Home on the Ranch: Colorado: Big City Cowboy / Colorado Cowboy
- -
- 100%
- +
He pulled open his middle desk drawer, shoved aside some papers and located Elizabeth Harrington-Smyth’s business card.
He twirled it between his fingers as he stared out the window. The snow-capped Rocky Mountains filled his view. Though he’d seen them every day of his life, their beauty never failed to amaze him. Some people thought they had a magnificent view when they looked out at a city skyline. Personally, he didn’t understand the appeal. Give him what God had created any day. Man’s creations were strictly amateur in comparison.
His hands tightened around the chair arm and the worn leather creaked in protest. Visions of his dad sitting in this same chair flashed in Rory’s mind. He still missed the old man every day. More so lately, since the doctor had found the inoperable tumor on his mother’s brain. How he wished he could talk to his dad about what to do, even though he knew what his dad would say. Do whatever’s necessary to get the money for your mother. She’s a good woman, the rock of this family, and she damned well deserves every shot to beat cancer.
Knowing his mom had only one alternative didn’t make this call any easier. Rory willed his hand to reach for the phone.
Nothing.
Not even a twitch.
Picking up a phone. Such a simple action, so why couldn’t he?
Because this call would change his life irrevocably. But at least it was his choice, as opposed to bankers and doctors calling the shots. Life was full of choices. Some turned out well and some sucked pond water. All a body could do was think things through, make a careful decision and deal with any fallout.
The last thing Rory wanted to do was leave this ranch, even short-term. He loved the land, the horses and the hard work that made his muscles ache at the end of the day. He loved the mental challenge of managing the ranching business.
A quiet knock sounded on his office door. “Come in, Mom.”
“How’d you know it was me?”
He smiled. “The ranch hands and Griff knock loud enough to break down the door. Avery rarely bothers to knock.”
His mom grinned, but weariness filled her eyes, twisting his gut as she walked across the office. Until the last year she’d been active and energetic. Then she’d started chemo. The constant nausea had almost killed her, but hadn’t done anything to shrink the tumor. Now, thanks to the steroids the doctor prescribed and her lack of energy for the long walks she enjoyed, her weight had ballooned. At least her hair had grown out enough for her to wear it in a short, spiky style. Despite all that, she hadn’t given up. Talk about strong.
Her quiet strength always amazed him. She never complained, and remained positive. He’d always loved his mom, but now he admired her in a different way.
Rory said a silent prayer that this experimental treatment would work.
“Griffin is ready to take me and Avery to the airport.” His mom stopped in front of his desk. Her frail hand rested on his forearm. “Are you sure we can afford this treatment, since insurance isn’t covering it? It’s so expensive.”
Thank goodness for Avery. His little sister, who’d always driven him crazy, wanting to tag along with him and his friends, had turned out okay. Since their mother’s diagnosis, she’d stepped into the family caretaker role. Avery coordinating their mom’s appointments and accompanying her had allowed Rory to focus on putting food on the table and keeping the ranch afloat. He couldn’t ask for a better sister.
“Don’t worry about the money, Mom. I’ve got the situation under control.”
She squeezed his arm and peered down at him. For a moment he worried that she’d read the lie in his eyes.
“If you’re absolutely sure.”
“I’ll worry about the finances. You concentrate on getting well.” He stood, walked around his desk and enveloped her in a hug, wishing he could take on this fight for her.
He couldn’t bear to lose her, too. Not so soon after losing his dad.
She kissed him on the cheek, and he pulled away. “Now, get out of here. I don’t want you to miss your flight.”
Once his mother had closed the door behind her, Rory returned to his desk. He picked up the business card, flipped open his cell phone and dialed.
CHAPTER TWO
“ELIZABETH HARRINGTON-SMYTH.”
Her voice sounded exactly as Rory remembered—pushy, businesslike and New York City. At the ranch she’d been like a defensive lineman, single-minded in pursuit of her goal, intent on getting to him, the quarterback. The lady definitely didn’t acknowledge the word no. Not exactly his favorite type of woman.
“It’s Rory McAlister. We met when you were at Twin Creeks Ranch in Estes Park last weekend. I was your guide on the horseback ride.”
“I remember, though I’m surprised to hear from you.”
That made two of them.
He swallowed hard and barreled forward. “The modeling job you said you could get me, is it still available?”
“Yes, it is.”
“And it’ll pay thirty thousand dollars?”
“Over the course of the campaign, yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll get paid when we do the photo shoots. Then you get paid again whenever the material is used for an aspect of the campaign.”
He needed to do some research to see if he could work a deal to get more money up front. “Are you interested?”
“Yes.” He forced the word past the lump in his throat.
“Email me a photograph of yourself as soon as we get off the phone. My address is on my card.”
“I don’t have anything taken by a professional photographer.” Nor would he, if he had to pay for them.
“I don’t care. Send me what you’ve got, even if it’s family photos. If you have ones showing your face clearly, that would be great.”
“I’ll send what I can find.”
“Have you gotten an agent yet?”
Forget that. An agent would take a percentage of what he made. No way would he give anyone a part of his money, when he needed every penny so desperately. Surely with an MBA he could negotiate the deal. “I’m representing myself.”
“I want you on the first available flight to New York.”
“You expecting me to pay for the flight?”
“We’ll reimburse you. Put the ticket on your credit card and turn in your receipt to me. I’ll send it on to Accounting, and they’ll cut you a check within two weeks.”
“I can’t do that.” He’d hit his credit limit paying for the two plane tickets to Portland.
“If that’s a problem, I’ll contact our travel person to book your flight.”
“You do that.”
“I’ll email you the details.”
“What about a hotel? I’m not paying for that, either.”
She paused, and he imagined her sitting at a clean desk in an efficiently organized office, trying to decide if he’d be this big a pain about everything. He made a mental note not to push her too much on anything but money. That issue was nonnegotiable. He had to pinch pennies.
“I’ll book you at a hotel near our office. I’ll email you the details. Is that to your satisfaction?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
For better or worse, his life was about to change.
* * *
ELIZABETH HUNG UP HER PHONE, jumped out of her chair, took two quick steps across her office, then stopped. A management supervisor who planned on becoming a vice president did not dash into the hallway because she was excited. She sucked in a calming breath, smoothing the front of her black pencil skirt, and headed for her friend Chloe Walsh’s office.
Reaching it, Elizabeth shuddered at the clutter surrounding her. Piles of paper dotted the room. She couldn’t even see the top of Chloe’s desk because of the stacks of portfolios and pictures on it. Elizabeth shook her head. How did her best friend find anything or get any work done? This office would drive her past the brink of insanity.
“I heard from cowboy hottie,” Elizabeth said as she sank into the chair in front of Chloe’s desk—once she’d transferred a stack of photos from the seat to the floor.
“The gorgeous ranch hand from Colorado?” Chloe pointed to the picture Janice had taken of Rory during the week of a million bridesmaid events.
“That’s our guy,” Elizabeth said. “A real-life cowboy dream, if you liked the rough outdoorsman type. He called me back.”
Chloe swiveled her chair around and glanced out her tenth-floor Madison Avenue window.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m checking for pigs. I swore they’d be flying if that cowboy ever called you back.”
“Me, too. Thankfully, we were both wrong.” Elizabeth plucked a piece of lint off her skirt. “We’ve got to get moving full blast on finalizing the idea. We need to finish storyboards, ideas for TV commercials, print ad mock-ups, billboard ideas, and have everything ready ASAP. Then when we do Rory’s photo shoot we’ll be set to present everything to Micah Devlin.”
“What’ll we do if Devlin doesn’t go for this idea?”
“Don’t even think it. Be positive. We have to believe in this campaign and sell him on it.”
“Got it, Chief. I’ll be Little Miss Sunshine.”
“Let’s not go overboard. The guy’s smart. Devlin won’t buy a snow job. We’ll believe in the campaign because it’s going to be wonderful.”
“I’ll make a note of that.” Chloe grabbed a scrap of paper and pen off the nearest pile and started writing. “Be positive, but not delusional.”
Elizabeth smiled. What would she do without Chloe? Her friend always made her laugh when she needed to most. “It’s scary how much rides on this idea.”
“You didn’t tell our cowboy that, did you?”
“Do I look stupid? If he knew how important this campaign is, and how central he is to pulling it off, who knows how much he’d want to get paid.”
Chloe held up her hands in mock defeat. “Excuse me for losing my mind and forgetting you’re all business no matter what the situation or how gorgeous the guy. Surely if he wanted too much money we could find another cowboy.”
Elizabeth took another calming breath, needing to channel her nervousness. “I’ve tried. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Believe it or not, most cowboys just want to spend time on their horses riding the range, or whatever it is they do. Plus there’s something about this guy.”
“Other than good looks?”
“There’s something about the way he moves. He exudes confidence.”
“If he’s a real cowboy, and all they want to do is ride the range, why’s this guy willing to model?”
Elizabeth had asked herself the same question since Rory’s call. “I don’t care, as long as he is.”
When she’d given him her card he’d been polite, but she’d seen the you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look in his eyes. She’d suspected modeling was the last thing he would do, right after moving away from Colorado.
So why the major about-face?
Well, there was no reason to borrow trouble when what had changed his mind wasn’t important. All that mattered was that she got what she needed for the campaign.
“We better hope he doesn’t change his mind,” Chloe said.
“Again, I say, don’t even think it. Think positive, because I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be on the unemployment line.”
“You think Devlin’s that close to pulling his business?”
“He made it quite clear when I talked to him yesterday that his patience has run out. He’s given me to the end of the week to find a spokesman, so we’re doing whatever we have to in order to get this done. We’ve got to finalize this campaign fast or we’ll all be out of a job.”
* * *
ELIZABETH STARED AT Rory’s face displayed on her computer monitor. No doubt about it, he was a natural. Despite the amateur photos, the camera loved him. His maleness oozed through the screen. He would be the perfect spokesman.
Women would take one look at Rory in Devlin’s designer jeans and buy a pair for their guy. Men would wear the jeans hoping they’d look like Rory, and have women falling at their feet. Exactly what the client wanted. Their jeans sold well in New York and Los Angeles, but hadn’t broken into other major markets. Devlin wanted to get the guys who wore Levi’s and Wranglers to spend their hard-earned cash on his expensive product. Rory could pry open those wallets.
She spun around in her desk chair, giddy over how things were coming together. She couldn’t wait to show Devlin the mock-up. If he didn’t like Rory and the campaign, then fine, let him take his business elsewhere, because nothing would please the man.
She considered sending Devlin Rory’s photos, but her practical nature balked at the idea. Instinct told her to wait until she had the campaign completely outlined and professional photographs of Rory. God forbid she sold Devlin on the cowboy, and then discovered Rory froze in front of a camera.
Needing to stretch her legs and energize her mind, Elizabeth decided to take a quick bathroom break and then grab a fresh cup of coffee before she dived into the details for Rory’s photo session.
She weaved her way through the maze of offices and cubicles until she reached the woman’s restroom, where quiet sobs floated toward her from the middle stall. She knocked gently on the door. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” More sobs contradicted the words.
“Nancy? What’s wrong?”
The door latch clicked free, and Nancy, a friend and fellow management supervisor, exited the stall. The middle-aged woman clutched a wad of toilet paper in each hand, and her eyes were red and swollen.
“Everything’s not fine. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Racking sobs consumed her. Not sure of what else to do, Elizabeth enveloped the woman in an embrace.
“I found out yesterday that I have breast cancer,” Nancy choked out, once her crying subsided.
You have breast cancer. One of the most feared phrases a woman could hear. Tears pooled in Elizabeth’s own eyes for this woman, and what she was facing. “I’m so sorry, Nancy.” She tightened her hold on her friend. “If you want to go home, I’ll say you weren’t feeling well.”
Nancy stepped out of Elizabeth’s embrace and dabbed at her eyes with the toilet paper. “Let me think about it. I’m not sure I want to go home. It’s so lonely there. I kept saying there was time for me to have a family. I said I’d focus on that once I felt secure in my career.” Her voice cracked. “Now I’ve got nothing but my career, and because of the cancer, I may never have the chance to get married.”
“They’ve made great strides in breast cancer treatment. It’s not the death sentence it once was.” Elizabeth’s words sounded so hollow, when women still died of breast cancer every day.
“From your mouth to God’s ears. They want me to have surgery next week and start chemo soon after that.”
“Do you need someone to go with you?”
“I’ll let you know. Right now I’m in shock.” She sighed deeply. “I think I will take the day off. I’ll call my best friend and see if she wants to go out for lunch. Then we can do some shopping therapy.”
As Elizabeth returned to her office, she heard her blaring phone from halfway down the hall. Once seated at her desk, she glanced at caller ID. Micah Devlin. So much for having everything in order before she talked to him. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her phone.
“I’m glad you called, Micah.” She tried not to wince over her white lie. “I’ve found the perfect man for your campaign, but I won’t have photos for you until after the shoot tomorrow.”
“Send me what you have.”
“They’re family pictures. I’d prefer to wait for the professional shots.”
“Send them. I want to see this guy to make sure we’re on the right track this time.”
Elizabeth winced at Devlin’s reminder of her previous suggestions for a spokesperson. Ones he had immediately, and not so politely, shot down. Some clients were dreams to work with. She had plenty of those, and they kept her sane and confident. Micah Devlin could benefit from a class on how to tactfully get his point across without incinerating those who worked for him.
“I have every confidence you’ll be as pleased with this choice as I am.”
She retrieved Rory’s message from her email, hit Forward and typed Devlin’s name. After saying a quick prayer, she hit Send.
Here goes everything.
“I’m emailing his photos to you right now. Keep in mind these aren’t professionally done, but I believe his essence, his personality, comes through nonetheless.”
She heard Devlin’s computer keys clicking as he retrieved her message. She couldn’t breathe. Thoughts bounced around in her brain. She hadn’t updated her résumé in years. How would she tell her parents if she lost her job? She had mortgage payments….
“Now that’s what I’m talking about. He’s somebody the average man can relate to. He’s not one of those pretty boy models. Before I sign him, I want to see how he comes off in a professional shoot.”
Air rushed into Elizabeth’s lungs, and she smiled over passing the first hurdle. “Rory will be in town tomorrow, and by Friday’s meeting we’ll have photos for you.”
“I’ve contacted Harms and Finn.”
Devlin’s little tact problem reared its ugly head again. So that’s why he’d called—to drop that bomb. Her firm, Rayzor Sharp Media, had lost an account to them six months ago. The agency was top-notch and hungry. “They’re good.”
“I meet with them tomorrow.”
“Then I look forward to showing you what we’ve got on Friday.”
She could pull this campaign together. If she didn’t sleep until after the meeting, lived on Starbucks with double shots, and the rest of her team did the same, they’d be fine.
No problem.
Except that they were working with a cowboy, not a professional model. A total unknown who’d never modeled before. The unknown made Elizabeth nervous. It was always so unpredictable.
* * *
RORY SAT IN HIS office waiting for his brother. Things were moving much faster than he’d expected. When he’d called Elizabeth he’d never dreamed she would expect him to be on the first flight to New York. She was probably one of those people who stayed attached to the office via her iPhone so she never missed a message, even when she was supposed to be on vacation. Life was way too short to spend it that attached to anything but family.
He smiled. At least he wouldn’t be the only one miserable. Having to manage the ranch would severely cramp Griff’s style. The life of the party, his kid brother never turned down an invitation, but would soon discover he couldn’t be out all night and sleep until noon while running the ranch.
Rory glanced up as he sauntered in and flung himself into the leather wing chair in the corner of the office. Griffin had a gift with animals, especially horses. He had a way of calming them, sensing when something was wrong. Business was an entirely different matter. Despite his ability in math, Griffin hadn’t shown any interest in learning that side of the ranch. All that was about to change. Little brother was going to have to step up.
“I couldn’t get the second mortgage.”
“Why?”
“The downturn in the economy has caused a drop in tourism. Pair that with the amount of debt Twin Creeks already carries, and John couldn’t justify it.”
“You’d think since he was dad’s best friend, he’d cut us a little slack.”
“John’s a smart businessman, and this was purely a business decision.”
“Wait a minute. Mom and Avery left for Portland yesterday. How did you pay for their flights?”
“I put it on a credit card.” One charging a fortune in interest. The hole Rory was digging kept getting deeper. “I need to get additional cash coming in before we start receiving Mom’s medical bills.”
“Did you tell her?”
Rory shook his head. “I didn’t tell Avery, either. She isn’t to know anything about this. No one is, for that matter. This stays between you and me. Are you clear on that?”
“But if—
“Avery’s got to take care of Mom. That’s her job, keeping her calm and positive. You mention any of this, and I’ll beat you to within an inch of your life. You got that, little brother?”
Griffin nodded.
“I’ve got the money situation under control, but I need you to take over the ranch’s day-to-day operations.”
“I’m obviously missing something. How did you find a way to come up with that kind of cash?”
“I’m going to New York City to model.”
Griffin laughed. “No, seriously, Rory. What’re we going to do?”
“This isn’t a joke. I called the advertising executive who was here last week. She’s got a client I can work for who will pay thirty grand for me to do an advertising campaign. I’m leaving tonight.”
“What? Are you sure about this? You hate being in the spotlight, and you hate having your picture taken. If anything, you’ve always tried to blend into the background.”
“What choice do I have? If Mom doesn’t get this treatment, she’ll die.”
Griffin nodded, and for a moment the weight of their worry hung in the air.
“You have to hold things together here while I’m in New York.”
“Tell me what to do.”
Some of the heaviness pressing on Rory’s chest lifted. He picked up a three-ring binder and gave Griff a crash course on Twin Creeks’ finances.
“Don’t spend money on anything but the essentials, Griff. I’ve cut expenses to the bone. In doing that I haven’t had to let anyone go.”
“It’s that bad?”
“We’re not on the verge of bankruptcy, but things are tight.” Rory handed over a file. “Jameson is interested in buying Star’s foal. Follow up with him next week. He’s been lowballing us. I’ve given him the best price possible. Don’t let him haggle with you. Another copy of the quote I gave him is in his file.”
“Everything sounds simple enough.”
“Stick to the budget.” Rory flipped to another section in the binder.
“Thank goodness for cell phones. You’re only a call away if I have questions,” Griffin murmured.
“I may have to call you back, since I’ll be working.”
“How are you going to stand being away from here? You break out in a cold sweat when you have to go to Denver. Being in a big city like New York will drive you crazy.”
That’s exactly what worried Rory the most.
* * *
WHEN RORY WALKED INTO Rayzor Sharp Media’s reception area, the first thing that hit him was how sterile the place felt. The desk was a sleek chrome-and-glass contraption with lines and angles and no warmth. A big black sign with the company name hung above it. The white walls added to the lifeless environment. He suddenly found himself missing the warm wood and earthy colors he saw everywhere at home.
A pretty little brunette dressed in black, who looked as if she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in a month, glanced up and flashed him a perfect, blinding-white smile. “Hello…” She stretched out the word and looked him up and down, making him feel like a bright red apple held out to a horse. “What can I do for you?”
Man, he was out of his element. Fingering the brim of his Sunday Stetson, which he held in his hands, he said, “I’m here to see Ms. Harrington-Smyth.”
“Lucky Elizabeth. Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Bottled water? My phone number?”
For a moment he didn’t know what to say. Strong women didn’t scare him, but he wanted a woman to at least give him a chance to show interest before she made an all-out play for him, and he wasn’t used to being pounced on the minute he walked into a place of business.
“I’m good.”
“You sure are.” The receptionist pointed to a cluster of ridiculously flimsy metal chairs. “Have a seat. I’ll let Elizabeth know you’re here.”
As he sat, he hoped the chair would hold his weight. He didn’t belong here. Elizabeth’s client would take one look at him, laugh and ask her if she was crazy to put this cowboy in an ad campaign to sell clothes.
Now if the client was Ford or Chevy, that he could see. Man, he wished she wanted him to sell trucks instead of jeans. That wouldn’t be a bad deal. He could chuck a saddle and some grain sacks in the back of a flatbed, crawl in the cab and drive off into the sunset. Yup, that would be a sweet deal.