Ultimate Texas Bachelor (6 page)

Tired of holding the ream of printer paper, evidently not ready to leave, Brad set the package on the rough-hewn cedar table next to the cushioned glider. He took a seat and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “We purchased it before I headed off to do
Bachelor Bliss
.”

Lainey sat down on the other end of the glider and turned to face him. “They paid you to end up so miserable?” she said as they moved back and forth.

Looking even more handsome in the soft glow of the guest-house porch light, Brad replied, “They gave all the contestants five thousand dollars to appear on the show. The real money for me—and the female contestants the public took a shine to—was to come later, in endorsements. The last bachelor, for instance, made over two million in television commercials when the series wrapped up. They had close to three million lined up for me.”

Another fact the show's viewers would be interested in learning. “Only now, because of the way the series ended, you're public enemy number one,” she guessed.

“Right.”

“Hence the sponsors want nothing to do with you.”

“Right again.” Brad sighed. He brushed the flat of his palm down his jeans. “Not that I had any business doing those commercials anyway.”

Lainey's hair was still damp from the shower; she wouldn't style it in the usual sleek bob until tomorrow. She could see Brad noticing—maybe even liking—the natural waves. Self-consciously she tucked a curl behind her ear and tried not to notice him tracking the movement. “Didn't you believe in the products?”

Brad held her gaze. “I would never endorse something I didn't believe in. The problem is,” he confided, frowning, “it's not real work.”

Lainey caught the snobbery in his tone. “I think the people who vie for and film those commercials would disagree with you.”

He made a face. “It's just not the kind of thing I do.”

What was it Chip had said to her, whenever she had talked to him about her ambitions?
Reporting? Come on, Lainey! Get real! That isn't the kind of thing we Carringtons do.
She hadn't liked his snobbery then. She didn't like recalling it now. A person was not defined by his or her profession. Her mother had not been low class just because she worked in a bar and wore the provocative outfit the establishment management demanded during her work hours, and equally flamboyant and sexy clothing when she was off. Her mother had been sweet and gentle and hardworking, beloved by all who knew her and bothered to find out the person behind the ensemble.

“I disagree,” she said. “Work is work, and there is value in work whatever it is.”

Her irritated tone brought a provoking smile to his lips. “You really think so.”

“Yes. I do.”

He paused to consider that and seemed to be searching for the exception to the rule, if only to get her goat. “Even for something like—say—stripping?” he asked her playfully.

How had the situation gotten back to sex again? What was it about the two of them that sparks flew whenever they were together? “Okay. You got me there,” Lainey replied dryly. “I would not take my clothes off in front of a bunch of leering strangers for money. But that's still work, and if someone chooses to do it to earn a living, then that's their business. It's not up to you or me to judge them.”

“You only say it's real work because you've never been in a situation where you've been leered at that way.”

Close enough, Lainey thought, and before she could stop herself the words came tumbling out. “Oh, yes, I have.”

Brad looked as ready to continue their argument as she was. “Ah, yes. That homecoming parade Lewis was talking about.”

Lainey flushed. Why had she started down this road? “That was my fault for letting my friends dare me into wearing that dress.” She'd been young, foolish. Reckless to a fault in a way she wasn't now that she was a mom.

Brad stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Well, this was my fault for letting the producers talk me into appearing on that TV show.”

“You didn't sign up for it?”

“No.” He settled more comfortably on the bench seat of the glider and laid one arm along the back of it. “They came to me. Apparently, cowboys are heroes and Texans are sexy and they wanted a bona fide Texas cowboy for their bachelor this time around. So they looked at rodeo standings, saw my picture and thought I was just handsome enough to be the star of the show.”

“What'd you say?”

“Hell, no.” Brad turned to her, dark eyes sparkling. “I was already thinking about talking to Lewis about buying a ranch. The last thing I wanted to do was fly to Los Angeles and spend a month on an estate in Santa Barbara with fifteen contestants all vying to be the first Mrs. Brad McCabe.”

“So why did you?”

He scowled, his frustration with the situation apparent. “The commercial money afterward. Since I'm not a computer genius capable of starting my own company like my dad or Lewis, I knew it was the only way I'd ever get the kind of cash I needed, so quickly. I should have known a plan like that would backfire on me, and stuck to real work, instead of trying to take the easy route.”

Lainey saw his point about that. In a lot of ways, her life had taken a wrong turn when she married money and let the demands of that kind of life control her. “I don't think there
is anything wrong with doing commercials for products you believe in,” she said, repeating her earlier assertion.

“Moot point now,” Brad said.

Just then Lainey's cell phone rang. Alarmed—it was unusual for anyone to call her after midnight—she uncurled herself from the swing and went inside to get it, then came back out onto the porch to stand with him.

“Hello?” she said, nodding at Brad.

“Mom?” Petey's thin voice trembled in her ear.

“Hi, honey,” Lainey said, her voice dropping to the gentle tone she reserved just for him. She turned her back to Brad. “Is everything okay? Are you having a good time with your cousins, Aunt Bunny and Uncle Bart?”

“Yeah. We saw fireworks in the shape of cartoon characters tonight. It was pretty neat.”

“I bet.” He sounded homesick.

“I want to ask you somethin'.”

“Go right ahead,” Lainey encouraged softly.

“Are you proud of me—for being so big and brave?”

Where had that come from? Lainey wondered, momentarily taken aback. “Honey, I am always proud of you.”

“Lainey?” Bunny's voice came on the phone, crisp, businesslike as always. “Sorry to call so late, but Petey wanted to tell you about the fireworks.”

“Is he okay? Because he sounds awfully homesick….”

“He's doing fine! What?—oh! I've got to go! We'll check in with you tomorrow, okay? Love you!”

Lainey heard a
click
as Bunny cut the connection. The dial tone sounded in her ear. Frowning, she ended the call on her phone, too, but left it plugged in and turned on in case Petey called back again.

“Everything okay?” Brad asked.

Lainey wasn't at all sure how to answer that.

 

“I'
M SORRY
, B
RAD
,” Tommy Johnson, branch manager of Laramie Savings and Loan, said. “Your business plan looks ex
cellent. But without some sort of collateral…” He hesitated. “If you wanted to have Lewis co-sign for you or put up part of the ranch, well, that would be a different story.”

“No.” Brad lifted a hand to cut off the discussion. “I was looking to stock the ranch on my own.”

“I understand. But it's not like the old days, where a handshake or a man's word would suffice. We're all owned by big companies now, and we have guidelines we have to have follow.”

No one had to tell Brad it was a conglomerate world. Bigger had always meant better in Texas. But bigger did not always mean better in business. The loss of the personal touch also meant the loss of good service and ample opportunity. Still, maybe there was something he could do, some way to fix this. First, he had to know if lack of collateral was the only reason he was being turned down. “Answer me this. If I hadn't been on
Bachelor Bliss,
would my chances be better?”

“Not for obtaining a loan. But it would probably help you be taken more seriously in this new venture of yours. The last thing any businessperson wants to be thought of is fickle and unreliable.”

“And because I didn't propose to Yvonne Rathbone, that's the view of me now.”

Tommy made a face and rubbed his knuckles on the underside of his chin. “Actually, it goes a little further back than that.”

Brad lifted a brow.

“Unfortunately, your work history speaks to the same sort of problems,” Tommy explained. “You dropped out of college, hit the rodeo circuit off and on, and worked ranches here and there.”

“For good reason! To supplement my income and learn as much as I could from as many top-rate sources as possible.”

“The point is, you didn't stay in any one place for long.
Then you signed up to do that reality TV show, and reneged on that at the end.”

He'd had a damn good cause for that action, too. Not that he planned to tell anyone what it was. Bad enough he'd been humiliated that way without letting the rest of the world in on it, too.

“And now you're in business with Lewis, a person who knows a lot about computer software but nothing about raising cattle. As much as the people around here love you, it's going to take time and a lot of stability on your part for you to be taken seriously as a rancher.”

Which meant, Brad thought later as he drove back to the Lazy M, it was either start very small and let the ranching operation grow slowly over a number of years, or go back to the fallback plan of letting Lewis pay for everything—the land, the cattle and the operating costs, even Brad's room and board. The two were going to split the profits right down the middle, but it would be years before those amounted to much.

Brad was still scowling as he parked his pickup next to the ranch house and walked inside.

He followed the lilt of Lainey's soft, feminine laughter and the eager sound of his brainiest brother to the formal dining room that was being retooled as Lewis's home office. Brad was claiming the former formal living room as his study, since neither of them planned to give any parties that couldn't be held out on the lawn, or, in inclement weather, in the kitchen and family room.

“The chandelier is going to have to come down and be replaced with another light fixture,” Lainey was saying. “Otherwise you'll be in danger of bumping your head on it every time you get up from your desk.”

Brad stopped in the portal, shocked by what he saw.

Lainey had only been working on this room since this morning, but already it had been transformed from a mess of boxes with a trio of bookcases and large U-shaped desk into an organized work environment. She'd taken down the dusty
drapes that had come with the house, and removed the outdated drapery rod from the wall. Lewis's three computers, fax, two printers, copier and speakerphone were all organized in a way that made sense, with the computers set up equidistant from one another in his workspace for easy access, the other equipment placed on the shelves. They had also brought in the beat-up green leather reclining chair that had been with Lewis since his college days and put it in the corner, along with a pole lamp that made a cozy reading nook.

Lainey and Lewis both had their backs to Brad as Lainey pointed out places on the ceiling. “I think you're going to want to add some track lighting around the perimeter,” she was saying, “to really brighten up the space. And maybe a nice rug? And those posters you bought during your travels would look nice on the walls, if you had them framed.”

“Can you help me with that?”

“Sure,” she replied.

“I never know what to buy.”

“You've done just fine so far.”

Lewis beamed at her compliment.

Brad's scowl deepened as Lainey and Lewis belatedly seemed to realize they were no longer alone and turned to face him.

“So, how'd it go?” Lewis asked cheerfully. “The banks give you everything you need to get the cattle operation up and running?”

Brad shook his head. He only wished it had been that easy. But he wasn't going to hide from the truth—at least not in this regard. “Seems like we're back to the original plan,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Lewis looked disappointed but not surprised.

His brother might not know how to dress or dazzle the ladies, but he had business sense—and instincts about what would or would not fly. Which was why Lewis had tried to keep Brad from going to the banks in the first place.

“No problem.” Lewis reached into his desk and took out a business checkbook. He tossed it to Brad. His eyes were filled with the respect that, thanks to the lies that had been spread about Brad, was in short supply nearly everywhere else. “I had your name added to the account. So you can write checks for whatever you need.”

“Thanks,” Brad said, grateful for the trust, even as he felt like he was choking on his pride.

An awkward silence fell. “Listen, if you two want to talk business, I can get busy elsewhere,” Lainey murmured.

Brad had nothing further to say on the matter. Lewis knew where they stood as well as he did. Lewis was the family's biggest success story, and Brad was the family's biggest failure.

 

B
RAD SPENT WHAT WAS LEFT
of the day toiling over the sprinkler system in the barn. He was still working on it as dusk approached, and Lainey appeared in the doorway. Deliciously tousled from a day of working hard, she was clad in a trim peach skirt and a sheer white short-sleeved shirt, embroidered with peach-and-green flowers, over an opaque white tank top. Her only concession to the hard physical work she was doing was the white socks and sneakers on her feet, instead of the usual sandals. As she moved toward him, a strong breeze wafted through the open barn doors on either side of the twenty-four stall facility, mussing her blond hair. Brad liked the way she looked. Womanly, purposeful, mouth-wateringly feminine, and flushed with the heat of the June day.