The Bull Rider's Collection (42 page)

“You’re not right, you know that?” Taylor dabbed at her eyes with a napkin, hoping her tears hadn’t wrecked her eye makeup.

“Don’t hate.” Brit raised her eyebrows. “Besides, I bring good news. We’ve already sold five of John’s paintings tonight.”

“Shut up.” Taylor wanted to squeal, or jump up and down, but her stilettos didn’t seem sturdy enough. “You’re teasing.”

“On my honor, I swear.” Brit grinned. “John’s over the moon. He’s been telling everyone how wonderful you are because you believed in him. I think he sang ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ a few times.”

“I’m so happy for him. I should go congratulate him.” Taylor searched the crowd, her gaze landing on her parents. They were talking to that hunk who had been in her mom’s drawing class. Wow, did the boy clean up good. She dropped her gaze down the length of his body, her breath catching a bit. If she weren’t on the clock tonight, he’d be in big trouble. It wouldn’t hurt her to be social for a few minutes. In fact, it would be rude not to say hello. She strolled toward the trio.

“Where are you going? John is on the other side of the gallery,” Brit called after her.

“Just checking in with the folks. Tell John I’ll be right there.” Taylor weaved her way through the crowd, grabbed a fresh glass from a waiter, and slid in next to her father. The three stopped talking and looked at her.

“Hey, pumpkin.” Her father beamed down at her. “You look great when you put on a dress. Need to do that more often.”

“Stop messing with her. Jesse Sullivan, you remember my daughter, Taylor?” Her mom lightly pushed Jesse closer.

The hunk, now known as Jesse, leaned forward and tapped his forehead in some sort of salute. “Good evening, Miss DeMarco.”

“Taylor, please.” Taylor tugged at the arm of her father’s jacket. “You’ll never believe this, but John’s already sold five pieces.”

“See, Jesse, I told you that you won’t regret this decision. John is just one of the many talented new artists my daughter has signed with the gallery.” Her father gave her a little squeeze.

Taylor tilted her head. “Oh, did you buy one of the paintings?” The man hadn’t looked like anything more than a student when she saw him in class. Of course, that didn’t mean he hadn’t come from money.

Jesse smiled. “You could say that.”

Her dad slapped him on the back. “Honey, you’re looking at the new owner of Main Street Gallery. Jesse just bought me out.”

• • •

Jesse watched the surprise fill Taylor’s face, then another emotion—anger? He must be misreading her. He’d just committed way too much of his personal winnings in an art gallery. Barb would kill him when she found out. He’d throw in a promise to ride for at least a few more seasons, just to make sure he didn’t lose everything. He should have waited. He should have said he’d think about it. However, when Professor DeMarco’s husband had mentioned that they were putting the gallery on the market, the words just fell out of his mouth.

It was typical Jesse Sullivan style. Talk first, ask questions later. Man, the family was going to laugh their asses off when he told them. The good news was that Mr. DeMarco had promised Taylor would stay on and manage the place, for the right salary. Jesse’s stomach rolled. He owned a business. He was the man. How could he be the man? He didn’t know anything about corporations, or businesses, or, his conscience added, art.

“I’m looking forward to working with you,” he said. Whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been this silent treatment. “I’m meeting with your father and my people tomorrow at the gallery. Do you want to join us?”

Her eyes widened and Jesse wondered if he’d said something wrong. Finally, she took a deep breath.

“I’ve got to go congratulate our artist.” She glanced at her dad and mom, who watched her very carefully. “Someone has to work around here.”

She spun around and Jesse watched her full skirt twirl. His fingers ached to pick up a pencil and start drawing the folds of that dress. Man, this girl got to him in ways he’d never imagined. Now he had to work with her on a daily basis. He was good and totally screwed.

Mr. DeMarco stared at the retreating form of his daughter. Finally, Susan broke the uncomfortable silence. “Rich, why don’t you take Jesse around the gallery and show him what he’s gotten himself into. Maybe we need to let him think on his decision for a while.”

Yes
, Jesse’s mind screamed,
an escape hatch
. He watched Taylor across the room, her hand on the artist’s arm as she threw her head back to laugh. He felt a stab of jealousy as she smiled at something the man said. Back out, now. Leave, and never return. Don’t throw good money after bad. Run. He thought all these things, and more. When he opened his mouth to speak, he said something that surprised him.

“I don’t want to back out. I want to buy the gallery, if you’ll sell it to me.” Jesse broke his gaze from watching Taylor and turned it back on the couple in front of him.

Rich slapped him on the back. “Now that’s what I like. A man who knows his mind.”

As they walked through the building Jesse had just bought, he thought about Rich’s pronouncement. The one thing Jesse had never been was someone who knew his own mind.

What in the world had he done?

• • •

The next morning he pulled the gang together for a family meeting. His family asked him that very same question more than once. His brother James and his brother’s wife Lizzie had Skyped into the meeting from their home in the mountains. Jesse could see their worried faces fill the laptop’s screen. Barb paced the kitchen where he and Angie sat around the computer.

“Maybe we should let Jesse talk,” his mother said again. Everyone had been talking over each other since he’d announced his plans to buy Main Street Gallery. No one listened, and the voices grew louder.

Jesse saw Angie grab her purse, and wondered if his mother had had enough and was planning a getaway. The woman didn’t deal with conflict, that he knew. An ear splitting horn pierced the cacophony of voices and the kitchen fell silent. Angie held an air horn in her hand. As she glanced around the room, she said, “Why don’t we let Jesse talk now?”

Barb stopped pacing and sat down at the table across from Jesse, glaring at Angie. “Like I can hear anything now, anyway.”

“You should have listened earlier.” Angie shrugged. Jesse tried not to smile. His mother had her own way of dealing with issues. Years in Las Vegas, married to what Jesse assumed was a low-level mob boss, had hardened the woman just a tad. Now she was trying to make amends to her family. Jesse gave her props for trying.

Jesse felt the attention slip from Angie to him. Nervous, he took a sip of coffee from the cup in front of him and almost choked. He glanced at his mother; she’d poured a shot of whiskey in the cup before she’d brought it to him. He blessed her for the liquid courage.

“I bought Main Street Gallery last night,” Jesse said. This had been as far as he’d gotten the first time before the room had erupted in chaos. He swallowed and went on. “I think it will be a good investment. And I have the money set aside, so I don’t know why you’re all so upset.”

Barb looked at him. “Jesse, you know that the initial investment isn’t all the money this is going to cost you. Have you looked at the company’s financials? Is it even making the rent? Alternatively, is payroll covered? People don’t sell profitable businesses, and in this economy, art isn’t high on most people’s lists of must-buys.”

“No, food is more important.” James spoke next. “Face it, Jesse, you got bamboozled. They were looking for a sucker, and you walked into their trap.” He glanced at Lizzie who had picked up one of the twins waving at the computer, trying to get Angie’s attention. “How’d they even find you? Or was this done over a few drinks?”

“The gallery has a great reputation. It’s one of the oldest, privately owned galleries in town. Artists who get their stuff in a show there take off; they’ve launched a lot of new talent.” Jesse said.

“And how would you know that?” James asked. “I’m sure a history of a local galleries wasn’t included in your finance classes at school.”

Angie nodded, encouraging him.

He took a breath.
In for a penny …
“I’m not majoring in finance. I’ve been taking art classes.”

The room stayed quiet. No one spoke until, finally, Angie piped up. “And he’s good, damn good.”

James shook his head. “I don’t believe you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, bro. Nevertheless, one thing’s for sure: it’s your money. Just don’t expect the rest of us to bail you out if you get in a jam.”

“Look, I’m not asking for money. Hell, I’m not even quitting riding.” When she heard Jesse’s words, Barb’s shoulders dropped in relief. “In fact, I’m probably going to have to ride at least another year. I’d planned on going out on top this year, but I’d like to build my savings back up before I charge into this full time.”

“I think you’re too late for that,” James said. Lizzie elbowed him, and he shot her a look. He leaned back and sighed. “But if this is what you want, we’ll support you.”

“Thanks.” Jesse glanced at Barb. As his manager, she could make his life hell for the next two years. “So, you on the Jesse train?”

Barb leaned back too, resigned to the idea. “I can’t say I like it. I don’t think a man can serve two masters. You know bull riding at your level isn’t just about the weekends. You’ll need a strong manager at the gallery to handle things when you’re not available. You got anyone you can trust?”

“I’ve already thought of that. The current manager, Taylor. Her folks said she’d probably stay on, if I made it worth her time.”

“I knew there was a girl in this somewhere,” James said.

Jesse shook his head. “Believe me, she’s not interested in me. I don’t think she dates cowboys. More of a suit kind of gal.”

Angie laughed. “Son, you don’t get it, do you.”

Jesse focused in on his mother. “What?”

“Every woman wants a cowboy. And now that you’ve bought the gallery, she knows you’re not some ranch hand.” Angie smiled and waved at the little boy on the computer screen, who giggled and waved even harder in response. She returned her gaze to Jesse. “You’re now irresistible.”

Jesse thought about the look Taylor had given him when her folks told her that he was her new boss. Hate, loathing, pain. Many emotions had floated through that look, but admiration or lust weren’t even in the ballpark. “I think you’re wrong, Mom. The woman hates me.” Of course, he’d probably messed up any chance of a relationship—professional or otherwise—when he walked in on her getting ready to model for the class. Seeing a woman naked tended to stick with a guy.

“Even more reason to get rid of her and put your own manager into the gallery.” Barb glanced at Angie. “Jesse’s going to be out of town the next three weekends. You want to play gallery owner for him?”

Angie tapped her purple-starred nails on the table. She glanced at Jesse, then back at Barb. “You know, I’ve been thinking I need something to do with my time. I’d love to.”

Jesse nodded. “I think it’s smart. I mean, I don’t want to get rid of Taylor unless I have to, but at least with Mom there, I’d have some sort of connection to the place while I’m out of town. Look, I know I’m asking for your support after the fact.”

James muttered, “Typical Jesse.”

His brother’s words brought heat to Jesse’s face. “I’m the family screw-up, I get that. But I’d really appreciate your support with this. We’ve always been there for each other. I’d like to think you back me on this decision.” He glanced at the clock. “I was supposed to meet the DeMarcos at the gallery today.”

Barb shook her head. “We need to slow this down a little. Give you some time to think out your options. I’ll call and set something up for tomorrow. So the family is supporting this?” Barb glanced around the room, focusing on each person to get consent before she continued. James took the longest to meet her eyes but even he finally nodded. “Then it’s settled. I’ll go over, introduce Angie and myself, and get an accountant set up to go over the books. I’m assuming George will be handling the legal stuff?”

Jesse nodded. George Baxter had been his and James’s lawyer for years. “Would you call him and have him contact the DeMarcos to start pulling together a contract?”

“I’ll talk to him this afternoon. Angie? Can you meet me there tomorrow?” Barb glanced at Angie’s nails and added, “Unless you’re busy.”

“Honey, nothing is more important than when my boy needs me.” Angie focused her attention on Lizzie and James. “Sorry, loves, I won’t be up there this weekend. Expect me bright and early next Monday though. Grandma Angie needs her grandkid fix.”

Jesse heard JR, his nephew, laugh in the background.

He made his goodbyes to his brother and sister-in-law and promised to come up to Shawnee to visit as soon as possible. Angie and Barb were discussing their plans for meeting up the next morning. He caught his mother’s attention. “So how come Grandma Angie’s fine, but I can’t call you Mom?”

Angie shrugged. “The babies don’t know better. They love me. I just don’t want some great catch hearing you call me Mom and thinking I’m old, or something.”

Barb pursed her lips together and Jesse knew she was holding in a laugh. “So tell me about this Taylor. Is she going to give us trouble?”

Jesse thought about the woman who’d posed half nude so effortlessly for a group of college students. He remembered the way she floated through the gallery patrons Monday night, smiling and joking, even after her parents had announced the sale. She had steel balls, that one. He realized the women were waiting for an answer. An answer he wasn’t sure about. Finally, he said the only thing that he knew to be true. “I don’t know.”

Barb cocked her head and watched him. “Usually, you can size someone up in a few minutes and know if they are going to be trouble or not. What’s different about this girl? Or, have you not met her yet?”

Jesse took another swig of the laced coffee before he answered. “I’ve met her, and I still don’t know. She’s strong, and amazing, and beautiful, but I think she’s hiding something inside, really, really deep.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t answer your question.”