Rolling Like Thunder. Vicki Lewis Thompson
was embarrassing, posing shirtless and knowing come April I’ll be tacked up on someone’s wall.”
“That reminds me...I brought calendars.”
He groaned. “I was afraid you would.”
“It’s a sales tool. Of course I had to bring them. You haven’t seen the final product, have you?” She pulled her laptop case out from under the seat in front of her.
“No, and I don’t want to see it now.”
“You need to look at it. Don’t forget, the Chance brothers volunteered, so this will give you a mental picture of each one before we get there.” She unzipped her case and pulled out a calendar.
There was his buddy Cade on the front, manly and shirtless as he leaned against the hitching post with a rope coiled over one shoulder. “I don’t need that kind of mental picture of the Chance brothers, thank you very much.”
“The pictures aren’t all like that.” She flipped through the calendar. “See? Here’s Jack Chance, fully dressed, sitting on his horse Bandit. He looks part Native American, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” Finn had to admit that seeing the men in advance would help him remember their names when he met them.
“And here’s Nick Chance, Dominique’s husband. My picture of you is okay, but I’m glad Dominique was available to take the bulk of the shots because she’s such an amazing photographer. And obviously in love with Nick.”
Finn looked at the close-up of a smiling cowboy with dark hair and green eyes. His hat was shoved back, which made him seem friendly, as if he’d be a good guy to share a beer with. “You’re right. This helps. Where’s Gabe?”
“Here.” Chelsea flipped to a picture of a sandy-haired man with a mustache. “Dominique said she had to heckle him to get him to unsnap his shirt but he finally did it.”
“At least he was allowed to wear a shirt.” Finn gazed at the image of Gabe leading a brown-and-white Paint out of the barn. “Some of us weren’t so lucky.”
“Hey, what have you got there?” The flight attendant paused next to his seat. “Oh, let me see!”
Before Finn could protest, Chelsea handed it to her.
“I love this! Can I hold on to it until after takeoff? I’ll bring it back.”
“Sure,” Chelsea said. “Take your time.”
As the flight attendant walked toward the front of the plane, Finn turned to glare at Chelsea. “Now you’ve done it.”
“You were the one charming her with your hat and your ‘thank you, ma’am’ routine.”
“I was just trying to be polite, but now she’s—”
“A potential backer for Thunder Mountain Academy. Obviously your cowboy persona will be an asset this weekend. It never occurred to me that you should dress and act the part, although it should have, so props to you. Brilliant PR move.”
“I wasn’t thinking of it as a PR move.” In some ways it had been a protective one. When a guy ended up in a foster home with no relatives to call his own, he tried to put his best foot forward whenever possible. Finn also owned a three-piece suit, but he was Wyoming born and knew that a suit wouldn’t impress the Chance family nearly as much as a nice hat and polished boots.
“It’s a good look for you, Finn. You should dress like this more often.”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Because I refuse to be one of those guys who wears the clothes because he thinks they look cool but who’s never sat a horse or mucked out a stall.” He wished to hell the flight attendant didn’t have that calendar. Knowing they’d be mailed out to people he’d never met and probably never would meet was one thing. This was completely different.
“But you have ridden and...what was that other thing?”
“Mucked out a stall. Cleaned it out, in other words.”
She studied him. “I can picture you doing that, especially now that I’ve seen you in this outfit. But I hope you don’t wear that gorgeous gray hat to muck out a stall.”
“No, that’s my dress hat. Herb keeps some old straw ones for everyday chores.”
“Oh, right. You were wearing something like that when all of you were at the ranch in June and you Skyped me about Kickstarter ideas. FYI, the gray felt is a vast improvement over that battered straw thing.”
“Thanks.”
“What? No ‘thank you, ma’am’?”
He decided to lay it on thick. Served her right. He gave her his most winning smile and his deepest drawl. “Thank you, ma’am.”
She stared at him for a full three seconds. Then she swallowed and looked away. “You’re welcome.”
Uh-oh. He’d meant it sarcastically, but apparently it hadn’t affected her that way. Unless he was mistaken, he’d just turned her on. And that could present a problem.
Hell, who was he kidding? They’d always had a problem. From that first day in the coffee shop he’d been fascinated by her creativity and zest for life. He loved watching her talk and hearing her laugh. Her mouth was perfect and her skin was impossibly soft, not that he allowed himself to touch it except by accident.
The thought of interacting with her on a personal level as well as a business one scared the crap out of him. If he once gave in and took her to bed, he’d never get a damned thing done. He’d made sure to focus solely on the business angle of their relationship, at least when he was awake. He couldn’t control his dreams.
Then he’d met Alison. Quiet and methodical, she’d been the complete opposite of Chelsea. Alison had made it clear that she wanted him and had pushed for a commitment. He’d had some stupid idea that she was the kind of steady, safe woman he needed in his life.
Marrying her, especially so quickly, had been a huge mistake. She hadn’t absorbed all his attention, but she hadn’t held his interest, either. She’d been understandably upset by his total concentration on his business. He felt damned guilty about that marriage.
And he’d promised himself not to repeat his mistake. These days he only allowed two things to occupy his time: O’Roarke’s Brewhouse and his foster parents’ financial crisis. Making sure they weren’t forced to sell out was his priority this week. As the plane lifted into the air, he renewed his vow that Thunder Mountain Ranch would stay in the family.
* * *
CHELSEA GAZED AT white clouds piled up like whipped cream outside the window. And speaking of whipped cream, she wouldn’t mind being alone with a naked Finn and a can of the stuff. Their trip was minutes old and she was already in trouble.
His lustrous dark hair and startling blue eyes had caught her attention immediately when they’d met in that coffee shop five years ago. His body was nothing to sneeze at, either. When he’d first arrived in Seattle he’d had a tan, but that had gradually faded. His sex appeal hadn’t faded one tiny bit, though. Finn O’Roarke was hot.
Although they’d had chemistry from the beginning, he’d made it clear that he wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship and a business relationship. Disappointing, but she’d learned to live with it. At least she’d been able to see him often, and she’d noted with satisfaction that he spent all his time on work and didn’t date.
Then the rat had showed up with Alison and in practically no time at all they’d been married. Chelsea had hated that with a purple passion, and when the marriage had predictably broken up, she’d decided enough was enough. She’d waited a decent interval and then she’d asked him out. He’d turned her down.
That