Page 7 of Easy Rider
“Good to see you again.” I smile. “Dad says hi.”
“Sit.” He points to the shoddy, ripped recliner in the corner. “Please, make yourself at home.”
I check out the trailer. He could probably take this on the road today, if he wanted to. There’s probably a kitchen and living area behind the wall that cuts across the room. That small pocket door leads somewhere.
Mr. Lutton limps back to his desk. “How was the flight, good?”
“Yes, thank you,” I say, peering at the maps and invoices tacked on the walls.
“Bet you’re excited about the commission you’re going to make on this deal.”
“Dad and I haven’t exactly worked out the commission yet.” Fact is, I’m not making a dime off this deal. I’m here to poke around and give Dad my opinion as a favor. Not that he doesn’t trust Mr. and Mrs. Lutton. He does. They’ve owned Flying Hearts Ranch for as long as I can remember and employ half the town. That’s one of the reasons my father wants to buy it.
Even though we live in Dallas now, we still have family here. Dad cares about West Palomino. He never even sold our old house; he’s only renting it out.
“Should we get the bad news out of the way?”
My heart drops. “What is it?”
“I know your time is limited and we were scheduled for a tour today, but I’m telling you,” he moans, “my gosh-darn back is out of whack again.” Mr. Lutton frowns, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have lifted that hay this morning. I’ve taken a handful of ibuprofen and it hasn’t made a dent in the pain. I need to get to the chiropractor.”
“Oh no.” I grimace, now realizing it probably killed him to get up and shake my hand. “Please, don’t worry about me.”
I stare out the door, remembering where I saw Mr. Lutton’s Rover in the lot. Stew will have to hobble down two steps from this trailer to even get to level ground. Then he’ll have to walk at least twenty yards. I can’t imagine how he’s going to make it by himself. “I think, maybe, if we take it slow and you lean on my shoulder, we can get to your Rover. Then I can drive you to the chiropractor.”
“You tiny thing? Aww, you’re sweet, but I’ve already called Mary. She’s rounding up one of my boys to help. Besides, we’ve got a schedule to keep.” He winces as he reaches for a banged-up old-fashioned corded phone.
“I can come back. I’m here for five whole days. I’m wide open.” I catch his eye so he knows I’m serious. He’s not putting me out in the slightest.
“Nonsense.” He bats at the air. “We’re getting this deal done ASAP. I’d really like to see your father get this place.”
“But no one else even knows you’re thinking of selling, correct?”
“Well, I hope not.” Stew chuckles. “But you never really know in a small town. Once you start talking about month-long vacations and the like, it doesn’t take much for folks to know you’re thinking about retiring. There are a few people sniffing around.”
Stew picks up the receiver and dials a number. He gives me a confident nod while he waits for whoever he’s calling to pick up.
“Do you have some time today?” Stew asks into the receiver, fiddling with a pencil. “’Bout an hour. Thanks. We’re in my office.” Stew hangs up and slowly turns back to me. “You know Ryder West, don’t you?”
No. No. No.My heart falls to the floor as I start patting my purse like a nutcase. I have it on my lap and don’t know what else to do with my hands. Shit. I bite my lip, giving Stew the best “Sure, I know him” I can manage.
“Good. You’re okay with him driving you around today, then?”
How ’bout I just get the hell out of here and come back when you’re better?“Of course.”
“Excellent. You can call me tonight if you have any questions. I know where I’ll be.” Stew smirks, bringing his hand to his lower back. “I’ll be laid out in bed staring up at the ceiling.”
I let out a shuddering sigh as my mind races to figure a way out of this situation. “I hope you feel at least a little better by then.”
“Maybe, darlin’. Let’s hope so. So, how do you and Ryder know each other? Refresh my memory—”
“Oh, Emma and I go way back.” Ryder’s deep voice reverberates from the doorway. I gasp, my head jolting toward the sound. Ryder gives me such a shit-eating grin it makes my heart jump up from the floor, through my body, and out the top of my head. “Emma was the top barrel racer in high school. You sure did know how to ride, didn’t you, Emma?”
How does he even remember me barrel racing? And I’m for damn sure not touching the subject ofridingwith a ten-foot pole.
I chuckle nervously, breaking out into a sweat. My hair is clinging to the back of my neck. I need to keep my cool and focus on the deal, but how the hell am I supposed to do that trapped in a car with him?
Shit, shit, shit.
