Do Him Right

by Cerise DeLand

  In a few minutes, he got his hat down from the wall rack, and the two of them headed for the B&B for her to change her clothes and go to the office.

  The trip was silent. The road long.

  * * * * *

  Time or circumstance didn’t change the way they related. Five days passed, then ten more, and they worked together in the same airless little office. She secured the details of Kylee Farrell’s appearance for the opening, got the trail ride organizers on board, sent out press releases and reported by phone to Jeff back in San Antonio on a regular basis. With each new victory, she would rejoice and share her news with Chet. He’d grin, laugh, hug her and take her out to the drive-in movie or to the Long Horn to dance in celebration. At night though, when he took her in his arms and they made love, his tenderness brought tears to her eyes. She was slowly, reverently saying goodbye to him and perceived it.

  She was leaving. Had always known it. The fact that Chet now understood it too, made her days easier and her nights in his bed bittersweet. She had never admitted to herself that she was such a coward. Instead, she worked her tail off to ensure Chet Stapleton had what she’d originally come here to give him. Not her love. Her recompense. Amends for the harm she’d done him four long years ago. Professional success for the failure she had helped precipitate.

  Sam Trunbridge noticed the difference between them.

  “What gives with you two?” he asked one morning when he was in the office to review the monthly budget numbers. When he got a shrug from Chet and a startled look from Shana, he persisted. “Fighting? Whatever it is, don’t you think you could settle it with a good talk?”

  Chet glanced at her, his brows arching. Across the room, she felt his question and couldn’t find a suitable answer for either man.

  “All right then.” Sam jammed his cowboy hat on his head. “Have it your way. It’s only gonna get worse, you realize. But I want this solved before it affects our work. Good day to you both.” As he marched out the door, he said a few words to Chet’s receptionist Reata about the foolishness of men and women who care for each other.

  Chet stared at the door until Shana thought he’d burn it down with his fury.

  She’d seen him fight anger before but not rage. She stood up.

  He shot a glance sideways, his gaze landing at her feet, as if to warn her to step no farther. Cursing, he jumped up, grabbed his Stetson from the rack and headed toward the door himself. But when he flung it open and it banged back against the wall, there in the portal stood an open-mouthed Reata, her hand up ready to knock. A man stood right behind her.

  “Jeff!” Shana knew his appearance would only make things worse. Jeff could be very aggressive with anyone, especially men whom he deemed his rivals. Though she had never given her boss any reason to think he interested her romantically, the man could be antagonistic to any other who appeared to be interested in her. “Come in, please. Chet, let me introduce Jeff Wentworth.” She walked toward him and put a hand to his arm.

  He stared at Jeff.

  Jeff gave Chet a courteous smile, but turned up the wattage when he looked at Shana. “How are you? You look good as ever. Wild West agrees with you, I guess.” Then he stepped over to offer his hand to Chet. “How are you, Chet? Helping our girl get acquainted out here?”

  Shana bristled at Jeff’s tone. The man could be an ass.

  Chet ignored the jibe at Shana, shook Jeff’s hand and offered him one of the folding chairs.

  Jeff considered it with disdain.

  Shana didn’t try to cover her frustration as the two men sized each other up, but huffed. “Have a seat, Jeff.”

  Jeff glanced around, and his assessment had him nodding and saying, “Wow, I can see why you need help here.”

  Chet sucked in a breath and stalked back over to his desk. “Can I have Reata bring you something to drink? It’s hot out there, and you’ve been on the road for a few hours.”

  “Coffee is great. Black,” Jeff told him, his brown gaze falling over Chet’s form-fitting western shirt and massive shoulders. “Good to meet you finally. I thought I’d come out and visit with you, maybe take Shana out to dinner and dancing tonight. She hasn’t been home since she came here, and I thought she’d need company.” His gaze met Chet’s and held as if to say Jeff thought the reason she’d stayed here was Chet. “And I’ve missed her.”

  Chet flexed his jaw. The rage she’d seen after Sam’s statements was a flicker compared to the inferno she saw building in him now.

  She hastened to douse the fires. “You didn’t have to come all this way, Jeff. We’re doing well. I’ve told you.” Can I sound any more lame?

  Chet punched the intercom with more force than the little phone system needed. “Reata, please bring us in a new pot of coffee. Three cups. Milk for Shana.”

  Jeff glared at Chet. Of course, he had heard and noted that Chet made a point of announcing he knew and remembered what Shana liked in her coffee. Jeff brushed imaginary lint from his trousers as he crossed one leg over the other. “So tell me, how are we doing today?”

  Like hell. She inhaled, accepting the fact that she wasn’t going to change Jeff’s or Chet’s attitudes so she might as well get this confrontation over with quickly. “We just had a meeting with the president of the rodeo. You might have met him on your way in. You did? Good. And we went over the month’s projects and budget. We can do that for you, if you like.”

  Chet stood. Picked up his hat from his desktop. “You do that, Shana. I have an appointment.” He shoved his hand out to Jeff. “Thanks for coming. See you at the Long Horn tonight. There’s a good band, and I know Shana likes to dance.”

  He didn’t smile at Jeff and didn’t look at Shana as he turned and left them alone.

  “Rude bastard,” Jeff muttered and turned to examine Shana’s features. “Has he been a pain in the ass to work with?”

  Oh, Jeff. Ever the sly public relations man. “No. He’s been a gentleman.”

  “How much of a gentleman?”

  Outrage bubbled over. “None of your business.”

  “Oh, but it is. My business. My employee. The woman I’d like to get closer to.”

  “That’s not going to happen, Jeff.”

  “I haven’t even gotten started yet.” He leaned over and took her hand.

  She considered his, so much smaller and cooler than Chet’s.

  “Shana, I missed you. I came not just to see this place, but to see if we can get back on track with our relationship.”

  “We don’t have a relationship and won’t ever have one.” She glared at him.

  “A stubborn woman.”

  “Yes. I’ll stay that way too.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Shivering in the chilly certainty of his rhetoric, Shana knew she’d have to find a permanent solution to his unwanted attentions. Truth was, if she couldn’t stomach angry men, she couldn’t abide pushy ones. And she could easily rid herself of this one, couldn’t she?

  She rose. “Let me get the records for you.”

  * * * * *

  After the review of the books, she couldn’t dissuade Jeff from going to the Long Horn that night. “You love to dance. What’s your problem?”

  But he knew. She saw it in his calculating eyes.

  As a result, she took one step closer to ridding herself of him forever.

  “It’s okay, Shana. I just want to see what the local folks look like. Are they well-heeled enough to buy tickets to our events?”

  “You know they are. I did the demographic studies months ago. You read them. What’s your question about them now?”

  “Then let’s just say I want to dance.”

  She wanted to stomp on his foot. “If I’m stubborn, you’re not far behind.” She whirled away from him. “Dinner is at my place, but it’s no grand invitation. You’ll eat with me because the only diner in town isn’t open and won’t be for a few more weeks.”

  “That doesn’t bode well. How will this town take care of more trav
elers coming through for the rodeo?”

  “They’re putting in an expanded kitchen and a bigger main dining room now. It’ll be ready by the time we open. So we’ll be fine.”

  He lifted his brows. “We will be fine? Is that you buying in like a good PR person or are you planning on staying here?”

  “Buying in, Jeff,” she bit off. “Just buying in. Come to my rooms at five.”

  “Great. What’s for dinner?”

  Old shoe leather and kick in the pants. “Barbeque and beans.”

  * * * * *

  Both the beans and the BBQ sat like lead in her stomach hours later as she and Jeff walked into the Long Horn.

  “Hey, Shana,” Reata called to her and waved. Chet’s receptionist sized up Jeff with critical gray eyes and cocked an elegant dark brow at her. “Dancing tonight?”

  If I liked drinking more, I’d do that too. “Think so, yes.”

  Reata slid closer and told her quietly. “Chet’s in the bar.”

  Shana bit her lip, restrained her urge to look for him and thanked the woman who was fast becoming her friend.

  “I see a table over here, Shana.” Jeff led her toward the back of the hall. When they were seated, he raised his hand to a waitress and ordered two beers.

  The band was well into The Tennessee Waltz, and the Friday night crowd was doing more talking than dancing. So when Jeff paid for the drinks, took a swig of his and held his hand out to her to dance, she knew they’d be only the third couple on that very big floor.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jeff.” He was a good dancer but not a graceful one. And a waltz, even the Texas-two-step version, required a command of the floor and precision that he had never possessed. She knew people here. Lots of them by now. And they had always seen her in the arms of a man who took to this floor like he’d been born to it. She didn’t want to embarrass Jeff, and she certainly didn’t want Chet to see how she looked in the embrace of another man. “Let’s have our drinks. Wait a bit.”

  “Let’s not.” He pulled her forward and, lest she shame him and allow him to look bad in a town where he needed to become known, she went.

  He must have been nervous. His timing was off and for that, try though she might, she couldn’t save him from himself. To make matters worse, from the corner of her eye, she saw an impossibly tall, buff male take up a position on the side wall, staring at them.

  Chet. Chet. What are you doing? Don’t get angry. This isn’t worth it.

  The tune wasn’t over quickly enough for her. She put a hand to her heart, feeling the rising tempo of her fear of confrontation.

  But the next song was a Virginia reel, and Jeff insisted they do that too. Buried in more of a crowd, she felt marginally better, but the tension riled her stomach.

  As they applauded the band, she told him, “I’ve got to go home, Jeff. I’m not feeling well.”

  He narrowed his gaze at her. “Really?”

  She disliked him then. Oh, she had tolerated his arrogance as a businessman. She had at one time in her young life been briefly flattered by his attention to her. But she knew now he paled beside the likes of charming, tender, gallant Chet.

  Huffing, she spun on her heel. “Don’t bother,” she muttered as she beelined her way through the crowd. “I can go myself.”

  Jeff was right behind her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. “Stop, for chrissakes!”

  “Let me go!”

  “I don’t think I will.” He grinned with an evil curve to his mouth. “You’re my—”

  “Employee,” she clarified as she yanked at him to let her go. “And that’s all I am to you. Ever.”

  “Take your hands off the lady, Wentworth.”

  Chet. Chet with his barrel-deep bass warning a man to treat her right. Chet with his warm solid body heating hers as he stepped behind her. Chet, towering over her as he always had with comfort and care. Chet, hovering over Jeff and in those few inches, making the other man drop his hold and back away.

  “I’ll take you back,” Jeff declared.

  “I don’t think so,” Chet objected, anger flushing his cheeks and putting steel in his eyes.

  Shana escaped them both by sidestepping and leaving them to face each other, two bulls in the ring.

  Reata joined Shana as she beat a path to the front door. “Can I give you a ride home?”

  She nodded. Home. “What a great idea.” They could fight but she didn’t want to hang around to witness it. She never did. She was good at running.

  Chapter Six

  Three weeks later, Shana’s Aunt Mary brought the house phone to her as she sat on the back porch overlooking her aunt’s south acreage. The older woman looked at Shana as sorrowfully as she had so many times when Chet had returned Shana’s calls on business and she’d been brief with him. It had taken all Shana’s courage to talk to him about rodeo details.

  She had thought it would be easier to complete her planning if she were far away from him, where she could be focused totally on the rodeo’s success. She had assumed she would be more objective. To some extent that was true, except for the fact that she didn’t sleep well at night and walked the floor, reliving what she’d lost, yearning for what she needed with him. So if she had more time to complete her plans here at her aunt’s ranch, Shana also had more time to realize that if she was successful at building the Hayward rodeo into a first-class event, she could then work on the courage it would take her to confront the real issues that separated her from Chet.

  If Chet perceived that or if he had just given up on her when she’d left him, Shana could never tell by his voice on the phone. He was distant and cool. Always. Was this Chet calling now to once more be the efficient businessman and show her his indifference?

  “Shana, darlin’,” Aunt Mary began now as she put her hand over the receiver. “This is your boss. I know you said you wanted to talk to him if he called.”

  Shana reached for the phone.

  “Hello, Jeff.” She’d known she’d have to have this conversation some time, though she wished she could have waited until opening night of the rodeo. “How are you?”

  “Better now that you’re talking to me,” he said with rare contrition in his voice. “Look, Shana, let me start off by saying I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, Jeff. I appreciate it,” she told him with all honesty. He’d just been himself. If that wasn’t what she wanted in a man, in a lover, in a mate, or even in an employer, his nature wasn’t something he needed to regret. “Circumstances weren’t good that day. It all went sour because that was what was meant to be.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She knew it would be the last words that passed between them that held any kind of intimacy. She switched to the professional aspect that had brought them together four years ago. “I hope you’ve had an opportunity to read my latest reports.”

  “I have. They’re very detailed. You’ve done a spectacular job. Hayward will reap the rewards.”

  “I do believe you’re right,” she declared with more joy. “Will you go to the opening?”

  “No. I think I might not want to show my face in Hayward for quite some time.”

  “Don’t be like that, Jeff. They should welcome you. You came up with the plan.”

  “No, Shana, you did.”

  She was grateful for the acknowledgment. “And you agreed to the lower retainer.”

  “Yes, and since you left Hayward and went home to Uvalde, you haven’t even charged that amount for living expenses.”

  “Right. I didn’t need them.”

  “I’m giving them to you, Shana.”

  “You charged them my expenses?” Oh, she would be madder than a coyote if he had.

  “No. I’m just paying you for them anyway. I know you’ll turn around and give them to your aunt.”

  Shana was quiet, stunned with his perception—his generosity and his atonement. Maybe there was hope for him after all. “I would.”

  “A
nd I’m giving you a bonus too.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, ten percent on the retainer. I saw the ticket sales for the first performance on opening night, Shana. What with Kylee’s small take and the enormous ticket sales, they can well afford to give us more. I had a talk with Sam Trunbridge this morning, and they are sending it over with this month’s retainer.”

  “That’s very generous of Sam.” She wondered what he’d done for Chet who had negotiated such a hard-driving bargain with her in the first place.

  “He gave Stapleton a raise. Effective immediately.”

  “Wonderful.” He deserves it and more. So much more.

  “Twenty percent.”

  “Amazing! Sam Trunbridge doesn’t like to part with his money unless it’s for a good cause.”

  “Well, he found his man, didn’t he?”

  So did I. Tears clogged her throat. She couldn’t reply.

  “So then,” he shifted his tone to all business, “want to tell me when you plan on coming back?”

  “When I’m done here, Jeff, I’ll come see you.” When I’m done figuring out what to do with the rest of my life. If I can find the courage.

  * * * * *

  Shana bought a ticket at the gate that afternoon just like any other fair-goer. To have called anyone, Chet or Sam or Reata, and let them know she was coming was not what she wanted to experience here.

  She needed the full feel of what she’d created. She’d told herself these last few weeks as she worked on the opening from her aunt’s ranch house south of here, that if she could be proud of what she’d done for the rodeo, she would feel stronger about revealing the truth to Chet.

  But the truth had come to her a few days ago. No matter the cost, she had to reveal everything to him and go on with her life. If he hated her, she would, as she had planned from the start of this project, leave him with the potential for a great future. If he accepted her apology for not telling him who she was and why she had wanted to work on the rodeo development, all the better. She told herself not to hope that his reaction might be more—she had left him too quickly without any explanation—but she would walk away from here with memories of passion and romance thrilling enough to last a lifetime.