The woman shifted in her chair, facing him and demanding his attention. “I develop strategies for dealing with legislators and community leaders to safeguard and enhance corporate images.”
So she’d talked Eric into giving her a title, and even a job description. This might be a woman to be reckoned with—but he’d handle her. He doubted she was any tougher than a rodeo bull.
“That’s a mouthful,” he said.
“It’s really fairly simple.” She leaned toward him, speaking slowly as if he was some kind of idiot. “I find ways to help people understand what we do.”
“What Carrigan does.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said we. And you’re not a Carrigan. You’re a publicity flack.”
Eric stirred. “She’s part of the team. And she’s worked miracles for other companies. New West Corporation. Holt Communications.”
“Isn’t New West the company that developed a hundred thousand acres of Texas hill country into an industrial park?” Lane asked. “Shame about all the green grass and bluebonnets. And didn’t Holt Communications string transmission lines over half of Colorado?”
The woman straightened her shoulders and gave Lane a tight smile. He could tell her nervous tension threatened to pull it out of shape. “Green grass and bluebonnets don’t provide jobs for people,” she said. “And those transmission lines helped bring high-speed Internet to the reservation, among other things.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re one of those people that sees the bright side.” He gave her a teasing smile and knew he’d scored himself a point when she looked away, frowning. “I should have known. You seem like a real Little Miss Sunshine type.”
He could see why Eric was attracted to her. She was pretty in a buttoned-up, businesslike way, but there was a lot of energy crackling behind those cool, expressionless eyes. Her tightly controlled demeanor was a challenge, and he wondered what it would take to get her out of that square-shouldered, double-breasted suit.
“I’m not Little Miss anything, Mr. Carrigan. And I’m definitely not sunny.” She seemed to realize how silly the statement sounded and shifted uneasily. Another point for him.
“You’re not, are you?” Lane settled back in his chair. “Well, sunny or not, digging up the LT Ranch isn’t going to help anybody but Carrigan and its shareholders.”
“We’re hardly digging anything up,” she said. “The process can move forward with minimal environmental impact.”
“Really. Who told you that?”
“The company engineers.”
“Wow. I wonder who paid them to say that.”
Eric bristled. “The methodology of our scientists is unassailable.”
“You always did go for the ten-dollar words,” Lane said to his brother. “Environmental impact. Methodology. Unassailable. You sound like you’re reading from a report by one of those engineers you’re so proud of.”
“Where do you want us to get our information?” The woman tilted her pretty nose in the air. “Pro Rodeo News?”
He narrowed his eyes and shot her a glare. So she thought he was just a stupid cowboy? He’d show her different.
He’d show her a lot of things.
“Mr. Carrigan, it really won’t be a problem.” She seemed to realize she’d stepped over the line and sounded a little less patronizing. “You’ll be able to graze cattle even as they set things up, and you’ll barely notice the difference once drilling is under way. There will be some extra traffic on the ranch roads initially, and we’ll have to dig a shallow pipeline trench, but the land will be restored to its original condition almost immediately.”
Lane set his elbows on his knees and looked her in the eye. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Well, I don’t.”
She lifted her chin. “What part of it is a problem for you?”
His eyes met hers with a discomfiting intensity that shot straight to her core. She squeezed her legs together and saw a faint smile tweak his lips.
“The problem is the part where you invade my land, construct a series of eyesore oil rigs, dig trenches across my pastures ’til the place looks like France in World War I, and scare my cattle into miscarrying with your construction racket,” he said. “And then you overrun my hometown with transient workers who degrade the community and bleed law enforcement dollars without paying a dime toward local taxes.”
“Your hometown?”
“Two Shot,” he said. “It’s a little place on…”
“I’m familiar with Two Shot,” she said. “Do you really think it’s worth saving?”
***
Sarah cursed herself inwardly for rising to the bait. Her intimate knowledge of Two Shot was the last thing she wanted to talk about.
But how could Lane Carrigan call it his hometown? It was her hometown, and she’d never seen him