by Lauren Canan
Then there were older pictures of a young boy: riding his first bull, roping his first calf, his legs barely reaching the shortened stirrups of the saddle. The largest picture in the room was of a man holding up a two-by-six-foot check, made payable to Clayton Everett in the sum of one million dollars, proclaiming him the new American Rodeo Champion. Standing next to him were his barn manager, George Cullen, and Sophie Prescott, his secretary and maybe his best friend in the world.
He wandered out of the foyer, down the main hall to the east wing. Climbing up a few bleacher steps that overlooked one of the outside arenas and the sloping fertile pastureland beyond, he sat down, marveling at the view all around him. He would never tire of it. Rolling hills, the few that existed in this area, and white pipe fencing as far as his eyes could see. In the distance a herd of longhorns grazed on the irrigated spring grasses. In the first part of October, hundreds of breeders of Texas longhorn cattle would gather at the Lazy E Arena in Guthrie, Oklahoma, to find out who owned bragging rights to the bull with the longest horns in the world. Word had reached him that his ten-year-old bull, Crackers, had horns three-tenths of an inch longer than his chief competitor’s. That should have made Clay happy. But there was more to life than watching horns grow on a damn cow. No one knew it better that he did.
It had been Sophie’s idea to move his office from his Dallas headquarters to the ranch. At least temporarily. But the arrangement had turned permanent after almost two years. The maze of awards from his cowboy days had been cleared out and moved to the main barn lobby and the workings of his current office had been moved in. Sophie had overseen the move and, as usual, he couldn’t help but be impressed. He’d slid into the burgundy leather chair behind the massive mahogany desk like it was still at the high-rise in Dallas. Everything, from files to computers to office equipment to Sophie’s office, had been arranged almost exactly the way it had been at the other location, thereby eliminating the need to learn a new setup. He could find his way around the new office blindfolded.
He’d given Sophie free license to do what she wanted with the trophies and awards that had hung for years in the current office space. She’d done it all while he was still in the hospital, his gut torn open by an angry bull named Iron Heart, his left leg shattered by pounding hooves. In the blink of an eye, Clay had been thrown from the animal and gorged before landing squarely on his head, the compression causing him to break his neck, barely missing his spinal cord. It had taken less than six seconds, from the moment the chute door opened to the crack he heard from within and sweet oblivion, which brought his days as a superstar in the Professional Bull Riding League to an end. He’d known a bull like that would someday come his way. It was inevitable. Nothing went on forever.
She’d had a glass room built in the foyer of the main barn and moved everything there. She’d set about filling it with memories of his life. From boy to man. From child to champion. It was both shocking and humbling. Lord, he’d come a long way over some of the worst roads in the country. He’d also traveled some of the best. The road to Cumberlin County and the Brahma bull who’d awaited him was a culmination of the worst and the best that could happen to a man. The accident had come as close as possible to ending his life but at the same time, it had brought out the true colors of Clay’s money-grubbing fiancée, who had suddenly lost interest, finally admitting she simply could not marry a man who had to limp to the dance floor. She’d refused to be saddled with a “cripple” for the rest of her life. She had packed her bags and disappeared faster than a cube of sugar in a cup of boiling coffee. And she hadn’t even had the guts to tell him herself. No, the news had been relayed as gently as possible by Sophie.
It had been just one more setback to add to the list. Clay had had to accept that his rodeo days were over and his life was going to change. Hell, it already had. Once he’d been released to come home, it had taken a month of prodding by the stubborn, unshakable, relentless Ms. Sophie to get up off his ass—as she’d put it—and do something. Clay had started tinkering around with some ideas, found one he liked and threw himself into developing it. It was partly to keep his mind off the injuries that were still healing and partly because that was the way he was built; he was a self-made man and risk taker by nature. And Sophie never let him forget it for a second. He loved nothing more than a challenge, regardless of whether it was a two-thousand-pound Brahma bull or a billion-dollar company. A challenge was still a challenge.
He’d set about building a cloud-computing company he named Everest, specializing in providing ironclad infrastructure to corporations. With the usual Everett finesse, it took off like a rocket, making him a multimillionaire almost overnight with no indication it was anywhere near slowing down. And neither was he. No one who really knew him was surprised. He knew only that he wasn’t ready for his life to be over. At thirty-four, it was too soon. But while he was forced to set aside the thrill of bull riding, there were other trials to be fought and won.
Like what to do about his attraction to Sophie Prescott.
As if on cue, she popped her head around the corner.
Two
“I thought I would find you here. What do you want for lunch?”
When he merely shook his head, she said, “Then I’ll have Rose grill a steak and throw some sides together. It should be ready in about thirty minutes.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That’s too bad. You’ve got to eat. Nothing good is going to come out of you sitting around with your head in the clouds.”
“I was thinking, not daydreaming.”
“Thinking, huh? I’ll bet. More than likely thinking about that old bull and how you would do it better if you had a second chance.”
He glared. “I’ll be in for lunch in a few.”
She tapped her watch as a silent way of saying she would expect him sooner rather than later.
Damn, she was beautiful. For reasons he couldn’t understand, she chose to tone down her natural beauty, pulling the amber hair into a ponytail and using very little, if any, makeup. Not that she needed any. Her sky-blue eyes couldn’t hide behind the glasses always perched on her nose. And those full, slightly pink lips... A man could lose himself in them. And he had done exactly that almost two months ago, the night of the Texas Cattleman’s Club masked ball held at the Bellamy Hotel.
It probably shouldn’t have happened but that was one thing he would never regret. As his eyes had surveyed the large ballroom and the people seated at the linen-covered tables, Sophie stood out like a diamond set against dark granite. He hadn’t been able to resist taking her hand and pulling her out onto the dance floor. Sophie had protested and he understood her side. She felt herself to be only a secretary who had no place dancing with her boss. He didn’t give a damn.
She’d driven him crazy for most of the time she’d worked for the company, deflecting his teasing in complete innocence. If she had given him so much as a wink or a beguiling smile, he would have jumped her bones in a heartbeat. But the ever-proper Sophie never did even though he sensed a few times she wanted to. The attraction between them was there. The sparks went off like static around them every time they got close. He’d just never been able to get her to admit it. At the ball, with her in that dress, he hadn’t cared. He had to have her. Period.
As much as she was beautiful, she was also about as ornery as a mule. His father had called her persnickety. Let Miss Sophie get her hooks into something and she would not let go no matter what. For the years she’d worked for him, those talons had grabbed hold of his hide and she was damn near vicious in her efforts to guide him in the direction she wanted him to go. She’d been there ever since that day in the hospital, his lowest day, when she’d stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, and calmly stated with absolute resolve if for one second he thought he was just going to lie in that bed and rot away, he could think again. Giving up was not an opt
ion. If he didn’t agree with her, he was a jackass. And he was going to have to fight her tooth and nail, day in, day out, before he would be allowed to just give up. It was time for the pity party to end. They had work to do.
She’d never strayed from his side. Even on his worst days when his self-pity and self-loathing overcame his common sense, she was there, taking the verbal punches and flinging back a few of her own. Clay didn’t know of another human being who could talk to him the way she did that day. Not and get away with it.
And it continued through the months of therapy. She accepted no excuses, daring him to shut her out, and with each day his respect for her grew. What she ever saw in this broken-down, scarred ex-cowboy he would never know. It wasn’t about money. She had never asked for a raise in salary and had, in fact, purchased some office supplies out of her own pocket and never said a word about it. He’d happened to find a receipt. When questioned she’d said only that it wasn’t very much so why bother anyone for the money? He had insisted she set up an account at the local office supply store, then had to make her promise to use it.
Most people tended to cower at his anger and between his injuries and the stab in the back of his ex-bitch from hell, he’d had plenty to feel angry about. Rage often filled him but even when he lashed out, Sophie never batted an eye. He owed her his life. That was a fact no one could dispute. And that made her even more tempting than she’d even been before.
He had given considerable thought to the possibility that his attraction to her was because for him, she’d become a nurse, a psychiatrist, a trainer, a cook and sometimes a shoulder to cry on. All wrapped in one beautiful package. But it wasn’t because of anything she’d said or done. It wasn’t just because she was hands down one of the most beautiful and intelligent women he’d ever met—and yet it was all of those things and more. Clay wanted her. In his house. In his bed. Twenty-four-seven. And he’d tried. But for reasons he didn’t understand, Sophie refused. Nor would she let him touch her again. Damned frustrating. If this was some kind of misguided ploy to get him to notice her—to want her—it was working. But when was it going to end?
Instead of returning to the house, she joined him on the bleachers without a word, resting her arms on her knees and fiddling with a wild flower she’d found somewhere.
“So what’s on the schedule for today, boss?”
She knew the answer: nothing. But she asked anyway. She always did.
When he didn’t answer, she proceeded to give him a few choices. “You’ve left your cloud-computing business in the hands of others far too long. It’s past time you picked up the reins.” He sniffed at the pun and watched her grin before she continued. “The cows are calving. You have six new foals on the ground. Jonesy said they all looked top-notch. After lunch, why don’t we head to the foaling barn and check them out? I love seeing the new foals.” And you used to, she didn’t say. After two years, he’d learned what Sophie didn’t say held as much weight as what she did say.
“Okay.” He shrugged, knowing full well she would badger him all day if he didn’t agree. He hadn’t been down to the foaling barn since the accident. It had been a place where he’d grown up. A place to plan his future, to dream about all the things he wanted to do in his life. But no more. That life, as he knew it, was over.
“I’ll go and check on lunch and give you a ring when it’s ready. Can you make it down the stairs by yourself?”
The glare he gave her produced the full grin he loved to see on her face.
“Oh, you poor old soul,” she teased, hopping down from the bleachers. “I’ll have Nathan come and carry you to the house.”
“Not unless you want Nathan hurt.”
She giggled and turned toward the house. Nathan was the ranch hand she had called when, just after returning home from the extended stay at the hospital, Clay fell and couldn’t drag himself back onto his feet. At six-foot-four and two hundred and eighty-five pounds, Nathan was a close match to Clay in physical size and stamina. He had Clay up and on his way in a fast minute. Since then it had become an inside joke between them. If Clay got stubborn and refused to get out of his chair or dismissed a call to dinner, she threatened him with Nathan. She was playing on his ego. He knew exactly what she was doing, but he let her get away with it most of the time. He was not a damned invalid. He might not be able to swing his leg over a saddle—yet—but he could damn well make it up the stairs by himself.
He recognized that Sophie was well-intentioned. He was almost back to 100 percent except for the limp that would take years to overcome, but she knew that implying he was an invalid pushed his buttons. Few things stuck in his craw like that one did. He had come to accept her methods and her teasing without flinging some nasty remark back in her direction, but many times he’d had to bite his tongue to achieve that end. Her nature was that of a mother hen and one of her chicks had fallen out of the nest. Well, peep, peep. He swung his legs over the edge of the stairs and followed her to the main house, cane in hand.
* * *
“You received an email from someone named Conrad Drexler,” she told Clay as Rose set a beautifully seared steak in front of him. “It sounded important. He wants you to call him at your first opportunity.”
“Yeah, I’ll call him after lunch.”
“Clay, what’s going on? You’ve been closed up in your office for over a week. Is there something I should be doing? Has something happened?”
“Nope. Not a thing. All’s good.”
He wasn’t telling the truth. She’d learned to look for a slight pulsating under his left eye if he was upset, angry or concerned about something. It never failed. And right now the tiny vein was pulsing for all it was worth.
“Well, everything appears to be going as it should. Everest stock is soaring and the people I’ve spoken with seem genuinely happy with the quality of service they are getting.” She smiled at him. “Word has spread and it’s growing unbelievably fast. But I guess you know that?” The business’s success had propelled him to the rank of billionaire. After putting his days as the world’s top cowboy behind him, he’d also started several other companies and all were doing well, although not as well as Everest.
“Yeah,” he answered as he began to cut into the perfectly grilled steak. “So far Everest is doing all right.”
When a company stopped gaining and growing at a rate Clay thought was acceptable, he did as he had always done in the rodeo arena: he studied. And studied some more. He’d compiled statistics on every working bull in the circuit and its method of removing a rider from its back. Was the bull a spinner, a kicker, did it rotate its shoulders and if yes, in what direction and to what degree? What were its weaknesses and its merits? He took into account age and lineage and any other factor he could find on any one cow and by the time he pulled up to the rodeo arena, he knew every bull in the lineup inside and out. It didn’t matter which one he drew, he knew more about it than the owner did. The same went for the industries where he did business.
But knowledge was only a part of the puzzle. Where it ended, Clay’s tenacity took over. When he set his mind on something, accomplishment was usually just around the corner. He had a knack for business, was a genius with numbers and statistics, and developing and running a company came as naturally to him as breathing was for everyone else.
But something was going on. If she couldn’t figure it out, she would have to wait on Clay to tell her. Oftentimes that wasn’t until he had managed to solve the problem. She wasn’t usually called in unless things were nearly out of control and he needed her help. She supposed all she could do at this time was watch his body language and be prepared for anything.
“Aren’t you going to finish your lunch?” Clay asked as she stood and walked toward the door.
“Not really hungry. See you later.”
“You pulled me all the way back to the house with a lecture on
eating right—then you don’t eat?”
She shrugged. “I’ll get something later.”
With a sigh of frustration Clay picked up his full plate, a napkin, cutlery and his drink and disappeared inside of his office, closing the connecting door between their offices. Drexler was one of the men who’d helped Clay develop Everest. What the exact purpose of his call was, Clay hadn’t said. He played his cards pretty close to his chest until his idea took root or problem was solved.
If anyone called him an entrepreneur to his face, he would laugh it off and respond by saying he was just an old cowhand who had run into some luck. In truth he was a shrewd and intelligent businessman who seemed to have a natural ability to turn dust into gold.
The bull that changed his life years ago didn’t merely crush his leg and open his belly. It figuratively ripped open his heart, challenging his mind and his spirit. As his injuries healed, inside he’d carried frustration, rage, sadness, a touch of hopelessness and always a hint of the bitterness he tried to hold back. Emotions he managed to conceal from most people he couldn’t hide from her. Sophie knew that handsome face better than she knew her own. She could tell when he thought someone was lying, when he was holding back his anger, when he thought something was inappropriately funny. She knew when the sparkle that lit his emerald-green eyes meant to come forward or turn tail and run. Most women made the mistake of running the wrong way—straight into his arms. A few weeks later, whatever they’d had—or thought they’d had—was over and no doubt they were still wondering what had happened.
