The Cowboy's Claim

by Nina Crespo

  “Yes?”

  “Lead with patience.” She hung up.

  Tristan answered the other line. “Hey, Zurie.”

  “Why are you dodging my calls? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since yesterday.”

  “We have been in touch. You sent me a text yesterday asking questions about the budget for next quarter, which I answered. This morning, I was handling business in the stable.”

  “That’s yesterday and today, what about the rest of the week? How am I supposed to stay up-to-date about what’s going on there, if you’re not making time to stay in contact with me?”

  “Key word is time, Zurie. I’m doing my job and yours so that hasn’t exactly left me with a lot of it.”

  “I didn’t call to argue with you.”

  Could have fooled him. “Why did you call?”

  Basic first-aid training for the staff, general maintenance on the air-conditioning units in preparation for the summer, cottage repairs—things that were on his radar or already handled but Zurie didn’t bother to ask him what he’d already done. Instead she went over them, telling him what he should do or needed to do as if he didn’t have a clue about how to handle them.

  Patience. Gloria hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him that earlier. He just listened. When she stopped talking, he said. “Got it. Anything else?”

  “Yes. I have a lead on a gelding for the stable. The owner is in Augusta. He isn’t actively trying to sell, but he’s willing to let us buy the horse if we’re interested.”

  “We should hold off on that. A guy I used to bull ride with has a horse he needs to sell in North Carolina. We were supposed to meet up in Baltimore to talk more about it, but then the boy got lost after the party that weekend. I had to cancel. He’s on the road now, but I promised him we’d link up and discuss it.”

  “So you’re keeping in touch with your old crowd? I didn’t realize that.” She didn’t sound happy.

  After all he’d just said, him keeping in touch with the people he used to bull ride with, that was the part she was concerned about? “I reach out every now and then, but he actually messaged me on Facebook.”

  “Fine. Talk to your friend, but I’d like to clear the horse in Augusta off my to-do list now.”

  “Consider it off your list and on mine. I’ll handle it.”

  “We just need an hour. Gloria’s a miracle worker. Tell her to shuffle some things around on your schedule.”

  He’d promised Chloe forty-eight hours of privacy, just the two of them, no unnecessary interruptions. There was no reason the call couldn’t wait. “Today or tomorrow won’t work for me. I won’t be back on the property until Monday afternoon. I’m taking time off.”

  “You’re taking a vacation now? While I’m gone?” She said it as if he was committing a crime.

  “No, not a vacation. I’m taking the equivalent of a weekend.”

  “But what if—Fine.” She released an exasperated breath. “If something comes up, tell the staff to call me. I’ll figure out a way to handle it from here.”

  “They won’t have to call you. If they need something, I’ll handle it.”

  “And Chloe? Have you assigned someone to assist her while you’re off?”

  “That’s handled, too.” Not telling her about Chloe wasn’t a lie of omission, it just wasn’t her business.

  “Well, I guess I just have to believe that it’s handled.”

  Believe? The word started to burrow in and dig up frustration. He stopped it. “I’ll talk to you when I get back. Bye, Zurie.” He hung up.

  Soon. Another key word. In a few weeks, she’d sign over what used to be his father’s share of the ownership...and they’d have to come to an understanding. But, right now, he didn’t want to think about Zurie, the stable or the guesthouse.

  He got out of the SUV and each step to the back door refueled anticipation in seeing Chloe.

  Inside the cottage, he peeked into the laundry room. Her clothes hung on hangers lined up on a pole above the washer and dryer and on a drying rack in the corner. There weren’t any piles of clothes on the floor or the machines. That was a good sign. Where was she?

  In the kitchen, as he poured a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge, the sound of running water behind a closed door in the vicinity of his bedroom confirmed she was in the bathroom.

  Just as he was heading in that direction, someone knocked on the door. No one bothered him at the cottage except Zurie. Blake, Philippa and Gloria would call if they needed something.

  Maybe one of the guests had gotten lost.

  He crossed the living room and opened the door.

  A model-thin brown-skinned woman with dark asymmetrically cut hair, wearing a short-sleeved emerald pantsuit and heels stood outside, looking over her shoulder. She faced Tristan, peering at him over large dark sunglasses.

  His eyes had to be deceiving him.

  Erica’s crimsoned colored mouth curved upward with a self-assured smile. “Hello, Tristan.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Before Tristan could get past the shock, Erica walked inside. “It’s so nice and cool in here after that long walk from the guesthouse.” As she spun around to look at him the chain shoulder strap on her beige purse jangled. “I was surprised to see that the house isn’t there anymore.”

  What the...? Forceful expletives ricocheted through his mind. It took everything within him not to take her by the arm and throw her back out. But she didn’t just show up for no reason. What did she want?

  Curiosity and suspicion overrode irritation. He slammed the door shut. “You don’t care what happened to the house. You told the attorneys you couldn’t wait to unload this place when you sold your ownership to Zurie.”

  “Of course, I have feelings for this place.” Erica took off her glasses and gave him a wounded expression she’d probably practiced a thousand times. “This used to be my home.”

  “Used to be. You don’t belong here now.”

  “I get it. You’re upset. Jacob writing you out of his will must have been a complete shock. But you know that wasn’t my fault. I felt terrible about it.”

  Those acting lessons she’d taken hadn’t gone completely to waste. A harsh laugh escaped him. “Of course you did. You felt so bad about it that you wouldn’t sell me the ownership you inherited in Tillbridge.”

  He’d sold most of his possessions, including the two horses he’d owned at the time, and taken out a loan to raise the cash to buy back his father’s ownership. He’d even competed injured in a bull riding event for the prize money. And when he’d made her a fair offer, she’d refused it.

  “I feel terrible about that, too. I’m here to make amends.” She walked away from him and placed her things on the coffee table. When she turned back around, her mouth trembled. “But you have to understand. I was in pain over losing Jacob.”

  “You were in pain?” A vision of his father lying in his hospital room alone emerged and anger came with it. “After his stroke, he needed you. Did you even care about what happened to him?”

  “We had already agreed to separate.”

  “No. You walked out on him.”

  “So did you.” Her obstinate expression dared him to deny it.

  “You know why I left. Did you honestly believe I would sleep with you? You were my father’s wife.” A position he’d put Erica in. He’d all but served his father up to this selfish woman when he’d brought her to Tillbridge. “He really loved you. You knew you didn’t feel the same. There were wealthier men out there. Why marry him?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.” She wrapped her arms around herself and her brown-eyed gaze dropped to the floor. Shame? Regret? It was the first real reaction he’d ever gotten from her. But when she looked back up, the vulnerability he’d glimpsed was gone. She dropped her arms to her sides and advanced toward
him. “Don’t you dare stand there and judge me. I was broke, and in debt and I had nowhere else to go. He gave me a way out, and I took it. Maybe I wouldn’t have if you would have been here instead.”

  “And what was I supposed to be? Your consolation prize or some kind of upgrade? Forget it. I don’t want to know. So unless you have a good reason for taking up my time, you need to leave.”

  She marched to her large bag and took something out wrapped in a blue cloth.

  When she came back to him, it took a minute for him to register what the tarnished metal object was that she held out to him. It was the prize buckle from the Father’s Day Rodeo. His dad had actually kept it?

  A rush of nostalgia almost tempted him to take it. “You’re not just handing it over to me. How much do you want?”

  Anger entered her eyes. “Do you want to know why I wouldn’t sell you my ownership in the stables?”

  “No because it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “From the moment you sat next to me on the plane, you thought you were better than me. Well, I’m just not some charity case you brought to the family cookout. I have the same last name you think is so precious tacked onto mine, but you seem to forget that.” She cocked her head. “You know, I came here planning to sell you this at a decent price, but forget it. I’m done with the Tillbridges. I’ll just take this and the photos I found elsewhere.”

  Erica turned and stuffed the buckle into her bag. As she started to walk out, she remembered her sunglasses that she’d left on the coffee table and went back for them.

  What would she do now? Sell the buckle to some random collector?

  The image of his father, lying in the hospital came back up in his mind. No. Jacob Tillbridge wasn’t a weak, broken man. He’d lived out his dreams competing in rodeos. He’d built Tillbridge Stable out of the dust with tenacity and determination. He’d provided him a home and raised him in the best way he’d known how.

  She walked past him, sunglasses on.

  He wasn’t going to let her sell his father’s memories to the highest bidder and toss what she couldn’t make a profit from like trash. “Erica, wait.”

  She faced him and took off her glasses. A hint of smugness was in her expression.

  Just as he was about to give her a dollar amount, something illuminated in his mind. He’d read every line of the offer his attorney had drawn up to buy back his father’s ownership in Tillbridge from Erica. One part of it, in particular, stood out to him now.

  “Leave the buckle. And I expect you to send the photos and any other memorabilia you had that belonged to my father immediately.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” He walked over to her. “I’m pretty sure Zurie’s offer had the same terms as the one my attorney presented to you. It encompassed the shares for Tillbridge and all of my father’s memorabilia including his buckles, collections and photos.”

  Her confidence slipped for only a second but he caught it.

  She shook her head. “I never said I had any of that.”

  The sound of high heels tapping on the floor made him and Erica glance over his shoulder.

  Chloe stood at the beginning of the hallway.

  He’d been so busy sparring with Erica he’d forgotten she was there.

  As Chloe walked toward them, the cream shirt tucked loosely into the waist of her jeans billowed slightly. “I’m afraid you did say that.”

  Erica gave Chloe an up-and-down look. “Who are you?”

  Chloe flashed a serene, confident smile. “I’m Tristan’s attorney.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “You’re his lawyer?” Erica looked to Tristan and then back to Chloe. “But you’re not the one who made me the offer.”

  “Mr. Tillbridge has changed representation since then. I’m his new lawyer.” Chloe held her head high, willing herself to exude confidence.

  Earlier, she’d walked out of the bathroom and heard him talking to a woman. She didn’t recognize her voice, but the tone in his hadn’t been welcoming. She’d been packing as the conversation had grown heated, then she’d crept down the hall barefoot wanting to make sure Tristan was okay.

  They’d been too close to the front door for her to see them, but after hearing Jacob’s possessions mentioned, she’d figured out the woman was Erica. Remembering Philippa had called his stepmom a gold digger had prompted her to listen a little longer and take her phone out of her back jeans pocket, and hit Record.

  She hadn’t decided who to be until just a few seconds ago, when she’d left her phone behind, quickly changed into the linen shirt and grabbed the shoes.

  Chloe stared at Erica, focusing on channeling the part of a legal genius, and hoped Tristan would play along. “So if I’m understanding correctly, you have possessions that belong to my client and you’d like to return them?”

  “No, I have a prize belt buckle that I thought might have sentimental value to Tristan that I happened to find in storage. I just came by to give it to him.”

  “Oh?” Chloe feigned confusion. “I’m pretty sure you said you had photos, which I’m taking to mean souvenirs, or keepsakes of monetary or personal value. Is that how you took it?”

  As she glanced at Tristan, what she saw in his eyes reminded her of what he’d said the night of their friendly dart game with Mace and Adam. Hope you can back your play, Ace.

  She could. If it meant getting that prize buckle and the photos from Erica and wiping that haughty look from her face.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and focused on Erica. “That’s how I understood it. My father not only collected vintage prize buckles but rare photos, as well.”

  Erica shook her head and fidgeted in place. “No. That’s not what I said. I turned everything over when we closed the sale. You heard it wrong.”

  “Oh.” Chloe held up her phone. “Should I play what I recorded back to refresh your memory? Or should I just save it for when we take you to civil court. I’m sure a judge would be interested in hearing everything you said to my client as well as revisiting any legal papers you signed regarding possessions in the ownership transfer.”

  Erica visibly swallowed. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “That sounds like a wise move. In the meantime, we’ll take that prize buckle you brought with you. You’re so right about the sentimental value, not to mention it belongs with the rest of the collection.”

  Erica looked as if she was on the verge of an angry cry as she reached into her purse and handed the buckle to her.

  “Thank you so much for dropping it off. We’ll be in touch.” Chloe flashed her best saccharine sweet smile and wiggled her phone in the air.

  Erica opened her mouth as if to protest, but shut it, staring at Chloe’s phone. She turned and stalked out, leaving the door open.

  Tristan shut it behind her.

  Chloe exhaled in relief. It worked. Erica was gone and Tristan had the prize buckle.

  Tristan stood with his back to her at the door.

  What was he thinking? Was he upset? “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I didn’t know you’d studied law.” His low even tone made her slightly anxious.

  “I haven’t. But, I did study lawyers in a court room. I played the role of an attorney once in a show. It wasn’t a big part or anything, but I really wanted to get the tone right. You know me, always be prepared.” The absurdity of what she’d just said in comparison to what she’d just done struck her all at once.

  The triumph of driving Erica from the cottage and getting the buckle from her was replaced by uncertainty and mounting dread. Was he mad about her impromptu performance?

  Chloe took a tentative step toward him. She held up the buckle in her hand. “When I heard all the things she said to you and then she was dangling this prize buckle in front of you, it upset me.”

 
“So you decided to wade in and pretend to be a lawyer?”

  “I felt I had to do something. Like she said, this is rightfully yours.” Chloe laid the buckle on the coffee table. “I’m sorry, maybe I was wrong for jumping into the middle of the conversation, but I couldn’t just stand by and let her leave with it.”

  Tristan turned and walked over to her wearing an unreadable expression.

  But by doing something, had she done the wrong thing? Chloe swallowed against the tightness in her throat and stared down at her feet. She’d just wanted to help but maybe all she’d done was butt in. After all, she didn’t know the whole story about their history. She’d just assumed based on what she’d picked up from Rina and Philippa that day at brunch.

  Chloe lifted her head, and just as she went to apologize, a slow smile came over his mouth. “You were amazing.”

  Her legs weakened with her relief as he kissed her hard and brief. “So you’re not mad at me for barging in?”

  “Are you serious? No.” He held her in a loose embrace. “Of all my father’s prize buckles that one means the most to me. We won it together in a team calf roping competition.” He glanced at the buckle on the table, then looked into her eyes. “That was the first and only time we’d ever done something like that together. It was a good day for us. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again. But you helped me get it back.”

  He kissed her, and her world spun in the warmth of happiness and desire. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned in to it.

  A long moment later, they eased out of the kiss but not from each other.

  He leaned his forehead to hers and she caressed his nape. “Maybe we should leave before someone else shows up on your doorstep.”

  “We should talk first.”

  His serious tone caused a sinking feeling to drop inside of her. “About?”

  “Me and Erica.”

  * * *

  Tristan closed his eyes. Meeting Erica on the plane. Taking her to his family’s cookout. Erica trying to sleep with him. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about that, but Chloe had overheard a conversation that without the proper explanation could be misunderstood.