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Morgan isn't sure what the emotions are that Callahan is dealing with. He's got history here, and when that history isn't with you any more… well, once she's got a better idea of the problem, she can get a better idea of the solution.
She hefts up the bag of takeout. He'll let her in, or he won't. But she
's not going to let herself get turned away by just the thought that he might not. She's got too much pride and she's worked too hard to get where she is, to let it go now.
Not when she's so close.
When she finally makes this sale, they'll have to respect her. The same thing is true of her, after all, as anyone else.
It's not the ranch that matters. It's winning where her father lost, and showing Brad and all those sons of bitches back at the site that she's not just some woman who wants to priss around the site while the men do the real work.
She's just as much of a leader, just as much of a captain of the ship as her father ever was. Just like him, she's willing to do any job that needs doing. And just like him, as the company grew, she hires the right people so that she shouldn't need to do much on the floor.
This—property acquisition—was what her real job was. Hopefully there wouldn't be a riot waiting for her, Brad Lang at its head, by the time the ink dries.
Chapter Eleven
It's been a while since there was any reason to keep beer in the house. After all, there aren't any parties going on. Nobody's coming over to see much of anything.
But with the buyers coming out any day now, it's not hard to imagine that they might want something to drink. Most will take water, some will take soda. A couple might not say no to a beer.
And neither, right now, with the mood he's been in, would Philip Callahan. Not only wouldn't he—he didn't. Not that there was any reason that he shouldn't be drinking a little.
He'd never had cause to drink alone, but it was a little celebration, all for himself. A chance to say to the world that he wasn't giving up. That he'd figure out, some way or the other, how to keep the ranch open.
The stallion went, that was a couple grand right into the ranch. Went into new samples, went into new breeding stock. Went into making it a real business again, making real money. Making more than just horse-hair.
There's a knock at the door. He's not that drunk. There's no way that he's imagining it. The knock comes again, and he sets the can down on the table, next to the four others like it.
The T.V. yammers on in the background, the remote too well-hidden to bother turning it off.
"One second," he calls out. It takes longer than it should have to pick his way through the room and get to the door. He's made a mess of the room for one thing, and for another, he's not navigating at his best.
The door opens, and on the other side is a pretty woman in a snug-fitting jacket. It's started raining some time in the last couple minutes, and yet it took no time at all to start pouring, and now Morgan Lowe is standing in his doorway dripping wet.
"Can I come in?"
"Uh, sure." Philip steps back and lets her pass. She drops a sack of food on the table. It's about the only thing she's got that isn't soaked through. Aside from a few little water-splash marks, it's actually in surprisingly good condition, all told.
"You alright?"
"I got you some food. Us some food."
"I thought you were going out with the boys?"
"I couldn't stand the thought of you out here alone, so I got you some food. And if you're gonna be eating, and I'm going to be right there, in case you change your mind about talking to me…"
"You thought you'd just bring a little more, just in case?"
Philip presses the clicker and the T.V. shuts off.
"That's about right," she says. It's not until he steps into the doorway to the kitchen to continue the conversation that he sees that she's stripped to the waist, her back to the door.
Part of him wants to stay and watch. She's got soft, clear skin, and her dark hair falls against it strikingly. Even from behind, with not a whole lot to see, she's a very attractive woman.
He turns away down a hallway, presses his back against the shared wall. "You need anything? I could, I dunno, probably get you a change of clothes. No guarantees how it'd fit."
She doesn't respond right away. The sound of water hitting steel as she wrings her shirt out.
