by Lynn Cahoon
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.
Chapter 6
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.”
Jesse put his hand on his chest and faked recoil from the shot. “You’re breaking my heart, Maggie. Why do you have to treat me so badly?”
Maggie laughed. It was a harsh sound made deeper from, what Taylor could imagine, years of breathing in the smoke from bar patrons. If the woman didn’t indulge in cigarettes herself. “I’m on a crusade to make sure that the women you date know the whole story, Jesse Sullivan, not just the fairy tale you spin.” She turned her focus back to Taylor, flipping a clean white bar towel over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed and Taylor felt the steel behind the woman’s gaze, sizing her up even as she kept her words light and friendly. “I can’t count the number of hearts this boy has broken in this town alone.”
“You make me sound like a gigolo. I can’t help it if they get the wrong idea when I’m nice to someone.” He nodded toward the dining room. “Too early to get some food? The woman’s a slave driver. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Taylor slapped his arm. “Hey, I didn’t even ask you to come along, you invited yourself.”
“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” Maggie’s voice had a distinct drawl, and Taylor wondered if the Pacific Northwest wasn’t the woman’s first home. Was that a hint of Texas twang in her voice?
Jesse held his hands up in mock surrender. “I give up. Having two of you attacking me just isn’t fair.”
“Poor, misunderstood bull rider,” Maggie quipped. She pointed to a table near the dance floor. “Go sit, and I’ll send one of the girls out to get your order. Can I pull you something from the bar?”
“Two drafts?” Jesse glanced at Taylor. “Unless you’d like something different?”
Taylor shrugged, realizing her headache had disappeared during the short nap. “As long as it’s light, draft is fine.”
Jesse slapped his stomach. “I have to watch my girlish figure.”
Shaking her head, Taylor smiled at Maggie. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Just keep the boy in line; that’s all the advice I can give you.” Maggie reached for the chilled glasses. “Get settled. I’ll bring these over in a second.”
“You know I’m right here and can hear you, right?” Jesse shrugged. “Come on, Taylor, we’ve been dismissed.”
He took her arm and led her to the table farthest away from the bar. He raised his voice and said, “Maggie can’t eavesdrop on us all the way over here.”
“You’re not all that interesting, bull rider,” Maggie called back.
He chuckled as he held out a chair for Taylor. “The woman loves me; what can I say. I told you I was kind of a big deal here.”
“I think you overestimate your charm, Mr. Sullivan,” Taylor said.
Jesse sat across from her, the table small enough that she could feel the heat from his legs so close to her own. He flashed what she’d come to think of as his promotional smile. “I think you protest too much.”
A waitress slapped two glasses of water on the table along with two menus. “Hi, Jesse.”
“Hey, Amanda.” Jesse didn’t even look at the girl. Taylor could feel the jealousy flowing from the waitress. “Can you bring us an order of wings?”
“Whatever.” The girl stomped off.
Taylor watched her bang through the kitchen door. “One of your exes?”
Jesse leaned back, running his hand through his hair. “That’s Maggie’s daughter. She’s way too young, but boy, the girl is determined.” He lifted his eyebrows. “You really got her in a snit.”
“Me? What did I do?” Taylor looked up from the menu and found Jesse staring.
He reached out and pushed a wayward lock of hair off her shoulder. “You came in with me.”
Taylor could feel the blush heat her cheeks, even as she willed it away. She was not interested in Jesse Sullivan, not in that way. Not now, not ever. He was her future employer, that’s all. And if she had her way, he wouldn’t even be that. Mike’s call that morning had made her realize she needed to be proactive. Maybe even buy the gallery herself? If she cashed out the available funds from the trust fund her grandfather set up, she’d still have to borrow heavily. The thought of that much debt turned her stomach, and she pushed away the menu.
“Not hungry?” Jesse stared at her like she had spoken.
“I just know what I want.” She smiled as his eyes widened a bit at the statement. Time to break his heart. Or dampen his ego just a bit. “Cheeseburger and fries.”
“Not what I thought you were going to say.” Jesse turned his attention back to the menu. “I figured you’d go for the rib-eye dinner.”
“I could be persuaded, if I wasn’t paying. Or, if the gallery wasn’t paying,” she corrected herself. “We have a policy of limiting meals to a fifteen dollar max, except for potential clients and artists. And you are neither. Welcome to the world of corporate art.”
“You just want me to buy you dinner.” Jesse shook his head. “Pitiful how low a girl will stoop to be a part of the Jesse show.”
The waitress returned, still throwing mooning looks at Jesse and hate-filled glances at Taylor. Jesse sighed. “I have to buy, just so you can experience the joy that a steak from Maggie’s brings.”
Taylor brightened, opening the menu. “In that case, I’ll have the rib-eye and lobster, steamed veggies over the fettuccini pasta, and a side salad with light Italian on the side.”
“Ouch.” Jesse faked a heart attack. “You know how to hit a guy where it hurts.”
Taylor arched an eyebrow. “The wallet?”
Jesse nodded and ordered his own steak. “Bring us two more drafts while you’re at it.”
The girl spun on her booted heel and left the table. Taylor watched her stop by the bar to leave the drink order with her mother before disappearing into the kitchen.
“Do you think I should hire a food taster before I eat?” Taylor stared at the swinging kitchen door. She hadn’t felt a girl’s hatred that intense since high school. Tom, the school bad boy, had dropped his long-term, stoner girlfriend and started calling Taylor instead. Coincidentally, that particular bad boy was a gifted artist who hadn’t had a clue. He had later admitted that he’d needed Taylor to introduce him to her grandfather.
Tom still used the gallery to sell his landscapes. He was developing quite a following and had even been interviewed by several local magazines. He hadn’t broken in yet, but Taylor knew it was only a matter of time. The guy was good. Very good.
She looked at Jesse, and for a second, she could see what the waitress saw in him. The guy was nice, sensitive, and not bad looking. If he didn’t have an ego the size of undeveloped Canada, he might even be date-worthy. She shook her head. Jesse Sullivan was the enemy. And this was the best shot she’d have to get intel on the guy. She grinned, thinking of herself as a secret spy, and wondered if the beer was clouding her judgment a tiny bit. She decided she didn’t really care and took another drink.
While they ate their dinner, Jesse kept her entertained with stories from the road. Riders who’d shown up for their ride after a desperate search for their lucky rope. Or their lucky bandana. “Riders are a superstitious bunch. None of them own a black cat or would step on a crack on a bet. The life has its risks; pretending that the danger can be staved off with luck is a coping mechanism.”
“You’re smart,” she said, regretting the compliment as soon as it left her mouth. She ducked her head and asked another question. “What are your superstitions?”
“Can’t tell you.” He cut one last piece off his st
eak before he pushed the plate away.
Taylor leaned forward. Now this was getting interesting. “Why not?”
“If I tell you, they lose their magic.” Jesse actually blushed. “Look, I know it’s dumb, but it’s kind of like telling your birthday wish after you blow out your candles. It’s just not done.”
“I would never have pegged you as a woo-woo guy.” She finished off her last bites and leaned back and groaned. “I’m going to have to buy all new pants. I think I just gained ten pounds while sitting here.”
Maggie came by the table to clear the plates. “That’s the best compliment we’ve had in years. I’ll tell Duke you enjoyed your meal.”
“Duke?” Taylor cocked her head and watched Maggie.
Maggie’s eyes were soft as she said, “My husband. He’s our cook.”
“And an ex-champion bull rider, himself. The man is a legend. The bulls he rode during the day, well, he was the only one who could stay on Satin, ever. They had to retire the bull after Duke retired. The bull riding association didn’t think it would be suitable for someone else to master the bull because of its aging body.” Jesse’s hands flew all over the place when he was excited and telling a story.
“Wait, the bull’s name was Satin?” Taylor had no clue on the proper names for bulls in the business, but Satin? That sounded like a kitten.
Jesse laughed. “His black coat was as smooth as silk and riders just slipped off him.”
“And now Duke cooks here. No wonder you wanted to come me to come with you.” Taylor smiled at Maggie. “Be sure to tell your husband how much I enjoyed dinner.”
“I’ll tell him you’re here.” Maggie put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “He’ll sure be glad to see you. You heading out to Wyoming this weekend?”
“Yep. I’ve got three more months I promised Barb I’d ride. Then I’m done for the year. Well, unless I get into the finals. Which would mean I’d have to take one last ride.” Jesse sounded unsure, almost hesitant.
“It’s for the best. You’ve about used up your lucky-charm points, you realize that, right?” Maggie nodded to the empty glasses. “Why don’t I bring you over a pitcher?”
