Читать книгу It Takes a Cowboy - Gina Wilkins - Страница 13

CHAPTER TWO

FOR SOME REASON, Scott was getting the idea that Blair Townsend wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the purchase she had made. In response to her comment, he glanced automatically at the clothes he’d just pulled on—a blue-and-white-striped denim shirt, a pair of jeans cinched with a worn leather belt and the boots he’d had on earlier.

Regular-type clothes, he thought with a frown. Why was she looking at him as if he’d just switched heads instead of shirts? “I’ve been called a cowboy a few times,” he acknowledged. Among other things.

She seemed to brace herself. “Rodeo?”

Reaching for the juice glass, he studied her face, reading disapproval in her expression. When he’d first met Blair Townsend, he’d been relieved that his buyer was young and very attractive—he still shuddered when he wondered what that older woman had wanted from a weekend with poor Rob Carter. He thought Blair looked rather prim and uptight in her conservative clothes—a cream-colored short-sleeve sweater set, pearl necklace and tailored slacks. It was a more professional-looking and less casual outfit than most of the ranch guests had been wearing that afternoon, but other than that, his first impression of her had been quite positive. Now he was beginning to wonder if the old lady might have been more fun. “I rodeo sometimes—when I feel like it.”

“What do you do when you don’t feel like it?”

He shrugged. “I’ve raced cars, motorcycles and speedboats, and I have a few other hobbies that keep me entertained. What do you do?”

She sighed, her expression changing from consternation to resignation. Pulling a roll of antacids out of the pocket of her cardigan, she popped one into her mouth. “I eat a lot of these,” she murmured.

He couldn’t help smiling at her rueful tone. He wondered if she was some sort of high-powered executive. She sure had the look. Her honey-blond hair was cut for practicality in a chin-length bob she kept tucked behind her ears. No wispy bangs to soften the look. Understated makeup—not that her fair, clear complexion needed artificial enhancement, he mused, studying her dark blue eyes, naturally rosy, rounded cheeks and soft, full lips. She was of medium height and slender. Pretty, he thought, but practical.

He hazarded a guess. “Accountant?”

“Lawyer.”

He nodded. Close enough.

“So, Counselor, you looking for some relaxation? Trust me, you’ve bought the right guy. By the time our weekend is over, you’re going to throw the rest of those antacids in the trash. We’re going to have a great time.”

She shook her head. He might have liked her to look a bit more intrigued by his promises. “That wasn’t the reason I bid on you, Mr. McKay. Actually, I think I’ve made a mistake. Maybe it would be best if I just consider my check a donation to the ranch and we’ll both forget about arranging a weekend. I’m sure you’re very busy. I know Lindsay and Rex and the others greatly appreciate the time you gave them today. It was extremely generous of you.”

“Now, just hold on a minute,” he said, holding up a hand. “You spent more than six thousand dollars for a weekend in my company. You must have had some reason for doing so.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“So, what did you have in mind? And what have I done to cause you concern?”

She cleared her throat and started to speak. He interrupted her, motioning toward the tweedy couch pushed against one wall. “Why don’t we sit down and get comfortable, and then you can tell me all about it.”

“That won’t be necessary. This won’t take long.”

Scott wasn’t the easily riled type, but Blair Townsend was starting to irk him a bit. What the hell had she bought him for if she didn’t want anything to do with him? Had she been so offended by the sight of his bare chest? Or—his pride stung a bit—so disillusioned?

“I’d like to sit for a few minutes,” he said, keeping his tone mild.

She looked momentarily abashed. “Of course. Please, feel free to take a seat.”

Staying where he was, he motioned toward the couch again, indicating that he would be seated when she was. Given little choice, Blair moved to the couch and perched on the edge, her back very straight, her chin high. Scott sank into the chair opposite the one that held his jacket and shirt. He slouched comfortably, stretched his legs in front of him and crossed his booted feet. He set his empty juice glass on the floor beside him, then laced his hands over his stomach. “Okay, what was your plan? And why’d you change your mind?”

“It was an impulse, really,” she answered, suddenly looking flustered. “I don’t act impulsively very often, and I really shouldn’t have.... Anyway, I only came to watch the events today, not to participate. Buying a bachelor was the last thing on my mind when I left home this morning.”

He nodded, growing increasingly curious. “So, what made you decide to bid on me? Was it my big blue eyes? My irresistible smile? My charming personality?”

“It was the tie, I think,” she murmured, sticking a pin directly into his ego.

“The tie?”

She nodded rather glumly. “I had this sudden, crazy idea that I could buy a role model for my nephew, Jeffrey. He’s living with me, and he’s going through a difficult time. He’s angry and rebellious, he doesn’t care about his grades, he isn’t making friends. He seems to have no interest in planning for his future. So, I thought maybe one of you men who have been through rough times and still managed to turn out successfully would have some influence on him. You know, maybe have a good talk with him and convince him of how important it is to follow the rules and focus on the future.”

He felt his eyebrows rising as he digested her unexpected explanation. She had bought him for her nephew? Remembering all the wolf-whistling women who had cheered him from the stands, he wondered how he’d ended up with this one. Not that he was complaining, exactly, he thought, studying her flushed face. “So you want me to have a bracing man-to-man talk with your nephew.”

She cleared her throat. “That was my original idea. But now I think maybe...”

She’d changed her mind, he realized. Somewhere between him taking off that tie and coming out of the bathroom in his regular clothes, she had decided he wasn’t the right one to talk to her nephew, after all. It was a good thing, he thought with a wince, that he had developed a pretty good self-image during the past few years. If he was the sensitive type, Blair Townsend just might have hurt his feelings.

What he should probably do was shrug his shoulders, agree that this had all been a mistake and let her go on her way, both of them having made their contribution to an extremely worthwhile cause. He was no one’s mentor, no kid’s role model. The very idea should have made him laugh. But something about the way she looked at his scuffed boots got his dander up. Her nephew could do worse than to take advice from him. And Blair just might find herself enjoying some time with him, as well.

“So what weekend is good for you?” he asked matter-of-factly.

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You bought me to spend a weekend with your nephew. Let’s go for it. Tell me when you want to do it, and I’ll set everything up.”

Blair shook her head. “No, really. I think—”

“You said he’s angry and rebellious and headed for trouble, right? You want him to talk to someone who’s been there, someone who had to choose between freedom and jail, right? Well, lady, I’m your man.”

Blair looked at him thoughtfully. “You really think you can get through to him?”

“I’m no psychologist,” he admitted. “And I’m sure no expert on kids. But I came to this ranch as mean and angry and rebellious as any kid they’d taken in before. There were some who predicted I’d be in prison before I turned twenty-one. Instead, I own a successful ranch and serve on the board of directors of several civic organizations. I pay taxes and vote in every election. You might say I’m a respectable citizen—though I guess there’s a few who’d define me in other ways.”

“You own a ranch?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you read the brochure?”

“I told you, I didn’t intend to buy anyone. It was just an impulse when the idea occurred to me about Jeffrey.”

“So now that you know I’m an upstanding guy, you want to give it a shot?”

“Well...” She rubbed the back of her neck, as if it had suddenly tightened. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt for you to talk to him.”

“Might even help,” he murmured.

“I suppose that’s possible.”

He wasn’t flattered by the lack of confidence in her voice. It only made him more determined to prove he could do this.

Scott McKay had never been one to back down from a challenge.

“This will work out just fine,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “When d’you want to do it?”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Hey, for your generous donation to the ranch, talking to a kid is a small favor for me to do in return.”

She dug into the leather purse she’d worn over her shoulder and pulled out a thin calendar. “Jeffrey and I are free next weekend. Beginning Friday, he has a three-day break from school.”

“School? Isn’t he out for the summer yet?”

“No, he still has a couple more weeks.”

“So you want to get together next weekend.”

“If that’s convenient for you. Are you available then, or do you need more time to—?”

“Sure, that’ll work.”

She looked surprised at his quick acceptance. “Don’t you need to check your schedule?”

“I don’t keep a schedule. If you want to go next weekend, that’s when we’ll go.”

“How can you run a business if you don’t keep a schedule?”

“I improvise a lot.” He uncrossed his ankles, then crossed them again in the opposite direction. “Okay, so beginning next Friday, you and Jeremy and I will—”

“Jeffrey.”

“Sorry. You and Jeffrey and I will spend some time together, get to know each other, have a good time. Do you have any specific plans?”

“What I would like for you to do is talk to Jeffrey about how crucial it is for him to focus on his future. He needs to know that the grades he makes in school are important, that he has to cultivate the right friends and make the right choices.”

She made it sound as if she was trying to get the kid into Harvard. “How old is he?” he asked, thinking that if the boy was just fifteen or so, she could cut him a little slack. He’d have some time left to have fun before he had to seriously buckle down. Now, if he was, say, a senior in high school, he’d better...

Blair started to answer, but a knock on the door interrupted her.

“Excuse me a minute.” Scott stood and opened the door. Joseph, the ranch teen who’d been assigned as Scott’s host for the day, smiled shyly at him. “They’re wantin’ to take some pictures, Mr. McKay. Out by the arena. Miss Lindsay wants to know if you can come.”

“Well, I...”

“Go ahead, Scott. I have to leave, anyway. My nephew’s expecting me.” Blair stood, slung her purse over her shoulder and handed him a business card. “My numbers are on there. Give me a call after you’ve checked your calendar and we’ll decide where to meet—unless you change your mind, of course, which I would completely understand.”

“I’ll call you.”

She nodded, hesitated, then stuck out her hand. “It was very nice to meet you.”

Because her rather stiff, proper manner amused him, he couldn’t resist taking her hand, then tugging on it to pull her closer so he could brush a kiss against her cheek. “It was very nice being purchased by you. I’ll be in touch.”

Her face was flushed again when she pulled away. She murmured something incoherent and fled, though she made an obvious attempt to be dignified about it.

Joseph grinned as he looked at Blair’s rapidly retreating back. “I think you flustered her, Mr. McKay.”

Scott returned his grin. “I think you’re right.”

And you ain’t seen nothing yet, pretty Blair Townsend.

* * *

BLAIR WISHED just once Jeffrey would look happy to see her after they’d spent a day apart. But when she stopped by her aunt’s house to collect him after the auction, he greeted her with the same unenthusiastic mumble she heard from him every afternoon when she picked him up after work. Her retired aunt, Wanda, lived next door to Blair, so Jeffrey stayed with her after school until Blair got home—a convenient arrangement for all of them.

“Did you like the videos we rented for you to watch this afternoon?” Blair asked Jeffrey.

He tossed his shaggy hair out of his face—he refused to wear a neater, more conservative cut, and Blair hadn’t insisted on that yet since there had been so many other problems to tackle. “They were kind of lame,” he grumbled about the films she had so carefully selected. “I wanted to see the new slasher movie. All the guys have seen it but me.”

“I don’t think all the fourth graders at your school have seen that movie. I’m sure there are plenty of parents who agree with me that it isn’t suitable for children your age.”

Jeffrey shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever.”

“Get your things and we’ll go have dinner.”

He ambled off without looking back.

Blair turned to Wanda Townsend, who hovered nearby. “Was he much trouble?”

Wanda shook her gray head, her eyes dark with concern. “He just sat in front of the TV all afternoon, watching those films. I asked if he wanted to go outside and play, but he wasn’t interested.”

It had been Wanda’s late husband, Edgar, who had started the law office Blair managed. She and her uncle had been discussing Blair leaving her stressful, incredibly demanding position with a firm in Chicago and becoming a partner in Edgar’s practice. Just as she had decided to agree to his offer, Edgar had died of an unexpected heart attack, leaving his practice to Blair. It still distressed her that they’d never had the opportunity to work together. Instead, she’d had to scramble to catch up with his cases and keep his office afloat. She’d lived here only six months and was just beginning to feel comfortably settled in Lightning Creek when her brother, Kirk, had arrived with his motherless son in tow. Three days later, Kirk was off on another of his crazy get-rich-quick schemes, and Blair had been left with her sullen, resentful nephew. Six months had passed since that day, and there had been only a couple of telephone calls and a postcard from Kirk since.

Wanda had tried to help with the boy, but never having children of her own, she’d often been at a loss in the face of Jeffrey’s moodiness. Blair had no experience with children, either, but she’d made a valiant effort to give the boy a good home. She’d bought and read dozens of parenting books, spent several hours in consultation with the counselor at Lander Elementary School and had tried to help Jeffrey find friends and interests here. Her efforts had been met with little reward. Every time she thought she was getting through to him a little, he pulled back again.

He seemed to make a determined effort to hold other children at a distance. His grades were not good, though Blair knew he was much brighter than he let on. He refused to participate in sports, Scouts or any of the other diversions Blair suggested to him. And he was growing increasingly belligerent toward authority. She was becoming more and more worried that Jeffrey was a prime candidate for the Lost Springs Ranch for Boys—either that or reform school.

Was it any wonder she’d gotten desperate enough to buy him a role model for a weekend?

Jeffrey trudged into the room, dragging his backpack behind him. “I’m ready.”

“Tell Aunt Wanda thank-you for letting you spend the afternoon with her.”

Jeffrey gave Blair an annoyed look, but muttered, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll see you Monday after school.”

“Yeah. See ya.” Jeffrey headed for the door.

Blair and her aunt exchanged worried glances. “I really think you should consider getting him some professional counseling,” Wanda murmured. “Maybe there’s a medication that could help him.”

Blair cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m taking Jeffrey to see someone next week. Someone who has a great deal of experience with troubled boys.” She saw no need to add that her expert was a cowboy, not a counselor, especially since her aunt seemed so encouraged by the news.

They were both getting desperate, it seemed.

* * *

BY WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, Blair was beginning to wonder if Scott McKay had forgotten all about her. If they were supposed to get together on Friday, they needed to make plans. Coordinate their schedules. Perhaps make a list of the things she wanted Scott to talk about with Jeffrey.

She would feel a lot better about all of this if she could just make a few lists.

Maybe she should call him, she thought, sitting in her office Wednesday afternoon, too distracted to concentrate on the stacks of paperwork piled on the desk in front of her. Scott hadn’t given her his number, but she imagined it would be easy enough to get it from Lindsay Duncan. She could call him and simply ask if something else had come up. Or if he’d perhaps changed his mind.

But he was the one who had talked her into agreeing with this outing, even after she had decided it wasn’t such a good idea, she reminded herself. Why should she call him? It was his responsibility to follow up on his offer.

Still, she had paid sixty-five hundred dollars for a weekend of his time....

Her phone rang just as she was telling herself she should probably write off the donation and forget the whole thing. She picked up the receiver. “Blair Townsend.”

“Ms. Townsend, this is Carolyn Roberts. I work for Scott McKay.”

“Yes?”

“Mr. McKay asked me to call you to inquire if ten o’clock Friday morning is a convenient time for you and your nephew to meet him.”

Blair wondered why Scott hadn’t called her himself. She glanced at the calendar, though she knew nothing was written on it for Friday. She’d been keeping that day open for this. “Ten o’clock will be fine. Where does he want me to meet him?”

“At the Lightning Creek airstrip. Do you have a fax machine?”

Blinking in surprise at the unexpected question, Blair replied, “Yes, I do. Why—”

“If you’ll give me your fax number, I’ll send you the list of items Mr. McKay recommends that you bring with you.”

A list? While Blair approved of lists in general, she wondered why Scott was sending her a list of supplies. Just what was he planning, anyway? “May I speak to Mr. McKay?” she requested, thinking this would be much easier without the middleman—or rather, middle person.

“Mr. McKay is in Japan. He won’t be back in this country until Thursday evening.”

“He’s in Japan?” Blair parroted blankly.

“Yes. He left all the information he thought you might require. He said if you have any questions, you should feel free to call me and I’ll relay them to him.”

It sounded like more trouble than it was worth; much easier to simply go along with Scott’s plans. Had that been his intention?

Carolyn Roberts recited her telephone number, which Blair quickly jotted down. “Call me anytime tomorrow if there’s anything you need. I’ll fax Mr. McKay’s list to you within the half hour.”

Blair felt a bit dazed when she hung up the phone. What was Scott doing in Japan and why had he had his—secretary? assistant? housekeeper? mistress?—whatever she was, call Blair? And what was this list being faxed to her?

She prowled the office for ten minutes before the fax machine rang. She practically pounced on the pages it spat out. One look at the list had her sinking bonelessly into her chair again.

Clothes for three days—jeans, T-shirts, lightweight jackets. Hiking boots. Sunscreen. Toiletries. Favorite pillows and teddy bears.

“Cute,” she muttered, reading the last. “Where on earth are you planning to take us, Scott McKay?”

She should probably call Carolyn back immediately and tell her the weekend was off unless Scott called personally to discuss his plans—even if he had to call from Japan. Blair didn’t care for surprises, and she was not an outdoorsy type. This list hinted strongly at both possibilities.

But then she pictured Jeffrey hiking along a nice trail, enjoying the fresh air and wonders of nature, responding—despite himself—to Scott’s easy, cheerful banter. Apparently, Scott had arranged for them to stay in a rustic lodge or cabin. Perhaps he could take Jeffrey fishing or something, which would give them a chance to talk while male bonding. Blair wouldn’t mind sitting on a porch swing with a good book while Scott tried to communicate with her nephew. She hadn’t had a vacation in the entire year since she’d moved to Lightning Creek—nor the year before that, actually—and she could use a break.

Maybe she’d even do a little hiking herself, she mused, imagining a leisurely amble along a well-marked path with frequent stops to sniff a wildflower or read a park information sign.

She’d lived in Wyoming for a year and hadn’t even seen Yellowstone Park yet. Was that where Scott was taking them? She supposed that wouldn’t be so bad. And most important, perhaps Jeffrey would enjoy it.

She would go through with this, she thought. But only for Jeffrey.

What other reason could there be?

* * *

“WHO IS THIS GUY we’re going to meet?” Jeffrey asked, not for the first time, as Blair drove toward the airport Friday morning.

“His name—as I’ve told you before—is Scott McKay. He’s a rancher and a businessman. A former resident of Lost Springs.”

“Oh, great,” Jeffrey grumbled. “A geek.”

“He’s not a geek,” Blair corrected. Not even close, she thought with an unwelcome mental image of his strong, bare chest. She ordered herself immediately to stop doing that.

Jeffrey tossed his brown hair out of his face. “So where are we going? Why’d we pack all that stuff?”

“I’m not sure where we’re going, exactly. Scott’s going to surprise us. It should be fun,” she added, trying to convince herself as well as her nephew.

Jeffrey’s grunt was not encouraging. “I guess it beats being in school,” he muttered.

“Just let yourself have a good time, okay, Jeffrey? It’s okay to have fun. And listen to Mr. McKay. There are probably a lot of things you can learn from him.”

Jeffrey rolled his eyes and slumped in his seat, looking as if he were on his way to a root canal. Blair had to try one more time to put him in the proper frame of mind for this experiment. “Come on, Jeffrey. Surely you like being outdoors. Having adventures. Seeing new things.”

“I like having adventures with my dad. Not with strangers.”

The boy’s sullen response made Blair’s heart ache. She was trying so hard to repair the damage her careless, irresponsible brother had caused this child. But she was beginning to believe it was something she couldn’t accomplish alone.

“Just give Scott a chance,” she repeated quietly. “Maybe you’ll like him.”

The boy shrugged. “What does it matter if I like him or not? He won’t be around long. Nobody is.”

“I will be,” Blair told him firmly. “Don’t you doubt that.”

Her nephew merely looked out the window beside him, his expression unreadable, much too contained for his years. Either he didn’t believe her reassurances that she wouldn’t abandon him, as everyone else in his life had, or he was afraid to believe her for fear of being disappointed yet again. But she knew she still had a long way to go before she reached him—if ever.