’d imagined when he’d been a mere spectator. But the burden JM had placed on his shoulders wasn’t what was occupying his thoughts this morning, though it should have been.
Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to get JM’s provision and last evening’s ride with Mandy off his mind.
Last night they’d ended up in the exact same spot he’d left her years ago, and he wasn’t at all certain it was by accident. And if it wasn’t an accident, that meant she remembered. And if she remembered, it meant they had some unfinished business.
He’d never forgotten the image of her emerging naked from the creek, her long hair damp and clinging to her shoulders, a smile on her sweet face and desire in her green eyes. Her lissome seventeen-year-old body was wet with rivulets of water streaming down perfect white breasts, over rosy nipples, down her flat stomach to the apex of her legs and the damp curls that guarded her virtue. He’d been so turned on he’d frozen in place until she stopped before him…and begged him to make love to her.
Only then did the earlier morning conversation with her grandfather echo in the far reaches of his brain, telling him Mandy was off-limits and anymore encounters behind the barn or anywhere else would spell the end of Ty’s future.
He had jumped back on his horse and ridden like he was being chased by a herd of stampeding cattle, just as she had ridden away yesterday in the full-out panic of a person who knew that if she didn’t leave, they would do something they wanted to do but shouldn’t.
The more he thought about it, the more potential he saw to finish what they’d started ten years ago. However misguided JM’s matchmaking intentions, JM was giving Ty his blessing to have a relationship with his granddaughter. Marrying Mandy could mean six months of sex with a woman he’d always craved, and then walking away. Six months of a woman who, even at seventeen, could bring a man to his knees with a kiss. And no one would get hurt.
Ty entered the arena gates and headed down the cinder-block alley to the contestants’ entrance. He wore his Prescott T-shirt, informing people with a glance that he was with the show, and he passed a worker or two checking on the railings. He climbed the cement steps to the alley behind the metal-framed chutes. This was where JM always stood, watching over his livestock and the cowboys who rode, or tried to ride, them. This is where Ty would be tonight—not as a spectator but as one of the owners. He had to marvel at the change in his circumstances in just a few weeks.
Greenville was a sizeable rodeo to tackle the first time out of the gate, one that attracted a lot of talent. He’d be ready for it. He grabbed on to one of the railings and gave a shake, testing its sturdiness. He continued down the walkway, testing the railings of each chute and familiarizing himself with how the chutes worked when moving livestock in and out. If Mandy agreed to the marriage proposition, in six months he’d make sure to leave her financially well-off, either from the sale of the business or profits from a stronger enterprise, fulfilling his promise to JM. Ty could move on, having secured a larger stake in either the sale or the ongoing business and gaining some experience in a different industry. Hell, he might even decide to become a stock contractor in his second career.
Ty stopped at the last chute and leaned against the railing to look out over the arena. If he played things right, this could all be a win-win for everyone involved. Maybe even convince Mandy to allow him to develop the ranch.
He’d taken a quick look at the books before he had turned the accounts over to the financial firm he’d hired to run the numbers. PRC turned a modest profit, and JM and the rest of the family had made decent money from it. But whether Mandy could sustain the business and whether operating it would provide the best return on investment versus the alternative of investing money from a sale into land development, for instance, was the question he’d been tasked with answering.
Because if Ty didn’t think Mandy could assure Prescott’s place in the industry—and that meant holding on to contracts, expanding and improving the bucking bulls to be competitive for the AFBR, and going toe to toe with competitors to get in on the big events—JM had instructed him to sell the enterprise and do it before the Prescott name lost any of its luster.
Ty heard the clang of boots on the walk and felt the slap on his back before he could turn around. Stan Lassiter wasn’t heavy, but his height and barrel stomach made him appear big and formidable. Ty had met Lassiter at JM’s funeral but knew him mostly by reputation, a reputation as a cagey stock contractor with a winner-take-all business strategy. And JM had warned Ty not to trust him.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Lassiter said, his voice sounding like pebbles in a ceramic cup.
“Stan.” Ty straightened and slid his hand over Stan’s for a firm shake.
He’d let Stan do all the talking. Ty had learned long ago that, with some people, not saying much could elicit a lot more information than leading the conversation.
“Was hoping to speak with you.” Stan was dressed for work in a plaid shirt, denims, and scuffed boots. Most contractors were hands-on kinds of guys, like JM had been, and Stan was no exception.
“About what?”
From under the shadow of his hat brim, Stan scanned the arena. “Mandy with you?”
“She’s coming with the livestock. I got here ahead of them.”
Stan nodded as if he agreed with the decision. He stuck a boot up on the metal railing and hunched his frame over the top bar. “Word is you’re running Prescott now.”
“Temporarily.” Ty eased back against the rail so he could see Stan’s face. He could tell a lot from a man’s facial expressions.
Stan averted his gaze and focused on some imaginary spot in the center of the arena. “Until you sell, you mean? I’m letting you know I’m interested.
“In what?”
Stan scowled. His brown eyes widened. “In buying the damn company. And the sooner the better. Every day JM is not here to run it is another day a little value is lost. He was Prescott Rodeo Company, and Harold’s not enough to fill his shoes.”
“What about Mandy?” Ty pushed off the railing.
Stan snorted and drew his bushy graying brows into a V. “This business is no place for a woman. A very young woman at that. This is a tough industry, with lots of facets. I’ve seen her work the chutes, and I’ve watched her at meetings with her grandfather, and she’s in over her head.”
Something flared inside Ty, bringing with it a need to defend her. “She’s a good businesswoman, Stan,” he said, resting his
clenched fists on his hips. “Has some viable plans for the company’s future.” JM had told him that expanding into the AFBR had been her idea. But having a good idea wasn’t the same as making it happen.
Stan leaned back and looked at Ty with cold, ash-gray eyes. “If that were the case, why are you running the company and not her? JM was a smart man, one whose judgment I respected. Word is you’re now a partner with controlling interest. He wouldn’t have done that, given it to someone outside the family, unless he wanted to sell it.”
“I am a partner,” Ty allowed. He wasn’t about to admit to more.
Stan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not a stockman, Ty. And odds are you don’t want to be, or you’d have bought Prescott outright from JM. All I’m saying is that I’m interested. But now, while you’ve still got contracts and before Prescott loses its good name. JM was the brains and the shine of Prescott. Without him you’ve got nothing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Stan looked frustrated as he let out a sigh. “I’ll tell you something, Ty. Something I don’t have to share, but I will. Already rodeos are calling me and asking if I can take them on if they pulled out of Prescott.” He arched his eyebrows, waiting for Ty’s reaction.
Having learned the lessons of hiding his feelings early in life, Ty held his face expressionless. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Stan ran a hand through his hair. “Think on it. But not too long. Once the rodeo committees get jittery about a supplier, that supplier isn’t going to be worth much. I’d like to do right by JM’s family, but if the company loses value, I won’t be charitable about the price. So maybe you and I should catch up later and have a drink while you’re here.”
“Maybe.” Something about Stan Lassiter rubbed Ty the wrong way. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but just like JM, Ty didn’t trust him. In any event, Ty wasn’t about to appear too eager for the sale. In truth, he needed to see the numbers before he took any steps. Until then, there was no sense in fanning rumors of selling and getting rodeo organizers more nervous than Stan suggested they already were.
Clearly waiting for a reaction that Ty had no intention of giving, Stan stared a bit longer.
“I’ll see you around,” he finally said and thrust out a hand. Ty shook it with a firm grip.
After a slight hesitation, Stan turned and ambled away with an arthritic gait that no doubt came from being in the saddle too long and stepped on one too many times.
Ty looked back at a group of rodeo cowboys huddled at the far arena gates, and took a deep breath. He wouldn’t be surprised if Lassiter was initiating those calls to the rodeo committees. JM had warned him about that. It was one of the reasons he’d asked Ty to step in. Ty may not have supplier experience, but he had a reputation of being a tough businessman. Yet determining what was right for Prescott, for the Prescott family, for Mandy, would not be easy. But he’d promised JM he’d do his best to ensure the family members would have the means they needed for the future, whether from company income or proceeds from a sale, and he would keep that promise. And he’d start by finding the head of the Greenville Rodeo.
Chapter 5
Mandy watched Ty kick up gravel as he cleared the pens behind the arena and walked straight toward the stable area where she had been currying her horse, Willow. When his text message said he would travel separately, she’d hoped that meant he’d arrive later, much later. Seemed like he’d actually arrived early. She wondered why.
Working for Ty was going to be the hardest year of her life. Maybe two years. The thought brought a lump to her throat.
She followed Ty’s movements as he drew closer.
He was decked out like he was ready to work. No suit jacket today. Just washed-out denims, worn in interesting places and anchored by an ornate silver buckle he’d likely picked up at one of those little touristy stores that dotted the county roads, and a black Prescott Rodeo T-shirt stretching over his torso, revealing his gym-ripped biceps. His boots were polished, embroidered black leather, and a clean black cowboy hat covered his thick dark hair.
Tanned, taut, and no doubt talented. He strode toward her with that determined, long-legged gait of his, like he meant business. Personal business. She wondered what he thought about her leaving him last evening at that same spot by the creek and if he even attached any significance to that spot. She wondered, too, if he would continue the conversation from the evening before or accept her decision. As her body temperature kicked up a notch with his every step, she wasn’t certain she wanted him to accept her decision, since the idea of marrying him had dusted up thoughts of what that would entail. Touching, kissing, and… Her heart thumped hard against her chest.
Control, that’s what she needed. If she was going to get through these next months, this next year, she needed to control her thoughts, her impulses, her mouth, and, most of all, her attraction to him.
She took a deep breath.
“So you’re here,” Mandy said as he drew close. She threw the currycomb into the box of brushes that sat on the ground next to the stall door, causing a clattering noise. Willow shifted her weight at the sound, and Mandy patted the horse’s satiny neck in reassurance. Remember, control, she told herself.
“I told you I’d be here,” he said. She felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach as he ambled toward her. Knowing she watched a man who held her future in his hands was surely the source of that flutter and not that he looked like a western-wear model.
She pulled on the reins that tied Willow to the post outside the stall to assure they were secure. “It appears you beat us.”
His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I flew down. Wanted to get the lay of the land.”
Of course he flew. She’d known he owned a private plane. Made her shudder just thinking about one of those little puddle jumpers. “And how does the land lay?”
He stopped mere inches from her. So close she could feel his breath on her lips as he looked down into her eyes, like he wanted something from her. Something not business related, but that was just silly. She took a step back.
“Introduced myself to Guy Lager.”
Guy headed up the Greenville Rodeo committee and was the one who signed the contracts and checks.
Mandy had called Guy yesterday to put him at ease. He’d told her he had confidence in her, but that didn’t mean he did.
“Did he share any concerns about the rodeo now that JM isn’t here?” Asking cost her some pride, but she needed to know for the sake of the business. She squared her shoulders for the blow.
Ty nodded.
“Let me guess. You told him you were running things, and his issues disappeared.”
Ty shrugged, as if he couldn’t help how the man felt. Mandy turned away and grabbed the saddle that had been resting on a hay bale. She didn’t want Ty to see how irritated she was. Or how hurt. She’d known Guy Lager a long time.
She swung the saddle up on the mare. The bay horse took a step back. A pat on Willow’s rump, and she settled. Mandy threaded the cinch through the O-rings, her back turned to the man who so easily upset her equilibrium.
“Don’t you think we should have talked to Guy together? I am the Prescott in Prescott Rodeo Company now. I do know the man.”
Ty stepped beside her and swiped a hand across his jaw. She swore that man had a jawline chiseled from canyon rock.
“I would have done that if you were here. I thought catching him first thing was more important.”
No, Ty thought his being there first was more important.
She had too much to do to tussle though. It had been hard enough organizing everything this morning without JM at the helm. She’d done it tens of times before, but this morning was different. She’d never realized how her grandfather’s presence had made her more confident in her decisions. Luckily, the crew had pulled together and got it done, like the family they were. She was thankful for that family.
That family had gotten her through the death of her father, when
JM, devastated as he was, had discouraged any sign of grief and buried himself in his work. She imagined they would get her through this too. She was counting on it just as they counted on her to help with a small loan when needed, provide a recommendation when they graduated college or were looking for different work, or find a relative a job during hard times.
She pulled the cinch strap tight and wove it once more through the O-rings. Willow stepped back as Mandy gave several tugs to assure the mare hadn’t puffed out her stomach.
“Is Guy good now?”
“Yes, but if Guy’s concerns are any indication, we’ve got to hit the road, Mandy, as soon as we get back. We’ll visit the key rodeo committees in person to let them know we’re in business, before our competitors place doubt in their minds.”
Our competitors? “I’d already planned to do that with a few of the large Texas rodeos. Karen’s making the appointments.”
“Good. Tell her to add me into the mix.”
“If you’re so intent on selling, why bother yourself?” she said, snapping out the words.
Ty shook his head at her like she was a child who wasn’t listening. She was listening. She just didn’t like what he’d been saying. And her question was a legitimate one.
“I’ve told you. I don’t know yet which way makes sense. Until I do, I intend to do everything in my power to make sure the company remains viable.”
“That way you’ll get the best price for it—and for your share of it. Isn’t that right, Ty?”
He held up his hand as if surrendering, but he didn’t fool her. He was well aware he held all the cards. A hand of four aces, in fact. He was in control of everything. She kicked at the dirt, and dust sprayed on his shiny, no doubt new, Tony Lama boots.
Ty glanced at his boots and then lifted his gaze to stare straight into her eyes. He had intense brown eyes, and those eyes held her like he’d placed his hands on her body. “You think what you want, Mandy. I doubt anything I say is going to change your opinion. But the bottom line is that either way, we need to hold on to our customers.”