Julie Benson - Home on the Ranch - Colorado

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.

“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?”

“Over the course of the campaign, yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll get paid when we do the photo shoots. Then you get paid again whenever the material is used for an aspect of the campaign.”

He needed to do some research to see if he could work a deal to get more money up front. “Are you interested?”

“Yes.” He forced the word past the lump in his throat.

“Email me a photograph of yourself as soon as we get off the phone. My address is on my card.”

“I don’t have anything taken by a professional photographer.” Nor would he, if he had to pay for them.

“I don’t care. Send me what you’ve got, even if it’s family photos. If you have ones showing your face clearly, that would be great.”

“I’ll send what I can find.”

“Have you gotten an agent yet?”

Forget that. An agent would take a percentage of what he made. No way would he give anyone a part of his money, when he needed every penny so desperately. Surely with an MBA he could negotiate the deal. “I’m representing myself.”

“I want you on the first available flight to New York.”

“You expecting me to pay for the flight?”

“We’ll reimburse you. Put the ticket on your credit card and turn in your receipt to me. I’ll send it on to Accounting, and they’ll cut you a check within two weeks.”

“I can’t do that.” He’d hit his credit limit paying for the two plane tickets to Portland.

“If that’s a problem, I’ll contact our travel person to book your flight.”

“You do that.”

“I’ll email you the details.”

“What about a hotel? I’m not paying for that, either.”

She paused, and he imagined her sitting at a clean desk in an efficiently organized office, trying to decide if he’d be this big a pain about everything. He made a mental note not to push her too much on anything but money. That issue was nonnegotiable. He had to pinch pennies.

“I’ll book you at a hotel near our office. I’ll email you the details. Is that to your satisfaction?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

For better or worse, his life was about to change.

* * *

ELIZABETH HUNG UP HER PHONE, jumped out of her chair, took two quick steps across her office, then stopped. A management supervisor who planned on becoming a vice president did not dash into the hallway because she was excited. She sucked in a calming breath, smoothing the front of her black pencil skirt, and headed for her friend Chloe Walsh’s office.

Reaching it, Elizabeth shuddered at the clutter surrounding her. Piles of paper dotted the room. She couldn’t even see the top of Chloe’s desk because of the stacks of portfolios and pictures on it. Elizabeth shook her head. How did her best friend find anything or get any work done? This office would drive her past the brink of insanity.