Showdown

  “Todd and I discussed it this afternoon,” Jimmy went on.

  “Oh, you did?” Milly looked at Todd quizzically. He hadn’t mentioned anything to her.

  “Uh-huh,” said Jimmy. “You’re a talented rider, but that’s not gonna be enough on its own. Image. That’s what we need to work on. That’s what’s gonna be key.”

  “Key,” echoed Brad, nodding sycophantically. “Absolutely key.”

  “Well,” said Milly, setting about her newly arrived plate of lamb shank and green beans with unashamed gusto, “I don’t really care about image, to be honest with you, Mr. Price. I just want to race. And win. And make a lot of money.”

  “Unfortunately, my dear,” said Brad with a patronizing smirk, “Jimmy’s right. You can’t have one without the other—money without image, that is. This is America.”

  “Let me guess,” said Sean, who was making equally light work of his own lamb as well as knocking back the cabernet at an impressive pace. “You’re going to work this English-cowgirl angle.” He raised one eyebrow mockingly at Brad. “Very original.”

  “It’s not about originality,” Brad hissed. Evidently there was no love lost between those two. “Although as a matter of fact I think it is quite original.”

  “So do I,” said Todd. He remembered the surly little Irish fucker from the last time he was here with Bobby and he was starting to get bored with his negativity.

  “It’s about marketability. The accent, the look.” Brad pointed at Milly like a farmer might point at his prize heifer. “We can sell that. With Jimmy’s media clout behind her, we can sell it for a goddamn fortune.”

  “Maybe,” said Sean, who didn’t doubt it for a second. He knew firsthand how many doors the Price name could open. “But it’s a bit tacky, don’t you think?” He was talking directly to Milly now. “After everything Bobby Cameron’s done for you, I’m surprised you’d want to cheapen the old Western traditions that mean so much to him with some gimmicky PR stunt.”

  “I don’t . . .” she blustered. “I mean, this wouldn’t be about Bobby.” Suddenly, she felt out of her depth. Was he right? Would Bobby see all this as a slap in the face?

  “We’re all getting ahead of ourselves,” said Jimmy, deftly diffusing the situation. He didn’t know why Sean was so bent out of shape, but he didn’t want his new jockey and his brilliant vet coming to blows on day one. “The first priority is to get Milly known on the national quarter horse circuit. Everything else comes later.”

  “Will you be living here?” asked Amy timidly from across the table. She’d barely spoken a word all evening and was obviously anxious not to draw more attention to herself than absolutely necessary.

  “No,” said Todd dismissively. “She’ll train here, nine to six, five days a week whenever she’s not competing. Right, Jimmy?”

  Jimmy nodded. “That’s right.”

  “But she’ll be living with me.”

  Milly sat silent through this exchange, turning from one to the other like a dog watching a tennis match. She was starting to feel like she didn’t exist. Todd and Jimmy hadn’t bothered to consult her on any of this, after all. They’d just steamed ahead, making plans for her life.

  Still, she could hardly complain. At the end of the day they were offering her everything she’d ever wanted.

  Everything but Bobby Cameron.

  But after everything that had happened in the last few days, she was finally coming to accept that Bobby was the one dream she was never going to make come true.

  Shivering in his pickup truck outside the gates of Todd’s Bel Air mansion, Bobby tried desperately to stay awake.

  Maybe Dylan was right? Maybe he shouldn’t have come?

  But no, fuck it, why shouldn’t he? Was he just going to roll over and let that bastard Cranborn take Milly away from him? Let him corrupt her and hurt her, push her into a cutthroat world she wasn’t ready for and then drop her like a stone the minute he’d gotten what he wanted?

  And that was the other thing. What was it, exactly, that Todd wanted? Was it Highwood? He definitely had a hidden agenda there, Bobby was sure of it, although so far he’d been unable to prove a thing. Or was it Milly herself that he was after?

  Obviously he wanted her. That much had been clear since that awful night at Jimmy’s last year, the weekend Cecil died. But again, he had the strong feeling that there was more than straightforward lust at stake here. Where, for example, did Price fit into all this? Why would Todd go out of his way to bring Milly and Jimmy together? It was almost as if the guy had a personal vendetta against him, although why or how that could be, he had no idea.

  Maybe Dyl was right, and he was just being paranoid. Certainly the pressure he’d been under, inheriting Highwood, starting the quarter horse stables, and trying to keep a lid on his feelings for Milly, was starting to take a physical and emotional toll. Maybe he was imagining things.

  But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was living his life behind smoked glass—that everything was not quite what it seemed—and that somehow Todd Cranborn held the key to it all.

  And then, of course, there was Summer. He still hadn’t begun to figure out what he was going to do about that situation. On the drive down, the only distraction he’d had from the Milly-Todd nightmare was trying to think of all the signals he must have missed. When had these feelings started? He shuddered at the thought that he might, unwittingly, have encouraged her in some way.

  Not that she wasn’t beautiful. And sexy. He was ashamed to admit it but part of him, a big part, would have loved to fuck her, to screw Milly out of his system for good and all.

  But one thing all the girls he’d slept with had in common was that he’d never truly loved any of them. And that wasn’t the case with Summer. He loved her. Not in the same way he loved Milly, perhaps, but it was love nonetheless. Quite apart from the furor it would cause at the ranch, an affair with her could only complicate his life. And lord only knew he didn’t need any more complication right now.

  By one A.M., despite himself, his head was lolling back against the headrest and he was drifting off into a fitful sleep. Only the sudden glare of Ferrari headlights sweeping across his face was enough to jolt him back into consciousness.

  “Bobby?”

  Todd had wound down the window and was smiling that maddening, self-satisfied smile: a smile that had started to haunt Bobby’s nightmares.

  “This is a surprise. Please, come on in.”

  Bobby could see Milly slumped forward in the passenger seat. At least, he thought it was Milly. What the fuck had happened to her hair?

  Before he had time to look more closely, Todd revved up his engine with an almighty roar and surged through the gates, leaving him no option but to restart his truck and follow. By the time he’d parked and eased his stiff legs out onto the forecourt, Todd had already opened the front door and disabled the alarm and was ushering Milly inside.

  “Why haven’t you returned my calls?” Pushing past Todd, Bobby grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and spun her around to face him. In her short, shimmering silver dress she looked like a will-o’-the-wisp, ethereal and otherworldly.

  She swayed a little unsteadily on her high heels and tried to focus. God, he was so, so beautiful, even when he shouted at her. The urge to reach up and stroke his thick blond hair, to fling herself into his arms, was powerfully strong, even now. But she mustn’t, she knew she mustn’t. If she didn’t stand her ground now, she’d never get her career off the starting blocks. And he wouldn’t respect her either, not in the long run, or ever see her as an adult if she kept backing down and giving into him.

  “I’ve been out to dinner,” she said, defiantly. “In Palos Verdes. With big bad Jimmy Price.”

  “You’re drunk,” said Bobby harshly, as she lost her footing again and ricocheted off the doorframe into him. For a split second he held her. Feeling the downy hairs on her arms brushing like silk against his skin, he could have wept with longing.

  “No, I
’m not,” she said, pulling away. “I had a few drinks, that’s all. To celebrate.”

  “Yes, I can see you’ve been celebrating,” he said viciously. “You even went out in your underwear and dyed your hair for the occasion.”

  “Oh, shut up!” yelled Milly. “My hair looks lovely. You know it does.”

  “It looks tacky as hell,” he spat. He knew he was being an asshole but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “You had beautiful hair before. Your father would be horrified and you know it.”

  “You leave Daddy out of it!” she sobbed. The tears that had already started welling up in her eyes spilled over now, and she crumpled like a rag doll. It was true that Cecil had loved her long hair even more than she did, although she hadn’t thought about that till Bobby said it. “Just because your father hated you, don’t you dare make assumptions about mine.”

  “I suggest you both calm down,” said Todd coolly. “Why don’t you take a seat in the living room, Bobby, and I’ll have someone fetch you a drink?”

  “No thanks,” snarled Bobby. “One of us needs to stay sober. Look at the state she’s in.” He pointed at Milly. “She’s under twenty-one, you know. And don’t tell me you hadn’t been drinking too, before you climbed into that death trap of a car and drove her home.”

  “If anyone’s car’s a death trap,” said Todd, casting a disdainful glance over his shoulder at Bobby’s ancient truck, “I don’t think it’s mine.”

  Closing the front door behind him, he strode into the living room and took a seat on the couch. Milly, looking utterly shell-shocked, followed.

  “So. Tell me.” Todd opened his arms expansively. “What exactly is your problem, Bobby? You can hardly expect me to believe that you drove all the way down here because you were worried Milly might have had a drink. I don’t think even you could be that overprotective.”

  “Never mind me,” said Bobby. “What’s your problem?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Todd looked bemused.

  “Sure you do,” snarled Bobby. “Let’s start at the beginning. What were you doing at the ranch last weekend? You knew I was away.”

  “Yeees,” said Todd, like a teacher explaining something mind-bendingly simple to a small child. “I knew you were away. But I had some business in Buellton, so I thought I’d stop by and see how things were going.”

  “Bullshit. You were spying!” Bobby started pacing furiously in front of the fireplace. “I’m not blind, although it appears I may have been stupid for ever trusting you in the first place. You’ve been all over the valley, asking questions, poking your nose into my business—”

  “Our business,” Todd corrected him. “I have a stake in Highwood too now, remember? I have a right to know these things.”

  “What things?” said Bobby. “What the hell are you grubbing around in the dirt for? What are you hoping to find?”

  “Nothing. Jesus, what’s with the paranoia? I’m a businessman. I like to stay informed about my investments. If you were a little older and wiser, kid, you’d realize that that’s not so unusual. We’re not all fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants cowboys, you know.”

  But Bobby was done arguing the point. Leaning down, he grabbed Todd by the collar and picked him up one-handed. For one brief, gratifying moment he saw a flicker of real, physical fear in Todd’s eyes as he pulled back his other arm, ready to punch.

  “Don’t patronize me, you two-faced son of a bitch,” he said. “You knew my feelings about Jimmy. You deliberately waited till I was out of town to bring Milly down to meet him. And now you think you can wave some sponsorship deal in her face and it’s all done and dusted? Well, it’s not going to happen, do you hear me?”

  To Todd’s enormous relief, he released him at this point and turned his attention back to Milly, grabbing her forcefully by the wrist.

  “She’s coming back to the ranch with me.”

  “Don’t you think,” said Todd, straightening his tie and attempting to get both his dignity and his breath back, “that that should be her decision? She’s not a child, after all.”

  “Oh yes she is,” said Bobby. “And what’s more, she’s a child in my care. Go get your things,” he ordered, shoving Milly toward the door.

  That was the last straw. What with Jimmy and Todd and the awful Brad debating her future without so much as a by-your-leave, and now Bobby doing his heavy-handed Lord Capulet routine, she’d had enough of being pushed around for one day.

  “You know what, Bobby?” she said, wrenching herself free of his grip. “You’re not my fucking father. So stop acting like it.”

  The juxtaposition of the sexy, adult dress and haircut with the smudged makeup and childishly jutting, defiant chin was heartbreaking. She looked like a kid who’d raided her mom’s closet. He wanted to protect her so much, to make her see what he could see—that Todd was a ruthless, predatory shark. That he’d hurt her. But he realized miserably that everything he’d said and done tonight had only made him look more and more like a jealous, selfish idiot.

  “I know I’m not your father,” he said, finally lowering his voice. “But I promised Cecil I’d take care of you—”

  “For God’s sake,” said Milly. “When are you gonna get past it? Todd’s right. I’m not a child. You may want me to be, but I’m not. Whatever you think about him, Jimmy’s offered me an amazing chance.”

  “Oh. So it’s ‘Jimmy’ now, is it?” said Bobby churlishly.

  “I’ll be riding some of the best quarter horses in the country,” said Milly, ignoring him, “entering serious races, statewide and beyond. He’s even talking about Ruidoso Downs next year.”

  “He’s trying to flatter you,” said Bobby, not thinking how insensitive he must sound. “You’re nowhere near that standard.”

  “Oh, really?” Milly was furious. “Well, he seems to think I am. He wants to promote me too, give me this whole new image.”

  “Oh, I’ll just bet he does!” Bobby shook his head. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to keep a lid on his anger for more than thirty seconds. “You have no idea, do you? You’re so fucking naïve.”

  “I don’t have any idea?” Milly laughed. She was properly angry now. “What about you? You’re too blind to recognize your own motives. You’re jealous!”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Bobby.

  “You are,” Milly insisted. “You don’t want me to succeed. You want to keep me as your little pet project, your little child slave up at the ranch forever.”

  “Now you’re being melodramatic,” he snapped.

  Todd, meanwhile, was sitting back on the couch, enjoying the show. Happily, Bobby was shooting himself in the foot very nicely without any additional help from him. All that repressed cowboy pride—he couldn’t help but push the girl away. Things couldn’t have gone better if he’d scripted tonight’s proceedings himself.

  “Look,” said Bobby, “I’ll make it simple for you: Jimmy Price hurts people. I’m not going to let him hurt you. He may have great horses, but the guy’s evil.”

  “Evil?” she hit back at him. “Now who’s being melodramatic? Anyway”—tossing back her hair, she sat down on the couch beside Todd and, very deliberately, put her hand in his—“I don’t care what you say. I’m not going back to Highwood with you. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. I’ve been given a chance and I’m taking it. If you really cared about me like you say you do, you’d understand that.”

  For a moment she thought she saw something—fear, remorse, desperation even—register in his eyes. But then it was gone, a grille of self-protective impassivity descending in its place. Classic Bobby.

  “Fine,” he said. “That’s just fine. You stay here if that’s what you want. But don’t come running to me when it all falls apart. When you’ve grown up enough to realize that this guy’s using you.” He jabbed a finger at Todd.

  “Using me?” Milly looked genuinely bewildered. “How? For what?”

  “To get to me. To Highwood,” said Bobby. “It’s the ranch
he cares about, Milly, not you.”

  “You know, this really is getting a little crazy,” said Todd, still maintaining a façade of affability. “No one’s trying to get to anyone. All I wanted was to help Milly out. There’s nothing in it for me. The last thing I wanted to do was to come between the two of you.”

  “Save it,” said Bobby, holding up his hand. “You might be able to fool a teenager who doesn’t know any better . . .” Milly’s face flushed with renewed indignation. “But you don’t fool me. I want you out of the business and off my land.”

  “Now, come along, Bobby.” Todd chuckled. “It’s not quite as simple as that, as you well know. I’ve made an investment in Highwood. And that gives me certain legal rights—”

  Before he knew what was happening, he found himself being grabbed for the second time, but now Bobby wasn’t fooling. Within seconds Todd was gasping for breath, panicking as he stared up at two hazel eyes narrowed into slits of liquid hatred.

  “Set foot on my ranch again,” Bobby whispered, “and I swear to God, I’ll kill you. Is that simple enough for you, Mr. Cranborn?”

  Todd nodded helplessly. Hurling him unceremoniously down onto the floor, Bobby stormed out the front door, slamming it behind him with an almighty bang.

  It took a full minute for Todd to regain his composure sufficiently to try to get to his feet.

  “You okay?” he asked Milly.

  “Me? I’m fine,” she said. “It’s you I’m worried about.” But he could see she was shaking like a leaf in her flimsy dress. Any residual drunkenness had been shocked out of her system, and she looked white-faced sober, tearstained, and definitely very far from okay.

  “Come here,” he said. Dragging himself back up onto the couch, he pulled her toward him.

  Instantly he felt her taut body start to relax. Up close like this, her youth was almost palpable, like a living, physical presence. He’d slept with plenty of much younger women, including quite a few teenagers. But there was a world of difference between the hard-nosed nineteen-year-olds of Hollywood, with their surgically sculpted bodies and knowing sexuality, and this fragile little English girl, all softness and innocence and trembling emotion. Bobby was right about her naïveté—and, boy, was it a turn-on.