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“Here.” Brock fished the ticket out of his hip pocket and thrust it toward her. “With three of my bulls bucking tonight, I’ll be spending most of my time in the chutes. But you’ll be seeing some great action.”
“Thanks, I’ll take it.” Tess accepted the ticket and tucked it into her timeworn leather purse. “I’ll be cheering for your bulls.”
“You know how to find the seats. If I get a break, I’ll join you.” He glanced at his Rolex. “Sorry. I’m sitting in on a 1:30 directors’ meeting. If you want to come—”
“No, I’d only be out of place. Go on. Thanks for the lunch and the ticket.”
Puzzled, Tess watched him vanish into the arena. What was going on behind that handsome, arrogant face? She had never known Brock to do anything nice without a reason. The ticket, the lunch, and the offer to put the hayfield property under the name of the ranch all must have some dark motive behind them.
The more she pondered the story of the legal threat, the more skeptical she became. Brock was a multimillionaire. He could afford an army of lawyers. Why weren’t they handling this issue? And compared to his other properties, the hayfields, with that junkpile of a house, were barely worth pocket change.
But if joined with the Alamo Canyon Ranch, in one parcel, under one name, the value of the combined properties could rise, even soar. That could be what Brock was thinking—register the ranch and the fields as one entity with him owning almost half of the acreage. From there, the next step would be to back her against the wall financially, remove her family, and take everything.
Clever, clever man!
Fury mounting, Tess rose, crumpled the Styrofoam container, the plastic cup, and the napkin, and flung them into the nearby trash barrel. She had to find a way to beat Brock at his own game. For now, that would mean pretending to be taken in. Get him to talk. Flatter him. Let him think he was charming her.
But most important of all, never, ever trust him.
* * *
Restless, Brock shifted in his chair and tried to focus on the discussion of plans for the coming Fort Worth finals and the tentative schedule for next season. He was flattered to be one of the stock contractors invited to the meeting. He knew what was being said was important. But his mind kept wandering to Tess.
He hated himself for lying to her about the legal problem—and about the trust. He’d had a trust drawn up years ago to protect his ranch and other major assets. But a trust couldn’t protect him from blackmail. There was only one sure way to do that—find the threat and eliminate it.
At least his offer to transfer the hayfields to the Alamo Canyon Ranch had been made in good faith. Removing his name from the property records would shield Tess and her family from anyone seeking to damage him. But there were other advantages. Not only would the combined parcels go up in value, but should the ranch ever face default or have to be sold by the family, as part owner, he could prevent anyone but him from buying it.
Tess was a smart woman, honest to the bone, and fiercely proud. She’d be livid if she knew how he was playing her. But it couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t be allowed to know the secret that had reared its ugly head—the secret that could destroy him.
* * *
Tess leaned forward in her seat as Brock’s bull, a red behemoth named Nitro, body-slammed the inside of the chute. The young Brazilian rider who was trying to mount shifted upward to keep his leg from being crushed.
From where she sat, Tess could see Brock in a black hat, working with the chute men. Tess knew he would not look up at her. He was totally absorbed in readying his bull. Moments like this were something they both understood. For all their differences, this was what they lived for.
A wooden wedge was lowered into the chute, forcing the bull away from the rails and allowing the rider to take his place. With the help of the chute crew, he pulled his rope tight behind the bull’s massive shoulders, wrapped the gloved hand that gripped the rope handle, and moved forward. A nod signaled that he was ready.
The gate swung open. The bull burst out, starting the eight-second clock. Tess had seen Nitro buck before. He wasn’t a high leaper, but he had a powerful kick. With two seconds left on the clock, the young rider lost his grip, flew off to one side, and landed rolling—out of the final round, but safe to learn and try again.
The three bullfighters moved in to distract Nitro while the rider scrambled to safety. Tess recognized Casey’s teammates, working with a spare man. She couldn’t help thinking how much Casey would want to be here—and how much Val wanted him to quit his dangerous job.
As Nitro trotted out through the exit gate, the scores went up on the monitor: no score for the rider; forty-five points out of fifty for the bull. A great score. Brock would be pleased.
He shot her a quick glance, flashing a grin. Tess gave him a high-five sign before he turned away and headed for the exit chute to unfasten Nitro’s flank strap and send the bull back to the pen.
It was as if she and Brock moved in two separate worlds, she mused as the next rider mounted the bull in the chute. There was the outside world where the two of them thrust and parried like dueling enemies, constantly testing, neither one trusting the other.
Then there wasthisworld—a world of total understanding and shared passion for the sport they both loved—a familiar world, where they were equals, almost friends.
But that wasn’t quite true. Two things were certain. The outside world was the real world, and Brock Tolman would always be her enemy.
* * *
As the event ended, Tess rose from her seat to join the crowds filing out of the arena. It was almost 10:30, a good time to find a restroom, check on Whirlwind, then crawl into her truck, lock the doors, and roll up in the old blanket she kept on the backseat. She would see Brock tomorrow. That would be a good enough time to thank him for the ticket and congratulate him on his third bull, Blastoff, who’d carried his rider, Cody Whitehorse, for a total of ninety-one points, putting them in the lead for the event.
But her plan was about to change. Hearing her name spoken, she looked back to find him striding to catch up with her. She paused long enough for him to close the distance between them.
“Did you see that ride?” A grin deepened the creases around his tired eyes. “I’ve never seen Blastoff buck that well. And Cody’s control made them both look good. I hope you’re in the mood to celebrate with me. There’s a place in the next block, close enough to walk. Good beer and nachos. My treat.”
