The Rebel Tycoon Returns. Katherine Garbera
Читать онлайн книгу.
I am. I’ve been granted full privileges to the club while I’m working on the project.”
“Where are you staying?” she asked.
“With you. I think you might need someone at home with you when you get out of the hospital. Plus, the doctors still can’t figure out why you have these episodes,” he said with a grin.
“Good. You don’t have to stay with me, but I’m glad for the company. I miss you, Chris.”
He stood up and smiled down at his mom. Her face so familiar and dear to him, he brushed a kiss over her forehead and then tucked the covers more closely around her body. “I’ve missed you too, Mom.”
He chatted with her for a few more minutes but then had to leave. He was due to meet Brad. Brad was determined to be the next president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club and, given his background as the son of one of Royal’s banking families, most people thought he was a shoo-in to win. Chris wanted to take a look at the existing buildings and the property so he knew exactly what he was working with on this project. Everyone who’d grown up in Royal was aware of the club, but Chris wanted to get up to speed on the details of the property.
“I’ll stop by tonight before my dinner date,” he said to his mom.
“Perfect. Good luck with your business,” Maggie said.
Chris left with the impression that his mother had no idea how successful he was at what he did. But that didn’t bother him. He was really only interested in making sure that Macy and Harrison knew how successful he was. And before he went back to Dallas, the Reynoldses definitely would.
As soon as he stepped out of the hospital he was reminded it was August in West Texas and hot as Hades. He loosened his tie and pulled out a pair of sunglasses and hit the remote start button on his Range Rover HSE. He was having his Porsche transported to Royal so he could use that while he was in town.
He wanted the locals to know that Chris Richardson was back and he had plenty of money this time. He may not be a full-fledged member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, but he took a lot of pride in knowing that he had enough money in his bank accounts to be one if he pushed.
He wondered what kind of car Macy drove. He should have asked a few more questions about her accident. It was hard for him to imagine the girl he’d known, who’d lived a decidedly charmed life, having to go through that kind of painful recovery. But then life seldom turned out the way that most people thought it would. Chris had proved that by making a success of himself in the same field as Harrison Reynolds. And tonight he’d be sitting in the dining room of the Texas Cattleman’s Club with Macy. Life was sweet.
Macy couldn’t stop looking at herself in the mirror and she knew that was a recipe for disaster, so she forced herself away from it and back to her computer. She had a lot of work to get done before her dinner with Chris.
Chris Richardson. Dang, she’d never expected to see him again. She wished she could say that the years hadn’t been good to him, but they had. If he’d developed a beer belly and lost some of his hair maybe she wouldn’t be quivering in anticipation waiting for six-thirty to roll around.
The doorbell rang and Macy sat up a little straighter, leaving her home office. She heard Jessie, her dad’s housekeeper, talking to someone. Macy rose from her chair, and went out into the hallway. She smiled at Abigail Langley.
Abby and Macy went way back to high school, but they had really become closer after Macy’s accident when Abby had become her rock. Then last year, unexpectedly, Abby’s husband had died of a brain aneurysm and Macy had had a chance to return the favor.
Abby had long wavy red hair and bright blue eyes. She was pretty and tall and walked into the room as if she owned it. Macy envied her friend that confidence. She’d thought the surgeries that restored her looks and her ability to walk would be enough, but this afternoon she’d realized they weren’t.
“Hi, there, Abby,” Macy said.
“Hello, gorgeous! You look wonderful. No need to ask how the doctor’s appointment went.”
Macy flushed. “I still don’t look like me.”
Abby wrapped her arm around Macy’s shoulder. “Yes, you do. This is the new you.”
“You are right. So … guess who I ran into at the hospital?” Macy asked as she led Abby into the den. The room was richly appointed with deep walnut paneling and oversize leather couches and chairs. This was where her father hosted football parties for his college buddies and where, when Macy had turned sixteen, she’d hosted her first boy-girl party.
On the wall was a portrait of her that her father had commissioned when she was eighteen, and Macy took a seat that deliberately kept her back to the picture. She hated looking at old pictures of herself. She didn’t like being reminded of who she used to be.
“Christopher Richardson,” Abby said with a twinkle in her eye.
“How did you know?”
“I have my sources. What did he say?”
“Nothing much. We’re going to dinner tonight so I can catch him up on all the gossip about the club. He’s in town to consult on developing the new clubhouse.”
“Well, that’s news to me. I’m going to have to have a little discussion with Mr. Bradford Price.”
“I wasn’t sure if you knew about it or not,” Macy confessed. Abby was rumored to be the descendant of infamous Texas outlaw Jessamine Golden and was making history herself as the first female member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.
Abby and Macy had bonded over their shared tragedies. When Macy had been so badly injured and struggling to recover, Abby had been there for her, something Macy would never forget.
Abby didn’t say anything else, and Macy was a little worried about her friend. She suspected that Abby was using the connection and campaign to become the next president of the club to distract herself from the fact that Richard was really gone.
“Whose house are we placing the flamingos at next?”
“Mrs. Doubletree has been selected, but we are going to hit TCC first.”
“Great. What time and when?”
“Tonight, but if you can’t make it due to your dinner date, I will understand. In fact, I think we might be moving them while you are dining. You can help out the next time.”
Macy hated to miss out on helping Abby with the flamingos. Since she’d been so badly scarred and had frequently had bandages on to help her healing body stay infection free for the past three years, helping place pink flamingos in the yards of wealthy community members under cover of night had been the only thing she’d really felt comfortable doing to help out.
They placed the flamingos in the yards of different community members, and then the recipient of the flamingoes paid at least ten dollars a bird to have them relocated to another yard. The money was being raised for Helping Hands, a women’s shelter run by Summer Franklin in nearby Somerset.
Macy had always been big into causes, having been on the board of the Reynolds Charitable Trust since she turned twenty-one. But normally she just wrote checks and organized galas. Actually getting out and doing things was new to her.
“I will try to make it. It’s the only thing I’ve really been able to do to help,” Macy said.
“You’ve done more than that,” Abby said. “You’ve been helping me out a lot with my campaign.”
“I think it’s about time that the Texas Cattlemen had some women in their ranks. The shake-up last year helped change it from Daddy’s stuffy old men’s club into something that our generation can really be a part of.”
“I agree. And when I become president of the club, that’s not the only change we will be making.”
“Good