Page 50 of Cowboy in Colorado
“And now he finally got my personal phone number—like, my cell phone, my personal cell number, not my work cell. And he left me a message saying that he, um…” She trails off, clearly scared.
“Say it, Tina.”
“He’s here.”
“He’s coming here? From Colorado?” I ask, my voice squeaky with panic.
“No, heishere. Now. Down in the lobby.”
“In the building? Keep him waiting. I’m not going to see him. He had his chance, and we’ve moved on.”I’vemoved on.
And I can’t risk seeing him. My equilibrium is already shot, and seeing him would only further mess me up.
My father watched this exchange with more interest than I’d seen on his face in a long time.
“Send him in,” my father says.
“Um,” I find my voice. “No, don’t.” I glance at Dad. “I’m sorry to counter you, but…I don’t need to see him right now.”
“A working historical village sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in months. It’s bold, and it’s outside the box.” He stares at me, his expression hard and piercing. “You should have stayed with it.”
“It wasn’t working, Dad. For a lot of reasons.”
Dad leans back in his chair, gives Tina a peremptory glance. “Send him in, Tina. I’m not asking.” His voice is gentle, but there is no mistaking the command.
“Yes, sir.” She gives me an apologetic look, but we both know she can’t disobey him.
When she’s gone, Dad’s eyes go to mine again, and he sees far more than he should. “You’re flustered. No one ever flusters you, man or woman, CEO or common crook. If he can get the best of your rather intimidating skill set as a negotiator, I have to meet him.” He grins. “Especially one who can affect you the way he so obviously does.”
“Dad, it’s not like that.”
It is totally like that.
He screwed me, literally, out of the negotiation. Probably on purpose. He distracted me with sex, and he got me to drop the project when he ghosted me. And it worked.
The bastard.
So why is he here?
I swallow hard, because I truly never expected to see him again. And now he’s here?
Dad is carefully watching the door for Will’s appearance.
I’m not ready. I’m not calm. I’m not in control. This is a clusterfuck, and I’m in trouble.
Less than a minute later I can hear them just outside my office. Tina is chattering a mile a minute. “…but you don’t understand, Mr. Auden, this isn’t how things are done. I don’t think you’re entirely aware of exactly who Brooklyn is—”
“I don’t care,” he growls. “I want to talk to her, and it shouldn’t be this fuckin’ hard to get a five-minute conversation with someone. I shouldn’t have to travel halfway across a damned continent to have a fucking word with someone, no matter who they are—”
“But, sir, she—”
They enter my office at that moment, and both Will and Tina abruptly stop talking. Will barges in and my heart stops dead. Flatline. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
He’s wearing the same dusty old cowboy boots—now brushed clean of the worst mud, and a clean pair of dark blue jeans. His shirt is a white button-down. He’s wearing a big silver belt buckle with the logo of some association probably to do with horses or rodeos, and the shirt is tucked in. His jaw is shadowed with heavy blond stubble, and the same faded ball cap he wore the day I met him graces his head. Aside from being clean, his only nod to this being a business meeting is a dark blazer, left open.
It’s Will, in all his cowboy glory, only better.
And he’s staring at my father. Blankly, for a moment, and then he looks at me, and then at Dad again, and I see understanding dawn. “Thomas Holden Bellanger,” he says, in his permanent-growl voice.