Always Enough (Meet Me in Montana #2) - Kelly Elliott Page 0,80
I wanted to get back into. It took me a long time to get used to the idea that the PBR wouldn’t be a part of my life anymore, so coming back, and into something totally different, is something I need to think about. I’m not ready to make any long-term commitments.”
Rich leaned back in his chair. I couldn’t tell if he was pissed or honestly confused, like Bill seemed to be.
“Sam didn’t say anything about this being a test run.”
“‘Trial run’—those were the words he used,” I said, a smirk on my face.
“Ty, why wouldn’t you want to do this? The pay is great, you get to travel, you’re surrounded by friends you’ve known since you were, what . . . seventeen?”
“I didn’t go pro until I was twenty.”
Rich closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. Clearly he wasn’t in the mood for fucking around this morning. “You’re the guy we want. The guy we need.”
I chewed my toast, swallowed, then took another drink of my bloody mary. “Why me?”
“Why you?” Bill asked, a befuddled expression on his face. “Have you looked in the mirror lately, Shaw?”
“I have. This morning. What do my looks have to do with this?”
Rich shook his head. “The PBR and CBS are trying to pull in more of an audience. Women are one of the fastest-growing populations of viewers. You put a pretty face in front of the camera, a guy who used to ride . . . and you have a tragic story to tell.”
“Which I’m not telling. That’s all in the past, and I’d like to leave it there.”
This time, Rich and Bill exchanged a look that said they knew something I didn’t. I put my fork down and wiped my mouth, dropping my napkin onto my plate. “What are they not telling me?”
“Sam wants to make your comeback more like a documentary. They want you in Colorado so they can keep an eye on you, film you as you get back into the world of PBR. They’ve already talked about interviewing some people who rode with you—some who rode after, some before. They were even planning on contacting Brock and your folks for interviews.”
I was positive my lower jaw was on the table. “Are you fucking kidding me? They didn’t say a goddamn word about this to me in New York.”
“That’s because it was in the contract. They were probably hoping you’d sign and not look at it.”
Laughing, I looked at them both in disbelief. “I wouldn’t read it? I may not be able to ride a bull again, but I didn’t hit my head and go stupid. I would have had my lawyer look at it.”
Bill spoke next. “Well, that’s the plan. Listen, I don’t give a rat’s ass if you want the documentary done or not, but Rich and I both think you’ll make a great addition to CBS Sports. You know this world like the back of your hand. You were a damn good rider—probably even better than your brother.”
I grinned, then shook my head. “You better not let Brock hear you say that.”
Rich smiled. “Ty, just think about it. You don’t have anything holding you back there in Montana.”
The air in the restaurant changed instantly—and I looked to the entrance. I didn’t even have to see her to know she was here. I smiled at the sight of her. Blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head, strands hanging down in wavy curls. She had on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and sneakers, and her bag was draped over her shoulder.
She looked tired as fuck. And she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
“Judging by the smile on your face, I’m going to guess my last statement wasn’t entirely factual,” Rich said.
I watched as the hostess walked Kaylee in and sat her down at a small table. She smiled and nodded her head as she took the menu from the waitress. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her.
“That’s Kaylee, isn’t it?” Rich asked.
Standing, I looked back at Rich and Bill. “You’re wrong, Rich. I thought I didn’t have anything holding me back, but that’s not the case. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”
I pulled some money out of my wallet and put it on the table.
Not giving them any time to reply, I headed over toward her table. The waitress was setting a cup of coffee down in front of Kaylee. She smiled,