The Bull Rider’s Keeper (18 page)

She held her hand out to George to conclude their discussion. “Thank you for clarifying this mess. It’s nice to have a rational conversation with someone.”

• • •

Jesse sat quietly while George pulled the car away from the curb. He saw the look his friend gave him, but turned away to stare out the window.

“You can’t blame her, Jesse.” George maneuvered the car out of downtown’s main streets. They got on the highway heading toward the ranch to deliver the good news to the crew. “Sounds like her lawyer went rogue on her. I’d hate to be in his shoes when she calls him.”

Jesse thought about what he’d seen last night at the restaurant. Taylor had looked focused, tapping the table, relaying something serious to Mike, who looked like a wounded bunny. Until Jesse went over and made a scene. The bastard had looked happy then.
No,
Jesse corrected himself,
hopeful
. Jesse’s outburst had made the guy look hopeful. Had Taylor been telling the jerk she wasn’t interested? And Jesse had misinterpreted the conversation?

“I wish she’d at least looked at the papers you drew up.” Jesse sighed. “I’m going to have to fix my mistakes all on my own, huh?”

George chuckled. “Typically, that’s how life works. You make the mess, you clean it up. But it was a good strategy. I’m sure she’ll work with you on this. The girl seems to have a good head on her shoulders for business.”

Jesse glanced at his watch. “I’m flying out again tomorrow to meet with sponsors. Can you work on fast-tracking this sale? I’d like to get the contracts signed next week when I get back.”

“Getting antsy to take on a new enterprise?” George turned the vehicle onto the road that would take them to the ranch. “When are you announcing your retirement?”

Jesse sighed. “Barb wants me to wait until December, after the Vegas finals. I’d rather walk away today.”

“Barb knows what she’s doing. Besides, if you win, you might be able to keep some of those merchandising contracts for a few years.”

Jesse stared out the window, not seeing the pine trees and forestland surrounding the road. “That’s what she tells me. George, you ever just get tired?”

“Every night, but I don’t think that’s what you’re talking about. This thing with Angie got you spooked? People live through cancer all the time. And if her doctors caught it early …”

Jesse held his hand up. “Can’t talk about Angie right now. Just can’t. But what I was thinking about was always being ‘on.’ I’m not a real person; I’m the bull rider. Sometimes that gets into your head, you know?”

George parked in front of the cabin behind the rows of cars that had arrived for the emergency family meeting. He turned off the engine and looked at Jesse. “You’ve never just been the bull rider to the people who really matter. You’ve been Jesse. And those are the people you have to hold close while you’re transitioning. I won’t blow smoke at you—you’re going to have a tough time letting go of the limelight. But you can do it.”

“Thanks.” Jesse paused for a second, his hand on the door handle and his gaze on the cabin.

“I’m one of those people in your corner. So any time you need to talk, call me. I won’t even charge you the standard billable hour rate for the call.”

Jesse chuckled. “Glad to know.”

The men walked up to the ranch house to give everyone the good news. Angie’s job and insurance status were intact. That should have made Jesse feel better, but a black cloud still weighed heavily on his heart. He needed to correct his mistake before he lost the chance forever.

A red-faced Mike sat in the leather chair in front of Taylor’s desk. Her father sat in the chair across from Mike. The lawyer pounded the desk. “You aren’t thinking this through. Her condition could raise your premiums. Do you want to lose your policy completely?”

“What I want is a lawyer who advises me, not runs to my father to go over my head every time he overhears a conversation.” Taylor had already talked to her dad. Mike had made it seem like Taylor was on board with the firing of Angie. When they’d met, Taylor had told her father the entire truth. That way Mike couldn’t throw her under the bus. Like he was doing.

Mike changed his tactic, turning to Rich DeMarco. “Sir, you have to realize what I did was for the good of the gallery. If Taylor expects to get the backing in place to force a sale to her, rather than this cowboy, she needs a strong package. And having the cowboy’s mother there wasn’t helping her proposal.”

Taylor bristled, but saw her father’s hand motioning her to calm down. Before the meeting, Taylor and her dad had agreed on a plan. Now Taylor just had to keep her cool while Rich worked it out.

“We appreciate your valuable advice over the years, but I agree with Taylor, you stepped over the line with this action. I’m afraid we won’t need your services any longer.” He pushed a business card toward Mike. “Please transfer our company and personal files over to Samantha Jones at this address. She’s now our attorney.”

Mike’s eyes widened. “You’re firing me? Over this?”

“According to our new attorney, you’re lucky we aren’t filing charges against you with the law board. But I convinced her that you were a longtime family friend and, as such, probably had our best interest at heart.” Taylor leaned back in her chair, waiting for the reaction.

She didn’t have to wait long.

“This is because you’re sleeping with him. Taylor, he’s a player. You don’t know how many women he’s had in his bed.” Mike turned his attention on her. “You’re just the flavor of the month.”

That stung for a few seconds, but she knew Mike was hurt and lashing out. Hadn’t she thought the same thing about Jesse? Now Mike had to go explain to the partners at his firm why he’d lost the DeMarco family and the gallery’s business. That conversation wouldn’t be pleasant; not at all.

“My personal relationships have nothing to do with this decision. I’m sorry, but your services are no longer needed.” She stared at him, waiting for him to leave.

“You are cold-hearted. All I ever wanted was to help you, even when you came up with this crazy scheme.” Mike stood. “I’ll send over my final bill this afternoon.”

He walked toward the door and her father called after him. “If you’re smart, you won’t be charging us for that problem yesterday.”

Mike didn’t answer, slamming the door as his farewell message. Taylor sighed and looked at her father. “Thanks for being here, Dad. I can’t believe he even pulled something like this. I was mortified when Jesse and the lawyer showed up yesterday.”

Her dad stood and held his arm out. “I think you need a hug.” She fell into his arms and held back her tears. She wasn’t sure why she felt like crying.
Pick a topic
, she thought. Jesse, Angie, Mike’s betrayal, losing her job at the gallery … it could be any or all of the above.

He sat her down in one of the chairs. “We do have to clear something up, though. If you want to buy the gallery, we won’t sell to him. Your mom and I thought you’d be pleased with having the freedom to travel and explore the world. We didn’t want you to feel stuck here in Boise, running a small gallery.”

Here was her chance. She could stop this entire problem with one word. Well, three.
Don’t sell to Jesse.
Okay, it was four. Last night, she’d made her decision to walk away. Her life wasn’t just the gallery, it needed to be more. And this was one way she could force herself to change. Instead, she smiled. “Dad, I want you to sell the gallery. And you and Mom are going to do just that. I’m looking forward to finding a new path.” As the dark cloud lifted from her father’s face, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she might even mean the words.

When her father left her office, she dug into the monthly reports. She’d let the paperwork slide for the last week or two. Her boy trouble had left her too busy to do her job. And by God, as long as it was her job, she’d make sure she walked away with a clean conscience. Besides, she would probably need this reference for her next appointment. No need to burn a bridge and hope her contacts in the art world would keep her solvent.

She paused a moment, then went to the website for her favorite airline. Glancing at the calendar and adding two weeks for complications, she booked a flight to Paris without a return ticket. Taylor would figure out the details later, but for now, she had her first stop on her freedom tour. Her parents would be happy for her. Too bad she didn’t feel the same way.

Her stomach growled, and she glanced at the clock. She’d been reviewing the ongoing contracts for over two hours. Time for lunch. Today, she was going out. Might as well start feeling like the unemployed bum she would be in less than a month’s time. Learn to relax, as Brit would say.

Angie was on the phone when she entered the front of the gallery.

“I’ve got to go,” Angie whispered into the phone. She quickly hung up and stood to greet Taylor. “Thank you for bringing me back.”

Taylor felt the tears well in her eyes. Then Angie threw her arms around her, and Taylor was engulfed in a warm hug. One or two of the unwanted tears fell down her cheeks. “I didn’t do anything; I just stopped someone else from being a jerk.”

Angie brushed off a stray teardrop. “You stood up for me. And I’ll never forget that.”

Taylor smiled. “I should be thanking you. Mike was off the rails and out of control. If Jesse and your lawyer hadn’t told me, I would have thought you’d quit. The guy had become too controlling.”

Angie studied her with a look on her face Taylor couldn’t decipher. “Love can make you act crazy.”

“That’s the problem—I never even saw that coming with Mike. Brit told me he had a thing for me for years, but I always thought we were just friends.” Taylor swung her tote bag on her shoulder. “Anyway, I’m heading out to grab a long lunch and maybe even a glass of wine before I come back and tackle the rest of those contract reviews. I have my cell if you need me.”

“Take your time. We’ll be fine. Brit just left to grab a pizza for us, and she’s going to teach me how to set up a display.” Angie beamed. “She says I have a knack for visual placement.”

“You’ll be running the place before Jesse knows it.” Taylor cringed at the words. She could see the family involved in the gallery. Picking artists and giving their own twist on the art world, just like she and her grandfather had done when she started working with him. Grief stabbed at her heart. For a minute, she wasn’t sure if the pain was caused by losing her grandfather, the gallery, or her connection with Jesse and his family.

“He cares about you,” Angie said, interrupting her thoughts.

Taylor smiled and shook her head. “I’m afraid I’ve closed that door. However, I know he cares about you. You told them about the cancer, didn’t you?”

“I told Jesse when I got that lawyer letter. Then he brought in the entire group. I swear, that boy can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“You’ll appreciate the support later. Don’t be so stubborn—it’s nice to have family.” Taylor paused at the door. “But, if you ever need something, you know you can call me too.”

Angie nodded, then waved Taylor out the door. “Go to lunch. We can sing ‘Kumbaya’ and roast marshmallows when you get back.”

Taylor left the gallery, and as she walked past the large picture windows she saw Angie pick up the phone.

• • •

An hour later, filled with seafood, pasta, garlic bread, and not one, but two glasses of wine, Taylor strolled back to the gallery. She’d stopped in a dress shop and picked up a new purse that she had seen in the window as she passed the storefront. She patted the new bag on her shoulder as she walked. Impulse purchase or not, it represented her new life. The canvas tote was huge with hand-painted purple pansies strung across the outside. She’d been able to stuff her old bag inside with no problem. Time to take care of Taylor. She might even take the rest of the afternoon off and go walk through the art museum.

Taylor swung open the door to the gallery, deciding to do just that. She’d take a cab down to the museum and walk away this pleasant buzz she felt.

“Angie? Brit?” No one was at the front desk. Odd, but Angie had mentioned they were working on a display. She dumped her bag behind the counter and headed toward the first display room. Empty. Frowning, she stepped farther into the gallery. Her stomach clenched and the pleasant buzz in her head disappeared fast. Something felt wrong.

Entering the last display room, she saw the picture. The room had been draped in all black, letting a single light shine on the painting. A painting of her.

Taylor walked up to the easel and studied the lines. The way her smile teased and her eyes in the portrait danced, she almost looked like a Renaissance model. She half expected to find fat cherubs circling her nearly naked form. Instead, the rest of the picture was set in a bed. Sheets tangled, keeping her modest, but hinting at a perfect body that she knew didn’t quite match her own.

“Do you like it?”

The question came from behind her. Jesse. She didn’t turn when she answered. “You did this? How?”

“From your sitting at your mom’s class. Of course, I played with the surroundings a bit.” Jesse’s voice sounded closer now. She could almost feel his hand on her back, supporting her.

“Typically, it takes several sittings to finish a portrait like this. You did it from just one?” She turned, challenging him. If she’d found out he’d taken pictures of her when she was asleep, she was going to kill him.

“The rest was from memory. Believe me, you’re hard to get out of my thoughts.” Jesse took her hand. “I need to ask you something.”

She wanted to pull away. She felt a jolt of energy run through her body as he held her hand. Something so simple shouldn’t feel so sexual. Shouldn’t make her want to kiss him. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about. I’m getting the office ready for the transition. You should be able to work directly with Brit on any questions you have.”

“You didn’t read the proposal George drafted.” Jesse stepped closer.

Taylor shrugged. “No need. Angie shouldn’t have been fired. It was a mistake, and one I’ve corrected, so you didn’t need to convince me to keep her on.”