Читать книгу His Enemy's Daughter - Sarah M. Anderson - Страница 11

Two

Pete couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun. Chloe Lawrence looked exactly like a fish stunned to find itself in the bottom of a boat instead of the bottom of a lake. By God, it was good to get the upper hand on the woman, for once. Everything was going according to plan.

Pete cut a glance back at Chloe. If he weren’t enjoying himself quite so much, he’d be tempted to feel sorry for her. She was normally so high and mighty, the kind of smugly self-assured woman who thought she was better than everyone else, especially him. She never missed the opportunity to rub his face in the fact that the All-Stars wasn’t his rodeo anymore.

Now he’d turned the tables and he was going to enjoy rubbing her face in it. These men didn’t owe her any particular allegiance and they all knew it.

But that fleeting moment when Dustin took a swipe at her, where pain etched her delicate features, didn’t make him feel like he was winning. It made him feel like an ass. He felt like he’d seen that look before, a long time ago. Probably when he’d said something cruel. He couldn’t remember what and besides, Chloe always gave as good as she got, so he wouldn’t bother to feel bad about past insults.

He pushed back against that wisp of guilt because it was small and easily ignored. Hey, he was not the bad guy here, never had been. All he wanted was what was rightfully his. It had nothing to do with Chloe personally. It had everything to do with her lying, cheating family.

But even as he repeated that familiar truth, his gaze was drawn to her again. The fact that she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever had the displeasure of butting heads with only made it worse. In another lifetime, the one where his family still owned the All-Stars, he and Chloe wouldn’t be on opposite sides of a never-ending war. She would’ve been just another gorgeous face and Pete would’ve been free to...

Well, he would’ve had his rodeo back.

The rodeo was his, dammit. The Lawrence Oil All-Around All-Stars Pro Rodeo circuit was comprised of individual rodeos that were hosted from small towns to big cities. Most of the rodeos, like the Bootheel Rodeo in Missouri, predated the All-Stars by decades.

When Pete’s father Davey had started the All-Stars back in the eighties with a group of his friends, he’d had big plans. More than just a bunch of individual rodeos—with individual winners—Davey Wellington had seen a way to crown the world’s best All-Around Cowboy. It’d been a crazy idea but then, Davey had been just crazy enough to make it work.

Every rodeo that wanted to count toward the world rankings had to be approved by the All-Around All-Stars. The summers of Pete’s childhood had been spent with his dad, driving from rodeo to rodeo to see if that local rodeo was worthy of being counted as an All-Star rodeo.

God, those had been good days, just the two of them in Dad’s truck, sending postcards back to Mom. As far as he could recall, those summers had been the only time Pete had ever had his father’s undivided attention. Pete might not have been there when Davey decided to settle the matter of who the best cowboy was forever, but by his father’s side, Pete had literally worked to build the All-Stars from the ground up.

Rodeo was family. The All-Stars was his family, his father’s legacy. It was his legacy, by God. Except for that damned poker game. Milt Lawrence had all but stolen the All-Stars from Davey when the man was deep into his whiskey and nothing Pete did could change that. And God knew he’d tried.

When Armstrong Oil—Lawrence Oil’s main competitor—had tapped oil on his ranch and Pete had suddenly become quite rich, he’d tried to buy the All-Stars back from Milt Lawrence. Hadn’t worked. Neither had any of the lawsuits that had followed.

The Lawrences were like leeches. Once they’d latched on, they weren’t letting go until they’d drained the All-Stars of all its history, meaning and money. It was time to try a new line of attack.

One that relied on grumpy old farts. “You can’t be serious,” Yardley snarled. “We had a deal.”

Pete glared at the man. He should’ve known better than to trust Dustin Yardley with something like this.

“What deal?” Chloe snapped. Any trace of confusion was gone from her face. She jammed her hands on the sweet curve of her hips and glared at Pete. Because of course she suspected the truth.

It was no accident that Pete was in Missouri today and it was no accident that he’d come upon the scene with Chloe being browbeaten by a bunch of old cowboys.

“What deal?” Pete echoed, trying to sound innocent and hoping that Dustin would get the damned hint to shut his trap.

Chloe had been running the rodeo by herself for a few months now and the buck stopped with her. She couldn’t hide behind her daddy’s boots anymore, and her brother Oliver? He’d been useless from the get-go, relying on Chloe as his liaison. In theory, the decisions had come from Oliver but Chloe had been the show manager.

When Oliver had officially stepped away from managing the rodeo earlier this year, Chloe hadn’t hired anyone else to help run the show. She should have, though. She had to be drowning in work. They were a long way from Dallas and Chloe had no backup.

Managing the All-Stars was a full-time job and she’d also started that Princess clothing line. His sister, Marie, had bought a couple of shirts, ostensibly so she and Pete could make fun of the latest tacky venture from the tacky Lawrences. But Marie—the traitor—had actually liked the clothing so much she’d bought a few more pieces.

Chloe could have her little fashion show—Pete didn’t care about that at all. But she was going to ruin his rodeo and he wasn’t going to stand for that.

The contractors and local rodeo boards—they wanted to work with him, not her. Not Oliver Lawrence. And they’d never trusted New Yorker Milt Lawrence, with his fake Texas accent.

Pete could rally everyone who made the All-Stars work and get them to go on strike unless the Lawrence family either divested themselves of the circuit or paid Pete his fair share of the profits—going back thirteen long years. The rodeo was worth a lot of money—money that by rights belonged to the Wellington family.

But money wasn’t why he was in Missouri this weekend. Between oil rights and cattle, his ranch was worth millions. No, this was about his father’s legacy—about Pete’s legacy. He wanted the All-Stars back.

So he’d proposed a solution to the stock contractors. The locals threatened to mutiny and, when things looked bleak, Pete would ride to the rescue, Chloe’s knight in a shining Stetson. Chloe would be so grateful for his support that she would agree to Pete working for the All-Stars in one capacity or another. And once he was in, he’d slowly begin to crowd Chloe out.

It was a hell of a risky plan but he’d tried everything else. This would work. It had to. By this time next year, Chloe would be completely out of the picture and the All-Stars would be his.

Provided, of course, that Dustin Yardley didn’t blow the plan to bits before it got off the ground.

Chloe swung back to him, her eyes narrowed. Suspicion rolled off her in waves. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Pete?” She bit off each word as if it had personally offended her.

He had to make this look good. The plan would work fine even if she was a little suspicious of him, but he needed her to hire him on. Pete was walking a fine line and he knew it.

“Steve Mortimer gave me a call. He’s under the weather and wasn’t able to get his horses here, so he asked me if I could help out. I guess he must’ve asked Dustin first, but you know Dustin.” That wasn’t exactly how it’d happened. It’d cost Pete a pretty penny to get Steve to stay home this weekend. The man did love his rodeo. But then, so did they all.

Chloe gave him a hard look before her entire face changed. It was like watching a cloud scuttle past the sun because suddenly, everything was brighter. Yet, at the same time, that look irritated him. Like she’d flipped a damned switch, Chloe Lawrence looked instantly dumber. If Pete hadn’t watched it happen, he might not have noticed the difference.

He’d say this for Chloe Lawrence—she was a hell of an actress.

She swung around to face Dustin. An inane giggle issued forth from her mouth. She was smart, Pete had to give her that. Dustin Yardley would never admit to being outmaneuvered by a girl.

“I’m so glad Mortimer trusted you enough to call you first,” she said, her voice rising on the end as if she were asking a question.

Pete frowned at her. He understood what she was doing, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Then again, when had she ever done anything he’d liked? He didn’t like the way she ran the rodeo. He didn’t like the changes she wanted to institute. He didn’t like the way she used the rodeo to promote her own princess-ness.

The All-Stars wasn’t about Chloe Lawrence. It didn’t exist to sell clothing or stuffed animals or—God help him—Lawrence Oil, a subsidiary of Lawrence Energies, owned solely by the Lawrence family. The All-Around All-Stars existed for one reason and one reason only—to celebrate the best of the best of ranchers and cowboys. To take pride in ranching. To connect them to the tough men and women who had tamed the Wild West.

None of those things applied to Chloe Lawrence. She’d been born in New York, for God’s sake.

Dustin looked confused. The man was mucking this up. Then, at the last possible second, Dustin got a grip on the situation. “Yeah, good old Steve. I, uh, didn’t have any room, uh, in my trailer. For his horses. I was glad Pete was able to pick up the slack.”

Yeah, that was believable.

“But that doesn’t change anything else,” Dustin went on, talking over Chloe’s head to Pete. “It’s not right to have women riding in our rodeo. They’re distracting and they could get hurt. She’s the goddamned Princess of the Rodeo. She shouldn’t be making decisions like this, and God save us all from that arrogant ass of a brother of hers.”

“Which one?” someone from the crowd asked.

“They’re both asses,” Dustin announced with grim satisfaction.

Pete watched the tension ripple down Chloe’s shoulders and he knew without even looking at her face that she had lost her innocent mask and was about to tear Dustin a well-deserved new one. But before she could launch into her tirade, Pete stepped forward. “How about a compromise?”

“How about you go screw yourself?” Chloe said under her voice.

Pete damn near bit his tongue, trying not to laugh at that quiet jab. Never let it be said the woman didn’t give as good as she got.

“Ms. Lawrence isn’t wrong,” he went on as if she hadn’t just insulted him. “A rising tide does lift all boats. Making the All-Stars bigger will mean more money for you, for the riders and, yes, for management. And she’s not wrong that having a woman ranked in the top ten in the Total Bull Challenge has brought in a lot more money to that outfit. Are you guys trying to tell me you would rather remain a second-tier rodeo organization rather than open up the All-Stars to new blood?”

Dustin glared at him, but that was to be expected. Pete was more concerned about what Mort and Dale and the riders would think. If other people bought into Dustin’s way of thinking, Chloe would dig in her heels and the rift could tear the All-Stars apart. A flash of terror spiked through him. That was definitely not part of the plan. He wanted his rodeo back intact, thank you very much.

Chloe turned so she could look at Pete sideways. “Have you been replaced by aliens or something?” she asked in that same quiet voice, and oddly, he was reassured that she didn’t sound inane or ditzy.

He wanted to deal with the real Chloe Lawrence. No tricks, no deceptions.

Which was ridiculous because he was actively engaging in deception as they spoke.

“Doesn’t sound much like a compromise,” Dustin grumbled.

“I’m getting to that.” Pete put on a good grin, the kind he used in bars on Friday nights when a pretty girl caught his eye. “We all want to make more money and Chloe has a few interesting ideas that are taking a lot of her time and attention.”

She kicked at the dirt. “A few?” But again, she was talking only to him.

He ignored her, knowing it would do nothing but piss her off. “Maybe it’d be best if we let her focus on high-level marketing and expansion stuff, the kind that will bring in new viewers and new fans, and leave the nitty-gritty details to someone who doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty, someone people know and trust.”

“We?” she challenged. Damn. Pete had been hoping that would slip right past her.

“Someone like you?” Dale said on cue. Thank God someone was hitting their marks today.

“I am going to kill you,” she whispered even as her eyes lit up and she smiled as if this were a great idea. “Slowly.”

He ducked his head as he stepped around her. “You can try,” he whispered back, and then he turned his attention to the gentlemen gathered around him. “What do you all say? Does that sound like a workable solution? Chloe can keep doing her part to move the rodeo forward and I can handle everything else.” He winked at the crowd where Chloe couldn’t see it.

Dustin looked like he wanted to challenge someone to a gunfight, but Pete had most everyone else and that was the important part.

“Might not be a bad idea,” Dale mused. “After all, we know and respect Pete.”

Pete couldn’t see Chloe’s face, but he heard the sharp intake of breath at what wasn’t said. Sure, they all knew and respected Pete—but they didn’t respect her. It didn’t matter how long she’d been riding at the All-Stars rodeos.

She would never really belong here. It was high time she realized that.

“Well,” she managed to say in a voice that sounded relieved, if a little airheaded. “I’m so glad we were able to find a solution that works for everyone! And Mr. Wellington, I’m extra glad you are able to bring your horses all the way to the Bootheel.” Her grin was so bright it about blinded him. “I’d like to remind everyone that showtime is in three hours and we do have a sold-out crowd tonight and an almost sold-out crowd tomorrow night. Let’s give these people a reason to come back that doesn’t involve funnel cakes.”

She got a little bit of a laugh for this and she kept that big smile going, but Pete could see the light dying in her eyes a little bit.

Good. That’s just what he wanted. He didn’t feel the least bit sorry that she’d been overthrown in a mutiny. It was past time she found out what it was like to have a usurper sitting on the throne of one’s inheritance.

Still... Watching her grit her teeth as she shook hands with cowboys bothered Pete a little bit. These men had been nothing but rude to her today. Some of them had dressed it up with prettier language than others, but still. She had to pretend like this was all hunky-dory because if she punched someone like her brother would’ve, they’d start in on how it was more proof that women shouldn’t be in charge of these things.

That’s just the way it went. What was done was done and the end justified the means. He had successfully accomplished the first step in taking back his rodeo and he couldn’t afford to let things get personal. Nothing he felt for Chloe was personal and that was final.

She turned to him. “When you get time,” she said, sweetness dripping off every word, “I’d like to go over your new duties with you.”

Which meant she was going to try to destroy him. Pete grinned. He’d like to see her try. “Absolutely,” he told her, fighting the odd urge to bow. “You’re the boss.”

Fire danced in her eyes, promising terrible, wonderful things. She tilted her head in acknowledgment of this false platitude and then sashayed off, her head held high and her hips swaying in a seductive rhythm. Pete knew he wasn’t the only one watching the Princess of the Rodeo leave him in the dust. The woman was an eyeful.

Just as she got to the gate, she turned and looked back over her shoulder. Sunshine lit her from behind, framing her in a golden glow. Damn, she was picture-perfect, every fantasy he’d ever had come to life. If he didn’t know who she was, he’d be beating these other idiots off with a stick to get to her first.

But he did know. She was an illusion, a mirage. She dressed the part, but she was nothing but a city slicker and interloper. A gorgeous, intelligent, driven interloper.

Their gazes collided and his pulse began to pound with something that felt an awful lot like lust. Even at this distance, he could feel the weight of her anger slicing through the air, hitting him midchest.

Oowee, if looks could kill, he’d be bleeding out in the dirt.

With a flip of her hair, she was gone.

“Well, how about that,” Dale said, laughter in his voice. “You got your work cut out for you, Pete.”

Oh, yeah, he was going to have his hands full, all right.

It was time to show Chloe Lawrence that the All-Stars was his. But she wasn’t going to make this easy.

The thought made him smile. He was already starting to like this job.