ranch hand like you could use the money.”
Rory pushed his hat off his forehead a bit. Now she had his attention.
Dark coffee-colored eyes peered down at her. The look in those eyes could sell refrigerators to Eskimos. Or hopefully, designer jeans to the average man. Or the average man’s significant other.
Then gravel crunched under car tires, drawing his gaze away from her. When his attention returned a moment later, his interest had vanished.
“Lady, the next tour group has pulled into the parking lot, and I don’t have time for this.”
She held out her card again. “If I agree to leave, will you take my contact info, and consider my business proposal?”
“Deal.” Rory snatched the card out of her hand and shoved it in his shirt pocket. “But don’t count on hearing from me.”
That was okay. She believed in positive thinking. If she sent good karma into the world, good things would return to her. Now if she could only collect by getting Rory to agree to model—because she needed this cowboy or she was out of a job.
THREEDAYSLATER Rory sat in his worn leather desk chair as the banker he’d known all his life told him he couldn’t approve a second mortgage.
“Rory, if things were different, if we were still a family-owned bank, maybe I could approve this, but I’ve got stockholders to answer to. Twin Creeks carries too much debt to justify another loan.”
He thanked John, reassured him that he understood it was simply a business decision, and hung up the phone.
Rory’s chin sank to his chest. He’d already tried to sell some of their horses, but most folks were having financial difficulties, too. He’d looked for extra work, but there were too many unemployed people out there and no one was adding on help anyway. The second mortgage had been his last palatable choice to get the cash his mom needed. There had to be something he could do—his mom’s life depended on it.
The McAlister family had gone through their savings to pay for the medical bills when Rory’s dad had suffered a heart attack behind the wheel and sent his truck into a ditch, putting him and Rory’s younger brother, Griffin, into the hospital. Then two years ago, when his dad’s heart finally gave out, Rory cashed in most of their stocks to pay for those bills and his dad’s funeral. Now, their mom had gone as far as she could with her cancer treatments and was left with one alternative, which turned out to be experimental—and expensive.
You have another alternative. You just don’t like it.
He pulled open his middle desk drawer, shoved aside some papers and located Elizabeth Harrington-Smyth’s business card.
He twirled it between his fingers as he stared out the window. The snow-capped Rocky Mountains filled his view. Though he’d seen them every day of his life, their beauty never failed to amaze him. Some people thought they had a magnificent view when they looked out at a city skyline. Personally, he didn’t understand the appeal. Give him what God had created any day. Man’s creations were strictly amateur in comparison.
His hands tightened around the chair arm and the worn leather creaked in protest. Visions of his dad sitting in this same chair flashed in Rory’s mind. He still missed the old man every day. More so lately, since the doctor had found the inoperable tumor on his mother’s brain. How he wished he could talk to his dad about what to do, even though he knew what his dad would say. Do whatever’s necessary to get the money for your mother. She’s a good woman, the rock of this family, and she damned well deserves every shot to beat cancer.
Knowing his mom had only one alternative didn’t make this call any easier. Rory willed his hand to reach for the phone.
Nothing.
Not even a twitch.
Picking up a phone. Such a simple action, so why couldn’t he?
Because this call would change his life irrevocably. But at least it was his choice, as opposed to bankers and doctors calling the shots. Life was full of choices. Some turned out well and some sucked pond water. All a body could do was think things through, make a careful decision and deal with any fallout.
The last thing Rory wanted to do was leave this ranch, even short-term. He loved the land, the horses and the hard work that made his muscles ache at the end of the day. He loved the mental challenge of managing the ranching business.
A quiet knock sounded on his office door. “Come in, Mom.”
“How’d you know it was me?”
He smiled. “The ranch hands and Griff knock loud enough to break down the door. Avery rarely bothers to knock.”
His mom grinned, but weariness filled her eyes, twisting his gut as she walked across the office. Until the last year she’d been active and energetic. Then she’d started chemo. The constant nausea had almost killed her, but hadn’t done anything to shrink the tumor. Now, thanks to the steroids the doctor prescribed and her lack of energy for the long walks she enjoyed, her weight had ballooned. At least her hair had grown out enough for her to wear it in a short, spiky style. Despite all that, she hadn’t given up. Talk about strong.
Her quiet strength always amazed him. She never complained, and remained positive. He’d always loved his mom, but now he admired her in a different way.
Rory said a silent prayer that this experimental treatment would work.
“Griffin is ready to take me and Avery to the airport.” His mom stopped in front of his desk. Her frail hand rested on his forearm. “Are you sure we can afford this treatment, since insurance isn’t covering it? It’s so expensive.”
Thank goodness for Avery. His little sister, who’d always driven him crazy, wanting to tag along with him and his friends, had turned out okay. Since their mother’s diagnosis, she’d stepped into the family caretaker role. Avery coordinating their mom’s appointments and accompanying her had allowed Rory to focus on putting food on the table and keeping the ranch afloat. He couldn’t ask for a better sister.
“Don’t worry about the money, Mom. I’ve got the situation under control.”
She squeezed his arm and peered down at him. For a moment he worried that she’d read the lie in his eyes.
“If you’re absolutely sure.”
“I’ll worry about the finances. You concentrate on getting well.” He stood, walked around his desk and enveloped her in a hug, wishing he could take on this fight for her.
He couldn’t bear to lose her, too. Not so soon after losing his dad.
She kissed him on the cheek, and he pulled away. “Now, get out of here. I don’t want you to miss your flight.”
Once his mother had closed the door behind her, Rory returned to his desk. He picked up the business card, flipped open his cell phone and dialed.
Chapter Two
“Elizabeth Harrington-Smyth.”
Her voice sounded exactly as Rory remembered—pushy, businesslike and New York City. At the ranch she’d been like a defensive lineman, single-minded in pursuit of her goal, intent on getting to him, the quarterback. The lady definitely didn’t acknowledge the word no. Not exactly his favorite type of woman.
“It’s Rory McAlister. We met when you were at Twin Creeks Ranch in Estes Park last weekend. I was your guide on the horseback ride.”
“I remember, though I’m surprised to hear from you.”
That made two of them.
He swallowed hard and barreled forward. “The modeling job you said you could get me, is it still available?”
“Yes, it is.”
“And it’ll pay thirty thousand dollars?”