style="font-size:15px;"> Duly chastised, he ducked his head and ignored the heat singeing his cheeks.
“After you collect your check, we need to pack up and head out,” Tammy said. “That big money pot is still up for grabs at the Davie Pro Rodeo tomorrow night and I could use the extra time to prepare. I really need that win if I’m going to make it to the finals this year.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Colt said, squeezing her shoulder.
Tammy’s brows rose. “Oh yeah, I do. You think Jen felt bad about placing second tonight? I’d have killed for that spot. I was fifth, Colt. Fifth.”
“I know, but—”
“And I was eighth,” Karla added, tucking a short strand of black hair behind her ear. “Tammy and I have already crunched some numbers. Jen can get by without another win this weekend, but if Tammy and I don’t place in the top three at Davie, we’ll be so far behind we’ll never qualify for Vegas.”
“You’ll make it,” Colt said, meeting Tammy’s uncertain expression with a determined one. “I know you will.”
“Not if I don’t place at Davie tomorrow night.” Tammy shook her head. “Without that win, I’m out.”
Colt nodded. A trip to Davie was just in time. Maybe he’d have more luck finding a woman there who stirred his interest. One who would help him shake off this lust he had for Jen. Then maybe he’d have a decent shot at rebuilding their friendship.
“So we’ll head to Davie.” He grinned and patted his front pocket. “Right after I collect my check.”
Yep. That was the way he liked it. No baggage. No responsibilities. Just an endless string of nights filled with fun and freedom. All provided by the bulk of bills lining his pockets. Money he’d earned himself on the back of a bull. Free and clear of his corporate raider father.
The phone in Colt’s hand went off, jerking with rhythmic pulses. He glanced at the screen. Mead Enterprises again.
He groaned. John W. Mead wasn’t giving up tonight. Might as well get it over with.
“Gotta take this.” Colt nodded in apology to the ladies, exited the arena and accepted the call, striving for a nonchalant tone. “Before you ask, I’m headed south. In the opposite direction.”
Silence hung heavy on the line. There was no sharp reprimand from his father. No cynical comeback. Just empty air.
Colt huffed out a breath and kicked the ground. The old man was trying a new tactic. “Go ahead. Lay that guilt on thick ’cause it doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in joining up with the company. I have business of my own to take care of.” Bulls. Beaches. And beauties. Not necessarily in that order. “You hear me, Dad?”
“Mr. Mead? Colt Wyatt Mead?”
He stilled. The voice on the other end of the line was feminine. Hesitant but businesslike.
“You got him. Who’s this?”
“This is Angela Reed. Your father’s secretary.”
Colt’s fingers squeezed the phone, his laugh hesitant. “You’re working late tonight. He ask you to pass along new marching orders to me?”
“Sir.” A swift intake of air sounded across the line. “I’m sorry to deliver news this way but...” An odd tapping started, as if a phone cord was being jiggled. “There was—” Her voice cracked. “Your father’s partner, Jack Evans, has been trying to reach you. He asked me to call and tell you...”
He froze. “Tell me what?”
“There’s been an accident.” Her words were short and swift. “Your father’s jet crashed this morning. I’m sorry to say he didn’t make it.”
Colt’s stomach heaved, a wave of nausea surging over him. “What?”
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Mead,” she whispered. “But Mr. Evans wanted you to know in time to return home for the funerals if you desired to do so. Services have been arranged for Sunday afternoon.”
“Funerals?” Dear God. Meg. “My sister. Was she—”
“No, sir,” she said hastily. “Your sister wasn’t on board. Just your father and Mrs. Mead.”
A strange tingling spread over him, buzzing through his blood and clouding his vision. The ground warped beneath his feet. He moved closer to the paddock fence in front of him and grabbed at the top rail.
His father. His stepmother. Dead.
“Mr. Mead?” The secretary’s voice softened. “Your sister is the other reason for my call. There are several matters that require your attention. May I tell Mr. Evans that you’ll be returning?”
Colt squeezed his eyes shut. His throat thickened, strangling his words. “Y-yes. I’m returning.”
The trembling in his limbs turned violent. Colt cut the call and clenched both hands into fists. He continued standing there as winners were announced over the PA system. Stayed still as the throng of spectators left the arena and made their way to the parking lot, leaving only rodeo participants behind.
Colt waited until his stomach hardened and the feeling in his limbs vanished. Until there was no feeling left anywhere. Numb was a damned sight better than breaking down right now. He had to stay in control to make the long drive home. And he was a world away from Atlanta’s Tuxedo Park.
* * *
“COLT?”
Jen took a few hesitant steps forward, her boots whispering over the grass as she approached him. He didn’t answer. Just stood there, motionless as he stared straight ahead at the paddock, fists at his sides.
The crowd outside the Silver Spurs Arena had dwindled to a few rodeo riders, every one of them eager to find the next party and unwind. All except Colt. One phone call had extinguished his flirtatious demeanor.
Jen’s skin prickled at the unusually tight set of his broad shoulders. She stopped, fiddled with the soggy label on her beer and tried again.
“Colt. What’s wrong?”
A crack of laughter rang out. Jen glanced over her shoulder to find Tammy and Karla sauntering through the exit and sharing a joke.
Tammy’s eyes brightened as they landed on Colt. “Well, finally. We’ve been waiting for you for forever. You won. They’ve got your check...”
Her steps faltered at his lack of response and she shot a look at Jen.
Jen shook her head.
“Who was on the phone, Colt?” Tammy moved to his side and placed a hand on the small of his back, releasing a small laugh. “Come on. You’re scaring us. Who was it?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “My father’s secretary.”
“Bad news?” Tammy asked.
He
