Mistletoe Rodeo (Welcome to Ramblewood) (7 page)

“What about breakfast?” Kay asked.

“Feed it to Barney. The minute I leave, you’re going to make him a plate anyway. This way you won’t have to cook twice.” Chase gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll touch base with you later after I speak with Nola.”

“Give her my best.” Kay reached out and stayed him with her hand. “Chase, I don’t think any less of you for retiring. As a mother, I want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. I had to ask.”

Chase gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, headed toward the back door and snatched his black Stetson off the hook on his way out. He clambered down the porch stairs and headed toward his restored red 1954 Chevy pickup. Despite his net worth, it was one of the few things he owned for himself, and it was his most prized possession, next to his horse, Bocephus. Chase had named him after his favorite country singer, Hank Williams, Jr., who’d been given the famous moniker by Hank’s father.

Normally he’d take Bocephus for a ride to clear his head, but this morning his horse wouldn’t cut it. He wanted Nola. He needed to hear her voice, and the food bank gave him an excuse to call. Driving toward town, Chase dialed her number. Disappointed when he heard her voice mail greeting, he stumbled over leaving a message.

“Hey, Nola, it’s Chase...Chase Langtry. I was wondering, if you—uh—happened to be free, if you—you might want to meet and d-discuss the Ramblewood Food Bank. That’s if you have the time.”

Well, that was brilliant
. Chase was well versed in public speaking. Between interviews, the rodeo school and the various clinics he conducted throughout the country, leaving a simple voice mail shouldn’t have been difficult. And it probably wouldn’t have been if the feel of Nola’s body against his wasn’t still ingrained in his brain. His morning had had a rocky start and he knew Nola’s straightforwardness and sensibility would refocus his attention on the Mistletoe Rodeo.

Who was he kidding? He just wanted the chance to kiss her again.

* * *

“Y
OU
WANTED
TO
see me?” Nola stood in Pete Devereaux’s doorway.

Looking up from behind his desk, Pete motioned for Nola to take a seat in one of the chairs across from him. The man regarded her for a moment, removed his reading glasses, walked to the door and closed it. Returning, he perched on the edge of his desk, making Nola instantly uneasy with him towering over her.

“The Chase Langtry piece was good but not what I had expected. You definitely appealed to the softer side of our viewers, but it wasn’t the angle we agreed on. We shelled out a substantial amount to fly you and George to Vegas to capture a story, regardless of which way it went. With the exception of George’s footage inside the arena, the trip was a waste. We’re a relatively small studio—we can’t afford to send two people on location and not have a story to show for it. Your only saving grace on this was the inclusion of the Mistletoe Rodeo. It’s your story, but I don’t think you’re doing yourself any favors spending time on a holiday piece. Let me assign this to one of our rookies and you can concentrate on something a little more substantial.”

The thought of someone else covering the Mistletoe Rodeo caught her a bit off-guard. She’d handed stories off in the past, but she wasn’t about to loosen her grip on this one.

“With all due respect, I think there’s more to the Mistletoe Rodeo than what you’re seeing on the surface. You have an entire community reaching out to the farmers and ranchers in need. I was stunned at the demand on the food bank, and last night I discovered most towns around here don’t even have one of their own. I’ll admit, at first I thought this was a puff piece. But the more I spoke with Kay Langtry, the more I was convinced this is newsworthy. I would be happy to show you the footage we didn’t use last night—I think you’ll see what I mean.”

“Nola,” Pete argued. “Listen, you’re a strong journalist, but—”

Nola held up her hand and stood. “It’s a solid story if you give it half a chance. And an important one for our community and nationwide. Please don’t belittle my decision to cover it. You have the final say, but if I’m the strong journalist you say I am, then you need to trust my instincts.”

“I’m not questioning your instincts.” Pete straightened, trying to maintain his height advantage.

“Yes, you are.” Nola took a step toward him. “We broadcast to a farming community. In my opinion, a story about their needs and the ways others can help is an important message to get out there. I’m sorry it doesn’t contain a scandal or a violent crime, but I’m not willing to hand it off. Besides, without me there is no story. The Langtrys won’t want anyone else.”

“They would take any reporter if it meant coverage for their cause,” Pete said drily, retreating behind his desk. “Your naïveté surprises me. If you want to run with it, you have my approval. I don’t doubt that you’ll do a good job. I just don’t know if it will be good enough to take you where you want to go.”

Nola smoothed the front of her skirt and then clasped her hands in front of her. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to get back to work.”

“I need you to cover a press conference at ten. HC General has enacted a policy banning Christmas carols and holiday decorations at the hospital, and there’s quite an uproar brewing over there.”

“A Christmas piece?” Nola bit back her sarcasm. “And Dirk would be where?”

Pete slanted her a gaze. “He’s meeting with the prostitute Senator Waegle allegedly hired.”

“And our rookie field reporters?” Tension crept up her spine, but Nola refused to allow Pete to see her annoyance at the assignment.

“It’s a slow news day.” Pete replaced his glasses and sat in his chair without looking up at Nola, irritating her further. “I can’t justify calling one of them in when you’re available.”

“Thank you for your time.” Nola squared her shoulders, turned toward the door and opened it.

“Have a good day,” Pete said.

Nola’s back stiffened for an instant.
This job is only one step to bigger and better things.
The mantra had served her well over the years, reminding her to remain calm and accept that every crap job brought her a little closer to the big time.

“You, too.” Nola strode down the hallway to her closet-size office. She squeezed between her filing cabinet and desk and sank into her chair.

She removed her phone from her bag. Seeing a missed call and voice mail notification from Chase created a slight flutter in her stomach. Ignoring them for a moment, Nola typed out a text message to George, asking him to come to her office.

Inhaling slowly, she attempted to steel her nerves before listening to Chase’s message. Logic told her it was probably about the Mistletoe Rodeo story, but a part of Nola feared it might be one of those I-regret-our-kiss calls.

Chastising herself for fretting like a lovesick teenager, Nola pressed Play on her phone. The nervousness in Chase’s voice immediately made her smile. She checked her watch. He’d called a little more than half an hour ago, and the realization that she didn’t have enough time to meet with him bummed her out a bit.

She dialed his number, her pulse quickening when he answered with his Texas drawl. “Good mornin’. How are you?”

“Good.” That wasn’t exactly true, but hearing the sound of his voice brightened her morning. “How are you?”

“Better now.”

Chase’s declaration surprised Nola. Certainly, he couldn’t mean that talking to her made him feel better. He must have been referring to some problem at the ranch that they had straightened out.

“Is everything okay?” Nola asked.

“It will be.”

That didn’t give her much to go on. “I’d love to meet with you today, but I have a press conference to cover this morning. Are you free this afternoon?”

“I have an appointment, but I’m open after two o’clock,” Chase said. “How about we meet at the food bank? Do you know where it is?”

The food bank. Right. Chase wasn’t asking her out for personal reasons. Of course he wasn’t—his voice mail had clearly stated what he wanted. But she was annoyed with how let down she felt. Maybe Pete was right about the naïveté he’d so delicately pointed out.

“I can look it up online. Two it is. I’ll let you know if I get hung up for any reason.”

“Great. I look forward to seeing you.” His voice, thick and warm, made her limbs feel like Jell-O. Nola was safer when he was fumbling his words. “I had a great time last night.”

Bam!
There it was. The words she wanted to hear—the words she
shouldn’t
want to hear—but, damn, they felt good. “So did I.”

“All right, well, I’ll see you a little later.”

Nola hung up and stomped her feet in excitement.

“By the look on your face I think you owe me another thank-you. I might hold out for lobster dinner instead of lunch.”

Nola’s hand flew to her chest. “George! How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know you were on the phone with lover boy,” George teased. “Hot date?”

“Hardly, considering you’re coming with me.” Nola grabbed the duffel bag she toted to all her field assignments from the top of the filing cabinet. It was filled with hair and makeup products and allowed Nola to convert the passenger side of the van into a virtual mobile styling center. “We’re going to meet him at the food bank this afternoon, but right now we have a press conference to cover.”

“What happened this morning with Pete?” George asked as they walked to the parking lot.

“He basically told me a holiday piece wouldn’t win me any promotions and wanted to hand the story off to a rookie.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I told him it’s my story and I intend to see it through. I think this is the perfect time to discuss the plight of the American farmer. Poverty levels are soaring. I did some research last night and I see exactly what Kay meant by people being generous over the holidays but then forgetting the problem still exists once the season’s over. And it’s not just here. This is a national issue.”

In theory, the story had the potential strength to secure the co-anchor position, especially with Kay at the helm of the cause. When the Langtrys spoke, people listened. Their wealth earned them that influence. Nola only hoped covering this story was worth the risk, because she had a lot to lose at this point, including her heart if she wasn’t careful.

Chapter Five

Chase’s doctor visit went better than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t done any further damage to his shoulder, and rest, along with continued physical therapy, were his only prescriptions. He could live with that. The rodeo school was almost finished for the year and the next session wouldn’t begin until the first week in February. As long as he didn’t get on top of anything that bucked for the next two weeks, he should be able to ride in the Mistletoe Rodeo.

Thinking back to the weeks leading up to Las Vegas, Chase realized he had been in a negative mindset going into it. Retirement had been at the forefront of his mind along with stress over the pending announcement. Even without his injury, he’d never had a chance of winning with that attitude. He’d given that same counsel to many of his students over the years.

After Chase heard back from Nola, he made an appearance at the school and managed to do some coaching from the fence rails. Taking Cole’s advice, Chase had opted not to call his agent until after the holidays, but he knew nothing would change before then. He would prefer to hold off telling Shane a little while longer as well, but he knew he’d have to do it as soon as his brother arrived home. Shane had flown out to Colorado that morning to represent the school at a two-day rodeo clinic.

Chase’s relationship with Shane had come a long way. Shane had some turbulent times in his past: a short-lived marriage to a rodeo groupie he didn’t love, a baby boy he’d thought was his but who’d been taken away by the real father, a son with Lexi who’d been given up for adoption long before Shane had even known he existed and the financial battle with his brothers. Chase had to give him credit for turning things around, but a part of him still didn’t fully trust what his brother’s reaction to his retirement would be. It was a conversation he needed to have in person, not over the phone.

Chase pulled up to the Ramblewood Food Bank a few minutes late. The sight of the KWTT news van in the parking lot disappointed him. He’d forgotten Nola would have George with her, although of course he would be there to film the story. Nola stepped out of the van as he approached—long, lean legs beneath a fitted purple skirt and matching jacket. Nude high-heeled pumps made her legs appear endless, and Chase struggled to maintain his focus on why they were there.

Standing face-to-face with Nola, Chase wasn’t sure what to do. Hug her, give her a peck on the cheek, shake hands? After their intimacy the previous night, anything less than a kiss hello seemed inadequate. But they needed to maintain a professional appearance. Jamming his hands into his pockets seemed like the best option.

“Hi.” Apparently, he was incapable of forming more than one syllable.

“Hi yourself.” Nola smiled, dimples he’d never noticed before gracing either side of her mouth.

“Wow, you two are great conversationalists.” George walked between them shaking his head. “Before you wear each other out, let’s get to work.”

A tinge of red crept into Nola’s cheeks, a flush Chase found endearing. One he feared matched his own.

After introductions and a tour of the facility, Nola and George began filming. “I’m Nola West, reporting from the Ramblewood Food Bank. We have over three hundred families living on or below the poverty line in Ramblewood and the surrounding areas. While the community generously donates food and clothing over the holiday season, continued support is vital to these families throughout the year. In a few weeks, in collaboration with the Bridle Dance Ranch, Ramblewood will host their first annual Mistletoe Rodeo, with all proceeds going directly to the food bank. Many area businesses are donating time, services and items for people in need. If you’ll follow me inside, we’ll show you the inner workings of the organization. With me today is Evelyn Koch, the food bank director. Evelyn, thank you for having us today.”

“You’re more than welcome.” Poor Evelyn, a longtime friend of Kay’s, looked as if she’d drop from nervousness at any moment. The older woman did her best to speak slowly and clearly, but maybe a little too much so. “We started the food bank for people who had a crisis in the family or unexpected medical bills. Some were heading into foreclosure and unable to make ends meet. Providing them with free food and clothing allowed them to focus on making their mortgage payments so they wouldn’t lose their homes. The popular misconception about food banks is that the people who use them are lazy and don’t want to work. Many people we aid have employment but are still having trouble staying afloat. Some don’t even require long-term assistance. If you lose your job or you’re starting a new one and there’s a gap before you receive your first paycheck, we’re here to help.”

“I have to say, when I came in here I expected to see only food,” Nola continued. “Clothing was a surprise, but it makes sense. What completely caught me off-guard was the amount of infant products—diapers, formula, toys.”

“It’s not just adults who need our help.” The mention of children seemed to give Evelyn some strength. “Children especially feel the effects of this economic slump. While many are on meal programs provided by their schools, those programs don’t provide enough to feed them for the entire day, and certainly not on the weekends or on school breaks. Demand on the food bank increases in the summer, especially when employed parents have additional child-care expenses.”

Evelyn led Nola and George through the facility, explaining the various sections for the viewers.

“I see you’re building an addition,” Nola said.

“We’ll have our unveiling after the Mistletoe Rodeo.” Chase enjoyed watching as Evelyn’s excitement began to override her nervousness. “The addition will triple the size of the food bank. It houses an industrial kitchen and large dining area where we’ll be able to prepare and serve meals and accommodate those seeking temporary shelter. It’s being built entirely by volunteers, with local companies donating a hundred percent of the building materials. We couldn’t be more thankful. We, in turn, plan to pay their generosity forward by doing whatever we can to help the community.”

“Look at all the presents you have wrapped and ready to go.” Nola indicated a multidenominational holiday area housing presorted boxes filled with gifts.

“We’ll deliver those on Christmas and during Hanukkah. Thanks to some very generous donations, every family will receive some items from their children’s wish lists, along with the essentials to prepare their holiday meals.”

For a moment, Chase thought he saw Nola waver, but she recovered quickly. He wondered if some part of this story was getting to her, making her think of the unhappy Christmases she’d experienced growing up.

“Poverty affects not only Ramblewood and the neighboring communities, but also many places throughout the country,” Nola addressed the camera. “We ask that you contribute in any way you can to the Ramblewood Food Bank, whether it’s through financial contributions, food or clothing donations or by dropping off an unwrapped gift for a child in need. Many local businesses are accepting donations on the food bank’s behalf—just look for the RFB logo in the window or check the Ramblewood Food Bank website, which features a list of locations throughout the county. Anything you can do to help support this center is greatly appreciated.”

Chase felt like an absolute hypocrite as he listened to Nola interview various volunteers. Although he respected his mother’s tireless efforts to give back to the community, the fact that so many of his neighbors were struggling when he had so much bothered him. His ranch animals lived in better homes than some people he knew. Chase wasn’t ignorant of the resentment that existed toward the Langtrys for that very reason and he honestly couldn’t blame anyone. He supposed that might in part be what drove his mother in the work she’d done since her husband’s passing: the need for acceptance and the desire to show that the Langtry family as a whole wasn’t as greedy as they sometimes appeared to be.

The amount of people living paycheck to paycheck stunned Chase. He knew many of his friends didn’t have the money to do some of the things they wanted, a stark contrast to his own experience. Growing up, he and his brothers had never wanted for anything, and when it came to horses and the rodeo, Chase’s father had spared no expense. But the Langtrys had been determined to instill good values in their children. The boys didn’t receive expensive cars when they got their driver’s licenses—their first vehicles were hand-me-down ranch pickups that had seen better days. And even though the family could afford to travel anywhere in the world, they had usually gone camping at Callicoon Lake, where they rented an extremely rustic cabin.

“This year we are able to provide Christmas trees to all families in need thanks to a generous donation from the Wilson Tree Farm,” Evelyn added. “We’ve also put together programs that allow children to come in and make ornaments and presents for their families at no cost, allowing them to feel as though they’re contributing to the holiday.”

Nola faced the camera once again, describing the events scheduled for the day of the Mistletoe Rodeo, then took a few steps to stand beside Chase. “We have one of the chairpersons of the Mistletoe Rodeo here with us today, Chase Langtry.”

Now was about the time Chase wanted to strangle Nola. He was completely unprepared for an interview, but he managed to get through it unscathed. When George finally put the camera down and Nola stopped waving the microphone in front of his face, he noticed his three sisters-in-law standing in the background and went over to greet them.

“Bravo.” Lexi applauded while both Tess and Miranda wolf whistled at him, causing everyone in the food bank to look in his direction.

“I think Nola brings out the best in you.” Miranda poked Chase in the ribs as he ducked out the door.

“Shh.” Chase looked around for Nola. “Keep your voice down.”

“Relax.” Miranda waved a hand at him dismissively. “She’s getting her gear packed up—she can’t hear us.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want anyone else to hear you, either.”

“Come on.” Tess squeezed in between him and Miranda, draping an arm over each of them. “Dish, oh, brother-in-law of ours. You like her, don’t you?”

“What are you doing here anyway?” Chase unwrapped himself from Tess’s clutches, only to find himself inches from Lexi’s expectant gaze. “Don’t you all have jobs?”

“We do,” Lexi said. “And today one of those jobs is dropping stuff off at the food bank.”

“Imagine our surprise when we found you here,” Miranda said.

“Considering the fact that I called Mom and told her Nola and I were meeting here this afternoon, I’m sure you couldn’t have been that surprised.”

“Okay,” Tess confessed. “We knew, and now we want details.”

“How can three such beautiful women be so vicious?” Chase teased. He knew the brides of Bridle Dance wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace until he admitted he liked Nola, but he refused to give them the satisfaction. “Nola and I are just working together.”

“Then, leave it to us to correct that.” Lexi motioned for the other two women to follow her as she crossed the parking lot to Nola.

Chase might as well sign his own death warrant right now. It was bad enough he had his mother playing matchmaker, but now he had his brothers’ wives adding to the mix. This could only mean one thing—they were about to embarrass him in some way. He was doomed.

If Chase had a shot with Nola, he didn’t know which was more likely to end in disaster—trying to win her over on his own or leaving it up to the terrible trio.

* * *

“
D
ON
’
T
LOOK
NOW
,
but we have company.” George nodded toward the group of Langtry women fast approaching.

Nola wasn’t sure what to expect, but based on their welcoming attitudes the previous night, she didn’t feel she had anything to fear, at least not yet anyway.

“Hey, Nola, George,” Lexi said. “Thank you so much for taking the time to cover such an important story. I can’t even begin to tell you how much this means to Kay and the rest of the family.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m embarrassed that I haven’t covered this before. I knew of the food bank but I didn’t realize how substantial a role it played in the community. I’m overwhelmed by the need for it.”

“Are you willing to do a little more to help out?” Tess asked.

“Of course. What do you need?”

“Between the Mistletoe Rodeo and the food bank, we have thousands of cookies we need to make and decorate,” Tess continued. “A bunch of us are meeting at The Magpie tonight for a baking party. My mom is lending us the use of the upstairs catering kitchen and we’d love to have you join us. We could really use the extra set of hands.”

“Um, sure.” Nola had to suppress the jolt of excitement that buzzed through her at the invitation. She couldn’t remember ever being a part of something like it before. “I was going to stop in and see Kylie this evening—would it be possible for her to come along?”

“Of course, and maybe she can wrangle that boyfriend of hers into coming, as well. All of the Langtry men will be there, plus a few others.”

“They will?” Miranda asked.

“Of course they will. Don’t you remember?” A look passed between Lexi and Miranda that told Nola no such plans had been discussed with any of the men.

“Oh, yes.” Miranda feigned innocence. “It must’ve slipped my mind.”

“All right, guys. You can cut the act. I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Lexi said. “Around seven tonight?”

“Seven, it is,” Nola said.

“Have you lost your mind?” George said as the women walked away. “You don’t know the first thing about baking. In fact, I don’t even think you know how to turn on an oven.”

“That’s not true.”

“You forget I’ve been to your condo. The only food you have in there is those frozen TV-dinner things.”

“I know how to turn the oven on, George.” Nola rolled her eyes. “I’ve just never had the motivation to do so.”

“Well, I’ll call the fire department and tell them to be on standby, just in case.”

Nola punched George in the arm, hard.