Well, Declan was in some kind of mood too—also in love.
"You don't deserve her ranch," he said. "You think when you want something, it should be delivered to you because you have the biggest checkbook. That ranch is a special place, and with your means, you could do something unique and amazing with it—more amazing than the Bar J already is. I am ashamed to be on your payroll, Brewster. You either work with me on this, or find somebody else to get your ass out of a sling four times a year."
Declan expected one of the legendary tantrums for which Brewster liked to be known.
"You'd quit on me over a little bitty deal like this?" Brewster asked.
The deal wasn't little bitty, given the precarious state of the Brewster profit-and-loss report, but it was well within Thad's means.
The ladies chose then to rejoin the men, and though Miranda Davis was a striking woman, Declan had eyes only for Claudia. She'd troubled over her appearance, her hair half up, half tumbling over her shoulder. Her black dress was tailored just close enough to her curves to fascinate Declan when she moved, and the simple gold bracelet was just the right touch. Elegant, but warm. Classy and…delectable.
How was he going to tell her that he'd bungled away not only her ranch, but also his welcome on Texan soil?
Chapter Seven
The mood at the table had changed while Claudia and Miranda had traded business cards. Brewster was looking thoughtful, and Declan…determined.
More determined than usual.
"I have a proposal for you, Mr. Brewster," Claudia said.
"I do surely adore when a pretty woman offers me a proposal. You can call me Thad."
Beside Claudia, Miranda seemed amused.
"I own the Bar J, in fee simple absolute, free of any encumbrance except the mortgage, and I am not inclined to sell my property. I would, however, be open to development of it, as follows."
Claudia outlined the plan she and Declan had come up with, a facility built to accommodate the needs of deaf people and other people with disabilities, and equally suited to corporate off-site gatherings.
Miranda asked to see a budget for both the construction phase and the operational phase.
"You expect to find a backer who'll lend you the money to do all that?" Brewster asked. "And you want to keep title to the land?"
"If I deed the ranch into other hands," Claudia said, "the locals won't be half so open-minded about the permitting, zoning, taxation, or construction issues. I can sell them on a camp for kids with disabilities that also makes money on corporate training retreats. On your own, you won't get jack done in the Canyon any time soon, Mr. Brewster. The exception that lets me run my B&B and riding stable won't necessarily transfer with the deed, and then you'll be the proud owner of one abandoned ranch more than five hundred miles from Houston."
Brewster snugged his tie against his throat. "I can buy any number of ranches, Ms. Jensen, and I can make your zoning board see reason too."
That was a no. Not even a no, thank you.
Declan put his laptop to sleep. "Ms. Davis, perhaps you'd care to give us the benefit of your opinion?"
That question was treason, given that Declan's loyalty was owed to Thad Brewster, but it was brilliant treason.
"I think you're a damn fool, Thad Brewster," Miranda said, tapping a key to wake the computer up. "You want to go in with me on the solar farm because you're shrewd enough to know that diversification reduces risk. You have yet to grasp the value of goodwill, and if you don't want to handle the build-out on this property, I do."
"I'm shrewd enough to hold that mortgage, too," Brewster said.
"Not personally you don't," Claudia said. "Your bank does, and if the construction loan buys you out, your bank's board of directors will want that cash, rather than the risk of holding on to a property run by me and a deaf kid."
"A deaf kid?" Brewster asked.
"Claudia's niece is deaf," Declan said. "Meningitis at a young age. She's an accomplished equestrian, and the ranch is her home. I see her providing valuable guidance on all the architectural decisions."
"I like that," Miranda said, though her words were addressed to Brewster. "I like backing a team that can do good while doing well, and Declan, if Brewster doesn't take your advice on this project, then you'll have a job with Davis International any time you want one."
Brewster peered at the spreadsheet, which showed an honest estimate of the costs of making the ranch over into a different sort of business.
"Miranda Davis, you oughta be ashamed," Brewster said. "You try to steal Declan from me, I'll just double his salary. Best engineer I've ever seen, and I'm the one who found him wandering around building cow sheds in the Highlands. You thinking forty-sixty on the Bar J project?"
Relief sang through Claudia, because that was at least a maybe.
"Just a minute," Declan said.
Claudia didn't kick him, but she slid her foot next to his under the table: You lose my ranch now, and I will never forgive you.
"None of your just a minute now, Dec," Brewster said. "Miranda and I are talking business. In fact, why don't you skedaddle over to the bar and get us all another round? We'll have something to celebrate here in the next fifteen minutes, one way or another."
Declan stayed put. "I'm not taking orders from you anymore, Thad."
Brewster minimized the budget on the screen by tapping a single key, a silver and turquoise ring winking on his pinkie finger.
"Not now, Dec. Have your little hissy fit when we won't bore the ladies with it. I admit I get a little high-handed sometimes, but we all know that's mostly for show. I'll triple your salary."
He threw in a smile that was part menace, part charm, and Claudia nearly tossed her drink in his face. For two years, Declan had been putting up with this buffoon, cleaning up his messes, controlling his damage.
And his thanks was a mixture of threats, condescension, and bribes.
"I don't intend to accept Ms. Davis's offer of employment," Declan said. "So don't threaten me with one of your damned lawsuits. If you and Ms. Davis develop a joint venture that makes an offer to develop the Bar J, I will offer Claudia my services as an engineer, project manager, and damned stall mucker if need be. I'll finish learning British Sign Language, in case she wants to court business from the UK. I'll show other corporations what we're doing at the Bar J so they can use the same dual-purpose investment to build goodwill and give back to the greater community. All of that notwithstanding, I'll have my resignation on your desk Monday morning, first thing."
"Damn," Miranda said. "Sorry for your luck, Brewster. This one was a keeper."
Claudia slid off her stiletto and stroked her toes over Declan's foot. He certainly is.
"Miranda, you think other companies might be interested in this sort of thing?" Brewster asked. "Partnering up with deaf kids and blind kids and kids in wheelchairs?"
"And adults with disabilities," Miranda said. "And with therapeutic riding programs, which are my favorite charities. I'll go fifty-five/forty-five with you on this, Thad."
"I can live with fifty-five percent interest," Brewster replied, lifting his beer. "I'll have my people call your people on Monday."
"Now just a damned minute, cowpoke," Miranda began.
"Excuse me," Declan said. "I'll be having a piece of the joint venture too, assuming we come to terms Claudia can accept."
Claudia hadn't taken a sip of her drink, but her head was whirling. Declan shot her a look though, full of reassurance and topped off with a trust-me wink.
"Now you're puttin' on airs, Declan," Brewster said. "If it's one thing I know, it's that engineers aren't fit for business. Smart as all get-out, but stubborn as hell, and mighty lacking in the entrepreneurial-vision department. Miranda, I'm sure you agree."
"As a matter of fact—"
"Declan isn't simply an engineer," Claudia interjected. "He's also a biologist, a hard worker, a guy with a foot in both American and European business communities. He has a g
ood start on both American and British Sign Language, and he's fallen in love with…Texas. We won't find his combination of skills anywhere else, which ought to make it easy for me to get a visa for him. He's the project manager I want, and I want him working for me and the Bar J."
Declan was more even than that. He was kind, honest, brave, and damned savvy when it came to saving a ranch or stealing a gal's heart.
And he was hers. If Claudia hadn't known it before, she knew it sitting across from him, and seeing the resolution in his eyes. Declan was done leaving his fate in somebody else's hands, done waiting for the right moment to seize his dream.
"Declan?" Miranda asked. "What do you have in mind?"
"My salary for the past two years has been obscenely generous, and I've invested it well. I propose that Claudia have a fifty-two percent interest in the joint venture, and we three each get sixteen percent. I'll donate my labor and know-how for the first three years in addition to putting up capital. Davis International and Brewster Energy back the loan or finance the build-out directly, and split the board seats, provided I'm on that board as well and Claudia nominates the chairperson. I'm available on a consulting basis to sell the concept to the greater business community. Both corporations get discount use of the facility and preferential access to the Bar J schedule."
He'd thought this through to the last detail, but with each term, he sought visual approval from Claudia.
"I'd need to see the terms in writing," she said, hoping that was the right response. "If you put some of the local ranchers on the board, you'll be ahead in the long run."
"That is for damned sure," Miranda muttered. "Nothing stubborn-er than a Texas rancher with his—or her—back up, unless it's the rancher's grannie, grandpa, and cow dog. We could set the place up to run on wind and solar, and use it as a demo facility in that sense too."
"You and your endless sunshine," Brewster replied.
"I thought you liked my sunshine, Thad."
They beamed at each other, two people who enjoyed competing with each other almost much as they enjoyed flirting with each other.
"Claudia and I will just be going," Declan said, collecting his laptop and rising. "I've stated my terms."
"And I've stated mine," Claudia said. "I am not willing to sell to either of you, but I'll work hard for a joint venture that benefits kids with disabilities. Miranda, let's keep in touch. Mr. Brewster, Declan has my email if you'd like to contact me on Monday."
She might have said more, but Declan was poised to hold her chair, so she took his cue and got to her feet. When the farewells had been exchanged, Declan guided her from the restaurant with a hand at her back.
"Don't look back," he said. "Not so much as a glance. On Monday, you'll have a proposal from them, and Brewster will have my resignation. I can give you the names of lawyers you can trust to evaluate the agreement, and two of them have offices in Amarillo."
"You're leaving something out of the agenda, Declan."
They got into the elevator that would take them to the parking deck. "They'll bite, Claudia. Miranda because she's a shrewd businesswoman with a good heart, and Brewster because if Miranda thinks this project is a good idea, he wants in on it."
Brewster wanted more than a percentage of Miranda Davis's business. "I'll jump at this chance to make the Bar J more than it already is, and turn it into a business Kara can put her heart into. But that part about you coming to work for me. We didn't discuss that."
The elevator door dinged, and they were in the hotel lobby, not the parking deck.
"You must have hit the wrong button," Claudia said.
"No, I did not. We have the bridal suite tonight."
The lobby was an elegant atrium space, with a fountain softly splashing at the center, and plenty of greenery all around. Huge bouquets of snow white calla lilies punctuated comfortable groupings on plush, floral-patterned carpet. This was Houston at its most elegant, which was very elegant indeed. While some people wore jeans, a few of the ladies were in evening dresses, and their escorts were in hand-tailored suits and hand-tooled boots.
"We have the bridal suite here?"
"I will be your employee, Claudia, cheerfully, and you'll get my best efforts as long as they're of use to you. I'd like to be your husband, too. I was going to do this once we got upstairs, but I can't wait."
Declan whistled, the sort of high-pitched signal that carried over milling cows, sage-scented breezes, and multiple conversations.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'll give me a moment of your time. I have something important to say to my lady."He went down on one knee—a brave undertaking for a guy in a kilt. "Claudia Jensen, I love you. Where you are is my home, and my heart will always be yours alone. Will you marry me?"
"Say yes, honey, or I will!" one lady yelled.
"Best of luck, fella!" her date called.
Stomping, clapping, and more teasing followed, but Claudia was too busy wiping tears from her eyes. "Get up, Declan. Please, get up."
"Not until you say yes. We can be engaged forever, but I don't want to let you out of my sight until you're wearing my ring."
He extracted a little velvet box from his pocket, and opened it to reveal rubies, sapphires, and diamonds on white gold.
"Texas colors," Claudia said, taking the ring. "Yes, Declan. Of course, yes." She turned to the crowd around them and hollered, "YES!!!"
Declan was on his feet and scooping Claudia into his arms in the next instant, and the cheering shook the windows. The check-in was a happy blur, with the clerk admiring Claudia's ring—and her kilted cowboy—and complimentary champagne being promised.
"You planned this," Claudia accused when Declan had locked the door to a lovely suite. "You somehow got hold of the ring, knew how the meeting would go, and planned that whole scene in the lobby."
"I hoped," Declan said, kissing her. "I dreamed, Claudia. I'd forgotten what it was to dream, and now I dream of getting you out of that dress."
She kissed him back and tucked in close. "I dream of getting you out of the kilt."
A lot more kissing followed, tender, gleeful, passionate, relieved, hopeful, and dreamy. By the time room service knocked on the door, Declan's sporran wasn't hanging exactly straight.
"I'll get the door," Claudia said. "Then we're sending a text to Kara, and then we're celebrating our engagement."
"You know, I hope we have a joint venture to celebrate too," Declan replied. "But if not, I can find another company interested in this project Claudia. I've a reputation built on honest dealing and hard work. I value that more than any paycheck, and I can put it to use for the Bar J."
The hotel had sent up flowers, strawberries, and a cheese board with the champagne, none of which interested Claudia half so much as the man in the bedroom.
"I value you," Claudia said, turning so Declan could unzip her dress. "Your tenacity, and creativity, and your—"
Declan drew the dress down over her hips, and soon, Claudia wore only her engagement ring and a smile. They made love using every acre of the bed, stopped for a snack, and made love all over again. Claudia fell asleep, wrapped in the arms of the man who'd saved her ranch and stolen her heart.
Monday morning saw the proposed joint venture articles in Claudia's email, and after some wrangling on all sides, the articles were signed by Friday.
Within a month, Declan had drafted plans to show the board—which Shiloh Malloy ran as its first chairperson—and Claudia had a wedding ring to go with her rubies, diamonds, and sapphires.
Epilogue
Palo Duro Canyon had been beautiful to Declan when he'd first laid eyes on it, and grown only more so as he'd ridden the metes and bounds of the Bar J property. With spring in full bloom, heaven could not have been prettier than the Bar J on a fine morning.
"You think we can put in a basketball court between the creek and the bunkhouse?" Claudia asked.
They'd ridden to the top of the ridge, and in another hour, the temperature would climb past
comfortable. The creek was a silver ribbon between green banks below them, with the cottonwoods leafing out around it.
"The bulldozers will be on-site to do the grading for the walking paths and hiking trails," Declan said. "We might as well have them do a volleyball court, a basketball court, and a pair of tennis courts. We might not get all of that finished by fall, but the corporate clients will expect those amenities, and the kids will love them."
"You are just full of ideas," Claudia said, turning Strawberry back to the trail down to the creek. "Always thinking, always finding a way to make a dollar do six jobs at once. You ever miss the paycheck Brewster paid you?"
Declan's horse was named Aberdeen, though his barn name was Abner. He was half plow horse and half puppy dog and all black. He'd been a wedding present from Kara and Claudia, and Declan loved him dearly.
Abner, like his owner, was always happy to turn in the direction of home.
"I don't miss anything about working for Brewster, and I get the sense he's amazed I lasted as long as I did. He's not a bad man, he's just…"
"All Brewster, all the time."
Oddly enough, Claudia had a way of talking sense to Thaddeus that Declan would never have predicted, and when Thad came to visit for project meetings, he was nothing but respectful and mannerly to the ladies of the Bar J.
Of course, he was probably trying to impress Miranda, who attended the same meetings, and what happened behind closed doors in the guest rooms was no concern of Declan's.
"Are you any good at thinking up names?" Claudia asked.
"I'm good at thinking up Gaelic names. My grannie was from Eriskay, and I spent plenty of summers with her as a boy. All of the crofts and houses on the island had Gaelic names. I think the Bar J should keep the name it's had since birth, though."
Part of the joy of being married to Claudia was slowly sharing stories with her. The kitchen table, for example, had been built by her great-grandmother, a talented carpenter. On the largest cottonwood, her father had carved his initials along with Claudia's mother's to mark the site where they'd first kissed and gotten engaged.
The Cowboy Wore A Kilt Page 9