Mistletoe Rodeo

“There’s certainly plenty of work to go around.” Cole sipped his coffee. “Have you spoken to your agent or your sponsors about this yet?”

“No. I wanted to talk to you first. I don’t even know where to begin.”

Chase wasn’t just walking away from the rodeo—he was walking away from multiple paychecks from the various companies sponsoring him. Luckily, his agent was firm on only signing year-to-year contracts. This being the end of the rodeo season, Chase was free and clear to walk away.

“Financially you’re okay since the balance of your trust comes due on your thirtieth birthday. Call your agent and tell him your decision, but give yourself a couple days before you do. You may even want to wait until after the holidays. Once you tell him, he’ll talk to your publicist and they’ll handle it from there. Be prepared for an onslaught of phone calls. Walking away isn’t easy.”

“Neither is telling Shane.” Chase still wasn’t sure how he was going to break it to him. “He’s been living vicariously through me for the past two years.”

“Shane walked away from the rodeo, too. Granted he didn’t have an injury hanging over his head, but he did it midseason and there were quite a few repercussions surrounding his decision. You have my support, but I mean it when I say take the holidays to come to terms with this and be a hundred percent positive this is what you want before you announce it publicly. Enjoy some downtime for a change.”

Downtime was a foreign concept to Chase. Between the rodeo and the school, he found himself run ragged most of the time. With a handful of days left to this year’s final session, Chase looked forward to a lighter workload. When his mom had asked him to cochair the Mistletoe Rodeo, Chase had hesitated at first and then decided it wouldn’t be so bad working alongside his mother. Over the past few months, he’d helped organize many of the events leading up to the charity auction at the end of the evening. To his surprise, he had enjoyed every minute of it.

“Nola West is coming to the ranch later this afternoon to interview Mom and me about the Mistletoe Rodeo. Do you want to be a part of it?”

“Tess mentioned she saw you two together at The Magpie. I have to tell you, when Shane came home from Vegas he said watching you and Nola was like watching Wile E. Coyote chase the Road Runner.”

“I bet it was.” Chase laughed. “She was a bit relentless and even wrangled a seat next to me on the plane. Did you know she served three tours in the Middle East?”

“No, I didn’t, but I guess it means she’s capable of taking on a Langtry man.”

Chase almost dropped his mug. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cole eyed him skeptically. “It’s obvious the woman has a thing for you, and the way you pant over her when she’s not looking leads me to believe the feeling’s mutual.”

“I do not.” Chase stood and dumped the remainder of his coffee in the sink, not daring to look at his brother.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say. I don’t have time for an interview, though. Do me a favor and run these to the lab for me. Lexi should be down there somewhere. Just don’t take the coward’s way out and have her tell Shane your decision. He deserves to hear this from you.”

Cole knew Chase too well. For a split second, he had contemplated just that—asking Lexi to break the news to her husband. Chase was a rodeo cowboy, and he wasn’t sure if he knew how to be anything else. How would the school fare having two “retired has-beens” who’d never won the World All-Around as owners? That win spoke volumes in the industry and, once again, Chase felt like he’d let everyone down.

* * *

“WHERE’S THE STORY?” Pete Devereaux, KWTT’s news director, boomed through the phone.

“I don’t have it yet.” Nola tried to think of a way to tell Pete he wasn’t going to get the type of story he had expected. “I’m meeting Chase at Bridle Dance this afternoon.”

“We sent you all the way to Las Vegas and back—first class, I might add—and you still don’t have anything. If we wanted you to get the story at the ranch, we could’ve saved ourselves a lot of money.”

“I know.” Nola’s voice went dry. “He refused to give me an interview in the airport. I wasn’t going to hound him like a tabloid reporter. It’s not my style. Besides, the interview at the ranch was his idea.”

“Of course it was. You’ll be on his home turf,” Pete grunted. “You’ve got to bring me something good if you want this co-anchor job. Dirk just locked down an exclusive tell-all interview with Senator Waegle about the alleged prostitute he was caught with. I’m sorry, but you need to top it or he will get the co-anchor position. I’d hate to do that when I know you are more than capable.”

Sometimes Nola hated the news and wished they could call a cease-fire for the holidays. Life went on, wars continued, people died tragically and politicians cheated. She’d witnessed every sin imaginable and had even committed the ultimate one herself.

Shaking her head to erase the memory, Nola ended her call with Pete. She brushed her hair one last time and checked her reflection in the mirror before heading out. This was not the way Nola wanted to start her afternoon with Chase. Correction—with Kay and Chase. It wasn’t a date and she shouldn’t have to remind herself she was working. Besides, George was going to be there, and nothing was more unromantic than having a burly cameraman by her side.

The KWTT news van pulled up in front of her building. Normally she would’ve met George at the studio, but since her condo was on the way to the ranch, there was no sense in backtracking.

George was a friend Nola trusted completely. A veteran himself, George had witnessed more than his share of fighting and tragedy after serving twenty years in the Navy. Unlike Nola, he’d come to town to retire and wind down, not climb the ladder of success. George was one of the few people who knew of Nola’s past and her current fears. Nola regarded him as a pinch-hitting father, and she was grateful George kept her secrets even though it must put a strain on his marriage.

“I see you dressed down today.” George regarded her wardrobe choice and nodded. “I approve.”

Nola looked down at her favorite buttery soft gray T-shirt, semi-faded jeans and cowboy boots. She was comfortable to a point but felt exposed without her Spanx. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to last in these boots. I bought them a couple years ago because everyone said I needed a pair in Texas, but I’ve hardly worn them. I’m going to get blisters.”

George laughed at her. “You need to get out more and do some dancing to break them in.”

“Why? To add blisters on top of my blisters? No, thanks. Besides, I don’t dance.”

“You need to learn,” George said. “But have no fear. There’s still a pair of your nasty old black Converse sneakers in the back of the van. At least I think that’s what I smell.”

“Why, you—” Nola hauled off and playfully smacked him. “That’s not right and you know it. Stop laughing and keep your eyes on the road.”

George composed himself and cleared his throat. “You and Chase looked pretty chummy at the baggage claim.”

“Chummy? How?” Nola hoped she hadn’t looked like a lovesick fan. Chase’s hard, chiseled features had softened during the flight and Nola had begun to see a side of him she hadn’t known existed.

Chase had always come across as the quiet, watchful brother in the background. During the Ride ’em High! and Dance of Hope grand opening, Nola had noticed how Chase allowed the rest of the family to revel in the spotlight, and Nola respected his modesty despite his exorbitant wealth.

The van stopped at a red light. “I do believe you’re blushing.” George lifted his sunglasses and leaned over the center console to take a better look. “You are blushing.”

His encroachment on her personal space snapped Nola back to reality. “What are you doing?”

“Honey, you’ve got it bad.” George whipped out his cell phone and snapped a picture of Nola.

“What was that for?”

“No one would ever believe me if I told them Nola West was not only frazzled, but frazzled over a man.”

“You realize I know over a hundred ways to kill you, right?”

“Yeah, but you won’t.” George chuckled. “Besides you’ll need me to be your bridesman at the wedding.”

“Bridesman?”

“Who else is better suited to stand up for you when you marry Chase Langtry? You don’t have any close friends nearby and you lean toward the unconventional. Instead of a bridesmaid, you’ll have a bridesman. Me.”

“You’re deranged, you know that? I am not marrying Chase Langtry, or anyone else for that matter.” Nola refused to allow herself even one second of imagining marriage to Chase Langtry. “We don’t exactly run in the same social circles.”

“Brace yourself, darlin’. We are about to enter Camelot.”

Camelot was the nickname George and Nola had given Bridle Dance the first day they’d seen the log home whose size rivaled that of a small castle. The horses lived better than Nola did. The familiar entrance to the ranch was majestic with its bronze rearing-horse sculptures on either side of the wrought iron sign. Only they’d never seen them with gigantic red bows around their necks. Nola was willing to bet that once the sun set, the main road would light up like a fairy-tale forest of sparkling lights.

The drive was unpaved and dusty, and Nola loved how the Langtrys had maintained a rustic atmosphere. With the exception of a few side businesses, like the winery and the sod farm, the majority of the ranch was devoted to horses.

“What on earth is that?” George asked.

“It looks like Santa.” Nola peered through the windshield. “Are those real reindeer?”

“I hope not.” George slowed the van as they passed the Christmas sleigh display. “They sure do look like it though, don’t they?”

“That’s borderline scary.” Nola laughed. “I love Rudolph, though. Good God, look at the house. How many wreaths do you think they have on that thing?”

“Forget the house—there’s your Prince Charming.”

Chase waved from the garland-draped front porch, where boughs of holly framed the front door. As he stepped down the stairs, the sun glinted off his golden hair, and Nola thought it was unusual to see Chase hatless. There was nothing shading his gorgeous Caribbean blue eyes. Normally a man without a hat appeared more vulnerable to her, but the opposite held true with Chase. He looked more raw and rugged, and Nola was aching to run her fingers through his hair.

“Like I said, you’ve got it bad.” George parked the van and smiled at her.

“If you do one thing to humiliate me, I promise you’ll live to regret it.” Nola watched Chase walk toward them and prayed she wouldn’t embarrass herself.

Chase opened Nola’s door before she reached for the handle. As he swung the door wide, a crisp breeze swept across Nola’s face and chest. And that was when her body betrayed her. Victoria’s Secret be damned, her nipples stood at attention right through her shirt.

A slow, easy grin spread across Chase’s face. “You might want to grab a jacket if you have one. It’s a bit chilly today.”

So much for not embarrassing herself.

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