Loving A Cowboy (4 page)

Yesterday she’d been resigned to taking it. But seeing Chance had reminded her of what was at stake—her future. She couldn’t let her father bully her into making another mistake.

She wasn’t cut out to be in car sales. She didn’t like the pressure to sell more car than someone could afford. She didn’t like the half-truths told to get shoppers to buy cars they didn’t want. She didn’t like the car business, period.

“Libby, I’m glad you’re up,” said her father, his voice deep and booming. “How’s my baby girl?” He walked into the kitchen with a stiff gait and a manila folder in hand. Her father was a big man with a barreled chest, wavy gray hair, and a smile in his brown eyes.

But being back home over these last few weeks, Libby had become aware of a difference in Sam Brennan. His voice seemed more strained, his brow more furrowed, his walk less resolute. He’d aged.

Sam slapped the manila folder on the counter. “Put your fancy MBA to work on these figures from Casper. It profiles our typical customer. See if anything jumps out at you, anything we can use in the ad campaign.”

A knot twisted in her gut. Libby didn’t reach for the folder.

He scrunched up his large nose and narrowed his watchful brown eyes as if her face had a message printed on it. “What’s the matter?”

First things first.

“I saw Chance Cochran last night.”

“What? Where?”

“At the Cattleman’s Club. He was celebrating a win.”

Her father’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Did you talk to him?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t tell him about the affidavit?”

Sam reached for the coffeepot on the counter and poured a cupful into the chipped mug that had been used once already that morning. Etched across its scratched porcelain surface were the words Best Dad—a long-ago Father’s Day gift.

“I did. I can’t say for sure he’ll sign it,” she said. “He growled something about letting lawyers handle it and sped away.”

Her father frowned. “And that’s what you should have done, let the lawyer handle things. All he has to do is sign that paper in front of a notary. Now he’ll get
his
lawyer involved. Hell.” He took a gulp of coffee before continuing. “He better sign. I should have had him arrested for kidnapping back then and made him sign that summons before they released him.” He dumped the remainder of the coffee in the sink, its flavor no doubt bitter after sitting in the hot pot for so long.

“I went with Chance of my own free will. It was my choice.”

Setting the empty cup on the counter, he folded his arms across his chest. “You were too young to make that choice. Thank God you came to your senses. Now look at you. MBA, ready to marry a good man, settle down, and work in the family business. Think where you would have been if I hadn’t gotten you that divorce. Probably have a passel of kids and be stuck in some trailer park while Chance chased after rodeos and who knows what else.”

A passel of kids? That didn’t sound so bad to Libby. “Chance just topped a million dollars. I doubt he lives in a trailer park.”

Her father’s eyebrows arched. “That much? Well, he always was a reckless SOB. But I’ll check with Jeb Groton at the law office and get his advice. Jeb said that if Chance decided to protest, he’d have a rough road to prove we didn’t try to find him. Hell, he was working God knows how many rodeos. How could we be expected to track him down? And why wouldn’t he want the divorce legal if he’s got a million dollars to protect? No, I expect we can just send a notary down there to the rodeo and get him to sign. Better to clean it up now though, while he’s got some money to protect and before you tie the knot with Ben.”

“Promise me you will just get the papers to him, have him sign, and that will be the end of it.”

Her father scowled. “Just so long as he does sign. It’s past time to put Chance Cochran behind you and focus on the future. And it’s a hell of a future you’ve got ahead of you, Libby. And then I can look forward to taking things easier. What with you taking over Casper and your brother heading up Cheyenne, I’ll be able to retire.” She figured he chuckled because he knew he was lying.

Brennan Motors was his baby, and he would be involved until either his mind or his body failed. Too bad she didn’t feel the same way about the family business. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the inevitable argument, an argument she didn’t have much odds of winning, but she had to try.

“Does it matter at all to you that I don’t want to do this, Daddy? That I don’t want to sell cars?”

He rubbed a hand across his face and closed his eyes. For a second, Libby’s heart thudded with concern. But only for a second. When he opened those eyes of his, sheer determination stared back at her.

“Does it matter to you that your daddy needs you? That I
need you,
Libby.”

“There has to be someone else. Ed Farley knows the business better than I do. He’s been selling cars there for twenty years.”

“I can’t trust just anyone with the business. Your brother has taken over Cheyenne. I need you at Casper so I can concentrate on getting Laramie back to where it needs to be. Look, I don’t expect you to be super-saleswoman. That’s what you’ve got Ed and the other salespeople for. But I could use your ideas. You must have learned something at that fancy eastern university.”

She knew it wasn’t her ideas he wanted so much as someone who would implement
his
ideas. He would always call the shots.

“Besides, Ed Farley ain’t family.” Her father shook his head as if he was frustrated she didn’t understand. “I’d have to give him a piece of the business, and there isn’t enough right now to do that, not without hurting you and your brother—and me.”

“I don’t understand. The dealerships have always made money.” More and more each year.

“While you’ve been away at school, you ever read a newspaper? The car business ain’t what it was. People aren’t buying cars like they were and certainly not trucks. Besides, you got a better offer in this goddamn economy?” he huffed, obviously confident she did not.

And he was right.

She’d been looking. She’d had a nibble from the Western Stock Show in Denver regarding a job in the public relations department promoting its annual event, but she was far from the finish line. And no doubt, with her father’s connections, he already knew that.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a long, erect black tail. Cowboy, the stray cat she’d found along the road to the house last month, was looking for food. Luckily, she’d already put out something for him. She watched the tail, and the velvety body it was attached to, make a beeline for the bowl.

“I’m putting up with that cat, ain’t I?” her father growled, evidently having seen her pet too. “That should be worth some loyalty. You and your strays.”

“He’s a good cat.” If a bit territorial.

It wasn’t just saying yes to the job in Casper and once the job market improved, she could look for a new job. If she said yes now, she’d be dealing cars for the rest of her life. She knew it. He knew it.

“I need you, Libby. I’m no spring chicken, in case you haven’t noticed. Try as I do, I can’t handle everything like I used to. I’m asking as your father. Help me.” His expression had turned serious, his plea heartfelt.

How could she refuse? Libby took a deep, resigning breath before she nodded her agreement.

“I knew you’d see reason.”

“Libby, see reason? About what?” Her brother, his feet bare, shuffled into the kitchen as he wiped sleep from his blue eyes. Doug was bare-chested, dressed in a pair of crumpled jeans, jeans that appeared to have been slept in. His dark hair was disheveled, and he hadn’t shaved yet. She’d left last night right after her talk with Chance. No doubt her brother had stayed out late carousing.

“Libby’s going to manage Casper, just as I wanted.” Her father sounded so pleased, Libby wished she could match his enthusiasm.

Her brother rummaged around the cabinet and pulled out a box of corn flakes.

“What does Libby want?”

“It’s all right, Doug. I’ve agreed to it.”

“What did he use? The I-don’t-have-long-to live argument?” he said, getting down a bowl from one of the open shelves.

“She’s doing what needs to be done for the family’s sake. As she always has and always will do. She’s a Brennan.”

Her father glanced at the rooster-shaped clock that hung above the sink. “I’ve got to run now. You officially start tomorrow, Monday.”

He leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. He carried the aroma of the coffee he drank by the gallons. Full-out caffeinated coffee, too.

“You should be glad your father has a business where he can offer you a job. There are plenty of daughters who would be grateful,” Sam said as he pulled his keys from one of the hooks by the back door.

Her father was a big man, tall and wide. He ate too much, drank too much, and cussed too much—but he was her father, the only parent she had left—and she loved him. And knew he loved her.

Too bad it was all or nothing with her father. You either did it Sam Brennan’s way or you were nothing. Compromise was not in her father’s vocabulary. When the door banged against the doorjamb, signaling her father’s departure, she turned to her brother, who had just dumped milk into his cereal.

“Don’t say it,” she warned, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m already on track for the mother of all bad days.”

Doug took a large spoonful of flakes and stuffed it in his mouth—and kept right on looking at her with cold blue eyes.

“I caved. All right? I admit it. Happy?”

“No. I’m not happy. And neither are you. One of us needs a spine—my money was on you,” he said, brushing hair from his eyes.

“At least you like selling cars,” she said, feeling defeated.

“I like making money. I’m not real particular in how I go about it—long as it’s legal,” he chuckled.

She didn’t find anything humorous. “He says the dealerships are losing money.”

“Cheyenne’s not. He doesn’t share with me what the others are doing, but it wouldn’t surprise me. It’s tough out there. Getting tougher every month.”

“Maybe I can help him,” she said, trying to drum up enthusiasm she didn’t feel.

“If he’ll listen to you. You know the real reason he offered you the job is so he can keep an eye on you. Keep you close. He’s worried that when you marry Ben, you’ll be tempted to leave the area. Even if Ben’s in Wyoming now, that drilling company has operations all over the world. Speaking of Ben, how did things go last night with Chance?” Doug leaned against the counter, shoveling the spoon between the bowl and his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Okay,” she lied. She didn’t want to discuss Chance or the divorce papers. Doug had always liked Chance. And never understood how she could have walked away.

Her brother’s mouth turned down in a skeptical half scowl. “Really? I saw you both on the dance floor. Things seemed a little tense. And then you disappeared. Next thing I know, there’s a text from you saying you’re heading home.”

“I was tired.” Which was the truth, even if she hadn’t been able to sleep when she got home. Seeing Chance again, kissing him, and then his ordering her out of the truck had sent her emotions seesawing.

“Tired? At least you’re going with me to the rodeo again today, right? I’ve got VIP passes—thought we could watch from behind the chutes. Thought you might like to see Chance win this one up close.”

He looked at her as if he expected her to be excited. After their encounter last night, being ringside when Chance took on a thousand-pound horse was last on her personal agenda, dead last. Chance had made it clear he didn’t want or expect to see her again. And then what if the notary showed up? She’d be happy to miss that scene.

“I’ll watch it on the local channel.” She glanced at the folder her father had left on the counter. “I’ve got some information to look over anyway.”

“TV? When you can see it live?” He gave her a considered look. “Guess things didn’t go so well between you two.”

“Let’s just say I’m waiting on the lawyer’s call.”

Chapter 4

Chance pulled the tape tight around his wrist, wrapping again and then again. Standing in the corner of the cement-block locker room, it seemed like everyone he knew was crammed into the tight space in some state of undress. Small talk added to the din of preparation.

He wished he could wrap his emotions as tight as he was wrapping his wrists. Since seeing Libby last night, he felt like he’d been rubbed raw by Wyoming limestone. He should have never sauntered over to her table, but once he spotted her, he’d been drawn to her like a bee to a flower, the pull strong and elemental.

And for his troubles she’d poleaxed him with the news she was getting married—only wanting to assure their divorce was clean—and could care less about him. Hell.

Too bad he hadn’t reconsidered that kiss.

He shouldn’t have done it. He’d been fooled by her sweet smile and those welcoming, delectable lips of hers. Fooled that maybe she still had feelings for him. Fooled there might still be something between them, could be something between them.

He’d let her tears get to him. He wished he could say he was immune to such feminine wiles, but he wasn’t. Even though his mother cried enough when she was on a bender, it hadn’t dulled the fierce protectiveness he felt when faced with any woman’s tears, much less Libby’s.

But her declaration she was getting engaged had brought him to his senses with a jolt. Chance shook his head at his own stupidity.

His lawyer said it would be prudent to sign the affidavit since Chance had no desire or incentive to protest the divorce decree. So be it.

He needed to put last night’s drama out of his mind and focus on his task at hand—riding his bronc to the eight-second finish. Eight seconds may not seem like a whole lot of time, but when seated on a whirling dervish, it was seven seconds too long. Once he rode today, he’d head out and not look back. He shouldn’t have come to Cheyenne—and he wouldn’t make that mistake again. They said you couldn’t come home again, and last night proved it.