Kissin' Tell (Rough Riders #13)(63)

“Yeah. I guess if she ain’t goin’ anywhere, I don’t see the harm in letting it ride. Give yourself a couple of days away from her to figure out if you wanna continue what you started and let her do the same.”


Sound advice. Not what he wanted to hear though. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”


“No problem. You gonna be crushed and moping around like a kicked dog if she’s done with you?”


Probably. “Fuck you.”


He grinned. “Couldn’t resist. But seriously, why aren’t you talkin’ to your brothers about this?”


“I would if I could catch Brandt between diaper changes and Dalton between poker games.”


Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Left you holding the bag again, did they?”


“Like that’s a surprise. You know how it goes, Ben. Seems us middle kids—you, Colt and me—always get stuck with a shit ton more chores than the oldest or the youngest.”


“No sir. It doesn’t have to be that way. Just because Brandt has added on the responsibility of parenting a kid doesn’t give him the right to blow off his ranch responsibilities. I know you and Dalton shouldered way more of the work in the last six months. I’ve been there, cuz, and it sucks ass.”


“You had that issue with Quinn?”


“Yep. Prince Adam arrived and Quinn’s priorities shifted, which meant the day-to-day ranch stuff shifted squarely onto my shoulders. Chase wasn’t around. My dad tried to pick up the slack, but shit wasn’t getting done. Pissed me off. I let my brother know it. Was ugly for a couple weeks, because Quinn is one stubborn cuss, but he got back on track. It would’ve gone on for as long as I let it go on. Confront your brother, Tell, or nothin’ will ever change.”


“I hear ya. I guess if it was just ranch issues with my brothers, I’d be okay, but family stuff can eat away at me until I’ve been chewed up and spit out.”


“Something going on with Uncle Casper?”


“No, Dad ain’t the problem, if you can believe it. My mom… Jesus. She’s so involved in her own life she can’t see that other folks have lives too.”


“Meaning what?”


“Meaning, she expects me to…” Tell shook his head. “Never mind. I feel like a f*ckin’ whiner. No one can take advantage of me without my permission, right? So I just gotta buck up and remember to say no.”


“Good plan. As far as Dalton not pulling his weight?”


Tell shrugged. “He ain’t bad. He covers for me about as much as I cover for him. It’s just Brandt who’s the deadweight.”


Ben shot the baler a disgusted look. “Speaking of deadweight… I’m sick of f*cking with this thing. It’s plain wore out. Time to put in a request for a new one.”


“After all the times it jammed last summer, I’ll back you on that request.”


“This ain’t the only piece of equipment that’s seen better days. Seems everything breaks at the same damn time.”


Ainsley’s car pulled up and Ben’s entire demeanor changed. “Looks like my lunch is here.”


Didn’t sound like Ben was talking about food.


Tell took that as his cue to leave.


On Monday, Georgia loaded her briefcase, trying not to dread the process of cold-call sales pitches. It’d be easier to drive the ten blocks to Sundance’s main drag rather than hoof it in four-inch wedge sandals. The day was much warmer than forecast, and she’d be sweating like a whore in church by the time she reached her destination.


She waited in her car for a moment as she scanned the list of possible advertising sponsors for the Devil’s Tower Rodeo program guide. Barbara’s suggestion of hard-selling the locals—especially after the previous rodeo promotion company’s lack of communication—scared Georgia a little. They’d both agreed playing catch-up at this late date might mean no business owners would be interested. No sales would reflect badly on her, so she had no other option but to channel her inner saleswoman and sell, sell, sell.


Luckily the committee that handled hiring the stock contractor, the entertainment, the rodeo announcers, the special guests and the individual chute sponsors also had commitments from the banks in Sundance for major sponsorships of the rodeo itself.


Her idea—albeit not an original one—was to get the businesses in Sundance, Moorcroft and Hulett to sponsor a grand prize called the cash cow, where the winner could choose between a fully processed and packaged whole cow or the cash equivalent. Their company had seen success with this type of promotion for a small rodeo in Oklahoma, and the participating businesses had a big uptick in the amount of walk-in traffic to their stores.


Georgia inhaled a couple of breaths to calm herself and smoothed the wrinkles from her khaki linen skirt. New businesses had popped up in the years she’d been away, so she’d start there.


Fields, an upscale restaurant that featured locally grown ingredients from vegetables and grains to beef, pork and chicken, took out a big ad.


The hardware store bought a full-page ad. As did Lettie from the Golden Boot. Then Georgia had to wonder if some of the businesses were doing it out of pity because she was a poor pitchwoman.