Amazed by You (Riding Tall Book 11)

by Cheyenne McCray

  Celine leaned back in her seat and sighed. To top it off, the location had ended up being selected on a bet, and she’d heard the cowboy who owned the ranch was none too happy to have them. Well, she certainly wasn’t happy about the situation, either.

  She pictured the owner. What was his name? Something like Jack? Jerry? No, it was Jayson. Likely the man was an old, weatherworn cowboy with skin as tough as leather and wrinkles like sand dunes. Probably walked bow-legged on top of that.

  At least Trevor, her photographer, loved the ranch. He had visited the original location and said this one was superb—far better with more opportunities for a great photoshoot and commercial.

  The models had complained about the smell of cow manure until Trevor had threatened to take shots with the models shoveling shit. Celine smiled to herself. Apparently that had shut them up.

  Damn, but she loved Trevor. He was a complete pain in the ass, but he was sharp, knowledgeable, artistic, and just flat out the best in the business. He was worth every damned penny she paid him. And yes, he had assured her, he did shit gold bricks with perfect edges.

  She braced her elbow on the cab windowsill, put her head in her hand, and stared out without seeing.

  Celine wasn’t sure how she was going to do on the ranch. It had been a long time since she’d been close to horses. Her belly took a dive and the wine and cheese she’d had in first class curdled. It would soon come back up.

  It had happened so long ago. How could the pain still be so deep? She should be over it now.

  She should have forgiven herself, but she never had.

  Do I deserve to be free of that guilt?

  She didn’t think she ever could be. Or if she even wanted to be free.

  Celine reclined on her hotel bed and idly stared into a glass of Chardonnay that reflected the bedside light. The stack of papers from Monty lay scattered on the comforter beside her. She’d been putting off looking at them.

  No doubt, more money out than in.

  She needed another drink.

  Celine idly played with the soft material of her burnt sienna dress. She loved silk, and she loved the soft flowy outfit she had designed. One benefit of her career—she could create whatever she wanted to wear.

  Her phone rang and she picked it up from the nightstand. Monty lit up the screen.

  She sighed. Lately hearing from Monty meant more bad news than good. She wanted to answer with “What now?” but settled for, “Hi, Monty.”

  “Bad news.” He sounded dead serious.

  Then she did say, “What now?”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve listened to the news today?” he said.

  She frowned. “No time. Why?”

  He sounded genuinely agitated. “Big ransom malware attack all over the damned globe.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Speak English.”

  “A hacker syndicate sends out a ‘bug’ that takes over a company’s computer systems and encrypts all their data. They demand money to give you back control of your own computers. That’s why they call it ransomware.”

  Her heart nearly stopped beating. “And you’re telling me this because…”

  “You got hit with it, Celine,” he said. “Twenty thousand.”

  She almost didn’t dare to ask. “Twenty thousand what?”

  “Dollars,” Monty said. “They’ve ransomed every bit of computer access to your financial records as well as all of your designs. If we don’t pay them, they’ll delete everything.”

  “No.” The word came out on a moan. “Don’t tell me that.”

  “I’m sorry, kid.”

  Celine banged the phone against her forehead. Not now.

  Her head hurt when she brought the phone back to her ear. “What do you recommend?”

  “You don’t have a choice,” he said. “But I’ll make sure you won’t ever get hit again. I’ll get you the best computer protection money can buy.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “Do it.”

  “I’ll take care of everything,” Monty said.

  Celine hung up. The Bearer of Bad News kept giving her more bad news all the time. She should have thought to ask what “the best computer protection money can buy” would cost her.

  “This sucks,” she said and dropped the phone onto the mattress. Now she couldn’t decide if she should review the papers Monty had given her, to get the bad news out of the way all at once—or ignore them in favor of drinking more wine.

  The wine won.

  She took a long swallow. Screw sipping.

  What about my bank accounts? Business and personal? She frowned. Could they have been attacked, too?

  Celine slid her laptop out of the tote beside her on the bed, then booted it up. Maybe she wasn’t the most tech savvy person, but she could find her way around a computer pretty well.

  First, she checked her personal and business bank accounts. Her business account looked a little low, but then she’d had to spend money for one thing after another—necessary expenses per Monty.

  Next, she did a Google search for software that would protect personal computers from outside attack. Multiple links popped up and she chose the most promising. When that company proved useless, she made her way through three more before she found one that could potentially work.

  She never mixed her personal accounts with her business accounts. Monty had said he would be happy to take care of both, but she had declined. She needed to have control of something.

  When she finished, she shoved the laptop into her tote and sagged against the pillows again.

  Hopefully she’d protected her personal accounts. But she was out the door already on the twenty thousand ransomed from her business accounts.

  This sucks.

  Her mobile rang again.

  “Go away,” she wailed.

  She glared at the screen, then relaxed when she saw Meredith.

  “It’s so good to hear your voice,” she said in way of answering.

  “You hadn’t even heard it yet.”

  “I don’t care,” Celine said. “You could just breathe and I’d be happy.”

  Meredith laughed. “What’s going on? Homesick?”

  Celine didn’t know what it was like to be homesick. She shook her head. “Long day, that’s all.”

  Meredith knew about Celine’s business and about a lot of the people in it, but Celine never shared financial issues. She never talked business with friends.

  Not that she had many friends. A handful, if that.

  “Come home and let Rod, Trevor, and Monty handle this commercial thing.” Meredith’s voice pressed into Celine’s head, forcing her to pay attention.

  Celine sipped from the glass. “Liquid courage,” some said. Celine simply considered it to be a fluid way to deal with crap or just plain forget.

  Meredith’s voice tugged Celine to the present. “I saw a gorgeous new pair of earrings at Tiffany’s.”

  “I have to stay.” She wanted to cry at the thought of all the money she had to pay out, not counting the ransomware blackmailing thing. Instead, she swallowed the rest of her drink, then raised her empty glass. “Apparently, I need more wine.”

  Meredith groaned. “Celine, what’s going on?”

  “I’m okay.” Celine had never had a female friend like Meredith. She had made her way into Celine’s life until she had to admit that Meredith was a special person, and one of the best things that had happened in her life. “This is my career and I need to take care of business.”

  Meredith’s sigh was audible over the phone. “I suppose you’re right. I just worry about you.”

  “I know.” Celine smiled. “You’re a wonderful friend and I love you for it.” She set her wine glass on the nightstand. “I’m tired and I’m going to get some sleep.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Meredith yawned. “I didn’t realize it’s so late. It’s nearly midnight here.”

  Celine laughed. “You knew exactly what time it is. You just wanted to check on me.”

/>   “Busted.” Meredith’s grin was clear in her voice. “Good night, Celine. I’ll talk with you tomorrow. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Celine’s smile lasted until she said, “Good night,” and disconnected the call.

  She looked at the wall across the bed while she sipped wine. She really didn’t know if she’d be able to sleep.

  Maybe she needed to start going to a shrink. Mother had always thought therapists and psychiatrists, and the best possible meds, were the answer to everything. Mother would have been livid if she had known Celine spit out the meds they had forced her to take for so-called depression.

  Celine had not been depressed. She’d been hurt, sad, in pain, and heartbroken…but mostly filled with devastating guilt. That didn’t mean she needed drugs. Some people did, and that was okay. But she hadn’t.

  However, her mother had seen to it the psychiatrist prescribed some designer antidepressant that had cost a ridiculous amount every month.

  And her mother’s voice—it rang in her head, as if she was in the room, with her correcting, criticizing, ordering, demanding.

  Take your medicine, Celine. It’s for your own good.

  Be calm and act like a lady.

  Ladies do not cry.

  Do what you’re told or you will regret crossing me.

  Don’t wear that. You look fat in it.

  A kindergartner could put on makeup better than that.

  Celine gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. Stop it. Stop the mom-voice before it really gets up to speed. Her arm ached to throw her glass in the cold fireplace.

  She took a deep, calming breath and let herself relax. She imagined tension leaving every part of her body.

  In spite of brick walls she’d had to break through, she had started her own business from scratch and broke into a tough industry during a financial downturn. The success of her business had been amazing.

  Now she needed to take amazing and boost it into incredible. She needed everyone’s eyes on her designs. With a successful launch of her latest line, her designs would be in stores across the country.

  She smiled. She’d worked her butt off to get here without using the checking account Mother and Father had set up for her when she was young. She had taken what money she had used for college and repaid every cent back into that account, including interest.

  It had been so important to pay her way, create, and become successful on her own.

  And that was exactly what she’d done.

  Celine set the wine glass on the nightstand and sank into her pillows. Part of her need for success was to be able to donate to a cause that meant more to her than anything. A charity that brought Arabian horses and underprivileged teenagers together.

  She didn’t know a lot about kids, but she did remember what it was like to be a teenager, and how healing a relationship with a horse could be.

  Her heart constricted as she thought about Sky. What an amazing horse she’d been. Her best friend, her confidant. And then she was gone…and it had been Celine’s fault.

  In the future, she wanted to own a ranch that used horses for therapy with teens. She wanted kids to experience what she had when Sky was alive. And she wanted them to learn from her mistake.

  Celine didn’t drift off for a long time. Eventually she slipped into a fitful sleep. She dreamt of Sky galloping in an open field, before darkness fell. In the black of night, the only thing she saw was the word Merf, scratched into a wall.

  Chapter 2

  Bright June sunlight nearly blinded Celine and she blinked, attempting to accustom herself to it and the heat as she climbed from the dim interior of the black Mercedes. She managed to get out with her Louis Vuitton handbag on one shoulder. In her opposite hand, she gripped the matching tote that held her laptop, along with the stack of papers from Monty.

  She congratulated herself for staying on her feet after the harrowing ride. She shot a look at Charlie as he got out of the driver’s seat. He’d nearly killed them sixteen different times in sixteen different ways.

  “I’m going to murder Monty,” she muttered under her breath. Bringing Charlie to something so important, something that would be launching her new line—Monty should be shot.

  “Miss Celine.” Charlie jogged around the front of the car. “What time do you want me to take you to the hotel in Prescott?”

  Never.

  “I’ve already made arrangements.” She told him the lie while she held out her hand. “Keys.”

  Charlie looked disappointed and handed the set to her.

  She gestured toward the set. “I’m sure they can use you someplace over there. Ask Rod.”

  Go brighten someone else’s day.

  Now Charlie was Rod’s problem. Considering Rod was the one who sent Charlie to get her at the hotel in Scottsdale, fair was fair. She’d kill Monty and set Charlie on Rod—there, two vultures taken out with one stone.

  How Charlie had gotten her to the Flying F Ranch alive, she had no idea. He was a walking disaster, not to mention a driving nightmare. She was amazed he was able to pilot his drone without crashing into something.

  Celine glanced up at the clear blue sky then squinted as she looked at the chaos of the shoot, which should have been more organized. The day was already growing hot, but from what she understood, it was quite a bit cooler in Prescott Valley than the Phoenix metropolitan area.

  She took a moment to scan the country around her. Monty was right. The ranch and the surroundings were spectacular. She’d been told the ranch was at the base of the Bradshaw Mountains and the country was even prettier than what she’d seen on the ride from the airport to North Scottsdale. She had to agree.

  The mountains surged upward, behind the ranch. It was an awe-inspiring mountain range that looked as if the Almighty had placed it in the desert. She’d have to get someone to show her the entire property.

  It was all far too much to process without some coffee. Good coffee. She’d forgotten to take the premium Panama blend with her to the hotel, where they’d had a mediocre ground brand.

  Lucky for her, she had an entire bag of the whole bean stashed in Monty’s trailer. With her name on it.

  “Thank the heavens.” A woman on a mission, she strode straight to the silver Airstream trailer Monty had insisted on but rarely used. Charlie, his nephew, used it more than he did.

  She avoided eye contact with anyone—she didn’t want to risk being waylaid. As a New Yorker, it was second nature to ignore everything but her destination. She knocked on the Airstream’s door, gave it two seconds, and jerked the door open. She tossed her handbag and tote onto a couch. The tote looked like it would slide off, but she glared at it and the thing stayed put.

  Yes, I am officially a witch.

  It took her all of thirty seconds to discover her coffee wasn’t where she left it. The bag should have been in a far corner of the pantry, where she always kept extra for emergencies.

  She began to plot murder.

  Her plans grew more defined the longer she looked for it.

  The door slammed open. She turned to face it and saw Charlie duck his head in.

  If he had anything to do with it being gone—

  Charlie got one look at her face and took a step back. “Didn’t mean to bother you, Miss Celine. I’ll just—”

  “Stop.” She held her hand up. “Do you know what happened to the Hacienda la Esmerelda coffee I had in here?” She pointed to the exact location. “The bag with my name on it?”

  Charlie’s throat worked. “The guys ran out of coffee. I didn’t think you’d—”

  She was certain a blood vessel would pop in her head.

  “Charlie.” She spoke in a slow, measured tone. “You had better get back to work right now.”

  She’d never seen him move so fast. He didn’t even stop to close the door behind him.

  Celine turned and put her fingertips to her forehead. Just coffee. Just coffee, she tried to tell herself.

  Just one of the finest cof
fees in the world. Lifesaving coffee to everyone here.

  A knock at door frame of the open trailer door. Charlie?

  Celine turned and came to a hard stop. Words stuck in her throat.

  One of the sexiest men she had seen in her life—and she’d seen a lot in her career—stood in the doorway. His eyes were shadowed by a western hat, but his firm lips and lightly stubbled jaw hinted at the man beneath. A T-shirt stretched from one amazing pectoral to the other, hugged shoulders to die for, and clung to tight abs and straight down to hips made to straddle. And those Wrangler jeans cowboys tended to wear out here in the Wild West.

  Oh. My. God.

  “What can I do for you?” Her voice came out harsher than it should have.

  The man pushed up the brim of his hat with one finger and she got a good look at his ice blue eyes. She’d seen eyes like that on a male model once, and she’d thought she’d never seen a more beautiful man. She wouldn’t call this man beautiful. She’d call him a chili-hot cowboy stud.

  She almost put her hand to her heart that thudded too hard and way too fast.

  He didn’t show any emotion as he appraised her. And that was exactly what he was doing—appraising her. “Did I catch you at a bad time, Ms. Northland?” His smooth voice would have stolen her breath if she hadn’t already lost it.

  No doubt, a cowboy here to find out what she needed for the shoot.

  She straightened her stance. “Rod is handling anything to do with the set. I’m sure he can help you.” Although I wish I could.

  “He sent me to see you.” The man stepped into the trailer without invitation. “I understand you run the show.”

  Wow, wasn’t often a man towered over her. With her height, she wasn’t used to being around a man she had to look up to just to meet his eyes. With her two-inch heeled sandals, today she was six feet and he topped her by at least four inches.

  Now, here was a man to snuggle up to.

  She had to work to keep her composure. “Depends on what you need, Mr.?”

  “Jayson McBride.” He took off his hat and held out his hand, even as he continued to eye her steadily. “Call me Jayson.”