Читать книгу Fortune's Homecoming - Allison Leigh - Страница 11
ОглавлениеThirty minutes later, Billie watched Grayson stride out the Austin Elite front door. She held her breath and turned to face the receptionist.
Amberleigh Gardner was fanning herself. “That man makes even an old woman like me feel faint. And you’re the lucky girl who gets to work with him.” She winked. “You know he’s not married.”
Hoping that she was hiding the shakiness she’d felt since realizing that her prospective client Mr. Smith was The Grayson—famous rodeo rider, local business owner, endorser of everything from beer to saddles—Billie calmly started back to her office. “He’s a client, Amberleigh. No more or less important than any other client. His marital status isn’t relevant.”
Right.
Which was why she’d darn near tripped over her own feet in shock when she’d come out to greet her new client and recognized him. “Besides, you know the rules.” No romantic involvement with clients. It was DeForest Allen’s sacrosanct rule after having seen too many deals go south because of it.
“Keep tellin’ yourself that, hon. Some girls would think losing a job over a guy like that to be well worth it.” Amberleigh smiled knowingly as Billie passed her.
Once in the office that she’d been assigned three weeks ago when she began working with Austin Elite, she moved the chair Grayson had used back to its usual position before sitting down in her own chair.
Then it felt like all the strength in her body left her and she dropped her head onto her desk. Not caring if anyone did see.
From the top of his wavy, caramel-brown hair to the bottom of his expensive boots, Grayson was six-plus feet of drop-dead gorgeous.
Her skin felt flushed and her heart was racing.
She definitely needed to get herself under control before she met him the next day.
“How’d it go with the reigning King of Rodeo, Belinda?”
She sat bolt upright, assuming a confident smile for her boss. She didn’t believe for one second that DeForest Allen had known who her prospective client was before Grayson arrived, any more than Billie had. “It went very well, Mr. Allen. I’m setting up a tour of six properties for tomorrow morning.”
He nodded his silver head. “Close the deal quickly, Belinda. We don’t want another Dickinson situation.”
“No, we don’t, sir.” But inwardly, she’d tensed. She’d hoped by moving from Houston and back home to Austin, she’d have left the Dickinson situation behind her. She reminded herself that she’d been here only a few weeks, though. And trust took time.
Plus the proof of signed sales contracts. Dickinson aside, Billie had had plenty of those since getting her license years earlier. Reminding her boss of them, though, was probably not very politic. Despite her track record, she was still surprised he’d hired her. Austin Elite was the premiere agency in town. She’d never actually expected to be offered a position there.
He cupped the steel door frame of her cubicle, oblivious to the clear fingerprints he left on the glass. He was the firm’s owner and broker, so they were his glass walls to smear up however he wanted. “Don’t wait for the weekly status meeting to keep me posted.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
She waited until he’d entered his own office before letting out another breath.
Did he think she wanted another Dickinson situation? Rhonda Dickinson, reeking of Texas oil money, had been a nightmare of a client, pulling out at the last minute on three different sales because she’d happened to find something that looked “just a teensy bit better” each time.
Of course, they hadn’t been better in the end, either.
Ultimately, she’d blamed Billie—and subsequently the Houston-based agency she’d worked for—for her own inability to commit, and took her business to their chief competitor.
Last Billie had heard, Rhonda still hadn’t signed her name on the bottom of a purchase contract. It was some small comfort, she supposed. If Billie would have been able to get the woman to commit, it would have been her largest sale to date. But now Billie had Grayson Smith—make that Grayson Fortune—as a client.
The Fortune name was a big one around Texas. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was connected to it.
Her phone chimed musically and she automatically reached out to answer it. “Billie Pemberton.”
“You goin’ to Selena’s birthday party this week?”
At the sound of her cousin Max’s voice, Billie glanced at the photos sitting on top of her filing cabinet and plucked one from the collection, of Max taking down a steer. She’d used the excuse of putting Grayson’s water glass there earlier to turn the shot of her cousin away from her new client’s view. “I’m bringing the cupcakes and Mom’s hosting, so yes. You?” Selena was the daughter of a mutual cousin.
Max laughed. “You know I’d skip it if my ma wouldn’t make my life miserable for it. Too bad I’m not on the road somewhere.”
“When are you heading out again?” Even though they each had four older siblings of their own, she and Max had been close as thieves their entire lives. Didn’t hurt that their mothers were sisters, so they’d been raised more like brother and sister than cousins. Now, when Max wasn’t out at some rodeo, he stayed with his folks, Mae and Larry. Billie had a one-bedroom apartment in downtown Austin, into which she was still moving her stuff from Houston.
She opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet and tucked the picture of Max inside. She’d leave it there, where there would be no chance of her newest client spotting it.
It was pretty unlikely the rodeo star would care that she had a photo of the young man who’d bested him in El Paso, but she wasn’t going to take chances.
Nor was she going to take chances that Max would learn the identity of her new high-profile client. After what had happened earlier that year, he’d consider it treason.
“Coleman starts the day after Selena’s deal, so we’ll drive over once it looks like I can git along without Mama getting ticked.”
“Travis going?” When Max’s buddy Travis Conrad wasn’t competing in tie-down roping, he hazed for Max.
“Yeah. Hopefully, we’ll still have enough time to catch some z’s before slack.”
“Slack,” she knew, was the time scheduled for overflow contestants to compete, because they couldn’t all be scheduled into the regular nightly performances. It was generally free to get into, whereas the performances were not. Fortunately for the competitors, a slack event counted just as much as a performance event. Like Max said, the paycheck was the same whether there were paying crowds in the grandstand or not.
Of course, a lot of times that paycheck was a big fat zero. Considering the entrance fees, as well as the cost of getting themselves, their gear and their horse, if they even had one there in the first place, rodeoing often meant cowboys headed on down the road already in the hole. Max loved it, though.
Personally, Billie liked having a bank account that wasn’t always in need of life support.
She turned back to face her desk. “And after Coleman?” She tapped her glass keyboard, systematically printing off the listings Grayson had liked, as well as a few more to recommend if needed.
The Fourth of July was less than a month away and she knew Max would be particularly busy. “How many rodeos are you packing in this year?”
The few weeks in and around the Independence Day holiday were affectionately known as Cowboy Christmas because of the sheer number of opportunities a person had to enter the most rodeos for the most money.
“Long as my truck, trailer and gear hold out, seven, including Reno. Got three saddle bronc riders plus Trav hitching rides with me. Helps a lot on expenses and the driving when we’ll be covering some four thousand miles.”
She grimaced, just thinking about five men packed into such close confines. She remembered one year after he’d returned from Cowboy Christmas. Ripe didn’t even begin to describe the state of his truck. She wondered if Grayson would be caught up in the frenzied schedule, too. If he were, it would definitely put a crimp in his availability to see listings. “Going to Calgary?”
“The earnings don’t count toward the standings. Cowboy Country’s will. So that’s where I’m planning to be. You gonna make it over for the rodeo?”
Her fingers paused on the glass. Cowboy Country USA was a popular Western-theme amusement park in Horseback Hollow, where their mothers had grown up. It was a good five to six hour drive. “Depends on work.”
Max made a sound. “Everything depends on your work. You’re gonna get old and dull, Bill. You need to get out and have more fun. And by fun, I mean sex.”
Her fingers paused. “And the last time you had some fun?”
He snorted, laughing. “About a week ago. A chick I met at Twine.”
“Obviously, you’re not still brokenhearted from Bethany.” Bethany Belmont was the barrel racer Grayson supposedly stole from Max back in March. Max claimed Bethany had been the love of his life until Grayson lured her away. It was then that Max had made it his goal to unseat the reigning rodeo champion.
“Being brokenhearted ain’t got diddly to do with sex.” Max’s voice had gone flat.
She rolled her eyes and started typing again. If Grayson were still involved with the woman, he’d given no indication of it that morning. And she found it difficult to believe that her cousin had been as gung ho over the barrel racer as he claimed, since Max fell in love more often than Billie bought shoes. “I can’t believe that of the two of us, you are the romantic.”
“Yeah, well, you ought t’ try it sometime. At least go out and drink a little. Dance a little. Never know where it might lead.”
“Yeah, well, you know how I feel about that,” she returned calmly. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in love. Her parents had been inseparable since being childhood sweethearts. Billie just wasn’t willing to sacrifice everything she wanted out of life because of it. She wanted her high-rise apartment that she could barely afford. She wanted her nice clothes and her interesting career and—one day—a bank account that allowed for more things than just the minimum daily requirements. So far, any relationships she’d had of the romantic variety had been decided letdowns in comparison.
“Look, Max, I’ve got stuff to do. Don’t forget to bring Selena an appropriate gift. A bottle of hooch for a thirteen-year-old won’t cut it.”
“You give me no credit. Last time I did that was for Audie’s eighteenth.”
“Eighteen was still underage, Max,” she reminded him before hanging up and turning her attention fully to the property listings once more.
When she met with Grayson in the morning, she wanted to be completely prepared. She’d been told to close the deal quickly, and that’s exactly what she intended to do.
When the phone rang a few seconds later, she grabbed it up again. “If you’re calling to ask me to buy Selena’s gift for you, the answer is still no.”
A feminine laugh answered her. “Actually, I was calling to see if you were going to be in Houston this Friday.”
Billie’s fingers relaxed on her glass keypad again. “Well, if it isn’t the soon-to-be Mrs. Zach McCarter.” She grinned. “Or after enduring Schuyler’s wedding last month, are you calling to tell me you and Zach decided to forgo all the hoopla and elope to Vegas?”
Maddie Fortunado laughed in her ear again. “We’re still planning a wedding,” she assured her. “So don’t think you’re getting out of attending. But I guarantee it won’t be quite as over-the-top as my sister’s come-one, come-all grand affair. So, are you going to be in Houston on Friday? We’re trying out a new restaurant and I wanted to let you know in case you’re able to join the gang.”
Maddie was the newly crowned president at Fortunado Real Estate in Houston along with her fiancé, Zach, where Billie had gotten her start. She’d also been the one to invite her to join the “gang”—a group of young real estate professionals who met routinely to talk business and socialize.
“I hope to be,” Billie told her. “I’ve still got a couple loads of stuff to move from my old apartment.”
“Some people would just hire a moving company,” Maddie pointed out.
Some people didn’t have the extra money to do that. Billie kept the fact to herself. “I’m still helping the Montanegros navigate their home purchase in Houston,” she said, which was true. “So I still have to be there occasionally, anyway.”
“Oh, right. Your old neighbors. The ones you’re forgoing your sales commission for.”
“The ones who are storing my stuff in their garage,” Billie added humorously. “It’s the least I could do. So where’s the meeting place?” She made a note when Maddie told her.
“How is business going at Austin Elite? Any new listings?”
It was all too easy to conjure Grayson’s face in her mind. “No new listings. But a new client looking to buy came in today specifically asking for me.”
“That’s great, Billie! I knew it wouldn’t be long before you were right back in the swing of things. Word gets around when you’re a good agent. So what size fishy cracker are we talking?”
Billie chuckled. “He’s a big one, if I haven’t just jinxed everything by admitting it.”
“He?” Maddie’s voice piqued with interest. “Is he single?”
“Maddie! I don’t know who is worse—my cousin with sex on his brain, or you with romance on yours.”
“May I just say that those two elements can work quite well together? I’ll take your nonanswer as the affirmative, though. So is the male big fish eligible? Do tell.”
She could imagine Maddie’s reaction if she knew just how eligible. “There’s nothing to tell!” Particularly when DeForest Allen walked past her office again, giving her a close look. “I’ll tell you as much as I can on Friday if I can make it. Right now, my boss is giving me the stink eye. And I’ve told you what he’s like.”
“That’s what you get for defecting back to Austin,” Maddie said humorously. “Fine. But I’m holding you to it, my friend. So be prepared with details the next time I see you!”
* * *
Grayson slid the key card over the lock on his hotel suite on the top floor of the Kimpton and pushed open the door. His mother, seated on a couch positioned to take in the lake view, looked up at him. She had her usual calendar spread in front of her, along with her phone and a foot-high stack of glossy Grayson publicity stills that she was signing.
“How’d it go?”
He dropped his hat on the table next to the stack. “Did you know that Billy with a y is actually Billie with an i and an e?”
“Don’t let your sexism show, son.” The fact that Deborah followed his statement at all was proof enough that she had known. She signed another photo with a flourish. “I can’t help what you assumed.”
“Then did you know how young she is?”
Deborah leaned back against the couch. As usual, her long brown hair hung over her shoulder in a thick braid, and she had another pen tucked behind her ear, almost hiding the few sprinkles of gray she possessed. “Everything I’ve heard about Billie Pemberton when she was in Houston is that she is an excellent agent. Astute. Hardworking, and most importantly—according to your specifications—very discreet. Why would you care whether she’s twenty-one or ninety-one?” The fine lines at the corners of her eyes crinkled. “Or was she attractive, too?”
There was a price to be paid for having his mother act as his manager. When most men were off on their own, catching grief for not calling home often enough, Deborah Fortune handled almost every detail in Grayson’s life. With finesse and grace when necessary, but more often than not with plain speaking and a no-bull attitude. It’s how she’d raised him and his brothers when they were kids, and it was how things were now.
“Yeah, she was attractive.” He sounded grouchy and didn’t care. He flung himself down on the other couch and started to stretch out his legs.
“Don’t get comfortable. You need to sign some of these, too.” She pushed a stack of stills toward him. She waited until he’d sat forward and grabbed a pen. “So you liked her.”
After so many years traveling on the road together, they usually both knew how to give each other privacy and space. Evidently, this was not going to be one of those times.
He slid his gaze across the table toward her as he signed his name. Autographing the photographs they gave away during his appearances had gotten so mundane, he could do it in his sleep. “Like you said. She seems competent so far.” And beautiful. Intelligent.
And sexy as all hell, the way the bridge of her nose wrinkled when she really concentrated.
He turned back to the stack of photos, but the image in his head was all Billie. “I’m meeting her tomorrow morning to look at a couple properties.”
“Tomorrow.” Deborah sounded surprised. “That’s nice, but that’s not what I was asking.”
How well he knew it. “I’m looking for a new ranch, Ma. Not a wife.”
Deborah clucked her tongue. “Don’t be so reactionary. I’m not suggesting you get married tomorrow. I’m merely suggesting you don’t have many opportunities to meet nice young women, and when you do, you should pay attention.”
“I meet nice young women all the time. I don’t need to be dating my real estate agent.”
“So you’ve already thought about it.”
His glare at her had no effect. So he gave up and grabbed more photos from the stack. “How many of these did we print?”
“Five thousand. And usually, the women you meet are reporters and sales reps and buckle bunnies.”
“Ariana’s a reporter.” Or a novelist. He wasn’t exactly sure what Jayden’s new wife was working on at the moment. “She wasn’t a nice young woman?”
Deborah sighed noisily. “You know I already love Ariana and Bianca like daughters. And don’t get me started on how EJ’s already wrapping his hands around my heart.”
“He is a cute little dickens.” Grayson’s brother Nathan would be a heck of a stepfather for the four-year-old now that he’d married Bianca. “I took out that rep from Change Sportswear I met a couple weeks ago. Dinner at a place with tablecloths and everything.” Followed by a very entertaining evening in her bed. Like him, Livian Reed wanted nothing more out of their very brief acquaintance than that.
Good food. Good sex. Goodbye.
Just the way he liked it. No promises, no strings.
Too-young-for-him Billie Pemberton might be perfect in every way. But she wasn’t a no-strings type. He hadn’t even needed to see all the family photographs crammed on her filing cabinet to know it.
“Livian Reed’s a buckle bunny, too. She’s just dressed in Ann Taylor.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “And Livian would eviscerate you for the comparison if she ever knew.”
His mother’s expression turned dry. “Well, you’re not going to see her again, I know that for certain, so I’m not going to lose sleep worrying that she’ll find out.”
“I oughta call Livian and take her out again just to make you sweat a little.”
“Two dates with the same girl? The last time that happened, you were eighteen and hot after Bethany Belmont.” Deborah laughed knowingly and pushed off the couch. “You’ve got me shaking in my Castletons, kiddo.”
“Speaking of.” He was glad to change the subject. “Any progress on that front?”
She opened the suite’s minibar and studied the contents. “I’m still waiting for a call back from them. I’m not sure how much I can do, son, if the lure of The Grayson hasn’t already impressed them.”
He grunted. “Thanks.”
“Want me to start pandering to your ego now? If this is a midlife crisis starting, just tell me now.” She pulled out a bottle of fruit juice and eyed him with amusement as she shook it. “I’ll head on back to Paseo most happily and leave you to your buckle bunnies, who will coo and awe your ego right up to its fullest—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, cutting her off. She’d head back to Paseo and the ranch. Gerald Robinson might find out—God knew the tech giant had means that seemed to defy all imagination—and come sniffing around her and...no thank you, ma’am. From what Jayden had told Grayson about his last encounter with Gerald, there’d been real emotion on the man’s face when he’d spoken of Deborah. Didn’t matter that the man—whatever the hell name he was using—was married. Robinson’s infidelities were the world’s worst-kept secret. Grayson didn’t believe for a second that their life would have been different if Gerald had known Deborah gave birth to his three sons. And Grayson intended to do whatever he needed to do to keep the man from ever hurting his mom again.
Fortunately unaware of his dark thoughts, his mother deepened her smile. “You know I’ll always help you if you ask. But one of these days, son, you won’t need me along to manage your rodeo career. Or you won’t want me along. Or you’ll realize it’s finally time to give your body a break and retire from bulldogging. Neither one of us could have guessed how your teenage hobby would change our lives. But it can’t last forever. And that’s okay. Life moves on. As it should.”
“I’m not retiring until I’ve got one more world championship to my name.” The National Finals Rodeo would be held in Las Vegas in December. He was already tied for the most world championship wins ever. One more would set a new record. And then he’d retire from bulldogging.
Ego? Yeah. He knew he had more than his fair share of ego. But it was also calculated. Record-winning names faded from memory a little more slowly than also-rans. And the longer he could make money on his name, the longer he could put that money to good use.
“Well, I for one am glad you’re already number three in the money,” his mother said. “Between rodeoing, Grayson Gear and your charity appearances, you’ve worked nearly every day for the past year. One of these days, it’s going to take its toll on you.”
He wasn’t worried about the toll. Aches and pains went hand in hand with rodeoing. “I’d be second in the standings if I hadn’t bought it in Silver City and lost out to Max Vargas.”
The entire season of pro rodeo was about the money rankings. Earnings were the only common ground on which to judge their success as they competed in rodeos throughout the country under every condition that could be had. If the Finals were the goal—and admittedly, for the majority of cowboys who competed it was not—then nearly every dollar earned paved the way there.
“Vargas can really run a steer,” his mother pointed out mildly.
“And at the rate he’s going, he’ll be at the Nationals. But he’s still a punk and I don’t like losing to a punk.”
Deborah looked amused. “There was a day when Joe-Don Gainer called you a punk.”
“Yeah, and Joe-Don was right then. Same as I’m right, now. I’m not the saint that Joe-Don was, though. Hazing for me like he did even though he was a Hall of Famer?” Grayson shook his head. “Won’t catch me hazing for Max Vargas. If his usual guy, Travis, isn’t hazing for him, he treats the one who is like dirt.”
A wrestler who didn’t appreciate the contribution of his hazer—who rode on the opposite side of the steer, keeping him more or less straight and close to the bulldogger—was just damn stupid. Luck of the draw chose the steer. The hazer and the wrestler’s skill together determined what they did with that luck.
“Don’t go off on a tangent dissecting details of Silver City again,” his mother warned. “The hour you subjected me to the other day was enough.” She finally opened her juice and wandered to look out the windows. “I wonder if I should just show up at Castleton’s doorway. Might be harder for them to ignore me in person. Red Rock’s only a couple hours from here. I could rent a car and drive over and be back before we need to leave for Coleman. What do you think?”
“I think once the event tomorrow is finished, you could go to Red Rock, and from there head straight to Coleman.” He gave her a look. “I can manage to get myself and the trailer and the horses there without you.”
“I realize you’re capable.” Her tone turned dry again. “Whether you manage to do it all in time to not miss your event altogether is the question.”
“Last time I did that was fifteen years ago.”
“Because of a girl—”
“And I haven’t been late once since,” he said, cutting her off. “Even though you still harp on it often enough. Focus on Red Rock and let me worry about getting to Coleman.” He lifted his pen. “We don’t need five thousand of these things for tomorrow, do we?” The remaining unsigned stack was still a foot high.
“I think they’re hoping for about a thousand to show.”
He capped the pen and tossed it on the cocktail table, stretching his fingers. “What time’s the deal supposed to start?”
“Two o’clock. I’ve personally taped up copies of your schedule this week in this suite. I told you that you didn’t have to make the appearance tomorrow. If you hadn’t, you would have had time with Billie to see more.” She smiled knowingly. “More than just a couple properties, I mean.”
He let that pass.
The library appearance had been added to his already busy schedule there in Austin at the last minute, and his personal appearance fee would go to local literacy. “It’s a good cause.” He hadn’t taken the military route that Nathan and Jayden had. They’d been literally out saving the world. Instead, all Grayson could offer was his name and his money to support charitable efforts where he could. And he knew Deborah understood his motivations completely.
“I’ll be finished with Billie in plenty of time to meet you here before the dedication.” He pushed to his feet and stretched. “I’m going to hit the gym this afternoon and then see if I can scare up a massage somewhere.”
His mom rolled her eyes. “Read your schedule!” She headed toward the connecting door that separated Grayson’s suite from her own. “I’ve arranged a massage for you right here at four o’clock. Don’t forget to tip your masseuse and don’t forget to meet me at seven. We’re having drinks with the Deckers at Twine.”
He groaned. Claudia and Myron Decker had more money than Midas and could always be counted on to support his foundation, Grayson Good. But in the process, they definitely liked to trot him out as if he were their prized bull. Ergo the appearance the next day at the new library. “It’s never just drinks with the Deckers.”
“And whose fault is that?” She gave him one more pointed look. “They’re bankrolling the event tomorrow, so wear a clean shirt and don’t be late.”
