More Than a Cowboy

Her voice grew quiet. “We’re not married anymore.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I have three children.” She brightened and turned a framed picture around on her desk for Mercer to see. In between, she cast Deacon hasty glances.

For a moment, he missed the way Liberty looked at him. There was no wariness or accusation in her eyes. Only kindness, humor and undeniable interest.

She wouldn’t have that same look today. Her tone during their phone call yesterday had been icy and distant. He anticipated similar treatment at their meeting.

The door leading to the barn opened. Sunny strode inside, accompanied by Cassidy. Neither woman noticed Deacon. They went straight to Mercer, who immediately rose.

“Sunny. Cassidy.” He removed his cowboy hat and took them in from head to toe. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”

They didn’t return his enthusiasm. Anything but. And no hugs were initiated.

“You look great. Both of you.” He’d included his daughter, but his attention never wavered from Sunny.

Deacon had to admit time had been her friend. A short-sleeved Western-cut shirt tucked into her jeans revealed a still trim and shapely figure. Blond hair a couple shades darker than Liberty’s was pulled up into an efficient ponytail. Her green eyes observed Mercer carefully.

Green. Hmm. Liberty’s eyes were blue, a deep shade Deacon could easily get lost in.

He mentally shook himself. This meeting was too important for him to abandon focus.

“Let’s go into Mom’s office.” Cassidy started for the connecting door. If she was feeling sentimental, she hid it well.

Deacon had barely stood when Liberty entered. An all-too-common jolt coursed through him. It intensified when their gazes locked.

She was hurt. He could see it in her face. There was no way to change that. No going back. Deacon had made his choice, though not without regrets. He hoped one day she’d understand.

“Liberty!” Mercer beamed. “How are you?”

Give the man credit. He acted as if their visit today was strictly social and nothing out of the ordinary.

She didn’t answer him and instead followed her mother and sister into Sunny’s office. They were presenting a united front. Even so, Deacon noted a slight underlying tension between the women. He imagined Liberty had posed a lot of questions to her mother yesterday. Perhaps not all had been answered, or answered satisfactorily.

There weren’t enough chairs in the office. Sunny sat at her desk, a position of authority. Cassidy dropped into the only available vacant seat. If her intent was to make their visitors suffer discomfort, she didn’t succeed.

Undaunted, Mercer said, “Be right back.” And he was, with the two chairs from the front office. Carrying one in each arm, he set them down and squeezed them together in front of Sunny’s desk.

“My dear.” He gestured for Liberty to sit.

She did, and when Mercer plunked down in the middle chair, he and his two daughters were practically rubbing knees. Deacon leaned against a four-drawer file cabinet, which put him directly behind Liberty and looking over her shoulder. She shifted uneasily, then, as if sensing him, turned. The hurt he’d seen earlier was gone, replaced by confusion.

He ignored the pang of guilt—he had to, really—and smiled. “Good afternoon.”

Her answer was to face forward.

All right, he deserved that. Tucking the envelope containing the demand letter and draft partnership agreement under his arm, Deacon powered up his tablet and readied to take notes.

“Just so you know, Sunny, I don’t want your money.”

At Mercer’s impromptu announcement, the three women sat suddenly straighter.

“Then why threaten me with a lawsuit?” Sunny asked, her voice ripe with indignation.

“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.