by Regina Duke
“Yes, I’m sure. I just saw my doctor, and I’ve got lots of time. Hell, I’m only in my fifties, boy.”
Axel couldn’t help but smile. His father’s Texas roots were shining through again. He knew he couldn’t refuse Lester’s request. This was his chance to bury the hatchet with his father. But his novel would not be done by the end of the year if he started another project. He took half a second to weigh the novel against winning his father’s favor again, and family won.
“I can do it, Dad. I should have a first draft for you in about twelve months.”
“I need it by Christmas.”
“It’s already April, Dad. That doesn't seem possible. I’d have to work nonstop on it for the next eight months.”
“I know, I know. It’s an imposition, but I want to surprise the family with a nice bound book about the story of my life. Roots are important. And by the time you tell my story, you’ll be telling your mother’s story as well. She was a huge part of me, remember?”
That did it. Axel knew he had to say yes. He suspected the whole project was a roundabout way of saying Lester wanted him to write a tribute to his late mother. “I’ll do it, Dad. But Christmas?” He did some mental calculations. “I’ll have to get it to a printer by the end of October, and before that, the editing process.... I just don’t know how I’ll be able to get it all done.”
“I know I’m asking a lot,” said Lester. “That’s why I’m sending you an assistant. Name is Taylor. Lots of editorial experience. Great resume. You can dictate your memories of me. It’ll go real fast that way. Taylor will do all the editing as you go.”
Axel didn’t have the heart to tell his father it didn’t really work that way. It was obvious the old man was passionate about the project. “Okay, Dad. I’ll do it.”
“Good. Great. Taylor will arrive next week. I made a reservation at that Cattleman’s Inn, the one your cousins told us about. How are they doing?”
“They’re fine. Uly and Belle fly back and forth between here and Las Vegas. They’re buying property down there, and Belle is helping Lulamae. Why didn’t you tell me my godmother had a hip replaced? And Thor is all wrapped up in some power struggle with the town council and the local Grange. Seems the town folk and ranchers around here aren’t thrilled about his plans for luxury housing.”
“Well, he’ll work it out somehow. Okay, son, you take care. I’m late for a meeting. You get started on my book now, you hear me?”
The memory of that phone call nagged at Axel as he drove slowly through Eagle’s Toe. He’d have to alert his siblings to keep an eye out for health problems in Lester. On the other hand, if it was a sneaky way to honor their late mother, Axel was all for it. He could imagine the looks on their faces when they each received a bound volume of their parents’ life stories. He checked his dashboard display. He’d spent the last week getting things organized in the rustic cabin on his property. His new barn was up and his fences were good. He was having a large house built, but the builders had barely gotten started on the foundation. After a few months of living at the Cattleman’s, he was ready for the privacy afforded by the cabin, but it had taken time to get it livable. Meanwhile, he’d been driving back and forth in the snow and mud since February, feeding his livestock and supervising the construction projects.
And in the week since his father’s call, he’d decided that the cabin would be the perfect place to work uninterrupted. He could turn off his cell and ignore all the distractions of living in town. It would be a writer’s paradise. Having an assistant would work out just fine. In fact, once the weather warmed up, he could dictate while fishing. He had a great bass pond on his property.
He smirked. He hadn’t bothered to tell his father that his purchase of eighty acres had landed him smack dab in the middle of his cousin’s fight with the locals. And the last time he’d talked to Thor—a few days before the town council meeting—his cousin had let slip that Rudy was also interested in his plans for their Colorado real estate. Axel shook his head. What a combination. Thor and Uncle Rudy. A tiny doubt flitted about his mind like a pesky gnat. Rudy had been an oilman all his life, and Axel couldn’t quite wrap his mind around his uncle as a real estate developer.
Neither could he understand why Thor wanted to build luxury homes on land where people had fished and hunted for hundreds of years. Not that Axel wanted to hunt. But the bass pond had sealed the deal, and he couldn’t wait to get back to the cabin. He’d bundle up against the April chill, row out to the middle of the pond and throw a line in.
But first, he had to stop at the Cattleman’s and pick up his takeout from Il Vaccaro, the Italian restaurant. And he’d better leave a message at the front desk for his new assistant. He was arriving today. What was his name again? Taylor? That was it. He hoped Taylor liked fishing.
CHAPTER THREE
Taylor hated fish. How could the company chef serve her salmon on her flight? She knew she’d hurt his feelings when she requested a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead. And she knew she’d been snarky. A part of her regretted that. Normally, she was much nicer to employees. But lately, laboring in the mailroom thanks to her father, she’d felt as lowly as they must feel.
She shuddered at the memory. Never again. She deserved a better job than that. And then, to find out he hadn’t even expect her to actually do the work, he’d just wanted her to spy for him? In truth, she didn’t mind that part. The idea of a little espionage had sounded like fun. She steered her rental car easily around a massive cattle truck. It was disheartening to find she had to drive herself around, but a chauffeur and a limo would blow her cover. The smell of cow manure wrinkled her nose. She turned up the heater. As she rose in altitude, the temperature dropped.
So all she had to do to earn a vice presidency was get some dirt on Lester Garrison. She was ready. Ready for the salary and the corner office, that is. She’d figure out the job. That part didn’t matter. That’s why people had staff, right? She would have secretaries and middle managers and all those other people who knew what they were doing, and they would all report to her, and she would lean back in her cushy office chair and assign projects. Her father would want quarterly reports. She would choose her best people for those. She’d want her father to be proud of her work.
Okay, maybe proud of her managing skills. Whatever. Wasn’t that what she’d heard him telling her brother Don over the phone? She clucked with disgust at the memory. All the praise in the world for Don. Taylor didn’t get it. Don told her he was working sixteen-hour days, trying to whip the San Francisco office into shape. Good grief! Didn’t he know how to delegate?
Well, she planned to do plenty of delegating. And she could spend her weekends with Jackson. That put a smile on her face. Maybe she could even leave early on Wednesdays, like her father did, and spend those afternoons with Jackson, too. Her forehead crinkled. Technically, her father was still working, making deals, and conducting conference calls from the golf course. She never understood his obsession with golf. Couldn’t he do his business deals over lunch? She decided it was a guy thing. After all, men liked sports, and most of the businessmen her father consorted with were too old to play anything else. She wondered if she’d have to take golf lessons once she was a vice president.
The GPS system in her car directed her easily to the Cattleman’s Inn. Part of the place was only a few stories high, but at the west end, there was a tower. She definitely wanted to stay in the tower, because it looked new. She cringed at the thought of finding herself in a grungy motel room. She pulled up to the front doors, under the broad portico, and felt a small satisfaction as a bellboy emerged at once with a trolley for her luggage. She checked her hair and makeup, then got out of the car.
As the bellboy loaded the luggage from her trunk, Taylor asked, “Where’s the valet?”
The young man looked confused. “Pardon me?”
Taylor quashed the annoyance that simmered just beneath the surface. “The parking valet?” She dangled her car keys
off one finger.
“Oh, sorry, ma’am.” He seemed fascinated by her blue hair. Didn’t these people have hair salons? “We only have valet parking for special events. I’ll take these bags to the front desk for you, and once you check in, I’ll bring them up to your room, if you like. But you’ll have to move your car around to the parking lot.”
Taylor closed her fist around her keys. “Gee. Special events. Like the high school prom?”
Her sarcasm was lost on the bellboy. “Mostly weddings and concerts and big charity events and private parties.” Without further ado, he closed the trunk and started toward the door.
“Wait! There’s more in the back seat.”
His glance at the luggage trolley made it clear that he thought two large suitcases and a garment bag were sufficient. But he opened the car door and retrieved two more suitcases and an overnight case. “Is this all, ma’am?”
Taylor tried to read something into his question, but she couldn’t. She doubted he was capable of hidden meanings. She tucked her handbag under one arm and headed for the lobby while casting a scathing glance over her shoulder at the bellboy. “I may be here a while,” she said.
She tossed her head toward the door, but her eyes were still on the bellboy. She didn’t see the man coming out in time to avoid a collision. He was carrying a large white takeout sack and a tall covered drink, and when they collided, the lid came off and the icy cola sloshed all over Taylor’s Armani blouse.
With a shriek, she jumped backward, but too late. “Look what you’ve done! You clumsy jerk!” Her handbag fell to the ground.
The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore casual but expensive clothes. Taylor recognized quality when she saw it, and everything about him screamed excellence. But that didn’t take the edge off her anger.
“I'm sorry about that,” he said calmly, “but you might want to watch where you’re going.”
“Are you saying this is my fault?” She glared at him. “This blouse is an Armani original, and now it’s ruined.” She planted her fists on her hips. “What are you going to do about this?”
He looked her up and down, and Taylor felt her cheeks warming beneath his gaze. She could see the glint of amusement in his eyes, and that just made her madder.
“This is not funny,” she snapped.
“That depends on your point of view.” He had a deep, rich voice that, under different circumstances, Taylor would have found appealing.
A second bellboy appeared on the run, bringing a white towel for Taylor to dry off with. Then he busied himself by helping the first young man push the luggage trolley.
Taylor dabbed at her ruined blouse, still fuming. “My favorite blouse is a total loss and you’re making fun of me.”
“Not at all. I can tell it’s your favorite because you died your hair to match it.” He tucked his takeout under one arm and retrieved her handbag for her. “I, on the other hand, may die of thirst.” He rattled the remaining ice in his cup.
“Oh, very funny.” She took her bag without thanking him, and still dabbing at her blouse, she said, “I suppose you’re a native of this quaint little burg.”
“I have eighty acres a little way from here, so I qualify as a resident at the very least.”
Taylor felt her features pinch with aggravation. Was he still staring at her? If so, it wasn’t her hair he was looking at. She cocked a hip at him and gave him her harshest look, the one that said, “Out of my way, peasant.”
“Lucky for you,” she said aloud, “I’m too busy to pursue this matter.” With that, she left him in the portico, too insignificant to interfere with her rise to company vice president. Some day, when she was able to hire and fire people, she’d offer this yokel a huge salary, and then, just when he was thinking he could afford a new tractor, she’d fire him. Just like that. The thought put a smile on her face as she approached the registration desk, still clutching the damp towel to her chest.
A middle-aged man who’d never missed a meal raised bushy eyebrows at her approach. “Everything all right, miss?”
Taylor huffed and looked skyward, like a woman who had tolerated the very last straw. Then she replied, “It will be, someday soon.” Silently, she added, When I have my revenge.
CHAPTER FOUR
Axel didn’t bother to refill his cola. He’d make coffee at the cabin. He’d need to fill a thermos anyway if he was going to spend a few hours on the pond. He wanted to be fishing by four. He couldn’t help smiling as he got into his Expedition. The girl with the blue hair certainly had fire in her blood. And the stack of luggage she’d brought? Enough for a year. Maybe he’d run into her again when he came into town in the morning to pick up his new editor-slash-assistant.
He wondered why on Earth he thought it would be pleasant to run into that spitfire again. He shook his head in amazement. Well, she was attractive. Couldn’t be more than five feet tall in her bare feet. That must be the reason for the flamboyant hair. She was trying to make up for her lack of inches. Then he laughed out loud as he remembered the look on her face when his cold drink hit her blouse. And he remembered the two perfect mounds beneath the wet fabric.
“Axel, you have been alone too long if you are daydreaming about a handful like her,” he scolded himself. “She’s going to make some man very miserable some day. Danger, danger, Texas Ranger.” That phrase made him think of his father, and he spent the rest of the drive musing about the man’s health.
By the time he filled his thermos for fishing, he’d decided to call one of his brothers in the morning to touch base and see if he’d noticed any changes in Lester. Was Tony back from his ski rebellion in the Alps yet? Maybe he’d call Dustin. That made more sense, since Dustin was working in the financial district and saw their father all the time. The twins, Katie and Andrea, were still at MIT and only twenty. They were too young to worry about Lester’s possible health issues. They were great at spotting that kind of subtle transformation, but he couldn’t lay that worry at their doorstep. Dustin was the only one Lester might confide in about seeing a doctor, since he was twenty-four and actually pursuing the career path Lester had laid out for him. Yes, he’d check in with Dustin.
* * *
Taylor was surprised by the luxury of her suite. She never expected an establishment in a small town like Eagle’s Toe to understand the concept of true luxury. Of course, it wasn’t the Bahamas or the French Riviera, but it was more than acceptable. The colors were drawn from nature, granite and sand with soft blues and greens. And it was roomy, with a wall of windows that looked west to the mountains and Gunnison, a ski resort, according to the brochure she found on the formal conference table at one end of the long living room. At the other end, sand-colored sofas formed a horseshoe that allowed her to enjoy the view no matter where she was seated. In between, there was a bar and an entertainment center. She’d already explored the bedroom, a mini-suite unto itself with two baths, a sleeping area, and a quiet work station tucked into one corner. The perfect hotel suite for a couple who weren’t talking to each other.
After changing into jeans and a long-sleeved fleece—the wall of windows made her feel chilly—she helped herself to a diet Pepsi from the bar and plopped down on the middle sofa to stare at the scenery. The sun was setting, and just as the glare became annoying, she heard a whirring sound, and a sunscreen closed softly over the windows. She could still enjoy the view, but the sun’s power was reduced. Even so, she got up and pulled the drapes, just far enough to block Old Sol, at least until he slid behind the mountains.
She checked her phone for messages. Nothing. She blew air between her lips, imitating Jackson in a moment of frustration, and leaned her head back on the cushion. “Daddy, you’d better make billions on this deal, because I am stuck in the middle of nowhere to do you this favor.”
She thought about going down for dinner or taking a walk around town, but she knew if she did, she would feel better, and she wasn’t in the mood to feel better. She wanted to wallow in a pool of sel
f-pity. At least until she recovered from her trip a bit.
Her cell phone played the first four notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. She picked it up. “Hello, Daddy. I was just thinking about you.”
He laughed. “I bet you were. How is Eagle’s Toe?”
“I haven’t seen any of it yet. Just got here. You are going to owe me big time. This place doesn't even have valet parking.”
“Keep your eyes on the prize, my girl.”
“Corner office?”
“I’m the one with the corner office, remember? How about an unobstructed view of the Manhattan skyline?”
Taylor sighed petulantly. “Oh, all right. I guess that will have to do. How is that deal coming?”
“Having you in Colorado is helping. Lester Garrison thinks I’m doing him a favor by sending you out to help his son write a book. He’s softening up.”
“Thank goodness! You let me know as soon as he agrees to your terms so I can get back to civilization. How’s Jackson?”
“You’ve been gone one day, Taylor. I haven’t had a chance to check on him, but I’m sure he’s fine. We pay enough to have people take care of him. Now, have you met this Axelrod yet?”
“Ew, is that his first name? No, not yet. But he left me a note at the registration desk. Signed it ‘Garrison.’ He says he’ll pick me up in the morning and show me how to get to his place. Dad, it’s a lot colder here than New York.”
“There’s a ski resort not far from you, so I suppose their cold weather lasts longer. Go buy yourself a down jacket. Now remember, I need you to spend enough time with this young man to dig up something really good. You got that?”
“I’ll do my part. And in my free time, I’ll be cruising the internet, looking for office furniture.”
He laughed. “You do that. I have to go. Check in every day. Sooner if you learn something really juicy.”
“Bye, Daddy.”
* * *
