Cowgirl Come Home (6 page)

He washed down his food with a gulp from his mug, tossing Bailey a sour look.

Succumbing to the ache in her ankle, Bailey sat on the bed as far as possible from the bump indicating her father’s good foot. “What did you mean when you said, ‘Not for long’?”

Mom sat in the upholstered armchair positioned beside the giant fichus. Her mother’s skill with houseplants was one of the genes Bailey failed to inherit.

“Financially speaking, your father and I are in pretty rough shape, Bailey.”

OC started to contradict her, but Mom shushed him. “It’s bad, Oscar. There’s no use pretending otherwise. You haven’t worked in five months.”

Bailey tried not to show her alarm. “Are you making anything from the Fish and Game?”

“A little. Jack gets paid by the hour and Marla earns a salary for bookkeeping, but we don’t charge as much for Jack’s tours so we don’t show as much profit.”

OC glared at her but kept eating.

“And all the extra hours have taken a toll. Jack’s about done. He’s going to finish up the bookings they have, and then he’s retiring.”

“Goddamn traitor. I taught him everything he knows about fly-fishing. He owes me more than a couple of months of picking up the slack.”

OC shoved his tray, spilling what was left of his coffee. “I need a pain pill…and a cigarette, goddamn it.”

Bailey took the tray away while her mother cleaned up the mess. She walked straight to the kitchen, ignoring the throbbing in her ankle. She needed a pain pill, too, but she’d be damned if she’d take one.

“He called somebody and told them to bring him booze and cigarettes,” she said when Louise walked into the room.

“I know. Jack called me after he hung up with Oscar. That’s when he told me he was quitting. Apparently, Marla is determined to buy a place in Arizona for the winter. She’s been talking about it for years, and now that Jack’s been working so much, they finally have the money.”

How convenient.
Bailey had never cared for Marla Sawyer. The woman always struck her as self-serving and narcissistic. Bailey wouldn’t have put it past her to skim a little off the top of the books, either. But, she didn’t say anything to her mother. If Jack was quitting, then her parents needed a new plan.

“You always said your salary filled the gap in winter when Dad wasn’t leading as many trips. Has that changed?” she asked, adding OC’s plate to the dishwasher.

“It helps, but even with good insurance, we’ve had a lot of out-of-pocket expenses.” Mom touched her side, as if she had a spot of indigestion. “Our savings are just about depleted.”

Bailey filled the kettle and turned on the stove. She motioned for her mother to sit at the table then joined her. “I know all about the cost of hospital bills. My surgery alone used up my entire deductible. Rehab was another eight grand. Luckily, I was able to sell the house and my truck to cover most of it.”

Mom reached out and touched her hand. “How’s your jewelry business?”

“Okay. The only way to make real money is to have inventory. That would mean hiring some crafters.”

“I thought you made everything yourself.”

The kettle started to whistle. Louise jumped to her feet with a grace Bailey envied. She filled the mug Bailey had used earlier and added a fresh tea bag. “Honey, honey?”

“Sure. Thank you.” Stress, pain and grief had robbed her of an appetite. As Paul noted when he picked her up at the airport, she could stand to put on a few pounds.

“I love designing, but sitting still for long periods of time has always been my idea of torture.”

Her mother chuckled. “When you were a little girl, you spent hours playing dress-up with your grandmother’s old costume jewelry. I thought that was something all little girls did. Then your dad brought home a pony, and everything else fell by the wayside.”

A hazy memory came to her. “I remember those. Do you still have them?”

“Of course. They’re in my jewelry box. I had them professionally cleaned and appraised a couple of years ago. They’re not valuable, but the jeweler told me vintage jewelry sells really well.” She paused. “Do you think you could use them in your designs?”

“Maybe. Can’t hurt to look? Are you sure you want to give them up?”

“I don’t think Oscar and I will go out dancing any time soon.”

The sadness in her mother’s voice drove home the point that Bailey was going to be here longer than she thought. This was no fly-by layover. And the money issues were looking more and more complex. Bailey might need to step up her game.

“I don’t suppose you know any crafty ladies looking for part-time piece work, do you?”

Mom’s smile brightened for the first time. “No, but I’ll post a flier at the library. I bet you’ll have a dozen applicants inside a day.”

Bailey blew on her tea then took a sip. “Great, but before I can train someone, I’m gonna need a place to spread out all my beads on a table sturdy enough to handle my magnifier lights.”

“What about the garage? We have a card table and some folding chairs.”

Bailey shook her head. “That might work temporarily, but it’ll be too hot in summer and too cold in winter.”

“Downstairs, then. Your dad’s Man Cave.”

“I heard that and the answer is no,” a voice bellowed from the bedroom.

Bailey hadn’t realized OC could hear them. “Why not? You’re not using it. You can’t go down stairs in a wheelchair.”

“I’m gonna walk again. The therapist said he’d fit me with a prosthetic once my stump is healed. Leave my basement alone.”

Bailey felt encouraged by the little bit of the old OC fire in his tone.

“He’s going to come back from this,” Mom said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “But in the meantime, we have to find a way to keep our noses above water.”

“Then, tell me where to set up shop.”

Mom grabbed her phone, found a number already programed in and a moment later said, “Hi. Is Paul around? This is Louise Jenkins.” She listened a moment then said, “Okay, please. He has my number. Thank you.”

Bailey hated the mixed feelings she got hearing Paul’s name. He’d barely left her mind since dropping her off. Had she said too much? Did she appear too pathetic?

“Mom, you’re not trying to set us up, are you?”

A terrible idea given their history…and the fact she’d dreamed about him last night.

“Of course, not. This is business. Paul lives and breathes all things Marietta. Besides, according to his secretary, he’s having coffee with our new Chamber of Commerce lady, Jane Weiss.”

Meaning Paul had moved on?
Good. That’s good
. A part of her even meant it. Didn’t she?

“S
o what are
you going to do about it?”

Paul rocked back in his chair to keep from pounding his fist on his desk. He’d returned from his coffee date with Jane, where she’d surprised him with news of her impending marriage to Sam McCullough, to be handed the phone. “It’s Marla Sawyer. Again,” Bev, his secretary, said, her tone as exasperated as she ever got.

“Well, Marla,” he said, wishing he’d skipped that extra shot of espresso. “I’ll take a look at it this weekend. When are you leaving? I’ll need to put an ad in the paper.”

As a renter, Marla was every landlord’s worst nightmare. Paid rent when she felt like it. Complained about stupid, piddly things. Wanted perfection in a sixty-year-old farmhouse that hadn’t been perfect on its best day.

But things were looking up. She’d just informed him she and Jack were moving.

“End of August. Jack will want to be here for the fair. Can’t believe it’s going to last two weeks. It’ll cost me a fortune, but since it’s our last, we might as well to do it up right.”

“Your last
ever
? Does this mean you’re not coming back to Marietta?”

“Oh, who knows? Jack feels some kind of loyalty to OC. Says he’ll work for him again next spring if OC’s able to keep the business open.” She gave a snarky laugh. “Like that’s going to happen. The man lost his leg, and now he’s going to sit around and wallow in his sorrow till his liver gives out.”

Her negativity made Paul’s Café Americano curdle in his belly. He managed to pin down a firm date of departure then asked, “How are my horses?”

“As good as you’d expect with nobody riding ’em. Jack feeds ’em every day, but they’re too damn wild for me. I ain’t gonna get tossed off and break something just for a break in the rent.”

How did this happen? Paul asked himself. How did a businessman as sharp as he was reputed to be wind up trading rent in exchange for feeding and watering—and supposedly exercising—four horses? Man, had he gotten screwed.

“I have to get back to work, Marla. Consider this your notice, then.”

He made a note on his calendar and texted Bev. His next renters were going to come with references and a big deposit.

If he’d listened to Jen, he would have sold the place years ago. But the old ranch was in his blood.

A knock at the door made him look up.

Bailey.

“Well, speak of the devil.”

She looked like a walking commercial for western glam—faded denim jeans, white tank with a chunky brown leather belt cocked stylishly at her hips, a saucer-size turquoise buckle that matched her pounded silver and stone necklace. The only thing missing was her hat.

“You were talking about me?”

He pointed at his phone. “Not exactly. Your old farm. You knew I bought the place, right? The last owners were from LA. Thought they wanted a summer place, for God’s sake.”

“Mom told me.”

“Well, I’ve been renting it to the Sawyers, and Marla just gave notice.”

She made a silent, “Oh.”

“I hope they aren’t expecting a good referral. Our deal included exercising my horses and apparently that chore has fallen by the wayside. Don’t suppose you’re up to riding, yet?”

She shook her head. A haunted look in her expression made him drop the subject.

“So what can I do for you? Good to see you survived your first night home with OC.”

“Drugs are a wonderful thing. OC slept like a baby, which meant Mom and I did, too.” She pointed to the extra chair opposite his desk. “Do you have a minute? I hate to bother you but I need some advice, and Mom said you were the man to ask.”

He half rose, feeling stupid for not jumping to his feet in the first place. But, in all fairness, Bailey was the last person he expected to see walk into his office.
Or wanted to see.
Even having coffee with another beautiful woman hadn’t been enough to erase the memory of his hot dream…he and Bailey naked on a blanket under the bright Montana sky.

He swallowed hard. “Of course. Sit. Please. Did you walk here?”

“No. Not yet.” She brushed back a thick lock of dark auburn hair and let it drop. He’d always loved her hair and was glad she hadn’t cut it. “Mom dropped me off on her way to the library. A visiting nurse is at the house to help OC shower. He’ll probably pass out and sleep all afternoon. No stamina whatsoever.”

Paul didn’t give a damn about Oscar Jenkins’s medical challenges. From what he heard, OC brought about all his problems by being a bullheaded ass. “Is the ramp working out?”

“Yes. It’s perfect. Thank you.” She sat forward, shoulders straight. Her expression made it clear she was done talking about her father.

“I need a workshop. Nothing big. Room for three or four tables. Dad refuses to give up the basement, and Mom’s afraid if I push him too hard he’ll backslide into depression.”

“For your jewelry business?”

“Yes. My orders have been picking up steadily. If I want to take this to the next level, I need to hire some crafters to fabricate my designs. Mom said you’ve got your ear to the ground when it comes to Marietta business and you might know of something that isn’t even on the market yet.”

“To buy or rent?”

“Rent,” she said without hesitation.

Of course. Why did I ask?

“It doesn’t have to be big, but I’d need Internet access. All of my sales are online at the moment.”

“So, you’re
not
talking retail?”

She took a deep breath, as if preparing to jump off a cliff. “I…no. Not really. It’s the next logical step, but…” She looked around, not making eye contact. He knew what she was thinking. ABM—anywhere but Marietta. If she left again soon, what would that mean to his X-rated dreams?

“There are a couple of empty buildings around. I don’t know if they’re for sale or rent. But I know someone who would know. Jane Weiss.”

“The Chamber of Commerce lady.”

Her tone didn’t sound thrilled.

Paul nodded. “She’s a real go-getter. Did you hear about the bridal contest they sponsored this spring? The winner got their wedding and reception at the Graff, plus three nights in the honeymoon suite as a prize.”

“Wow. Mom sent me a picture of the Graff. Pretty impressive.”

“Put Marietta on the map. Now, she’s focused on turning the Great Marietta Fair into a world-class destination. Jane is a true force of nature.”

Bailey’s pretty tan faded a bit. She licked her bottom lip in a sure sign of nervousness. His Bailey unnerved by meeting another woman? Impossible.

When he reached for his phone, she scooted forward to rest her hand on top of his. Her touch set off a series of wicked visuals straight out of last night’s dream. His mouth went dry and he had to remind himself to breathe.

“Wait. I think I might be doing this ass-backwards, as OC likes to say. Mom was so gung-ho I completely lost sight of the fact I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t even have a budget in mind.” She pulled a large, beautifully tooled western purse onto her lap and dug out a folded piece of paper. “The consultant who drew up my business plan focused on e-retail, which required practically no start-up funds.”

He gave the simple operating budget for B. Dazzled Western Bling a quick glance. “Love the name.”

“Thanks.”

Her smile seemed bittersweet.

She re-folded her business plan and put it back in her purse. “Maybe I should just keep selling one piece at a time online until we know how things are going to work out with OC.”

Paul rocked back in chair.