A Cowboy for Christmas (2 page)

Casey stood at the head of the long table in the World Bank’s meeting room. She glanced down the two rows of businessmen seated on either side. Good thing she’d been there long enough to know them all by name, because at first glance they all looked exactly the same to an outsider. Same navy blue suit. Same conservative tie. Same appropriate length hair gelled back to keep it in place. She even thought they might all be wearing the same cologne. How sad was that? They didn’t even smell different.

It was no wonder she was single. Not one of these guys had ever tempted her. How could they? Not one stood out from the rest. She was drowning in a sea of sameness.

Their matching tablets were held poised in front of them on the conference table as they followed along with her presentation on their matching screens. There was not one woman among them, save for herself. She stifled a sigh. The glass ceiling was still firmly in place. At least in this company.

How she’d managed to crack it, she didn’t know. Hard work and determination played a part. That she’d never married and had kids, and in fact hadn’t even dated in what felt like forever, meant she could work sixteen-hour days. That probably had helped her ascent in the ranks too.

It didn’t matter. She was only twenty-eight. There was plenty of time for her to settle down, find a man, have some kids…later.

“Any questions, gentleman?” She glanced at their faces again and saw them shake their heads in unison. Like synchronized swimmers in Italian suits. “All right, then. Thank you for your attention.”

Outside of the Wall Street building, the Manhattan skyline was beginning to twinkle as dusk fell and lights flickered on. It was a beautiful sight. One she could enjoy from the window of her apartment as well—when she finally got home each night, usually carrying a bag of take-out food.

What did she feel like eating today? Sushi maybe? Though it was getting chilly. Autumn weather had set in fast. Maybe some
Udon
noodle soup from the sushi place.

Decision made, and with the room rapidly emptying of the clones who worked beneath her in the bank’s corporate headquarters marketing department, Casey headed for her office. She could check her messages, then head out. Now that she had soup on the brain, her stomach was beginning to rebel from having skipped lunch.

A latte and a pastry did not a meal make. She’d have to remember that in the future as her stomach let out a loud grumble. Good thing that hadn’t happened during the presentation. She laughed to herself at the thought and glanced at the phone on her desk. There was no blinking red light to indicate she had a message. Excellent. That soup was getting closer by the second.

Grabbing her oversized bag, she was about to head out the door when the phone in her suit jacket pocket vibrated. She’d been so close… Casey sighed and pulled it out to look at the display.

It was a Manhattan area code, but she didn’t recognize the number. She hit the button to answer. “Casey Harrington.”

“Ms. Harrington. I’m so glad I got you. This is Madison at Smith and Brown.”

She knew of Smith and Brown. They were headhunters. They called her a few times a year with some job offer or another.

“Yes, Madison. What can I do for you?” This call wasn’t World Bank business or even important, so Casey figured she could walk while she talked. She always let the headhunters have their say, and then she’d politely tell them she wasn’t interested. She was happy in her position at World Bank.

Casey gave the woman at the front desk a wave good bye and poked the button for the elevator.

“I have a position I think you’d be perfect for. Director of Marketing. Multi-national company but the corporate headquarters are located in Manhattan. Impressive benefits package and salary.”

“That all sounds very nice, but I’m happy here at World Bank—“

“Ms. Harrington, I know other people from our firm have approached you in the past, but I’ve done my research and I truly think this position is different. I believe it’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

Casey’s eyebrows shot up. This was a new approach. But now that she thought about it, this Madison woman had never called before so she must also be new. Either that, or Smith and Brown were pulling out the big guns, the upper level execs, to try to woo her. More intrigued with this new tactic, than in whatever this position was, Casey decided to hear the woman out, just to see where this conversation went. It would at least occupy her time while she walked to the restaurant.

“Exactly what research did you do, Madison, that makes you believe this is the position I’ve been waiting for?” Casey prepared herself to be amused by some bullshit.

“I’ve done research on you, Ms. Harrington.”

“On me?” Okay, this was creepy. Casey started to feel like she had a stalker.

“I know you volunteer. A lot. Not the normal stuff that looks good on paper or what’s required for your position there at World Bank. You’re a creative person and your choice of boards that you sit on, and charities that you support with your attendance at fundraisers, proves that.”

“Uh, huh. You’ll find most people in marketing are creative, Madison. It helps with the job.”

“The Save the Wild Mustangs Foundation. The National Trust for Historic Preservation’s campaign to preserve Main Street in small town America. The Cowboy Relief Fund for injured rodeo cowboys and clowns. These are not normal charities a banking executive who lives and works in Manhattan would gravitate toward.”

So now she wasn’t normal. Casey was pretty sure she should be insulted by that remark. Though Madison of Smith and Brown would be happy to know that Casey’s family would agree that she wasn’t normal. And the woman sure had done her research. “Is there a point to this?”

“Yes, there is. The position available is for the director of marketing at Maverick Western. They’re a—“

“A western lifestyle retailer. I know. I get their catalog.” Every year since she’d gotten her own apartment, Cassie would wrap herself in the red and black plaid throw she’d bought from Maverick as she pawed through their Christmas catalog, dog earring pages of things she wanted. She’d place orders for herself and her family, whether they liked it or not. Her apartment looked more like a cowboy camp than a city home.

Casey stomped down the excitement that rose unbidden within her.

“Yes, ma’am. That’s the one. They’re still family-owned. They’ve been in business for about a hundred years and the current owner, Jake Maverick, is looking to bring the company up to date with their marketing. He wants to insure the company’s survival for the future.”

“Why? Is the company in trouble?” Casey’s throat tightened. She loved that catalog, from the pictures of the cowboys and the cattle on the ranch, to the tiny tabletop live evergreen trees they’d ship her overnight when she didn’t have time to get a real Christmas tree for her apartment.

“No, I assure you they’re quite stable financially, but they’re smart enough to know there is an untapped market out there. A younger demographic. Internet users who won’t take the time to read a paper catalog.”

Casey nodded. “Exactly. They need an app so people can order on their tablets and smartphones. They should be on the social networks too, reinforcing their brand with those users.”

“Exactly, Ms. Harrington.” The smile in Madison’s voice was clear.

Casey sighed. Damn, the woman was right. This was the position she’d been waiting for. World Bank was a wonderful employer, but she was wasted here, her bottomless pool of creativity barely tapped by creating yet another boring ad campaign. The biggest excitement they’d had lately was getting a Hollywood B-lister to be their spokesperson in their television commercials. But Maverick Western… Casey could be the one to bring them into the future. She could expose millions of new customers worldwide to the joys of shopping there.

“Ms. Harrington, there is one catch I feel I need to bring to your attention before we discuss any more details about the position.”

A catch. Wasn’t that always the way? “And what is that?”

“You may be aware that though the current corporate headquarters are in Manhattan, the company originated in Colorado on the family’s ranch.”

“Mm, hm. I believe that’s where the catalog’s exterior shots are taken.”

“Yes, you’re correct. It’s a beautiful place. Well, Mr. Maverick insists that whoever takes this position spend a one week long training period, I guess you could call it, on the family ranch to get familiar with the company’s philosophy and the lifestyle they represent. He feels very strongly about his head of marketing knowing his way of life.”

“The cowboy code.” Memories of every Saturday morning of her youth spent sitting in front of the Cowboy Cody show hit Casey. Wow. She hadn’t thought about that show in years.

“Excuse me?” Madison’s voice interrupted the thought.

“Um, nothing. So that would be the only stipulation? The training period on the ranch?”

“Yes. Of course there would be occasional travel as well. You’d be expected to fly to the ranch a couple of times a year. The usual travel for a position of this level.”

“Mm, hm.” It was nearly impossible to concentrate on what the woman was saying when visions of cowboys danced in Casey’s head alongside ideas for a Maverick Western App for the millions of smartphones and tablet computers worldwide; a Facebook page, Twitter, and website enhancements. There could be an interactive shopping list maybe, to help customers do their Christmas shopping—

“Can we meet to discuss the details?” Madison, sounding as excited as Casey felt, interrupted her mental marketing plans.

Casey pushed down the feeling, even as adrenaline pumped through her veins. It wasn’t good to go into negotiations showing too much enthusiasm. Always best to play hard to get in these kinds of situations. “I suppose I could squeeze in a meeting, just to hear the details.”

“Wonderful. When and where? Name it and I’ll be there. Our offices are in Manhattan not too far from yours.”

Casey reached the Japanese restaurant and paused on the sidewalk as an insane impulse assaulted her. It was crazy but she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Are you free to meet me for dinner right now?”

“What the hell is this about? I don’t understand.” Bonner “Blue” Boyd stared at the paper in his hand, still not comprehending its meaning.

Putting a bowl of chili on the table in front of him, Mrs. Jones shot him a glare. “It’s a memo. What’s to understand? And don’t cuss.”

Dakota and Justus both snickered from their seats across the table from Bonner. Mrs. Jones ran the Maverick household with an iron fist. No cowboy who worked on the ranch would dare to cross the housekeeper, who’d worked there since before Bonner was born.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.” Suitably reprimanded, he still took the opportunity to shoot Dakota and Justus a dirty look for laughing at his expense. “But what I don’t understand is why I got it. Why send me a memo when he could just call me? Or ask me to come talk to him in person?”

Bonner put the piece of paper down next to his dish and picked up the spoon, digging into the bowl of steaming hot food like a starving man. He and the two younger cowboys had been out fixing fences on the ranch since sun-up with no break, so he sure felt like a starving man.

“That is pretty strange, Blue, you getting that paper. ‘Cause none of us were all too sure you could read.” Dakota chuckled at his own joke and elbowed Justus, who joined in the laughter.

Old Mrs. Jones slapped both men in the back of their heads, a move Bonner probably enjoyed watching a bit too much. “You two be nice. And you, Bonner, know Jake’s doctor told him he has to start taking things easier. That’s why he’s been having that assistant in the New York office handle more of the things he used to do himself. He’s finally letting someone else take care of some of the business details for him and it’s about damn time too. At his age he needs to slow down. It’s bad enough he drove himself into the city today to some business meeting.”

“So now I’m getting memos. Because of his dam—dang assistant.” Bonner corrected his language just in time to avoid getting smacked, but he couldn’t suppress a sigh.

He was a cattle rancher, for Christ’s sake. Ranchers didn’t get memos. They also shouldn’t have to deal with business details…at least not ones that involved huge international corporations like the kind Maverick Western had grown into since it was founded by the Maverick family a hundred years ago.

Sure, Bonner could easily calculate the value of the Maverick’s four hundred head herd. Yeah, he could figure how much fencing to buy for repairs on the over three thousand acre ranch. He knew when to cut the hay field for the highest yield. He could read the weather and knew when to drive the herd to the summer pasture for grazing and when to bring them back down again to the ranch for the winter. Those kinds of details he could handle in his sleep. But this… He glared down again at the corporate letterhead on his memo.

“What’s it say, Blue?” Justus glanced at the paper as he reached for the basket of cornbread in the middle of the table.

“There’s some guy just got hired in the New York office and I’m supposed to take this,“ Bonner looked at the paper and located the name, “Casey Harrington and teach him everything about life on the ranch for a doggone week.”

Justus’s eyes opened wide, before his face split into a grin. “State rodeo champion Blue Boyd playing babysitter for a corporate big wig.”

“For a solid week.” Dakota shook his head. “Too funny. I’d pay good money to see that.”

“That’s the beauty of it, Dakota. We won’t have to. It’ll all be happening right here on the ranch, free of charge.” Justus continued to look too happy at Bonner’s expense.

“First off, I’m the
former
state champion. My rodeo days are in the past.” And Bonner wished they’d stay there. “And I’m sure you’ll both be too busy doing my share of the work while I’m babysitting this guy to have any time to be amused.”

That knocked the grin off the faces of both ranch hands, but Bonner still had to wonder what the hell he was supposed to do with some city slicker shadowing him for a week. Jake Maverick had really lost his mind this time.

Looking a whole lot more serious now at the prospect of having to work harder, Dakota frowned. “When’s this new marketing dude getting here?”

Good question. Bonner skimmed over the page of print and stalled at a date. “Um, what day is it?”

“Monday.”

He rolled his eyes at Justus. “I know it’s Monday. I meant what’s the date.”

“Oh, um…” Justus glanced at Dakota, who shrugged in response.

This just proved they were cowboys and not corporate folk. Unless he was headed to an auction or a rodeo, the exact date didn’t matter all that much here at the ranch. Bonner’s world revolved around the seasons—calving season, cutting season—important stuff like that. Little numbered squares on a calendar didn’t matter all that much.

“Wait. The date’s on my cell, I think.” Dakota whipped his phone out of his front jeans pocket and squinted at it for a bit. “Uh, here it is. October 24th.”

Both kids watched Bonner as he raised a brow. “Well, then that would mean this Casey Harrington person is arriving today.”

Mrs. Jones came through the door. “I could have told you that. I had to set up one of the bedrooms.”

“Oh? You get a memo too?” Bonner glanced at her as she put a pitcher full of water down.

“Me? A memo?” She let out a snort of a laugh. “He knows better.”

As Mrs. Jones disappeared into the kitchen, Bonner scowled. Memos. City folk. Marketing. Things sure weren’t like they used to be.

“How’s he getting here?”

While downing a swallow of water, Bonner shrugged at Dakota’s question.

“Got me. Not my problem.” That part wasn’t in Bonner’s memo so he picked up his spoon again and scraped the bottom of the bowl to get the last remnants of chili, then put it down on the table with a clunk. “You boys ’bout done? We got work to finish.”

They had better get to it. The pressure was on since it seemed, like it or not, Bonner’s babysitting duties would begin shortly.

* * * *

Yampa Valley Regional Airport in Colorado wasn’t as horrifying as the name first implied. Sure there was no air traffic control tower. And yes, Casey had to navigate a set of air stairs to deplane and then brave the icy wind as she crossed the tarmac to get to the terminal, but at least she’d flown in from Denver International on a Boeing rather than some little crop duster, which had been what she’d feared.

Now, in her rental car, she tried not to panic as the navigation’s computerized voice told her she was driving on an unrecognized route. She glanced at her cell phone. No signal.

A woman alone, driving after sunset on an unrecognized route with no cell reception—this situation had all the makings of a bad horror movie. Casey pushed that thought out of her head. This was no time to panic. Besides, she had a nearly full tank of gas. If worst came to worst, she’d turn around, drive back to the nearest town and call the ranch from a landline. She should be able to get in touch with the Maverick place somehow. Jake Maverick ran a multi-national corporation, and this was the twenty-first century, after all. Though looking around her now at the deserted landscape, it sure didn’t look like it.

She fought back the panic. She’d thought she’d be okay when she heard it was less than an hour’s drive from the airport to the Colorado/Wyoming border where the Maverick ranch was located, but she’d seen nothing but open road for miles now. Even as the GPS read-out said she had less than three miles to her destination, she still saw nothing.

She’d traveled all over Europe without incident for her job with the bank, but this country road was about to break her. Casey refused to think this career move was a mistake, though the sick feeling in her gut began to disagree with her stubborn mindset. What had she been thinking accepting this position? She’d probably never been within a hundred miles of a cowboy or a cow, and here she was leaving a good job to try and market the cowboy lifestyle for Maverick Western. What if Jake Maverick took one look at her and realized she was a fraud?

Then again, her college marketing professor had once said marketing was marketing. It didn’t matter what you were selling because it wasn’t really about the product, it was about how it made the consumer feel.

Casey knew well how Maverick Western products made her feel, from the flannel pajamas packed in her suitcase to the cast iron skillet she’d bought but never used, stored in the cabinet below the stove in her New York apartment. She had the skills to expand the market, hitting demographics missed by the current catalog and website the company relied on now. She could do this job and she’d kick ass at it. She had to, because there was no going back. World Bank hadn’t been too happy about her departure. The sick feeling in her gut returned.

Then the car’s headlights hit a high gate over the road she’d been blindly traveling on for the past few miles. Casey slowed to a crawl and flipped on the brights, illuminating the letters that spelled Maverick. She blew out a long breath.

What she stared at now was more than just an entrance gate to the ranch. It was like a divine sign. Somehow it equaled hope. If she could make it to the ranch alone, she could make it in the job. She’d found the ranch and now all she had to do was stick it out for a week while not disappointing the boss.

She’d worry about that tomorrow. For tonight she needed a bathroom, something to eat and maybe a good stiff drink, possibly not in that order. Casey pulled ahead with newfound enthusiasm, until she realized that once again she’d driven miles and there was still no house in sight.

She began to doubt herself again. Had she missed a turn? Or even the house in the dark? Surely there’d be some lights on. Someone was supposed to be home to meet her. She glanced at the GPS. That was no help. It had told her she’d reached her destination miles ago and still had her on an unmarked route. Stupid technology. They had the know-how to get a man to the space station but they couldn’t come up with a GPS that could tell you where you were in Colorado.

This was so far removed from her life in Manhattan, or even her childhood in the suburbs in Connecticut, she was having trouble wrapping her mind around it. There was really nothing else to do but forge ahead. She had to see something eventually, but who would have thought there could possibly be this many miles of undeveloped land left in the United States? Land was a hot commodity. Try buying even one acre of it in certain communities in the metro New York area and it could cost upwards of a million dollars. But here…apparently there was plenty of land left on the Colorado-Wyoming border.

With her hands starting to cramp from gripping the steering wheel so tight, Casey crept along with her eyes peeled for any sign of civilization. Then she saw it, two glowing eyes appeared before her from out of the darkness. A yelp escaped her lips. She slammed on the brakes. Her body rocked toward the windshield from the momentum. “What the hell?”

The animal, larger than she was comfortable being near, stared at the car for a second and then bolted across the road. It could have been a deer, or an elk or a damn antelope for all she knew. Were there moose in Colorado? The only experience she had with wild animals were pigeons and the occasional squirrel.

This was crazy. Her heard pounded. If she could disengage her fingers from their death-grip on the steering wheel, she was sure her hands would be shaking. She was going to die, here on an unrecognized route somewhere in Colorado. Eventually someone would find her body, dry and shriveled, signal-less cell phone clutched in her hand as she sat in the driver’s seat of the mid-sized rental car, the GPS still saying she’d reached her destination.

Casey didn’t cry. Nope. Not since she was a child. There was no place for tears for a female trying to make it in the male-dominated corporate world. But tonight, tired, hungry and lost alone in the dark, she felt the first tears in years begin to sting her eyes. Then she had to shield her eyes from the blinding glare of headlights shining directly at her.

The pick-up truck, looking huge compared to her car, came to a stop and the driver’s side door swung open. Not sure whether to be relieved or frightened, Casey felt in the dark for the controls on her door. She confirmed the doors were locked, then cracked the window open just enough to talk through. The car was still in drive. If whoever was in that truck was dangerous, she’d just floor it. She’d be a mile away by the time he got back into the truck, turned it around and tried to follow.

Lit by her headlights, a figure climbed down from the high vehicle. Big and tall, he raised his hand and tipped his white felt cowboy hat down so it shielded his eyes from the glare. Her heart picked up speed but she wasn’t sure if it was from fear, or the fact that this man, by all appearances a real-live walking talking cowboy, was coming right at her. In boots and worn faded jeans, with a jacket opened to reveal a blue plaid shirt, he kind of swaggered, which only added to the whole cowboy look of him. As did the black and white dog that leapt from the vehicle and, tail wagging, trailed along at his heels.

He reached the side of the car and, hands shoved into his front jean’s pockets, he leaned down to peer into the window. “You lost?”

Just the deep timber of those two words, spoken with the drawl of a true cowboy, cut directly through her. Casey could barely breathe. This man was the personification of her first childhood love—Cowboy Cody.

“Um, I didn’t think so when I saw the sign, but now I’ve been driving for so long I’m afraid I might be and the GPS is no help. It doesn’t even recognize the road and my cell won’t work.” Compared to this man of few words, her longwinded answer sounded ridiculous. He probably thought she was some kind of idiot.

Her cowboy savior rubbed his thumb and forefinger over the stubble on his chin. “Well, tell me where you need to get to. Maybe I can help.”

Helpful and logical. Of course he’d be able to help. He probably knew right where they were.

“I’m trying to get to the Maverick ranch.” She watched as beneath the brim of his hat, his eyebrows rose sharply. That action made her feel like she needed to explain herself. “They’re expecting me. I’m staying there for the next week. Mr. Maverick invited me.” Casey kept adding on facts, hoping to jog him into saying something, anything, as he stared at her with a strange expression on his face. “I work for him. Or I will after this week. He just hired me.”