Crystal Green - The Hard-to-Get Cowboy

And, as usual, Laila put on the same façade that made everyone think that nothing ever got to her.

“Morning, Mike. Do you have a moment?”

“For our reigning Miss Frontier Days? Always.”

He motioned toward the chair in front of his large oak desk, and she sat, crossing her legs, slipping a folder toward him.

“Ah,” he said. “Do we have another idea today?”

She was used to this bit of harmless condescension in his tone, and she kept smiling, even if every idea she brought to him seemed to end up in the garbage heap. Or, more likely, she suspected that there was a vortex that could only be accessed through a drawer in his desk, and that was where her ideas went.

But that didn’t stop her from trying again, especially since this particular idea was closer to her heart than usual.

“Yes, sir, I’ve got another one,” she said, folding her hands in her lap.

He didn’t make a move to open the folder, so she started her pitch, determined that he would at least hear it.

“It’s no secret that most people in Thunder Canyon have been hit hard by the economy,” she said, leaving out the fact that Mike Trudeau himself was flush right now, along with his bank.

“True enough.” He was still fussing with his computer.

“And I know you’ve expressed an interest in getting this town back on its feet. You’ve been meeting with the mayor, along with other leading members of the community. I don’t know how many ideas you’ve come up with, but if you’ll take a look at some figures I’ve put together to support what I have in mind…”

Mr. Trudeau finally opened the folder, but his expression didn’t change.

Laila cleared her throat. “I think the bank is in a position to make more loans to struggling local homeowners and small businesses in Thunder Canyon and, as you’ll see, I’ve proposed some avenues to do that, while benefiting our business in the long run.”

“Interesting,” he said, paging through the folder.

Laila couldn’t stop looking at the top of his silver head, and when she realized that her fingers were clutching her skirt, she loosened her hold.

Mr. Trudeau closed the folder. “Looks like that college business degree did you some good, Laila.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Beats getting an MRS degree, like the girls in my day used to do.”

Laila kept her mouth shut. Even though she’d decided to major in business because she thought she should, rather than out of a love for the subject, she was proud of her accomplishments. So were her parents, who’d always emphasized a firm work ethic in their household.

Her boss sat in his chair with a sense of finality. “I’ll go over it, Laila. Thanks for your work.”

She almost said, “But…”

Yet she didn’t, even if, so many times before, she’d heard Mike Trudeau use the same brush-off.

Sometimes, when she talked to him, she felt as if there was no substance in her at all. But maybe this time he would believe that there was more to her than what he saw—something she’d tried, and failed, to prove all too recently at Miss Frontier Days.

Holding back that frustration, she got up, thanking her boss again, then headed for the door.

She shut it behind her, adapting a pleasant expression for the customers who greeted her on their way to the tellers’ windows.

In spite of what had just happened, as long as Laila could use her brain, she was going to keep putting proposals on her boss’s desk. She would keep on fighting the good fight… .

On her way across the tiled lobby, a woman’s voice stopped her.

“Laila!”

She turned to find Jacey Weidemeyer, one of her friends from high school who patronized the bank. She was dressed in jeans and a thick sweater that almost hid the reminder of a recently pregnant belly.

And she was holding a baby.

For some reason, Laila’s heart twisted at the sight of the newborn in Jacey’s arms, an infant swaddled in a pink blanket with a tiny knit hat covering her head, her eyes closed in sleep, her skin smooth and rosy.

“Oh,” Laila whispered. “She’s beautiful.”

Jacey stroked her daughter’s cheek. “Meet Hannah. This is the first time we’ve gotten out of the house since I gave birth.”

Laila touched the baby’s little hand. Tiny nails. Tiny fingers.

Her heart seemed to sink inside her for some reason.

Jacey said, “We’re going to have a reception in a few weeks. I’ll email you an invitation.”

“I’d…” What, love to go? It was the last thing Laila thought she would ever have said. She amended herself appropriately. “I’ll be there.”

After they finished chatting and Jacey left for the teller’s window, Laila looked after her and Hannah, pangs invading her deep and low.

Was it because of what Cade had said last night about how he could give her children before it was too late?

Having no idea, Laila went back to her office, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her.

By the time a chilly, star-pinned night hushed over Thunder Canyon, Jackson had left the brick office building that his brother, Ethan, had established for Traub Oil Montana in Old Town and arrived at the Thunder Canyon Resort to meet some of his family for dinner at DJ’s Rib Shack.

He shed his coat and hat in the hostess area and walked into the restaurant, with its family-style benches and booths filled with customers, pictures of sepia-toned cowboys and a visual history of Thunder Canyon revealed in a mural painting.

It wasn’t two seconds before Ethan came over to him.

“So I hear you’ve already gotten busy here in town,” his older brother said.

Jackson was tall, but Ethan had a couple of inches on him, and he was dressed for the field in boots and jeans since he’d returned from the Bakken Shale today.

It would seem that Big Bro was talking to Jackson about work, yet that wasn’t quite the case.

Ignoring Ethan’s jibe, Jackson headed for a private back dining room where special events were often held, including tonight’s family gathering that DJ had called, though no one knew the reason yet.

Ethan followed. “Weren’t you the one who said that you’d probably be in Thunder Canyon only long enough to work on this project and then you’d be going back to Midland?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Well, it sure looks as if you’re settling into this place fine enough to me. You’re dating a local girl.”

Jackson sat at a dining bench. The aroma of DJ’s famous rib sauce was already making his stomach grumble.

“It’s just a date,” he said lightly. “And Laila Cates is fully aware that it’s not going to turn into anything more. And just so you know, my social activities won’t affect my work here.”

Ethan sat across from him. “If you had the kind of track record that didn’t include a string of heartbreaks for your dates, I wouldn’t be worried. From what I know, Laila Cates is the town sweetheart. You mess with her, you mess with every man who’s had his eye on her. Traub Oil Montana doesn’t need that kind of PR. It’s your job to see that this town wants to work with us.”

It was obvious that Jackson still had a lot of work to do when it came to earning his family’s trust, but he was going to accomplish it. His real dad would’ve wanted that. Even Pete, his stepfather, would be proud of that sort of determination, and Lord knows that after what Jackson and the rest of his brothers had put Pete through, the man deserved some consideration.

Good thing that the rest of the Traub kids were coming around to seeing that these days, too, after Pete’s heart attack and recovery.

“I don’t aim to make trouble,” Jackson said, meeting his brother’s dark gaze.