The Bull Rider’s Keeper Page 3

  “I don’t want to back out. I want to buy the gallery, if you’ll sell it to me.” Jesse broke his gaze from watching Taylor and turned it back on the couple in front of him.

  Rich slapped him on the back. “Now that’s what I like. A man who knows his mind.”

  As they walked through the building Jesse had just bought, he thought about Rich’s pronouncement. The one thing Jesse had never been was someone who knew his own mind.

  What in the world had he done?

  • • •

  The next morning he pulled the gang together for a family meeting. His family asked him that very same question more than once. His brother James and his brother’s wife Lizzie had Skyped into the meeting from their home in the mountains. Jesse could see their worried faces fill the laptop’s screen. Barb paced the kitchen where he and Angie sat around the computer.

  “Maybe we should let Jesse talk,” his mother said again. Everyone had been talking over each other since he’d announced his plans to buy Main Street Gallery. No one listened, and the voices grew louder.

  Jesse saw Angie grab her purse, and wondered if his mother had had enough and was planning a getaway. The woman didn’t deal with conflict, that he knew. An ear splitting horn pierced the cacophony of voices and the kitchen fell silent. Angie held an air horn in her hand. As she glanced around the room, she said, “Why don’t we let Jesse talk now?”

  Barb stopped pacing and sat down at the table across from Jesse, glaring at Angie. “Like I can hear anything now, anyway.”

  “You should have listened earlier.” Angie shrugged. Jesse tried not to smile. His mother had her own way of dealing with issues. Years in Las Vegas, married to what Jesse assumed was a low-level mob boss, had hardened the woman just a tad. Now she was trying to make amends to her family. Jesse gave her props for trying.

  Jesse felt the attention slip from Angie to him. Nervous, he took a sip of coffee from the cup in front of him and almost choked. He glanced at his mother; she’d poured a shot of whiskey in the cup before she’d brought it to him. He blessed her for the liquid courage.

  “I bought Main Street Gallery last night,” Jesse said. This had been as far as he’d gotten the first time before the room had erupted in chaos. He swallowed and went on. “I think it will be a good investment. And I have the money set aside, so I don’t know why you’re all so upset.”

  Barb looked at him. “Jesse, you know that the initial investment isn’t all the money this is going to cost you. Have you looked at the company’s financials? Is it even making the rent? Alternatively, is payroll covered? People don’t sell profitable businesses, and in this economy, art isn’t high on most people’s lists of must-buys.”

  “No, food is more important.” James spoke next. “Face it, Jesse, you got bamboozled. They were looking for a sucker, and you walked into their trap.” He glanced at Lizzie who had picked up one of the twins waving at the computer, trying to get Angie’s attention. “How’d they even find you? Or was this done over a few drinks?”

  “The gallery has a great reputation. It’s one of the oldest, privately owned galleries in town. Artists who get their stuff in a show there take off; they’ve launched a lot of new talent.” Jesse said.

  “And how would you know that?” James asked. “I’m sure a history of a local galleries wasn’t included in your finance classes at school.”

  Angie nodded, encouraging him.

  He took a breath. In for a penny … “I’m not majoring in finance. I’ve been taking art classes.”

  The room stayed quiet. No one spoke until, finally, Angie piped up. “And he’s good, damn good.”

  James shook his head. “I don’t believe you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, bro. Nevertheless, one thing’s for sure: it’s your money. Just don’t expect the rest of us to bail you out if you get in a jam.”

  “Look, I’m not asking for money. Hell, I’m not even quitting riding.” When she heard Jesse’s words, Barb’s shoulders dropped in relief. “In fact, I’m probably going to have to ride at least another year. I’d planned on going out on top this year, but I’d like to build my savings back up before I charge into this full time.”

  “I think you’re too late for that,” James said. Lizzie elbowed him, and he shot her a look. He leaned back and sighed. “But if this is what you want, we’ll support you.”

  “Thanks.” Jesse glanced at Barb. As his manager, she could make his life hell for the next two years. “So, you on the Jesse train?”

  Barb leaned back too, resigned to the idea. “I can’t say I like it. I don’t think a man can serve two masters. You know bull riding at your level isn’t just about the weekends. You’ll need a strong manager at the gallery to handle things when you’re not available. You got anyone you can trust?”

  “I’ve already thought of that. The current manager, Taylor. Her folks said she’d probably stay on, if I made it worth her time.”

  “I knew there was a girl in this somewhere,” James said.

  Jesse shook his head. “Believe me, she’s not interested in me. I don’t think she dates cowboys. More of a suit kind of gal.”

  Angie laughed. “Son, you don’t get it, do you.”

  Jesse focused in on his mother. “What?”

  “Every woman wants a cowboy. And now that you’ve bought the gallery, she knows you’re not some ranch hand.” Angie smiled and waved at the little boy on the computer screen, who giggled and waved even harder in response. She returned her gaze to Jesse. “You’re now irresistible.”

  Jesse thought about the look Taylor had given him when her folks told her that he was her new boss. Hate, loathing, pain. Many emotions had floated through that look, but admiration or lust weren’t even in the ballpark. “I think you’re wrong, Mom. The woman hates me.” Of course, he’d probably messed up any chance of a relationship—professional or otherwise—when he walked in on her getting ready to model for the class. Seeing a woman naked tended to stick with a guy.

  “Even more reason to get rid of her and put your own manager into the gallery.” Barb glanced at Angie. “Jesse’s going to be out of town the next three weekends. You want to play gallery owner for him?”

  Angie tapped her purple-starred nails on the table. She glanced at Jesse, then back at Barb. “You know, I’ve been thinking I need something to do with my time. I’d love to.”

  Jesse nodded. “I think it’s smart. I mean, I don’t want to get rid of Taylor unless I have to, but at least with Mom there, I’d have some sort of connection to the place while I’m out of town. Look, I know I’m asking for your support after the fact.”

  James muttered, “Typical Jesse.”

  His brother’s words brought heat to Jesse’s face. “I’m the family screw-up, I get that. But I’d really appreciate your support with this. We’ve always been there for each other. I’d like to think you back me on this decision.” He glanced at the clock. “I was supposed to meet the DeMarcos at the gallery today.”

  Barb shook her head. “We need to slow this down a little. Give you some time to think out your options. I’ll call and set something up for tomorrow. So the family is supporting this?” Barb glanced around the room, focusing on each person to get consent before she continued. James took the longest to meet her eyes but even he finally nodded. “Then it’s settled. I’ll go over, introduce Angie and myself, and get an accountant set up to go over the books. I’m assuming George will be handling the legal stuff?”

  Jesse nodded. George Baxter had been his and James’s lawyer for years. “Would you call him and have him contact the DeMarcos to start pulling together a contract?”

  “I’ll talk to him this afternoon. Angie? Can you meet me there tomorrow?” Barb glanced at Angie’s nails and added, “Unless you’re busy.”

  “Honey, nothing is more important than when my boy needs me.” Angie focused her attention on Lizzie and James. “Sorry, loves, I won’t be up there this weekend. Expect me bright and early next Monday though. Grandm
a Angie needs her grandkid fix.”

  Jesse heard JR, his nephew, laugh in the background.

  He made his goodbyes to his brother and sister-in-law and promised to come up to Shawnee to visit as soon as possible. Angie and Barb were discussing their plans for meeting up the next morning. He caught his mother’s attention. “So how come Grandma Angie’s fine, but I can’t call you Mom?”

  Angie shrugged. “The babies don’t know better. They love me. I just don’t want some great catch hearing you call me Mom and thinking I’m old, or something.”

  Barb pursed her lips together and Jesse knew she was holding in a laugh. “So tell me about this Taylor. Is she going to give us trouble?”

  Jesse thought about the woman who’d posed half nude so effortlessly for a group of college students. He remembered the way she floated through the gallery patrons Monday night, smiling and joking, even after her parents had announced the sale. She had steel balls, that one. He realized the women were waiting for an answer. An answer he wasn’t sure about. Finally, he said the only thing that he knew to be true. “I don’t know.”

  Barb cocked her head and watched him. “Usually, you can size someone up in a few minutes and know if they are going to be trouble or not. What’s different about this girl? Or, have you not met her yet?”

  Jesse took another swig of the laced coffee before he answered. “I’ve met her, and I still don’t know. She’s strong, and amazing, and beautiful, but I think she’s hiding something inside, really, really deep.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t answer your question.”

  “You like her.” Barb didn’t phrase it as a question, just a matter of fact.

  He shook his head, and drained the coffee. “I don’t know her well enough to like or hate her. All I know is, she didn’t look happy to hear the news.”

  Barb’s cell went off. She held up a finger walking away from the table as she answered, “Hi, Kadi.” Barb had married into a ready-made family last year, complete with a seven—now eight—year-old who loved to ride almost as much as Jesse did. The kid had a strong seat as she rode, and she’d started competing already. Soon Kadi would be barrel racing, and Barb would have to hire someone to manage the kid’s career, or give up the bull riders.

  Angie stood and took Jesse’s cup to the counter.

  “Just coffee, please. I don’t need to be drunk at ten in the morning,” Jesse called after her.

  Angie cocked her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  When Angie and the coffee returned, Jesse took a tentative sip and smiled. Strong, hot, deep coffee, and only coffee. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She patted his shoulder. “Anytime.”

  Barb finished her conversation, and came over to the table. “I’ve got to go. Kadi forgot her riding gear, and her instructor is picking her up after school to practice for the competition this weekend.”

  “I’ll meet you over at the gallery tomorrow.” Angie smiled. “It will be like I’ve got a real job.”

  Barb and Jesse laughed.

  “What?” Angie looked from one to the other.

  “They won’t know what hit them.” Jesse patted her hand.

  Barb said, “Just meet me there. We’ll talk about what you need to do when we meet with this Taylor girl. Remember, you’re there to protect Jesse’s interest, not make friends.” Barb swung her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll call tonight after I talk to George.”

  “Thanks, Barb,” Jesse called after her. She raised a hand and waved, but didn’t look back as she walked to the door.

  “That girl needs to put her foot down. The kid runs both Barb and Hunter with a crook of her finger.” Angie shook her head.

  “Mom, I’m not sure parenting advice is your forte.” Jesse pulled the computer closer and opened up the website for the gallery. He sighed as they paged through the site. Finally, he leaned back and looked at his mother. “Do you think I made a mistake?”

  “Heavens, no. Sometimes, fate takes an active hand in our lives. Something drew you to make that decision last night. It may have been rash, but I believe that you need to be there.” She pulled out her phone. “I can get you an appointment with Angelic if you want.”

  “I don’t need to go to a fortune teller.” Jesse glanced at his watch. “But I do need to get to class.” He stood and kissed his mother on the head. “You want to have dinner tonight?”

  Angie nodded. “I’ll visit Angelic myself. Sometimes she can feel the energy of you boys just by reading me. She’s very powerful.”

  She’s very convincing, Jesse thought. But if it made his mother happy, what was the harm.

  Two hours later, he’d finished class and was heading to the gym for a quick workout when he got the answer to that question. His mom’s number came up on his phone.

  “Hey, Mom, I’m heading into the gym.”

  “You can’t buy the gallery.” Her voice sounded choppy and breathless.

  “Hold on, what’s wrong?” Jesse pulled the car into the gym’s parking lot and turned off the engine.

  “You can’t buy the gallery. Angelic says it’s a bad time for change.”

  Jesse smiled as he grabbed his workout bag. “Mom, you know I don’t believe in psychics.”

  “But, Jesse, she already knew when I walked in. She was so upset. She said the same thing Barb said.”

  “What’s that?” Jesse watched a tan, fit woman leave the gym. He’d gotten his share of dates from this place. Who needed bars anymore?

  “A man can’t serve two masters. He will be forced to choose.”

  “Look, I’m here. Can we talk about this tonight?” Jesse pulled his keys from the ignition and waited for the answer.

  “She drew the death card, Jesse. If you buy the gallery, someone’s going to die.”

  Chapter 3

  Taylor sat at her desk and acted like she was going over the sale records for Monday’s show. Instead, she kept playing the recurring image in her head of her dad showing Jesse Sullivan around the gallery like the papers had already been signed. After the gallery closed, she’d tried to talk to her parents, tried to get them to change their minds. Like always, they refused to listen. Her father had even patted her on the head and told her to be a good girl.

  They usually discounted her feelings. When she’d wanted to take riding lessons instead of ballet, she’d been denied. Then, when she’d wanted to try out for the cheerleading squad, her mom had said no, offering instead a private gymnastics tutor. She hadn’t even been able to choose her own college. Instead, she had attended Albertsons, because it was expected of a Harrison to attend the college her great grandfather had funded in its infancy. No wonder she’d fallen for Brad so quickly; the man had let her do whatever she’d wanted. Mostly, she now knew, so he’d have more time for his own extracurricular activities.

  Well, she would show them good girl. This wasn’t a teenage wish; this was her life they were messing with. She pulled out her planner and flipped through the address book until she found the number she was looking for. Then she dialed.

  “Hawley Law Offices,” said a bored receptionist.

  “Michael Hawley, please.” Taylor waited to be transferred and mulled the idea over in her head. This was extreme, but she had to try. For the sake of the gallery, and her own sanity, she had to try.

  “Michael Hawley, speaking.” A male voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Mike, it’s Taylor DeMarco. I need a lawyer.” She told him what she wanted to do, how she needed to find a way to save her gallery.

  “It’s a long shot, Taylor. I mean, your folks are both pretty high up on the power food chain. We may not even get a judge to grant us a hearing, let alone a stay of sale.”

  “But you’ll try?” Taylor pleaded. The silence on the phone made her cringe as she waited for an answer. Then she heard his sigh.

  “Yes, I’ll try. We’re both probably committing professional suicide here. You know that, right?”

  “All I know is that I have t
o do everything in my power to keep control of the gallery in my family. My grandfather would roll over in his grave if he knew it was being sold.”

  “You’re going to owe me big on this one, Taylor.” Mike said his goodbyes and ended the conversation.

  Taylor updated her online calendar and added the meeting with Mike. While she was checking her e-mail for incoming orders, Brit came into the office and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her assistant lounged in one of the chairs in front of Taylor’s desk, her leg draped over the arm of the chair. Taylor raised an eyebrow, taking in Brit’s skinny jeans and knee-high leather boots. The girl’s dark hair was pulled back into a stark ponytail.

  “Good morning. Auditioning for a Robert Palmer video today?” Taylor said.

  “Don’t be mean. John’s after-closing party kept me up late. Man, he knows some wild people. You so should have come with us. We took over the top of the Hoff building after-hours. It was wicked.” Brit sipped her coffee.

  “I had some business to deal with …” Taylor said. “I’ve got a meeting out of the office this afternoon, can you handle things?”

  Brit eyed her. “Can’t be a nail appointment, you just got them done for the opening. Maybe a new cut? Or, are you finally going to try out that new masseuse over at Warm Springs Spa? I hear he’s hot.”

  “Maybe I didn’t tell you where my appointment was because I didn’t want you to know?” Taylor smiled at her friend. Brit had joined the gallery the same summer Taylor had come to work for her grandfather. Taylor had expected to have years to learn the industry under his guidance. Instead, when he’d died last year from a stroke, she’d stepped up and started managing the gallery. And other than dealing with the mess the recession had put them in, she thought she’d been doing a pretty good job. Until last night.