Cathy Mcdavid - More Than a Cowboy

“I’d rather manage the Easy Money with you.”

Deacon swallowed a groan. Why bother with plans when his client was bound and determined not to stick to them?

Sunny’s eyes widened and her jaw went visibly slack.

Cassidy leaped from her chair. “You’re crazy!”

Mercer wasn’t the least bit put off by her rage. “Just hear me out before you go getting your panties in a twist.”

“Who are you to—”

“We all know you don’t have the money,” he said, cutting Cassidy off.

“I can get it,” Sunny interjected.

“How? A loan against the arena? Can’t do that without my signature.”

“A line of credit at the bank.”

“Which would be secured by the arena and also require my consent.” Mercer turned to Deacon for confirmation.

“Most likely.” Taking his cue, he withdrew the draft partnership agreement from the envelope.

“I own half this arena, Sunny. You can’t prevent me from managing it with you. What I’m proposing is that we do it with a mutually acceptable agreement in place rather than as hostile partners.”

Deacon almost chuckled at hearing Mercer use the term he’d coined earlier that morning in his office.

“What are the terms of this agreement?” Sunny asked cautiously.

“Mom! You can’t be serious.” Cassidy glared at Mercer.

“I haven’t said yes.”

Deacon gave Sunny credit. She was indeed a smart businesswoman, exploring her options with a level head.

What did Liberty think? he wondered. The rigid set of her shoulders led him to believe she wasn’t exactly tickled about the prospects of her father joining forces with them. But, unlike her sister, she kept her opinion to herself.

Reaching around her, Deacon passed the draft partnership agreement to Sunny. The demand letter remained in the envelope. They wouldn’t need it if Sunny consented.

As he withdrew his arm, Liberty turned. They were inches apart. She stiffened but didn’t glance away. Neither did he. Not for several seconds. She was so pretty, and those blue eyes...

Deacon went back to leaning against the file cabinet before he did or said something stupid. This, he decided, could turn out to be a long, long afternoon.

Sunny silently skimmed the documents. After a moment, she tapped the papers into a neat rectangle and cleared her throat.

“Can you excuse us for a few minutes? I’d like to talk to Mercer alone.”

“M-Mom,” Cassidy sputtered. She appeared on the verge of a meltdown.

Liberty, on the other hand, couldn’t exit the office fast enough. Deacon had to flatten himself against the file cabinet in order to let her pass. As she did, he noticed her earrings. Gold dangling things that made no sense for a working cowgirl.

Great. Yet another thing to like about her. Liberty flouted conventionality.

“Mercer?” Clearing his throat, he asked, “Would you like me to stay?”

“No need.” His client exuded pleasure. This turn of events must be fitting nicely into his plans.

Deacon waited for Cassidy to precede him out of the office. When a last-ditch silent plea didn’t sway her mother, she stormed off. Mercer closed the office door behind Deacon.

The reception area was empty. He debated sitting and waiting. His gut told him the meeting between the two exes was going to take a while. He decided to check on his horses and then maybe walk the arena grounds. Mercer would call Deacon’s cell phone if he needed something.

There were easily fifty head of horses in the main barn. Many of them nickered and stretched their necks over their stall door to investigate. It wasn’t mealtime but handouts were always a possibility.

Deacon stopped at the stalls housing his horses. Huck, a young bay gelding with, in Deacon’s opinion, potential to be the best cutting horse on the property, greeted him with a lusty snort.

“Hey, boy.” Deacon patted the horse’s long, smooth neck. In the stall beside him, Confetti pawed the ground, demanding her equal share of attention. “Just wait. You’re next.”

The spotted Appaloosa mare was his first choice for team penning. She had a natural instinct when it came to calves and could turn on a dime.

“Deacon!”

At the sound of his name, he pivoted.

Liberty stood not ten feet away. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” He lowered his hand. “Not about the agreement. That’s confidential—”

“Why are you doing this?”

She didn’t appear inclined for a stroll, so he remained standing there, the horse nudging his arm in a bid for more attention. “I’m an attorney. Your father came to me seeking representation, and I don’t exactly have an abundance of clients.”

Because of her mother’s treatment of him after the accident. The unspoken words hung in the air.

“Are you out for revenge?” she demanded.

“I wouldn’t stoop that low.”

“Then why?”

“This isn’t personal, Liberty.” Only it was.

“You can’t deny your resentment toward my family is going to affect your dealings with my father.”

“I promise you it won’t.” If anything, his attraction to her was more likely to impair his judgment. “Like it or not, this is ultimately between your parents. Neither of us will have much to do with the outcome.”

“What do you think will happen?”

He’d put his money on Mercer. What he said, however, was, “I can’t speculate. But I will tell you this. I don’t believe for one minute your father wants to ruin the arena or your mother’s finances.”

“And you’re really not out to get my family?”

“No.”

That seemed to satisfy her, and she walked away.

Watching her go, Deacon suffered another, more wrenching pang of guilt.

Revenge didn’t motivate him. It was redemption and exoneration. Deacon would prove his innocence in the accident one way or the other, and he wasn’t opposed to using his position as Mercer’s attorney to accomplish it.

He only hoped Liberty and her family didn’t get hurt in the process.

Chapter Three

Liberty pretended not to notice Deacon’s approach. Even if she wasn’t currently teaching a riding class of four-, five-and six-year-olds, she wouldn’t have acknowledged him. Not after the meeting yesterday.

“That’s right, Andrea,” she called out. “Put your weight in your heels and keep your back straight. Pay attention, Benjy. Look ahead and stop making faces at your neighbor.”

She suppressed a groan. Her nephew Benjamin was the self-appointed class clown.

Nephew! Did Mercer know he had a grandson? He must, right? In all the turmoil of the past two days, Liberty hadn’t once stopped to consider her sister’s young son. Okay, she had. But that was before Mercer threatened her mother with a lawsuit.

She’d naively assumed grandfather and grandson would be introduced over time and with plenty of preparation. Or not. The decision was Cassidy’s to make. Liberty had only wanted to meet her father. She hadn’t anticipated all hell breaking loose. And so fast.

Deacon knew about Benjamin, had seen him around the arena. He’d probably discussed Benjamin with Mercer. Could that be why he was approaching the arena, his attention fixated on...what?

Liberty’s gaze shot to her nephew. Too late now. She couldn’t very well send the boy away. That would only bring attention to him. No choice except to continue with the lesson and act normal.

“Morning, Liberty.”

Swell. He was addressing her. She should have moved to the center of the arena where she’d be out of earshot instead of standing along the fence.

She turned her head a mere fraction of an inch. “Deacon.”

He was early to the family meeting. Really early. Like, thirty minutes. He was evidently Mr. Prompt when it came to appointments. She’d gotten that much from the restaurant when they both arrived ahead of schedule. But a whole thirty minutes? And did he have to stand near the bleachers where the students’ moms and one dad were all seated?