Champagne and Cowboys

by Donna Michaels

  Two million dollars?

  “Holy shit!” She wished for a chair to appear because her legs were about to give out. Instead, she lowered onto the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her.

  Chapter Two

  Hopefully, the decorator had not overheard the argument. It would not be good for her to talk if the tabloids came sniffing around. He’d been caught by surprise to find Sunny Stilton at the door that morning as he went to close it after Alexa left.

  This morning had been a replay of many others. Why did women accept a casual relationship only to begin making plans for a future? As much as he hated one-night stands, it seemed that was the only thing that worked. Braylen was the consummate expert on hit and run and swore it was the only way to keep the women intent on snaring them at bay.

  Bryce shook his head. His brother had failed a few times. Just the week before, a hysterical woman came to their office claiming Braylen owed her an explanation. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d felt bad for the woman. She seemed genuinely heartbroken. Unlike Alexa, who was manipulative and scheming, the woman at the office had allowed her heart to enter too early into a week old relationship, if it could be called that.

  His brother had sulked since then, claiming he’d broken his own rule of spending more than one night with a woman. Bryce had to agree with his brother on this occasion. Unless a man planned to marry, it was best not to get close to anyone.

  As far as marriage went, it would be a cold day in hell before he ever did. Perhaps, he’d enter into a live-in relationship eventually, but he’d not marry. Women and marriage meant children and that was one mistake he’d never make. He’d been the product of divorce, the product of an abusive stepfather and would be damned if he’d ever put a child of his in that situation.

  “Bryce?” his administrative assistant Tyler’s voice sounded over the cell phone speaker when he answered. “You have a meeting with the staff at ten, followed by lunch with Mr. Ritchie at eleven-thirty. The layouts for the spring catalog are ready. Would you like them displayed for the meeting this morning?”

  He glanced at the clock, it was almost nine. “Yes, display them. I will be there in half an hour. Tell Elaine Blake I need to meet with her this afternoon.” He strolled to the kitchen to prepare a cup of coffee to take with him and stopped short at spotting the decorator staring out the windows with a notebook in hand. She wore close fitting pants with a bright top cinched at the waist with a thick belt. Her feet were bare and she’d piled her long, brown hair on top of her head.

  At hearing his voice, she turned to him just for an instant before returning to her notes. She scribbled something and frowned, turned to him a second time, pressed her lips together and, once again, began to make notes.

  Apparently, she was a fast learner. He did not have any more answers for her. If she was efficient, she would do as he asked and figure out what all was needed without him having to explain more or provide any direction. How the damn house was decorated did not matter as long as it looked put-together and tasteful.

  Parker Interior Design had a good reputation and he’d seen some of their work, therefore he wasn’t worried about the final outcome.

  Once his coffee was made, he walked out the side door to the garage and drove to work.

  One thing he and Braylen had agreed upon was the location for their offices. Forrester Ranchwear was located away from the middle of the city in the center of ten acres of land. The building, a log cabin designed by Braylen, fit into the background perfectly. Upon entering, there was a large open space with ten work areas to the right and his and Braylen’s offices, along with two conference rooms, to the left. In the center was the reception area where two women manned the huge work center with a lighted, thick glass, back wall, the word “Forrester” etched into it.

  The women acknowledged him with subdued good mornings as they continued in their duties of manning telephones and taking messages from whoever called.

  The sounds of voices and laughter came from one of the conference rooms. The designers always met promptly at nine to discuss whatever it was they had to speak about prior to the staff meeting every Wednesday. He often wondered how they accomplished so much with the constant bantering and joking, but they were productive, so it was best to let them be.

  “Good morning,” Tyler said as he stood and followed Bryce into his office. The young man was efficient, discreet and, although a bit too cold, he was very good at his job. Tyler was slender, with a penchant for hair products and quite adept at somehow managing all Bryce’s needs and at the same time being informed of everything that occurred within the walls of Forrester Ranchwear. “The contract for the fabric order needs your signature.” He pointed at a paper on Bryce’s desk. “Your electronic approval is needed for annual raises for two people in the Paynet system. Elaine Blake will be here at three and…also,” Tyler let out an exaggerated huff, “Melanie in accounting is about to go on maternity leave. The department wants permission to have a shower in the smaller conference room Friday afternoon.”

  The day progressed quickly. At three o’clock, promptly, Elaine Blake walked into his office, her shrewd gaze scanning the space before taking him in. Bryce ensured a neutral expression knowing she’d hone in on any weakness. “I’m surprised you finally agreed to meet me,” the executive said sitting down and crossing her well-toned legs. “It’s about damn time.”

  “Don’t be so sure it’s for a good reason,” Bryce said as he stood. He went to the side cabinet and lifted a decanter. “Still drink whiskey?”

  She lifted a brow. “Will I need a drink to hear what you have to say?”

  “I’m offering because I want one.” He poured two, not waiting for her answer and brought it to her before lowering to the chair opposite hers. “Thank you for coming.”

  They drank the amber liquid, neither allowing for any shifting of expressions. Elaine held her drink with both hands. “So what do I owe the honor of your invitation to Forrester?”

  “I brought up your proposal to my brother and Harvey this morning at the staff meeting. They agreed to partner with you and approach Walton.”

  She let out a breath. Her company was in trouble, and in that one moment, he knew it was a mistake to partner with her. If they were in deep, she could drag Forrester down with her. “That is good news, indeed,” Elaine said, keeping her voice even. “I’ll draw up a contract.”

  “No.” Bryce remained reclined, one arm across the back of his chair. “We will.”

  Elaine’s nostrils flared. “Whatever do you mean? It’s my work that got us in the door. It’s only fair we do the contract with Forrester as a sub. It’s not like you won’t have your legal team review it before signing.”

  True.

  Yet why did he feel a sense that something could go horribly wrong?

  Later, Braylen and their vice president, Harvey, sat around the conference room contemplating after Bryce gave them a review of his meeting with Elaine Blake. Finally his brother let out a breath. “I see how you’d think they could bring us down. Let’s make sure legal has our asses covered.”

  “Hope it will be enough.” Bryce didn’t like bringing the company into a contract he wasn’t positive would make them money.

  Harvey, the more intellectual type, lifted a brow. “I can assure you, if Blake is in trouble, we’re her only ticket to safety. She’ll fight to ensure this deal doesn’t fail. We’ll have our first retail space in England before the end of the year.”

  Chapter Three

  “No more,” Douglas Stilton jutted out his chin in challenge. “I’ll be dead and you’ll be broke, lonely and desperate. Let’s just wait and see what happens.”

  Sunny laughed. “Why am I going to be desperate, Dad?”

  Her stepfather gave her a droll look. “Because you won’t have any money. Stop spending money willy-nilly on all this newfangled nonsense. If the man upstairs wants to see me, who am I to say no?”

  She arched a brow. “Who
’s to say you’re going up?”

  At this, her stepfather let out a loud laugh. “That’s not nice.” They quieted as a nurse came in to check his vitals. “Looks like you get to go to the rehabilitation center tomorrow. You’ll like Grove Park, it’s very nice.”

  “Very expensive,” Douglas grunted. “I think I’ll just go home.”

  “I moved,” Sunny said without smiling. “I only have one bedroom. You can’t live with me. And Beth will kick you out if you come home and she has to do it all for your grumpy butt,” she said referring to his wife who’d just gone out for coffee.

  “I’ll sleep on the couch. I prefer it anyway. Get me a recliner, it’ll be cheaper than that pricey place where they will make me do stupid shit.”

  “Dad,” Sunny warned looking toward the nurse who fought not to laugh. “Behave.”

  With a wink to the nurse, he began to flirt, for the moment leaving the issue of the rehab place. “You married, Miss?”

  Half an hour later, Sunny finally pulled up to her apartment. It was six in the evening and she had a few hours of work still to do. She’d discovered a talent for designing scarves from different fabrics, usually used clothing. So every evening, she checked her online shop for orders and packaged them for shipping.

  Sunny’s Skinny Scarves brought in enough for the little extras, like gas and food, since, at the moment, all her income was gobbled up by her stepfather’s medical care.

  As fun as it could prove to be, on nights like these when she was exhausted from spending five hours ordering furniture and scheduling painters and wall paper hangers, followed by visiting the hospital, it made for a long day.

  Sunny considered Bryce Forrester. It was obvious the man was not a nice person. In her opinion, he should have, at least, taken the time to answer her questions. But instead, he’d stalked off and left her to make all the decisions. Which, of course, meant if she made any wrong choices, he’d blame it on her.

  After three rings, her boss Stephan answered, at least that’s who she thought croaked hello.

  “I won’t ask how you’re feeling, you sound horrible,” Sunny began. “I have a few questions about the design for Mr. Forrester.”

  There was coughing followed by nose blowing. “Honey, I am on so many drugs right now, I wouldn’t trust anything I say.” Another loud cough rang in Sunny’s ear. “Do your best. I get the idea he couldn’t care less about that beautiful house or what goes into it. Just keep it simple…and very neutral.”

  “All right. But with two million to spend, I hate to waste it if he’s going to hate it.”

  “You’ll do fine. Get some rest.” Stephan hung up.

  Silence should have meant peace, but instead it annoyed Bryce when he arrived home that evening. The large den to the right of the garage entrance into the house was filled with furniture and boxes. He was impressed. The decorator worked fast.

  He’d eaten dinner with clients but, as was his habit, he went to the kitchen first. On the counter, lined up neatly, were three columns of sticky notes.

  One column was paint colors with the words one last check, please pick the one you like. The second column was couch choices and the last column was art. He selected the note on the couch he liked and pushed the others to the side, ignored the paint choices and focused on the art.

  Annoyed once again, he pushed them all aside and let out a breath making his way to the bedroom where the setting sunlight streamed in through the windows sending long shadows over the floor making him hesitate. He went back to the counter and wrote “sunset views and colors”.

  Task accomplished, he had to admit made him feel better. There was nothing he hated more than evenings and nights. He filled as much time as possible with conferences and telecons but, unlike him, people had other things to do besides work. There were only so many hours the gym and meals could fill, so the rest of the time he spent at the house, reviewing orders and watching whatever sport was on television until bedtime.

  Most of the time, he ignored the draw of the night’s lull into dark memories. More times than not, he succumbed. The light from the hallway was enough to allow him to fall asleep without worry but some nights, just as quickly as slumber fell, the dreams took over.

  Flashes of dark spaces and pain always caught him off guard and Bryce woke with a start. He picked up his phone and dialed Braylen. His brother picked up on the second ring, his voice groggy.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah…did you catch the game?”

  “No. Bryce, you need to get help. Counseling.” It sounded as if Braylen adjusted in his bed. “Let’s talk about that.”

  “I can deal with it most of the time.” He pulled his sweat soaked t-shirt off over his head. “Just talk.”

  Braylen chuckled. “Most days you tell me to shut up. But all right. Remember that day we decided it was a good idea to peek into the girl’s locker room? That huge gym teacher chased us for a mile before she gave up.”

  After a few minutes, Bryce was chuckling at the memory and finally felt comfortable enough to let his brother get some sleep. “Good night. See you in the morning.”

  “Good thing I’m the boss, cause I’m gonna be late,” Braylen replied. “See you tomorrow.”

  The next morning, Bryce stalked from his bedroom to the kitchen tugging his towel around his waist. It was too far to walk for coffee every morning. If it took more than a minute to reach caffeine, a house was too big.

  In the center of the kitchen, sitting on the island cross-legged was the designer. She’d not noticed him, her head bent over her work. Bryce looked to the door and wondered how she’d gotten in. He’d not heard the alarm alert. Then again, he’d been very tired and slept soundly after speaking with Braylen.

  Hair piled on her head and dressed in an off the shoulder sweater, she looked more like a teenager than a twenty something. Unsure if he should proceed or not, he gave in to curiosity and continued forward.

  “Good morning, Miss Stilton.” Bryce went directly to the coffeepot knowing her gaze was on him. The silence stretched and he glanced over his shoulder to her flushed face.

  “Uh.” She looked away and down to her papers. “I didn’t know you were here. I’m up here because there is no other place to sit.”

  It was amusing to watch her awkwardly swing her legs to the side and slip down to stand on the floor. “Good morning, Mr. Forrester.” She kept her gaze on his face, which for some reason bugged him.

  “I go into the office at different times,” he explained, not sure why he did, other than she needed to know. “How did you get in?”

  “I have a key and the code. You gave them to Stephan.” She held up a key hanging from a long strip of braided cloth. “I’m sorry to have caught you off guard.”

  He nodded and took the now full cup.

  Before he could make it to the hallway, the woman caught up with him. “I love the idea of sunsets. They are perfect for this space. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it. Perhaps I can add some of those colors to your palate.”

  Bryce looked over his shoulder and nodded. “Do it.”

  Chapter Four

  Sunny’s shoulders ached from hunching over the design sketches for the house. In the four days since arriving, she’d gotten into the routine of going for an afternoon walk on the grounds. The land surrounding the house was well maintained by what looked to be an army of landscapers. She wondered how much money it cost to maintain a property the size of Bryce Forrester’s home. He had a lot of money, but in her opinion the extra expenses were wasteful. If it were her home, she’d buy a riding lawn mower and enjoy the pretty views while cutting the grass.

  Bryce Forrester didn’t seem to enjoy much of anything, except for coffee and bagels. He kept nothing in the house or kitchen. She got the impression the only reason he wanted it furnished was because it had to be, not because he cared for the house. A shame really, the home was beautiful. A bit too big…monstrous in size really, but it was pretty. With a golden-hued, s
tucco exterior and clay-tiled roof, it blended well into the background of hills, valleys and, now, bare trees. Although it was mid-December, the weather in west Texas remained pleasant. She neared a short fence and watched two horses prance in the afternoon sun.

  How often did Forrester ride, she wondered? She knew he’d been a well-known bull rider forced to retire after an injury. It was easy to picture him atop a horse as he often wore the casual ranch wear his company designed.

  Movement caught her eye. A small dog limped closer and she rushed to it. From the looks of it, one of its legs held up, he’d been hurt.

  “Oh, you poor thing.” Sunny rushed to it and petted it, surprised when it licked her hand. She looked around to see if anyone was about. Then, after taking her sweatshirt off, she wrapped it gently around the shivering pup and swaddled it. It whimpered softly when she picked it up, but quickly settled into her arms, letting out a sigh.

  Tears pricked at her eyes as she made her way back to the house. Painters were almost finished with the main area walls; the plan was to next start the dining room and kitchen in a warm caramel tone. After ensuring they would be there for another couple hours, she left to take the dog to a veterinary clinic she drove past every day on her way to the house.

  The painters left promptly at six and Sunny remained behind to prepare for the next day. In the living room, she stood in the wide entryway and studied the furniture placement. It was a large space that had taken two entire days to paint.

  Instead of focusing on the hearth and fireplace, she’d decided to make the huge bay of windows the center focus upon which the furniture would face. Two extra-long couches faced each other anchored by a set of chairs lined up with the fireplace facing the window. In front of the sofa were tables. So far she’d not placed any decorations since they’d not arrived.