Country Thunder: King Creek Cowboys Page 17

  The man nodded. “Sooner or later.”

  “Unfortunately it’s likely sooner.” Jayson headed toward the barn with Thor at his heels, and held back a heavy sigh as he worked his way through the crowd.

  All this for a damned clothing line?

  “No, no, no, no,” shouted Trevor, the photographer who was no wider than a sheet of paper. As thin as he was, it was a wonder he could hold his monster of a camera.

  Trevor braced the camera on his knee and snapped his fingers at the model in front of him.

  In the background, several cowhands gawked. Jayson needed to pay them a visit since they seemed to be distracted by a slip of a woman in a skimpy outfit, instead of doing what he paid them to do.

  Trevor snapped until he caught the model’s attention. “Mina, pay attention. I don’t want to see you staring at any cowboy asses. Leave that to me.”

  The young woman smirked and struck some kind of pose Jayson imagined was supposed to be sexy. The blonde wore skin-tight jeans on her Coke bottle hips and a crazy-ass top that bared her belly. This was what was popular now? Jayson knew nothing about fashion and could care less.

  Jayson preferred strong women, and the country girls he knew kicked ass and took names. They did not look like they just walked out of a Scottsdale boutique on their way to a spa treatment.

  A lot of the country girls around these parts cleaned up real well and were sexy as hell. All without worrying if they were going to break a nail while rounding up cattle.

  That fashion designer hell on heels, who’d be arriving tomorrow, ought to be interesting. No doubt, she’d be one of those women who screamed at the sight of a horsefly and couldn’t figure out what to do with a horse if her life depended on it. He wondered what she’d do if she was told she had to shovel shit for a week to do her damned photoshoot here.

  Yeah, that might be fun to see.

  Thor stayed close and they dodged a hairstylist and a man from the food wagon before ducking into the cool recesses of the barn. Jayson blinked a few times as his eyes grew used to the dim light.

  He’d owned the Flying F since he was in his late twenties. Back then he and his buddies thought it sounded flat out hilarious to name the ranch “I don’t give a Flying Fuck,” only shortened to “the Flying F.”

  Shiloh snorted from one corner of the barn. The pregnant mare made the sound in a way that told Jayson the horse was concerned about the commotion going on outside.

  “It’s okay, girl.” Jayson reached Shiloh and stroked the brindle mare’s nose. “Sorry about that damned mess out there. I’m going fix it, but it looks like I need to talk with the gal running the show tomorrow.” He traced the star on her forehead with his fingertips. “But if it’s too much for you now, I’ll take you over to Justice’s place, where it’ll just be you and a few of your equine pals.”

  Shiloh whickered.

  “Yes, I mean it.” Jayson nodded. “I don’t want you upset, girl.

  She snorted and bobbed her head.

  “Deal.” He patted her neck. He normally would have taken her for a ride. But she was so close to foaling, he wouldn’t ride her hard like he needed right now.

  Jayson moved to Starlight’s stall. The chestnut jerked her head up and down. The mare was high strung to begin with, and the noise outside the barn wasn’t helping anything.

  “Why don’t you, Thor, and I escape this madhouse and go for a ride?” Jayson slid his fingers down her neck.

  Thor barked.

  Starlight snorted and bobbed hear head again in sharp movements. Yeah, she was going to be one hell of a ride today.

  “Well, then. Let’s do it.” He glanced where his cowhands were too busy staring at the model. “But first I need to have a talk with some of my men who aren’t doing what they should be.”

  It wasn’t like them, but they had work to do. With the size of his operation, too much needed to be done to stand around doing nothing but looking at a nearly naked woman.

  After Jayson gave his men a good talking to, and they were back to work, he returned to the barn.

  The Border collie stayed close to Starlight as Jayson grabbed a bridle, a horse blanket and his saddle. When he’d saddled up the mare, he checked her over to make sure she was ready to go in every sense of the word. He grasped her bridle and led her out the rear entrance of the barn, the opposite direction of the insanity that was currently his ranch.

  * * *

  “Oh, crap.” Celine Northland knelt on one knee to gather the many pages from a stack of scattered papers. They’d slid out of the handbag she’d just dropped in the middle of the ramp leading from the airplane to a place she’d rather not be. “Just one more fantastic thing to add to this absolutely perfect day.”

  Not.

  Passengers squeezed by to either side of her. Not one person stopped to help her retrieve the sheets of paper.

  A child tore by and trampled one of the signature pages of a document she needed to sign and return to Monty, her CFO. The girl left a perfect imprint of a small and very dirty shoe where Celine was supposed to sign.

  “Aaaand thank you very much.” Heat crept up Celine’s neck as she looked over her shoulder. “Where the hell are your parents, anyway?” she muttered under her breath.

  A young woman holding a naked doll hurried up the ramp. The woman’s hair was slipping from a French braid and red sauce stained her white shirt. She zipped past Celine and trampled another one of Celine’s pages. “Chloe!”

  Celine groaned. Question answered.

  Kids.

  A sheltered only child—of parents who were each only children—Celine had grown up with a series of private tutors and nannies. Celine hadn’t often been around kids her age, or kids of any age for that matter. She wouldn’t know what to do with one of the little monsters if it landed in her lap.

  God, help me.

  Celine snatched up the soiled papers Monty had scanned and emailed to her, but she hadn’t had a chance to read yet. After she had gathered everything into her arms, she shoved the lot into a folder and stuffed it back into her Louis Vuitton tote with her laptop. She hitched it up on her shoulder, her purse on the other, and headed up the gangway.

  Bright sunshine poured in through the massive windows. She’d never been to Arizona, but she’d heard the usual about Phoenix—you could fry an egg on the sidewalk or bake brownies on a dashboard. And she’d heard the constant refrain, “But it’s a dry heat.”

  Celine didn’t bother peering out the windows for more than a cursory glance. Airports weren’t generally known for allowing passengers a view of much more than tarmac and the usual building clutter. Airports were such messy things.

  She’d been in countless locations around the globe since she was old enough to travel without a nanny. She’d just about seen it all.

  Her parents had never wanted to visit Arizona. Too hot, they’d said. If Celine moved to this state, she likely wouldn’t see her parents unless she dropped in on them in their luxury Manhattan condo.

  Not seeing her parents. Now there was a benefit to moving to a place like this.

  She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for parents who actually cared. Her heart ached and she had to push the thoughts and feelings aside.

  Celine didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings, too focused on making her way to baggage claim. Maybe she’d lived in Manhattan for too long. Like every other New Yorker, she kept her eyes focused ahead and didn’t meet a stranger’s gaze.

  Like the saying went, Things to do, places to go, people to see.

  A breeze came in from the sliding glass doors as she passed them on the lower level, the wind shifting her long silk skirt around her legs. Her outfit was of her design. She wore low heels for comfort, but frequently wore higher heels. She was five-ten, but with three-inch heels she reached six-one, intimidating for most men below that height. But she wasn’t going to stop wearing high heels just to make a man feel good about himself.

  When she’d reached baggage cl
aim, she tapped her foot as she waited for her luggage. The way her day had gone, her bags might have ended up in Pittsburgh.

  Stay strong. Have hope.

  Someday. Someday they’ll be here.

  She’d always figured if a person paid for first class then her luggage should be off the plane first. Never seemed to work out that way.

  Of course, her two hard shell suitcases came up the conveyor belt last, but at least they’d made it to Phoenix with her. She secured her luggage and headed out to catch a cab.

  The airport wasn’t exceptionally busy, and within fifteen minutes she was on her way to the AAA Five Diamond Scottsdale Princess Resort in North Scottsdale. One of Celine’s select few friends, Meredith, had told her she had to go to the Princess when she came to Scottsdale. Meredith knew fine resort living and knew it well.

  The sunshine and the warmth didn’t surprise Celine—she’d never been to Arizona, but she’d seen plenty of photographs. What did surprise her was just how much she liked the view. She’d thought the Phoenix desert would be far too barren for her tastes. But what she saw through the cab’s windows, between the airport and the Princess, called to her in a way that mystified her.

  Clear blue skies and an endless stretch of land that went on for miles, gave her an aching desire to explore this place, so different from any location she’d been before.

  Breathing room. She had none of that in New York City. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to live in a place with so much space.

  And it was a dry heat. No humidity to cause her hair to go curly or melt her insanely expensive designer, supposedly un-meltable, makeup.

  Bonus points for Arizona.

  Celine tapped her fingers on her purse. She needed to focus on the commercial shoot and the print ads. She’d been doing her best to not think about what had become a complete headache. She had to go to a ranch tomorrow, for however long it took to get the commercial done. A ranch somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

  And horses. I’ll be near horses.

  Her throat ached and she shoved the thought aside.

  Why couldn’t Rod have found a place in North Scottsdale instead of going for Monty’s lame rustic ranch idea? From everything she’d read, Scottsdale was much more civilized than Prescott. But she’d only get to spend the one night here, and then off to the Arizona wilds—or so she imagined.

  Celine leaned back in her seat and sighed. To top it off, the location had ended up being selected on a bet, and she’d heard the cowboy who owned the ranch was none too happy to have them. Well, she certainly wasn’t happy about the situation, either.

  She pictured the owner. What was his name? Something like Jack? Jerry? No, it was Jayson. Likely the man was an old, weatherworn cowboy with skin as tough as leather and wrinkles like sand dunes. Probably walked bow-legged on top of that.

  At least Trevor, her photographer, loved the ranch. He had visited the original location and said this one was superb—far better with more opportunities for a great photoshoot and commercial.

  The models had complained about the smell of cow manure until Trevor had threatened to take shots with the models shoveling shit. Celine smiled to herself. Apparently that had shut them up.

  Damn, but she loved Trevor. He was a complete pain in the ass, but he was sharp, knowledgeable, artistic, and just flat out the best in the business. He was worth every damned penny she paid him. And yes, he had assured her, he did shit gold bricks with perfect edges.

  She braced her elbow on the cab windowsill, put her head in her hand, and stared out without seeing.

  Celine wasn’t sure how she was going to do on the ranch. It had been a long time since she’d been close to horses. Her belly took a dive and the wine and cheese she’d had in first class curdled. It would soon come back up.

  It had happened so long ago. How could the pain still be so deep? She should be over it now.

  She should have forgiven herself, but she never had.

  Do I deserve to be free of that guilt?

  She didn’t think she ever could be. Or if she even wanted to be free.

  * * *

  Celine reclined on her hotel bed and idly stared into a glass of Chardonnay that reflected the bedside light. The stack of papers from Monty lay scattered on the comforter beside her. She’d been putting off looking at them.

  No doubt, more money out than in.

  She needed another drink.

  Celine idly played with the soft material of her burnt sienna dress. She loved silk, and she loved the soft flowy outfit she had designed. One benefit of her career—she could create whatever she wanted to wear.

  Her phone rang and she picked it up from the nightstand. Monty lit up the screen.

  She sighed. Lately hearing from Monty meant more bad news than good. She wanted to answer with “What now?” but settled for, “Hi, Monty.”

  “Bad news.” He sounded dead serious.

  Then she did say, “What now?”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve listened to the news today?” he said.

  She frowned. “No time. Why?”

  He sounded genuinely agitated. “Big ransom malware attack all over the damned globe.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Speak English.”

  “A hacker syndicate sends out a ‘bug’ that takes over a company’s computer systems and encrypts all their data. They demand money to give you back control of your own computers. That’s why they call it ransomware.”

  Her heart nearly stopped beating. “And you’re telling me this because…”

  “You got hit with it, Celine,” he said. “Twenty thousand.”

  She almost didn’t dare to ask. “Twenty thousand what?”

  “Dollars,” Monty said. “They’ve ransomed every bit of computer access to your financial records as well as all of your designs. If we don’t pay them, they’ll delete everything.”

  “No.” The word came out on a moan. “Don’t tell me that.”

  “I’m sorry, kid.”

  Celine banged the phone against her forehead. Not now.

  Her head hurt when she brought the phone back to her ear. “What do you recommend?”

  “You don’t have a choice,” he said. “But I’ll make sure you won’t ever get hit again. I’ll get you the best computer protection money can buy.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “Do it.”

  “I’ll take care of everything,” Monty said.

  Celine hung up. The Bearer of Bad News kept giving her more bad news all the time. She should have thought to ask what “the best computer protection money can buy” would cost her.

  “This sucks,” she said and dropped the phone onto the mattress. Now she couldn’t decide if she should review the papers Monty had given her, to get the bad news out of the way all at once—or ignore them in favor of drinking more wine.

  The wine won.

  She took a long swallow. Screw sipping.

  What about my bank accounts? Business and personal? She frowned. Could they have been attacked, too?

  Celine slid her laptop out of the tote beside her on the bed, then booted it up. Maybe she wasn’t the most tech savvy person, but she could find her way around a computer pretty well.

  First, she checked her personal and business bank accounts. Her business account looked a little low, but then she’d had to spend money for one thing after another—necessary expenses per Monty.

  Next, she did a Google search for software that would protect personal computers from outside attack. Multiple links popped up and she chose the most promising. When that company proved useless, she made her way through three more before she found one that could potentially work.

  She never mixed her personal accounts with her business accounts. Monty had said he would be happy to take care of both, but she had declined. She needed to have control of something.

  When she finished, she shoved the laptop into her tote and sagged against the pillows again.

  Hopefully she’d protecte
d her personal accounts. But she was out the door already on the twenty thousand ransomed from her business accounts.

  This sucks.

  Her mobile rang again.

  “Go away,” she wailed.

  She glared at the screen, then relaxed when she saw Meredith.

  “It’s so good to hear your voice,” she said in way of answering.

  “You hadn’t even heard it yet.”

  “I don’t care,” Celine said. “You could just breathe and I’d be happy.”

  Meredith laughed. “What’s going on? Homesick?”

  Celine didn’t know what it was like to be homesick. She shook her head. “Long day, that’s all.”

  Meredith knew about Celine’s business and about a lot of the people in it, but Celine never shared financial issues. She never talked business with friends.

  Not that she had many friends. A handful, if that.

  “Come home and let Rod, Trevor, and Monty handle this commercial thing.” Meredith’s voice pressed into Celine’s head, forcing her to pay attention.

  Celine sipped from the glass. “Liquid courage,” some said. Celine simply considered it to be a fluid way to deal with crap or just plain forget.

  Meredith’s voice tugged Celine to the present. “I saw a gorgeous new pair of earrings at Tiffany’s.”

  “I have to stay.” She wanted to cry at the thought of all the money she had to pay out, not counting the ransomware blackmailing thing. Instead, she swallowed the rest of her drink, then raised her empty glass. “Apparently, I need more wine.”

  Meredith groaned. “Celine, what’s going on?”

  “I’m okay.” Celine had never had a female friend like Meredith. She had made her way into Celine’s life until she had to admit that Meredith was a special person, and one of the best things that had happened in her life. “This is my career and I need to take care of business.”

  Meredith’s sigh was audible over the phone. “I suppose you’re right. I just worry about you.”

  “I know.” Celine smiled. “You’re a wonderful friend and I love you for it.” She set her wine glass on the nightstand. “I’m tired and I’m going to get some sleep.”