the All-Stars of all its history, meaning and money. It was time to try a new line of attack.
One that relied on grumpy old farts. “You can’t be serious,” Yardley snarled. “We had a deal.”
Pete glared at the man. He should’ve known better than to trust Dustin Yardley with something like this.
“What deal?” Chloe snapped. Any trace of confusion was gone from her face. She jammed her hands on the sweet curve of her hips and glared at Pete. Because of course she suspected the truth.
It was no accident that Pete was in Missouri today and it was no accident that he’d come upon the scene with Chloe being browbeaten by a bunch of old cowboys.
“What deal?” Pete echoed, trying to sound innocent and hoping that Dustin would get the damned hint to shut his trap.
Chloe had been running the rodeo by herself for a few months now and the buck stopped with her. She couldn’t hide behind her daddy’s boots anymore, and her brother Oliver? He’d been useless from the get-go, relying on Chloe as his liaison. In theory, the decisions had come from Oliver but Chloe had been the show manager.
When Oliver had officially stepped away from managing the rodeo earlier this year, Chloe hadn’t hired anyone else to help run the show. She should have, though. She had to be drowning in work. They were a long way from Dallas and Chloe had no backup.
Managing the All-Stars was a full-time job and she’d also started that Princess clothing line. His sister, Marie, had bought a couple of shirts, ostensibly so she and Pete could make fun of the latest tacky venture from the tacky Lawrences. But Marie—the traitor—had actually liked the clothing so much she’d bought a few more pieces.
Chloe could have her little fashion show—Pete didn’t care about that at all. But she was going to ruin his rodeo and he wasn’t going to stand for that.
The contractors and local rodeo boards—they wanted to work with him, not her. Not Oliver Lawrence. And they’d never trusted New Yorker Milt Lawrence, with his fake Texas accent.
Pete could rally everyone who made the All-Stars work and get them to go on strike unless the Lawrence family either divested themselves of the circuit or paid Pete his fair share of the profits—going back thirteen long years. The rodeo was worth a lot of money—money that by rights belonged to the Wellington family.
But money wasn’t why he was in Missouri this weekend. Between oil rights and cattle, his ranch was worth millions. No, this was about his father’s legacy—about Pete’s legacy. He wanted the All-Stars back.
So he’d proposed a solution to the stock contractors. The locals threatened to mutiny and, when things looked bleak, Pete would ride to the rescue, Chloe’s knight in a shining Stetson. Chloe would be so grateful for his support that she would agree to Pete working for the All-Stars in one capacity or another. And once he was in, he’d slowly begin to crowd Chloe out.
It was a hell of a risky plan but he’d tried everything else. This would work. It had to. By this time next year, Chloe would be completely out of the picture and the All-Stars would be his.
Provided, of course, that Dustin Yardley didn’t blow the plan to bits before it got off the ground.
Chloe swung back to him, her eyes narrowed. Suspicion rolled off her in waves. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Pete?” She bit off each word as if it had personally offended her.
He had to make this look good. The plan would work fine even if she was a little suspicious of him, but he needed her to hire him on. Pete was walking a fine line and he knew it.
“Steve Mortimer gave me a call. He’s under the weather and wasn’t able to get his horses here, so he asked me if I could help out. I guess he must’ve asked Dustin first, but you know Dustin.” That wasn’t exactly how it’d happened. It’d cost Pete a pretty penny to get Steve to stay home this weekend. The man did love his rodeo. But then, so did they all.
Chloe gave him a hard look before her entire face changed. It was like watching a cloud scuttle past the sun because suddenly, everything was brighter. Yet, at the same time, that look irritated him. Like she’d flipped a damned switch, Chloe Lawrence looked instantly dumber. If Pete hadn’t watched it happen, he might not have noticed the difference.
He’d say this for Chloe Lawrence—she was a hell of an actress.
She swung around to face Dustin. An inane giggle issued forth from her mouth. She was smart, Pete had to give her that. Dustin Yardley would never admit to being outmaneuvered by a girl.
“I’m so glad Mortimer trusted you enough to call you first,” she said, her voice rising on the end as if she were asking a question.
Pete frowned at her. He understood what she was doing, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Then again, when had she ever done anything he’d liked? He didn’t like the way she ran the rodeo. He didn’t like the changes she wanted to institute. He didn’t like the way she used the rodeo to promote her own princess-ness.
The All-Stars wasn’t about Chloe Lawrence. It didn’t exist to sell clothing or stuffed animals or—God help him—Lawrence Oil, a subsidiary of Lawrence Energies, owned solely by the Lawrence family. The All-Around All-Stars existed for one reason and one reason only—to celebrate the best of the best of ranchers and cowboys. To take pride in ranching. To connect them to the tough men and women who had tamed the Wild West.
None of those things applied to Chloe Lawrence. She’d been born in New York, for God’s sake.
Dustin looked confused. The man was mucking this up. Then, at the last possible second, Dustin got a grip on the situation. “Yeah, good old Steve. I, uh, didn’t have any room, uh, in my trailer. For his horses. I was glad Pete was able to pick up the slack.”
Yeah, that was believable.
“But that doesn’t change anything else,” Dustin went on, talking over Chloe’s head to Pete. “It’s not right to have women riding in our rodeo. They’re distracting and they could get hurt. She’s the goddamned Princess of the Rodeo. She shouldn’t be making decisions like this, and God save us all from that arrogant ass of a brother of hers.”
“Which one?” someone from the crowd asked.
“They’re both asses,” Dustin announced with grim satisfaction.
Pete watched the tension ripple down Chloe’s shoulders and he knew without even looking at her face that she had lost her innocent mask and was about to tear Dustin a well-deserved new one. But before she could launch into her tirade, Pete stepped forward. “How about a compromise?”
“How about you go screw yourself?” Chloe said under her voice.
Pete damn near bit his tongue, trying not to laugh at that quiet jab. Never let it be said the woman didn’t give as good as she got.
“Ms. Lawrence isn’t wrong,” he went on as if she hadn’t just insulted him. “A rising tide does lift all boats. Making the All-Stars bigger will mean more money for you, for the riders and, yes, for management. And she’s not wrong that having a woman ranked in the top ten in the Total Bull Challenge has brought in a lot more money to that outfit. Are you guys trying to tell me you would rather remain a second-tier rodeo
