The Return (BookShots Flames) Page 2

  Mack blinked, momentarily confused. “What contract?”

  “Your contract with Sagebrush Denim. Those yellow-bellied snakes in the grass. Seems they found themselves a loophole somewhere, and dove right through it.”

  Blood rushed in his ears as understanding snapped into place. “Sagebrush is pulling their sponsorship? How? That can’t be legal—that’s why we have the dang contract.”

  A lead weight settled low in his belly as he tried to process the news. The accident had stripped everything from him. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—let this be taken away as well.

  “Sounds pretty legal to me. Hang on, I’ll read it to you.” He heard the sound of papers rustling before she cleared her throat. She rattled off a paragraph full of lawyerspeak, making his head spin even more. The gist? His “substantially changed circumstances” meant he was to blame for breaking the terms of the contract. As though he’d wanted the dang bull to tap-dance on his spine.

  Running a hand through his hair, he tried to keep his temper in check. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll take a look at it when I get home. Tomorrow will have to be soon enough to talk to them.”

  Maybe by then he wouldn’t be tempted to say something he’d regret to the people who held his financial future in their hands. He ended the call and tossed the phone into the cup holder in frustration. He did not need this right now. Putting the truck in gear, he pulled back onto the deserted highway and headed for home.

  The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He was drawing a line in the sand. There was no way they were taking this from him. Just because he was sidelined did not mean he was no longer a professional bull rider with the “David Beckham” good looks the marketing director had raved about. They had a photo shoot set for next month, and come hell or high water, he planned to be there to earn the promised funds they’d agreed on.

  He had no idea how he would do it, but he had desperation on his side, and desperate people made things happen. He’d storm their offices if he had to. Sic some lawyers on them. Use every contact he had.

  He slammed on the brakes at that thought, throwing up a cloud of Texas dirt that engulfed the truck. Use every contact he had. He didn’t need to pull out his phone directory and start making calls. He knew someone with a direct connection to Sagebrush—the niece of the CEO himself, in fact.

  Ashley Montoya.

  He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, repressing a groan. A buddy had once claimed that Mack could charm the quills off a porcupine. He hoped like hell his friend was right, because it looked as though he was going to have to find a way to win over the prickliest girl he knew.

  He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the wheel, and headed right for Sunnybell.

  Five months was long enough.

  Ashley took a deep breath as she surveyed the empty, sterile room that she hadn’t stepped foot in for nearly half a year. The part of her life that this room symbolized was over, and it was past time for her to start looking forward to the future.

  Not that she’d been wallowing in self-pity. She’d made a concerted effort to go out and have fun, to stay busy around the house, and live a life that was close to normal. But for all the ways she was reengaging in life, she was only existing in the present.

  She wasn’t dreaming again.

  It had come to her in a rush yesterday when she’d been with Laurie Beth. Her friend had gone on and on about the bookstore that had been Madeline Harper’s longtime dream, made real with a bit of money, a fair amount of elbow grease, and a lot of excitement. Ashley was thrilled for their new friend, as well as super impressed. But there had also been the unmistakable twinge of jealousy deep in her belly.

  Five years ago she’d shoved her own dreams aside, never imagining that it might be hard to resurrect them. Back then, she’d been passionate and ready to tackle life with all the verve of a naive adolescent. So much had changed since then. All her dreams seemed silly for a twenty-three-year-old woman—especially considering what she’d been through.

  Her true passion was to become a champion barrel racer, but diving into the sport now seemed absurd. She didn’t know a soul in that world anymore, or even how to go about pursuing it at her age. It wasn’t as if her secondary choices were any better. The idea of going off to college at this point was distasteful at best. And her days on the beauty pageant circuit were definitely behind her.

  So where did that leave her?

  She shook her head. That was a problem to tackle tomorrow. Today, it was time to finally put the past to rest. With one last look at the mural on the wall, she pried open the paint can, filled the tray, and loaded up her roller. Taking a deep breath, she laid down a thick, pale-blue stripe right across the center.

  There. She’d done it.

  She wasn’t going to let herself cry. She smiled instead and rolled another swath of paint over the much-loved scene that she and her mother had painted five years ago, directly on that wall.

  It felt surprisingly good. Therapeutic. She bent to load up the roller again when the doorbell rang.

  Shoot! She’d forgotten that Mia’s supplements were coming today. The vet had promised to hand deliver them since she was already heading to the neighboring ranch to see to a pregnant mare. Leaving the roller where it was, she rushed to the front of the house and pulled open the door.

  What in the world?

  Ashley took one look at her visitor’s oh-so-familiar grin that sent her stomach straight to her toes, and she promptly swung the door shut again.

  Chapter 4

  Ashley groaned as she leaned back against the wood, wishing she’d ignored the doorbell and carried on with her painting. Or at the very least checked to see who was there before opening the door. It was possible he’d get the hint and leave her alone.…

  No such luck.

  “C’mon, Ash, don’t be like that,” Mack said, his smooth-as-melted-butter voice muffled through the inch-and-a-half-thick slab of solid oak. “Surely we can talk like adults.”

  This would be her luck. It’d been years since he’d shown up on her doorstep, and here she was, decked out in tatty old sweats and a T-shirt, her mass of dark hair in a messy topknot.

  Not that it mattered what she looked like. What mattered was that he had interrupted her smack-dab in the middle of her very important and very personal task. Not to mention the fact that he’d presumed to come here without a moment’s warning, practically ambushing her on her own turf.

  She was not in the mood to deal with him now.

  But as much as she wanted him to go away, the look in his eyes had made it clear that he was on a mission. He wouldn’t leave until he got what he’d come for. Sighing audibly, she opened the door. “All right,” she said briskly, planting her hands firmly at her hips. “Talk.”

  Mack’s lips spread into a grin she knew for a fact he thought was irresistible. Unfortunately for him, she had developed an immunity to his charms years ago. Those bright-green eyes and that killer jawline no longer held sway over her, thank you very much.

  “Long time no see. You look real good, Ash.”

  “You saw me three months ago,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact.

  He was unperturbed. “But bar lighting doesn’t do you justice. Full sunlight shows off your beauty.”

  She started to shut the door again, but he held up his hands. “All right, all right, I’ll get to the point. Can I come in?” His eyebrows lifted as he silently begged her to relent.

  The man was up to something. He was about as interested in her sunlit beauty as she was in the life and times of a North American jumping spider. Not budging a millimeter, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s the porch or nothing.”

  “The porch it is,” he said easily, smiling as though it was his preference all along. He sauntered to the pair of rocking chairs by the front window and gestured to the far one. “Care to sit for a spell?”

  “Clock’s ticking, Mack. I’ve got things to do, so either speak your piece
or be on your way.”

  She could see the muscles in his cheek jump as he ground his teeth. Good—he was starting to see that she wasn’t messing around. She might have felt bad, being so rude, but he’d come here knowing full well he was both uninvited and unwelcome.

  His fingers dropped to his narrow hips and hooked through his belt loops. “I have a favor to ask.”

  That got her attention. “Since when do I have something you want?”

  That came out all wrong, and she willed her cheeks not to turn red. She sure as hell didn’t want him to think she was even a smidge as hung up on him now as she was in high school.

  For a second he looked as though he was about to take the unintended bait, but thankfully he shrugged and said, “Since the letter I got yesterday.”

  That piqued her curiosity. She moved to the rocking chairs and plopped down in the nearer one. Following her lead, Mack lowered himself into the other one, his movements surprisingly stiff. For the first time, she wondered just how hurt he really was. Was he working the sympathy angle here? Possibly, but she didn’t think he would.

  As if reading her mind, he rubbed at his shoulder and said, “It’s going to be a little longer than I’d hoped before I can get back in the arena. This dang injury messed me up good.”

  “I know about the ride gone bad. Sorry to hear it’s giving you trouble.”

  “‘Trouble’ is putting it mildly.” He ran a hand over the scruff at his chin before turning to look her right in the eye. “The truth is—for the time being, at least—I’ve lost my ability to earn money in the ways I know best: bull riding and ranching.”

  “Like I said, I’m sorry to hear that, but I can’t see what that’s got to do with me. I’m sure as sugar not hiring, and I can’t say that I know anyone who is.” It was disconcerting, being on the receiving end of his intense green gaze again. And he was being serious with her, which was something she hadn’t known he was capable of. She refused to be drawn in.

  “That’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I got a letter yesterday from the powers that be over at my sponsor, sayin’ they want to pull my financial backing out from under me, and I can’t let that happen.”

  Ashley stiffened. She knew exactly who his sponsor was and had a feeling she knew where this was headed. “Best of luck with that.”

  She started to stand, but his hand settled over the top of hers, stopping her with nothing more than his warm touch. She hesitated for a moment, then settled back down, telling herself that the sudden weightlessness of her stomach was due to the rocking and not to the way his skin felt against hers for the first time in years.

  “Come on, Ashley. I know you know where I’m going with this.” Lifting his hand, he took off his cowboy hat, set it on his knee, and ran a hand through his dark-blond hair. “Whatever our past may be, we’re still members of the Sunnybell community, and people ’round here watch out for one another.”

  Freed from her brief moment of lunacy, she shook her head emphatically. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

  “Sure you can. I don’t have to tell you that my sponsor is Sagebrush Denim and your uncle runs the whole dang company. A good word from you, and I know they’d let the contract stand.”

  Ashley clenched her teeth. He really didn’t know what he was asking. Her relationship with her uncle was less than five months old. The last thing she wanted to do was to go making demands of the man who had largely ignored her most of her life. Things were too complicated right now.

  “It’s not as simple as that. I’m sorry you’re in a tough spot, Mack, but I can’t help you.”

  He sighed and dragged a hand over his face, frustration evident in every gesture. “Cards on the table here, Ash. Everything I ever wanted in life has been yanked away from me in one stupid moment. I’m grasping at straws for the next few months, and I need that money. Can you even imagine what it’s like to have everything you’ve ever loved snatched away from you like that?”

  Silence settled between them as she saw the exact moment that he realized what he’d said.

  A humorless laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. “You know, Mack, I kinda think I can. I’m not sure if you remember, but while you were out living a cowboy’s dream life, traveling the country while riding bulls and bunnies, I was right here in li’l ol’ Sunnybell, watching my mama lose her fight with ALS. So yeah, I know a little something about having your dreams snatched away.”

  She’d dropped everything to be with her mother after the diagnosis. She had been young, and scared, and determined to spend every minute that her mother had left by her side. Ashley’s friends had been wonderful, but no one could ever truly understand how life-changing something like that could be. In the months since her mother’s death, she’d found a new sense of normal, but she’d never go back to being the person she was before the diagnosis.

  Grimacing, he said, “It’s a wonder I can still talk with my foot lodged so thoroughly in my mouth.”

  “Yeah, well, I imagine you probably have lots of practice.”

  “Hey,” he said, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know that most people find me to be down-to-earth and charming.”

  “Funny how gullible people are these days, isn’t it?”

  He chuckled, but the lines of worry on his forehead never eased. “So, what can I do to convince you to help your fellow man? We’ve established that I can’t bribe you, so I’m hoping you’ll take an IOU for whenever you might need something from me.”

  Wouldn’t it be something to make Mack walk around knowing he owed her big? This was the most cordial conversation they’d had in years, but that probably had a lot to do with the fact that he wanted something from her. It was pretty darn tempting, but even that wouldn’t be worth the awkwardness of approaching her uncle.

  She opened her mouth to say as much, but a thought occurred to her in a flash. She snapped her mouth closed, turning the idea over in her head. What if this was her chance to resurrect that ultimate dream from the past? It had seemed like a pie-in-the-sky dream not even an hour ago, but that was before she had a groveling cowboy on her porch with more contacts in the rodeo world than there were sprinkles in a doughnut shop.

  Her pulse started to race as the possibility pinged around inside her mind. It was nuts. Absolutely crazy. But hadn’t she been floundering for months, looking for something to fill the void her mother’s death had left in her life? Hadn’t she only minutes earlier been upset about what she was going to do with her life?

  Well, here was her chance.

  “All right, Mack, I’ll help you.” She held up a staying hand when his eyes lit up. “If you’ll help me.”

  Chapter 5

  Relief coursed through Mack’s entire body. Thank God. He grinned wide at her, even as he stopped himself from letting out the whoop that perched on the tip of his tongue.

  “Whatever you want, darlin’,” he drawled, prepared to do anything short of committing a felony for her. Maybe he’d even do that, truth be told.

  “I want you to smooth my way into competitive barrel racing.”

  He straightened with a start, sending a thin bolt of pain through his spine in the process. “You want me to do what?” He must have not heard her right.

  She leaned forward in her chair, real excitement illuminating her velvety-brown eyes. Recently, he’d seen her flash that look to her friends, but it had been years since he’d been on the receiving end of it.

  “You want me to talk to my uncle. I want you to help me enter the rodeo world and compete in barrel racing. A fair swap of using each other’s contacts, don’t you think?”

  No, he didn’t. Not in the least. Here he was, a professional bull rider turned lame duck, and she wanted him to be some sort of, what, glorified groupie? Or a handler? And had she ever even entered a competition in her life? Yes, he remembered that she’d loved riding back in high school, but that was a world away from competitive racing.

  She was delusional
if she thought she could just waltz into a competition now, shoring up her own name with his, and not get them both laughed out of the arena. And more than anything, if he couldn’t ride—and he didn’t even have the hope of riding for too damn long—the last place he wanted to be, period, was at a rodeo.

  “Try again, only this time try to come up with something halfway reasonable.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she pushed to her feet. “Reasonable? You mean like asking the woman you once ditched mid-date to speak to her estranged uncle on your behalf? The same woman who later found Shelly Davidson wrapped around you like a boa constrictor, and then had to walk home since the car keys were in the pocket of your jeans, which just happened to be around your ankles at the time? I’m not sure I could ever come up with something as reasonable as that.”

  And there it was.

  He suppressed a groan and stood as well. “We were teenagers, Ash. I was a nineteen-year-old idiot to your innocent seventeen, and frankly you should probably be glad that I left you hanging to go hook up with Shelly. Wouldn’t you rather be stood up than used by a guy like that?”

  “No—I’d rather have never gotten involved with that guy in the first place. Lucky for me, my mama taught me that it’s never too late to right a wrong.” She walked to the front door and set her hand on the knob. “Best of luck figuring a way out of your mess.”

  With a decisive nod, she yanked open the door and marched inside with that beautiful nose of hers held high in the air.

  Mack raked his hands through his hair and half groaned, half growled.

  That had not gone the way he had hoped. He crammed his hat back on his head and started for the truck. A man had his limits, and she had run smack into his. As he walked down the steps, that damn knot returned to his chest, pushing harder than ever against his ribs.

  Dang it. He had his pride, but he also had an empty bank account and the prospect of living back home in his parents’ house again. When his boots hit the last step, he found himself turning around and looking back up at the door.