The Maisey Yates Collection : Cowboy Heroes. Maisey Yates
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Sam wasn’t looking to change the business on the ranch. He didn’t care about their family legacy. Not like Chase did. But Chase had made promises to tombstones and he wasn’t about to break them.
It was one of their main sources of contention. So he wasn’t exactly looking forward to having this conversation with his older brother.
But it wasn’t like he could hide it forever. He’d just sort of been hoping he could hide it until he’d shown up with investment money.
“That’s an awfully long pause,” Sam said. “I’m willing to bet that whatever you’re about to say, I’m not going to like it.”
“You know me well. Anna got invited to go to the big community charity event that the West family hosts every year. Now I want to make sure that we can extend our contract with them. Plus...doing horseshoes and gates isn’t cutting it. We can move into doing details on custom homes. To doing art pieces and selling our work across the country, not just locally. To do that we need investors. And the West fund-raiser’s a great place to find them. Plus, if I only have to wear a suit once and can speak to everyone in town that might be interested in a single shot? Well, I can’t beat that.”
“Dammit, Chase, you know I don’t want to commit to something like that.”
“Right. You want to continue on the way we always have. You want to shoe horses when we can, pound metal when the opportunity presents itself, build gates, or whatever else might need doing, then go off and work on sculptures and things in your spare time. But that’s not going to be enough. Less and less is done by hand, and people aren’t willing to pay for handcrafted materials. Machines can build cheaper stuff than we can.
“But the thing is, you can make it look special. You can turn it into something amazing. Like you did with my house. It’s the details that make a house expensive. We can have the sort of clients who don’t want work off an assembly line. The kind who will pay for one of a kind pieces. From art on down to the handles on their kitchen cabinets. We could get into some serious custom work. Vacation homes are starting to spring up around here, plus people are renovating to make rentals thanks to the tourism increase. But we need some investors if we’re really going to get into this.”
“You know I hate this. I don’t like the idea of charging a ton of money for a...for a gate with an elk on it.”
“You’re an artist, Sam,” he said, watching his brother wince as he said the words. “I know you hate that. But it’s true.”
“I hate that, too.”
“You’re talented.”
“I hit metal with a hammer. Sometimes I shape it into something that looks nice. It’s not really all that special.”
“You do more than that and you know it. It’s what people would be willing to pay for. If you would stop being such a nut job about it.”
Sam rubbed the back of his neck, his expression shuttered. “You’ve gotten off topic,” he said finally. “I asked you about Anna, not your schemes for exploiting my talents.”
“Not really. The two are connected. I want to go to this thing to talk to the Wests. I want to talk about investment opportunities and expanding contracts with other people deemed worthy of an invite. In case you haven’t noticed, we weren’t on that list.”
“Yeah, I get that. But why would the lately not-so-great McCormacks be invited?”
“That’s the problem. This place hasn’t been what it was for a couple of generations, and when we lost Mom and Dad...well, we were teenagers trying to keep up a whole industry, and now we work for these people, not with them. I aim to change that.”
“You didn’t think about talking to me?” Sam asked.
“Oh, I did. And I decided I didn’t want to have to deal with you.”
Sam shot him an evil glare. “So you’re going as Anna’s date. And helping her win her bet.”
“Exactly.”
“And you took her out last night, and she went back to your place, and now she’s mad at you.”
Chase held his hands up. “I don’t know what you’re getting at—”
“Yes, you do.” Sam crossed his arms. “Did you bang her?”
Chase recoiled, trying to look horrified at the thought. He didn’t feel horrified at the thought. Which actually made him feel kind of horrified. “I did not.”
“Is that why you’re mad? Because you didn’t?”
His brother was way too perceptive for a guy who pounded heavy things with other heavy things for a living.
“No,” he said. “Anna is my friend. She’s just a friend. We had a slight...altercation last night. But it’s not that big a deal.”
“Big enough that I’m worried with all your stomping around you’re eventually going to fling the wrong thing and hit me with molten metal.”
“Safety first,” Chase said, “always.”
“I bet you say that to your dates, too.”
“You would, too, if you had any.”
Sam flipped Chase the bird in response.
“Just forget about it,” Chase said. “Forget about the stuff with the Wests, and let me deal with it. And forget about Anna.”
When it came to that last directive, he was going to try to do the same.
* * *
Anna was dreading coming face-to-face with Chase again after last night. But she didn’t really have a choice. They were still in this thing. Unless she called it off. But that would be tantamount to admitting that what had happened last night bothered her. And she didn’t want to do that. More, she was almost incapable of doing it. She was pretty sure her pride would wither up and die if she did.
But Chase was coming by her shop again tonight, with some other kind of lesson in mind. Something he’d written down on that stupid legal pad of his. It was ridiculous. All of it was ridiculous.
Herself most of all.
She looked at the clock, gritting her teeth. Chase would be by any moment, and she was no closer to dealing with the feelings, needs and general restlessness that had hit her with the blunt force of a flying wrench than she had been last night.
Then, right on time, the door opened, and in walked Chase. He was still dirty from work today, his face smudged with ash and soot, his shirt sticking to his muscular frame, showing off all those fine muscles underneath. Yeah, that didn’t help.
“How was work?” he asked.
“Fine. Just dealing with putting a new cylinder head on a John Deere. You?”
“Working on a gate.”
“Sounds...fun,” she said, though she didn’t really think it sounded like fun at all.
She liked solving the puzzle when it came to working on engines. Liked that she had the ability to get in there and figure things out. To diagnose the situation.
Standing in front of a hot fire forging metal didn’t really sound like her kind of thing.
Though she couldn’t deny it did pretty fantastic things for Chase’s physique.
“Well, you know it would be fine if Sam wasn’t such a pain in the ass.”
“Sure,” she said, feeling slightly cautious. After last night, she felt like dealing with Chase was like approaching a dog who’d bitten you once. Only, in this case he had kissed her, not bitten her, and he wasn’t a dog. That was the problem. He was just much too much for his own good. Much too much for her own good.
“So,” she said, “what’s on the lesson plan for