Home on the Ranch: Colorado: Big City Cowboy / Colorado Cowboy

CHAPTER SIX

AFTER DELIVERING HIS ULTIMATUM, Rory took a long swallow of beer, hoping the icy liquid would calm his rising temper. He should’ve known better than to trust Lizzie. Obviously, he hadn’t learned the don’t-trust-career-driven-city-women lesson well enough from Melissa.

Memories rushed back. They’d met at Harvard, and he, young idealistic fool that he’d been, had fallen madly in love. They’d made plans for a future together, or least he thought they had.

He’d believed Melissa loved him enough to follow him to Colorado. When she accepted his proposal she’d agreed to live with him on the ranch, but the closer the wedding date loomed on the calendar, the more she waffled, until she finally admitted she’d changed her mind. She wanted him to move to Boston instead, and if he wouldn’t the engagement was off.

Now here he sat across the table from another bossy city woman, and apparently Lizzie thought him a complete idiot. What did she expect him to say when she announced the client wanted to throw their deal out the window and renegotiate?

Sure, you can screw me over. I’ll let you.

No way would he roll over and play dead. He wouldn’t go down without one helluva fight. Not when his mom’s life was at stake.

Rory carefully folded his napkin and placed it on the table. A deal was a deal. “I specifically asked you what this job would pay, and you told me thirty thousand. If there was a chance the job would pay less, that was the time to tell me.”

Elizabeth paled.

Good. No way would he make this comfortable or easy for her.

“In my own defense, I discussed the issue with Devlin, and thought we were clear on this.” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Yesterday was the first time he mentioned not wanting to pay you that amount.”

“He needs to honor our agreement, and so do you.”

Rory prided himself on conducting his business honestly and above reproach. Obviously, Devlin possessed fewer scruples.

“While you and I had discussed your monetary compensation, until a contract is signed there isn’t a formal agreement in place with the client, and renegotiation is possible.”

“Is this how he does business?”

“I’ve never had a problem like this with him before.”

“I’m just lucky then.”

“I don’t blame you for being upset.”

He couldn’t let her know how important this job was to him, but he couldn’t let her and Devlin screw him on the deal, either. “I’m past upset. I’m about ready to tell the guy to go to hell.”

“Then we’ll both be out of a job.”

“And Devlin will be out of a spokesperson.” Rory leaned back in his chair. “He’ll have to start his search all over.”

“Everybody loses then. What good does that do?”

“It’ll make me feel damn good. I won’t play the fool.”

“No one is doing that. This is a business decision. You have to prove to Devlin that you’ll increase sales enough to justify what he’s paying you. If you had modeling experience, you could point to previous campaigns, and what they’d done for the company.”

“Just because I don’t have the numbers to prove it doesn’t mean I won’t bring in money.”

“I agree. In fact, I’m banking on that very fact, but Micah Devlin is a numbers man. If he can’t see it on paper, it doesn’t exist.”

“Is this a deal breaker for Devlin?”

“I honestly don’t know, but it very well could be. He mentioned that cowboys had to be a dime a dozen.”

“I don’t see a whole lot of them in New York City.” Rory waved his arm around the room. “You see a lot of cowboys here?”

“I tried all these arguments with Devlin. Between you and me, and if you mention this to anyone I’ll deny it, I don’t agree with what he’s doing.”

“But here you are, asking me to work for less.”

“Devlin Designs is my client. I have to respect the CEO’s wishes.” Her finger drew lines in the condensation on her water glass. “If you want to keep your job, the best thing to do is agree to Devlin’s demands.”

“I’ve met this kind of businessman before. He doesn’t care who he plows over as long as the deal works out well for him.”

“Help me out here.” Elizabeth leaned forward and placed her small hand on his forearm.

Her simple touch sent off shock waves through his system stronger than a kick from an unbroken horse, momentarily sending him into a giant fog.

“I sense we both want to find a solution to this problem,” she continued. “I don’t want to see you get screwed, but Devlin’s met with other agencies. He could go with someone else.”

“I can’t take less money.” If Rory gave in now, Devlin would try to screw him again somewhere down the road. “I do more than give tours. I breed horses. Sometimes on paper a foal doesn’t look like he’ll be anything out of the ordinary. Then when I work with him I see something special, something I can’t put a finger on. You know those intangibles you were talking about.”

She nodded.

“When I come across a horse like that, I’m going to drive a hard bargain when I sell him. What I’m saying is I’m an experienced horse trader. No one’s going to take advantage of me.”

* * *

AT NINE-FIFTY the next morning, Elizabeth met Rory in the agency reception area and ushered him to her office, closing the door behind them. A night of worry and anger threatened to choke her. “Please tell me you’ve changed your mind about your salary demands.”

Rory shook his head. “The man told you he’d pay me thirty. That’s what you told me. A deal’s a deal.”

She hated stubborn men. She ought to put Rory and Devlin in a room and let them fight it out, because she’d had enough of both of them.

“There’s nothing I can do to talk you out of this?”

“Nope.”

She reminded herself to breathe. Maybe when faced with Rory’s defiance, Devlin would back down.

Sure, and as Chloe often said, pigs would fly.

At least Rory was dressed like the cowboy spokesman Devlin wanted. He wore the same navy shirt he’d worn when they’d met, plus his boots and his royal flush belt buckle. “I’m glad you had the common sense to wear the client’s jeans.”

“Don’t give up, Lizzie.” He reached out to her, but at the last minute pulled back and shoved his hand in his pocket. “You might be surprised how this meeting turns out.”

His smooth, cool voice wrapped around her, and the confidence in his eyes almost had her believing him. Wait a minute. How could he remain this calm and collected unless he was up to something?

“Tell me you don’t have some harebrained scheme planned.”

“Would I do that?”

“I don’t know you well enough to answer that question.” Elizabeth shook her head. “No, that’s not true. I suspect you’d try just about anything to get your way.”

“Harebrained ideas aren’t my style.”

These two men were going to kill her. Either that or drive her completely insane if she didn’t rein them in. But before she could respond, her office phone buzzed. She reached around Rory, grabbed her phone and answered the inside line.

After ending the call, she picked up her Netbook off her desk. “Devlin’s waiting. Don’t try anything we’ll both regret. He’s a very astute businessman and doesn’t like to be questioned.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I recognize sarcasm when I hear it, and I don’t appreciate it. At least listen to what the man has to say. He’s always been reasonable in the past.”

“I have to do what’s right.”

“Please…” She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. Muscles rippled under her palm, sending corresponding waves ricocheting through her. “Remain open-minded.”

A second later he broke the contact. As she and Rory walked toward the conference room, she couldn’t help but think she was heading into a business meeting that would end in a pissing match. As the only non-testosterone-filled party present, she’d be utterly doomed.

When they entered the conference room, she introduced the two men and they shook hands.

“I don’t believe in running around the mountain,” Rory said as he sank into a leather chair across from Devlin at the conference table. “I climb straight to the top. I heard you had concerns about the campaign.”

Elizabeth cringed as she sat beside Devlin and booted up her Netbook. Hadn’t the cowboy ever heard of small talk and tact? She turned to Devlin. “Rory and I met last night.” She tossed him an I-talked-with-him-like-you-told-me-to look. “I shared some of your concerns regarding the campaign.”

“My first concern has been addressed,” Devlin said. “I wanted to make sure your voice will work in commercials and in public appearances.”

“I’m glad we have that settled.” Elizabeth retrieved the file containing her notes. “Rory and I discussed him doing spots on morning shows.” She glanced at her file to refresh her fuzzy, sleep-deprived brain, then swiveled her chair toward Devlin. “Rory’s had experience with the local media. Morning shows won’t be his first interview situation. Also, his work with tourists from all over the world has taught him to deal with unusual situations and to think on his feet.”

She smiled. Could she spin a situation or what?

“National morning shows are very different from being interviewed by local reporters,” Devlin said.

Rory leaned forward in his chair and braced his elbows on the table. “People are people. I figure if I treat these high-priced morning show hosts with respect, I ought to do fine.”

Respect? Sirens blared in Elizabeth’s head, sensing where Rory’s thoughts had turned. Her mind scrambled to determine a way to derail him before he blasted Devlin. Say anything. Just get the words out before Rory does. “That attitude will definitely come across on TV, and people will relate to Rory for that. Don’t you agree, Micah?”

“I have a lot riding on this campaign,” Devlin said to Rory.

“As long as I represent your company, in public no one will see me in jeans other than yours.”

“As it should be.”

Rory nodded. “I’ll talk up the product. I can tour the rodeo circuit. I know a few boys that might be able to get us some publicity in that market. What you see here is what you get. I pride myself on honesty.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it shut instead, deciding to sit back and watch the show. Rory had said he was an experienced horse trader. He hadn’t been joking. The cowboy was holding his own with Devlin. No small accomplishment, considering Devlin held an MBA.

“I expect the same from you,” Rory added. “Which brings me to the issue of money. We had a verbal agreement regarding my payment, and now you’re going back on your word.”

“This is business, and until there’s a signed contract, everything is negotiable.” Devlin straightened in his chair. “With your experience, thirty thousand for a campaign is a bit high.”

“I’m worth every penny.” Rory leaned forward.

The man’s confidence astounded her, and was in fact a thing of beauty to watch.

“There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance.” Devlin’s hands tightened around the upholstered chair arms as he glared at him.

“I have a proposition for you,” Rory said, clearly unfazed by Devlin’s harsh look. “I did some checking on the internet last night. From what I gathered, a spokesman is usually paid every time pictures are taken or a commercial is shot. Then he gets paid again when ads run in magazines, newspapers or on TV. He also gets paid more for interviews.”

Devlin nodded.

Elizabeth sat back, somewhat shocked. Sure, people could discover just about anything on the web, but that didn’t mean they understood what they read. Rory actually sounded as if he knew what he was talking about.

“From what I read, the spokesman makes more money that way than with a flat fee, but I read about something called a buyout. I’ll sign a contract today for thirty grand.”

Thin lines formed around Devlin’s mouth. “I have no guarantee you can pull off interviews or a TV commercial. I’m taking all the risk here.”

“Then I’ll have my agent call you.”

Rory’s little gem of news hit Elizabeth right between the eyes. Anger clogged her throat. Agent? How dare he not mention he’d signed with someone?

Wait a minute. Rory couldn’t have gotten an agent in the last two days. She relaxed. He was bluffing, and doing a damned good job of it.

Devlin’s angry eyes pinned Elizabeth like a butterfly in a child’s science project. “You said he was representing himself.”

“That’s what I was told.”

“If money’s going to be an issue, we can stop things right here. I’ll get an agent, and you can deal with him.” Rory crossed his arms over his broad chest. His determined gaze drilled into Devlin. “Who would you rather negotiate with? I’m guessing it’s me, but the choice is up to you.”

Elizabeth held her breath and waited. She’d just witnessed horse trading at its finest.

“I’m willing to go as high as twenty-five, but I want the payments made in thirds over the course of the contract.”

“I want half up front forty-eight hours after I sign the contract.”

“Deal, but I want everything we’ve agreed to today put into the contract.” Devlin held out his hand, and he and Rory shook on it.

Miracles did happen. Elizabeth closed her eyes to hide her relief. When she opened them, she reached for her Netbook. “I’ll write up the contract terms as negotiated, and let you both review it. Then you can send it to your legal department, Micah.”

Both men nodded.

“I’ll have the agency’s contract to you later today,” Devlin told Elizabeth. He turned to Rory. “If you give me your email address, I’ll send you our contract with you. I’d like to have it signed by early next week so we can proceed with the campaign.”

“I’ll sign it as soon as I have a lawyer look over it.”

Ten minutes later, a slightly shell-shocked Elizabeth escorted both men to the reception area. Once Devlin left, she faced Rory. “You should have told me what you intended to do.”

“If I had, would you have trusted me?”

“No.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“While your show was entertaining, and you came up with a good solution that benefited everyone, don’t ever pull something like that again.”

* * *

A WEEK LATER Rory thought he’d lost his mind. All he did was stand around and let people take pictures of him all day, and sit around the hotel watching any sports event he could find on TV all night.

He’d talked to Griff a few times. The first time, he’d called to get an update and make sure Devlin’s check cleared. So far, his little brother was doing a fine job managing the ranch in his absence. Not being missed there had been a tough pill to get down.

Restless and needing to see the sky above his head, Rory decided to take a walk. He missed being outside, being active. He’d tried working out in the hotel gym, and that helped some, but he needed to feel fresh air and the sun on his skin. Remembering his agreement with Devlin, he pulled off his worn Wranglers and tossed on the designer jeans before grabbing his hat and heading out.

The list of reasons he’d be happy once this gig was over kept growing, starting with the jeans. He’d never liked the blasted things no matter how much he wore them, and they still made him feel like a sissy.

He hadn’t walked a block when his cell phone rang.

“Thought I’d let you know we signed the papers for Jameson to buy Star’s foal.”

Good. That would help the ranch’s cash flow. “Don’t let him pick up the foal until you’ve got confirmation the money’s been transferred into our accounts.”

“Got it.”

“You’re doing a good job, little brother.”

Had he made it too easy for his siblings, always stepping in to take care of things when the situation got the slightest bit tough? Rory had thought he was helping. Being the oldest, he’d learn everything the hard way. He hadn’t wanted his younger siblings to go the same route.

“I don’t know how you do it. Managing this place is sure cramping my style. I was so damned tired last night I fell asleep at ten o’clock.”

Rory laughed. “Not so easy to be the life of the party when you’ve got to get up at dawn.”

“How are things going on your end?”

“It’s been a long week.” Rory rubbed his stiff neck.

“So modeling’s not all bright lights and pretty girls?”

“It’s hard work. I’m already tired of people telling me what to do.”

Griff chuckled. “Getting a chance to see how the other half lives, huh?”

“Can’t say I like it a whole lot.” Rory stopped at the corner of Broadway and Forty-ninth and waited for the light to change. He’d learned early on that these New York City drivers would just as soon run someone over as stop to avoid him. “You heard from Mom? I called last night, but she was asleep. Avery says she’s holding her own, but the treatment’s tough on her.”

“Avery said it’s worse than chemo.”

As long as the treatment didn’t kill her, but killed the cancer.

“Keep me posted.”

He ended the call. People rushed past him. Everyone here lived in such a hurry. No wonder Elizabeth fit right in. The woman was a whirlwind. Would she act like that in everything she did—that is, if she ever loosened up? If she focused that energy on a man, she could burn him to cinders in the bed. Rory smiled. What a way to go.

Someone bumped into him, mumbled a quick apology and scooted off. This walk wasn’t accomplishing what he’d hoped. Instead of releasing his pent-up energy, being out on the streets had spiked his blood pressure.

He missed the quiet at home. When he hiked in the mountains, he could think. The solitude cleared his head. Whenever he took a walk here, he returned to the hotel with a headache.

He’d hoped the streets might be quiet this early in the morning, but no such luck. Neon lights flashed. Horns honked constantly. People hurried by. He glanced upward, hoping a glimpse of the sky would calm his nerves. Instead, the Times Square billboard caught his gaze. He froze.

No. It couldn’t be.

Lizzie never mentioned anything about a billboard. He stared. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t deny the reality slapping him in the face.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THERE HE WAS, big as the Rocky Mountains, wearing nothing but the blasted fancy designer jeans and his cowboy hat, his arms crossed over his chest for all the world to see. The words Devlin jeans, strong enough for a real man ran along the bottom of the billboard.

He scoffed. Leave it to Lizzie to come up with that slogan. As if any real man would wear these jeans….

And how in the heck did she get the blasted billboard done so fast?

He’d thought the photo shoot had been embarrassing. Seeing himself staring down from a billboard sent him skyrocketing to new heights of humiliation. How would he ever handle television commercials airing on stations in his neck of the woods? At least no one he knew would see this.

Think about the money and Mom. That would get him through.

“Is that you up there?”

He turned to find a twentysomething brunette, her hair pulled into a ponytail and a Texas Rangers baseball hat perched on her head, ping-ponging between him and the billboard.

“It is,” her friend, dressed in jeans and an I love NY T-shirt, said. “He’s wearing the same jeans, and look, he’s got the same poker hand belt buckle.”

“Yup, it’s me.” Unfortunately.

“Are you famous?”

“No.” Please, Lord, let this be the extent of my fame. Don’t even give me fifteen minutes. That’s way too much.

“I bet you’ll be famous soon,” I Love NY said, her eyes glued on him as if he were the only stallion in the pasture.

Some men would think this scenario was a dream come true. “That’s kind of you to say so,” he mumbled.