“What the hell are you doing?” Lance snapped as he tried to get his horse under control.
Mason moved his horse back, his eyes wide with fright as the animal continued to paw the air, coming dangerously close to him. “I am sorry,” he muttered.
“You're sorry?” Lance smoothed his hands down the horse’s flank and murmured into its ear.
“Look Lance, I know that you're only tolerating me because my last name happens to be Billings, but I'm very good at my job and I have a job to do. I've been asking you to give me the numbers you want to run with and you haven't been forthcoming. What am I supposed to do?”
Lance continued to run his hand over the horse’s glossy flank as he stared at his cousin. Mason might be a prick who was gunning for his ranch, but he was very good at what he did.
“You're right.” He inclined his head slowly. “Come over for dinner later and we'll go over the figures.”
His expression brightened. “I haven't tasted Giles' cooking in ages. I sure look forward to coming over.”
Lance nodded. “How is Aunt Rebecca?”
“Longing to see you.” Mason’s light blue eyes met his. “Our disagreements have nothing to do with her, you know.”
“I agree. I'll take the weekend to go and see her.”
Mason smiled. “We're a team, Lance, and we're family. You need to remember that.”
“I do, every single day. Please excuse me.” He touched the reins and Jet reacted immediately, turning towards the cattle being rounded up by the men.
*****
Mason watched him go, the smile fading from his face. His fingers dug into the leather reins, his mouth tight. He was a salaried worker, just like the rest of the men on the ranch. It didn't matter that his salary was quite significant and came with full benefits. It also came with the house a few miles away from the main house and expenses that were paid by the trust that had been set up years ago. His cousin was younger than he was and had inherited the ranch over him, just like his father had inherited it over his dad. He couldn't exert authority over the men and the other administrative staff that worked for Billings ranch because he wasn't the boss and everyone knew it. It galled him even more to know that he couldn't make a decision without clearing it with Lance because he was the one in charge. He should be in charge! He should be the one calling the shots—not some grimy cowboy who didn't know one end of a tuxedo from the next. The man even refused to ditch the truck he had for the past five years, and what was even worse, it had belonged to his father before he'd taken possession of it. “Easy boy,” Mason whispered as his horse, sensing his agitation, started to paw restlessly. “The damned heat.” He looked back over to where his cousin was shouting out instructions which galvanized his men into action. “I wish he would have a damned heat stroke and drop dead right here!”
Chapter 2
“This is what’s left of my very tall and strapping father.” Amy clutched the silver urn to her breast as if the ashes inside it would give her comfort. She'd arrived at Shadow Point a couple of days ago and had made quick work of arranging the funeral. The request her father had made that he be cremated had made it so much easier for her.
“The ceremony was lovely,” the tall, leanly muscled dark-haired man assured her quietly. Lance was the only one she'd allowed to follow her back to the ranch, and it was because he insisted that she not be alone at a time like this. She'd let him talk her into it because they'd been friends when she'd lived there.
“I never knew that he was so loved.”
“Are you kidding! James Grayson had a kind heart and would listen to anyone. You knew that, Amy.”
She nodded. “People were actually crying.”
“You didn't.” Lance pointed out.
“I prefer to do my grieving in private.”
Lance stared at the woman he hadn't seen in almost sixteen years and realized that she'd changed from a raucous tomboy who could almost outride him, into a beautiful and sophisticated woman. She'd worn a black and white pantsuit for the ceremony and the outfit flattered her full figure. Her almost waist-length hair was secured demurely into a chignon at the back of her neck. Instead of her usual large hoops, she was wearing what looked like diamond knobs in her lobes. Her makeup was understated, her full lips highlighted by pale peach lipstick.
“Okay, let’s do this.” She'd taken off her heels and replaced them with tennis shoes, which made her barely come up to his chest as he walked alongside her.
“He wanted his ashes scattered next to his dad’s grave?” Lance asked as he took her arm and guided her down the steps of the porch.
Amy nodded. “He kept the place up.” The sound of horses whinnying could be heard from the stables nearby.
“He had help from the locals.”
Amy glanced up at the tall, dark man next to her. He wasn't wearing a suit, which of course she didn't expect him to, what with this ungodly heat! He was wearing faded jeans and a black dress shirt that he hadn't bothered to tuck in. He wasn't wearing a hat and the afternoon sun picked out the healthy shine of his dark hair. “What?” he asked as he looked down and caught her gaze on him.
“Am I keeping you from someone?”
“Do you mean work?” he asked her, his green eyes amused.
“No, and you know that I didn't mean work.”
“You aren't. We're here.” There were three graves there and the place was a bower of rioting flowers, wild daisies and daffodils with a few marigolds strewn into the mix.
“It’s beautiful,” he murmured.
“Three generations of Graysons,” Amy murmured as she stood there looking at the graves. “Grandfather and his wife, Great grandfather and now dad.” She grimaced as she opened the urn. “I want a good old-fashioned funeral and wake. The whole works with marching bands and lots of food to eat and people crying over my grave.”
Lance stared at her and laughed.
“What?” she said with a shrug. “I don’t want them burning my body. Do you see how much woman I am? It would probably take two days to get it done. Back to the earth I want to go with my body preserved.”
“I hope you wrote that down somewhere,” Lance told her with a grin. He'd forgotten how entertaining she could be, and how blunt.
“I will.” She walked away from him and stood on a crest to look around. The ranch was modest certainly, compared to Lance Billings’ massive spread, but it could hold its own. James Grayson had poured his heart and soul into the place and had made a very comfortable living with horses and cattle, as well as a nice patch of vegetable garden. The house itself wasn't big, a mere three-bedroom with faded pink bricks and a charming gazebo in the back. “How come you never tried to buy the place from him?”
“My grandfather tried that and he put his foot down, or so I heard. My father respected him too much to even try and I certainly didn't need any more land.”
“As I understand it, you have most of the land in town. There's even a Billings hardware.”
“And farm stores,” he told her with a grin.