as the bitter heat flowed down her throat, her body awakened to a brittle alertness.
“May I join you, Miss Champion?”
The sound of that resonant voice jerked the fragile knot of her nerves. Even before she looked up, she knew who was standing behind her. Brock Tolman was no stranger. They’d met briefly and casually over the years, at rodeos and stock contractor meetings. She’d seen him cross verbal swords with her father more than once. But this was her first one-on-one encounter with the man.
Her first impulse was to fling the hot coffee in his smug, insolent face. But that would accomplish nothing. Let him talk. Find out what his game was. That would be the smart thing to do. The less she reacted to him, the better.
Reining in her temper, she forced herself to speak. “It’s a free country. You can sit anywhere you like.”
“Thank you.” He slipped into the chair on the opposite side of the table, his height and bulk filling the corner, making Tess feel almost small. He was dark and tanned, immaculately groomed, and dressed in a denim shirt and deerskin vest. Tess was suddenly conscious of her rumpled clothes, tousled hair, and eyes reddened from lack of sleep.
He took a sip of his black coffee. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your father,” he said.
“My sister passed on your condolences. Just tell me what you want,” she said.
“Just a conversation. I understand you’ve offered Shane a job, and that he’s accepted.”
“That’s right.”
“You can expect some pretty tough challenges—both for him and for you.”
“Everything’s a challenge these days. We’ll manage.”
“If things don’t work out, there’ll always be a place for him on my ranch.”
“I’m sure he knows that.” Tess tipped the cup to her lips. The coffee had cooled to lukewarm, and her restraint was wearing thin. “I’m aware that you bought my yearling bull from Alma Jensen. And I’ve guessed that you’re behind the buyout on the hayfields near us and on Aaron Frye’s property. Don’t you have bigger fish to fry than the Alamo Canyon Ranch?”
A smile teased at the corners of his surprisingly sensual mouth. “I won’t deny that. Maybe I just want us to be neighbors.”
Her temper flared. “This isn’t a joking matter, Mr. Tolman. Your raising the hay prices has put us in a bind. And something tells me it’s only the beginning. What is it you really want?”
“I think you know. Sell me Whirlwind and you can have free hay for as long as you need it. Sell me your ranch, for a fair price, and you’ll be able to stay in your house and raise your bulls on the land, with no financial worries.”
Tess took a deep breath. “For starters, Whirlwind isn’t for sale. And you already have his brother.”
“His brother is an untried yearling. He may have the bloodlines, but only time will tell whether he can buck. And Whirlwind is just coming into his prime. If he continues to buck like he has this season, I can get him the events and riders that will put him in the running for Bull of the Year.”
“That won’t do us any good if he’s yours—which he won’t be.”
“What’s Chip Harris offering? I’ll top it by twenty percent.”
“Wait—Chip Harris made an offer on Whirlwind?”
One black eyebrow shifted upward. “Your sister didn’t tell you?”
Tess stifled a curse. She knew that Lexie was dead set against selling the bull. But the fact that she’d kept Harris’s offer to herself made things awkward now. “It must’ve slipped her mind,” she said. “Lexie has a lot going on these days.”
“As I’m well aware. But think about your ranch and what that land might be worth. Then think about what you could do with that much cash.”
Tess rose, slinging the strap of her worn leather purse over her shoulder. “What the land is worth doesn’t matter because we’re not selling, Mr. Tolman. You may have taken lessons from the devil himself, but you won’t be doing any business with us!”
With that, she turned away, stalked through the maze of tables, and headed for the door. As she reached it, the last thing she heard was his mocking laugh.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SHANE SAT BUCKLED INTO THE PASSENGER SEAT OF HIS OWN TRUCK, his feet, clad in soft deerskin boots, resting uselessly on the rubber floor mat. Out of habit, he fixed his gaze ahead, on the long ribbon of asphalt that stretched across the cactus-studded desert. But he couldn’t resist glancing