The Bull Rider’s Keeper (7 page)

“Flashy,” Taylor admitted. “And so not what I expected. My father would kill you for this car.”

“You should have seen it when I bought it. James told me I was out of my mind. That finding the parts alone would ruin me.” He held the passenger door open for her, watching as she slipped in. Her long, elegant legs were the last part of her body to disappear into the Porsche.

When he climbed into the driver’s side, he turned the keys, letting the engine sing. A smile tickled his lips. The car made him happy. He wasn’t proud of the fact, but it did.

“So, you had to prove your brother wrong?” Taylor questioned.

“No. Well, maybe. James is James. As the older brother, he has an opinion on everything.” Jesse turned to Taylor. “I love the car, but James was right about one thing. It ran me an arm and a leg to restore her. I just make sure he doesn’t know how much.”

“Angie said the two of you grew up with your dad. That must have been fun—living out in the country like that. Is that where you learned to ride bulls? Did your dad teach you?” Taylor pulled a slip of paper from her purse and handed it to him. “Key this into your GPS, it’s the guy’s address.”

Jesse typed the address into the navigator he’d had installed. When the map pulled up, he frowned. “Two hours, thirty minutes? You’re going to have to feed me lunch and dinner.”

Taylor laughed. “Who said anything about food?”

“I am driving, the least you can do is feed me.” Jesse pulled the car out into traffic, adjusting the rearview mirror. From his peripheral vision, he saw Taylor turning her head toward the gallery, watching it like they were leaving forever.

“That can be arranged,” she finally said after they’d turned the corner, and the building was no longer in sight.

They reached the freeway and headed east before he answered her questions. “I’m surprised Angie said anything about Dad. She likes to pretend all that didn’t happen.”

“I don’t understand.” Taylor turned down the stereo. “She doesn’t like to talk about her divorce?”

Jesse turned his head and looked at her. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

“Tell me what?”

Jesse wondered if he even wanted Taylor to know about his sordid past. He sped up to pass a minivan that was slowing for the exit to Eagle, using the distraction to think. He considered his options. “Look, you can’t tell Angie I told you this. If she wants you to know, you’ll know. But it’s hard for her to admit what she did, and I don’t want her hurt.”

Taylor held her hands up. “I’m not going to hurt Angie. Or at least, I hope not. I don’t know what I said yesterday, but she teared up on me. So what really happened?”

Jesse glanced at the GPS. Seeing he didn’t have a turnoff to worry about for miles, he decided to let her in. “When James and I were kids, Angie left Dad.”

“They got a divorce. It happens in the best of families, believe me.” Taylor checked her cell phone for messages. “Most of my senior class was playing the two-step home game, one week at mom’s, one at dad’s. I could never find anyone.”

“No, well, yeah, they got a divorce, but we didn’t know that. One day we had a mother, the next we didn’t. Dad wouldn’t talk about it. He wouldn’t let us talk about her. We were just kids—James must have been six, me a year younger. Once she was gone, Dad fell apart, and raising me fell on James.” Jesse paused. “Then Dad died a few years ago while he was on the way to one of my rodeos. The police found an empty flask in the truck when they pulled him out of the river.”

Taylor didn’t say anything. Jesse glanced over at her, wondering what she was reading on her cell. Instead, her gaze was focused on him, her eyes wide.

She bit her bottom lip. “No wonder she acted funny. I’m so sorry, Jesse. I didn’t know.”

“I’m okay. James is okay. But Mom, she likes to be called Angie, even by us. She’s kind of a mess about it.” Jesse stared at the road ahead. “I think she regretted leaving as soon as she got out of town, but Dad wouldn’t even let her talk to us. Hell, for years, James and I assumed she’d died somewhere along the way.”

“How did you find her?” Taylor’s voice was quiet.

“She’d been following me on the rodeo circuit. Believe it or not, Jesse Sullivan isn’t that common of a name.” Jesse grinned. “One day, after a ride, she showed up at a bar where I’d been celebrating. James had already turned in for the night.”

“What, she came up and said, ‘Hi, I’m your mother’?”

“Kind of. I thought she was a kook. Then we got talking and she knew too much. She had a picture of the four of us, taken just before she left.” Jesse turned on the air conditioner. “After that, I wasn’t an orphan anymore. She’s an interesting mom, that’s for sure, but I’m glad I have her.”

“Did James feel the same way?” Taylor asked.

“Not hardly. He’s struggled with the idea. But Lizzie’s helping, and Angie loves the kids.” Jesse paused. “I think he remembers the life we had before she left. And he missed her too much to just forgive a whim.”

“Of all the things you could have told me about your mother, about your family, really, this wasn’t what I expected.” Taylor put her hand on his arm. “Thanks.”

Jesse pursed his lips together. “Well, I wouldn’t have said anything, but Angie is kind of hard to accept if you don’t know the background. She’s got her heart set on this receptionist thing.”

Taylor laughed. “I know, she was trying it out yesterday afternoon. I think she scared away more customers than came in.”

“Sorry about that. Maybe you or Barb can take her shopping for work-appropriate clothes. Stuff that shows a little less cleavage?” Jesse grimaced. “I can’t believe I’m saying this about my mother. You’re lucky; Susan doesn’t embarrass you.”

“Oh, if you only knew.” Taylor laughed. “Imagine being the kid whose mom brought paintings in for career day with nude models. The boys were always asking if I wanted to go play artist.”

Jesse’s mouth turned up in one corner. “So I won’t get to first base by asking if you want to see my sketches?”

“You may get a knee to the groin, à la two years of self-defense classes.” Taylor focused on the farmland outside the window.

But I really do have sketches
, he thought.
Would Taylor think I was a psycho if she ever saw the studies I’ve completed?
One after another, trying to get the arch of her cheekbone just right. Or the line of her nose.
They were both silent for a while.

She laughed. “Family can really mess with your head, you know?”

Jesse smiled. “We have a lot in common, you and me. A lot in common.”

• • •

Taylor watched Jesse as he listened to the artist talk about the paintings they’d come to preview. The two men talked color, line, and light, like they’d been studying together for years. She had to admit, she was impressed. For a bull rider, the man knew his stuff about art. She’d been trying to sign Marvin to a show for years. He’d always put her off, claiming he just wasn’t ready. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d driven out here, her hopes high on the drive to Oregon and depressed on the way home. Jesse not only had the artist’s signature on the contract, the man had agreed to do four exclusive projects for the show. Now the two were settling on a theme.

She should feel happy. But all she could see was the gallery slipping away from her. Mike had been clear: there wasn’t a legal leg to stand on for her to challenge her parents’ sale of the gallery. Her grandfather had left the business solely in the hands of his one and only daughter. Not daughter
and
granddaughter. But that’s what she knew her grandpa had wanted. For Main Street to be passed down to her when the time came. That’s why she’d worked so hard to bring in new talent, new buyers. She’d even started a web page for the company. Now Mr. Charming over there would reap the rewards of her hard work, and she’d be relegated down to employee status. Not owner. Her grandfather wanted her to take over the gallery, and she wouldn’t let him down. Not just because Jesse wanted to play artist.

Taylor wasn’t sure if that’s what frustrated her the most—the title. She knew the money wasn’t the issue; she’d been assured her inheritance would be substantial. And if she needed money she could always turn to the trust her grandfather left her. But everything couldn’t be about money, could it? What about family tradition? What about—she searched for the right word—power?
Maybe,
she thought,
maybe I’m worried about losing my status in the art community
. She shook her head and turned back to the two men discussing artwork.

She knew she should participate in the conversation, but she had decided on the way here that Jesse Sullivan needed a taste of what he was buying. She wanted him to feel the pain of trying to sign an artist who so desperately needed to be showcased, only to be turned away. Yet, Jesse hadn’t been turned away. Instead, Marvin had welcomed him like a long lost brother. She wanted to think she’d softened him up the last few years. But it was Jesse who had worked his magic. And she’d have to swallow her pride and let him know he’d done a good, no, great job today. Even if the words choked her like the fast food hamburger they’d be having on the way home.

Jesse looked over at her and smiled, making a thumbs-up gesture when Marvin turned his back. The guy was having fun. And she was the one who set him up for success.

She was doomed.

Thirty minutes later they were on their way back to Boise with Marvin’s portfolio on the back seat.

“So we can set up a show date now and get the paintings shipped?” Jesse asked.

“Not until we finalize the contract. It has to go to Mike, our lawyer, first. He checks out all the legal stuff then sends a formal copy back to Marvin. I guess we’ll have to figure out who is signing—you or my dad. I don’t know if you want to be fettered to a contract you didn’t vet.” She looked at him. “Besides, I did all of the leg work; the contract should be considered my product.”

“I don’t know, he didn’t seem very interested until I started talking. Besides, your lawyer or mine, it’s all the same. They all just want to be paid,” Jesse said. “But you’re right; we probably better decide if this is a pre-sale item or something to happen afterward.” Jesse glanced over at her. “You a betting kind of girl?”

“I don’t understand.” A headache was blooming in the back of her skull. Probably karma for trying to keep Jesse from knowing she was trying to outbid him for the gallery. She never had been a good liar. Taylor reached back and massaged her neck. Maybe an appointment at the spa wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Jesse pulled the car onto the exit ramp leading toward Ontario. Ontario was the first town in Oregon that they’d passed heading in to meet with Marvin. It was the last town in Oregon they were going to pass on their way back to Idaho.

“What are you doing?” Taylor closed her eyes. All she wanted to do was to go home. She could open a bottle of wine and sit in the hot tub on her deck. Alone. Without the hunk of a bull rider playing games with her.

“You’re buying me lunch. There’s a great steakhouse here in town. And, since it’s late for lunch, early for dinner, I’ll take one meal for the two you owe me.” Jesse slowed the car to a stop at the light. When it turned green, he pulled onto the main street of town. “And I think we can determine who gets credit for Marvin’s contract at the same time.”

“I still don’t understand.” Taylor’s stomach growled at the thought of food. She wasn’t going to argue. Besides, he was driving.

“You’ll see after we eat.” Jesse grinned. “I just want to warn you, I’m kind of a big thing here.”

“My God. You have such an ego.” Taylor shook her head. She instantly regretted the motion and reached into her purse for the bottle of pain reliever she kept for moments like this. She shook out two pills, then washed them down with the rest of her water. She threw the empty water bottle onto the back seat.

“Just go ahead and make yourself at home,” Jesse said.

Taylor closed her eyes and prayed for the pills to take effect. “I’ll get it when we stop for dinner. I promise I’m not going to trash your pretty car.”

“Better not, or I’ll stop taking you places.” Jesse’s voice sounded far away and Taylor realized she could easily fall asleep if she had half a second.

The warmth of a hand on her shoulder caused Taylor to turn. Had the car stopped? Jesse stood outside her open door. She wiped her hand over her eyes. “Sorry. Must have fallen asleep.”

“You think? Come on, Sleeping Beauty, let’s get that dinner you promised me.” Jesse pulled her out of the car and they walked into the old building. The outside looked more like the Wild West than a modern steakhouse. She glanced at the pair of rockers sitting on the wooden deck—a checkers game sat forgotten between the oak chairs.

“Where are we?” She stopped in the middle of the porch, glancing at the old metal signs on the wall. The place looked like it hadn’t been open in years. Momentarily, fear flitted through her mind. Was she being stupid? What did she really know about Jesse Sullivan, besides the fact that her mom liked the guy? Her mom didn’t have the best radar for freaks. Had the road trip been a mistake? She felt in her purse for her cell.

“Relax, I’m not leading you astray. Yet.” Somehow the man seemed to know what she was thinking before she opened her mouth. Jesse put a hand on the small of her back and eased her through the black-painted glass doors.

As soon as they entered, the sound of an old song filled her ears and tickled at her memory. Was that Patsy Cline or a newish version of the song by that teenaged wonder kid? “Blue,” that was the song name, and the woman’s voice crooned over the mostly-empty dining room. A wooden bar complete with mirrored shelves and liquor bottles graced the left side of the room. On the right, a dance floor sat next to a small, darkened stage.

“Jesse Sullivan, what are you doing in town? I know there isn’t a rodeo this week,” a rough female voice called out from behind the bar. Jesse turned them toward the voice.

“Maggie, this is Taylor.” Jesse leaned over the bar and kissed the older woman on the cheek. “How have you been? George still giving you a hard time?”

“That ex-husband of mine should be drawn and quartered. But he’s been out of town on a job site the last few months, so it’s easier just to avoid his calls.” Maggie nodded at Taylor. “How’d this rangy old cowboy talk you into being seen with him? You’re a beautiful girl, I’m sure you could do better.”