Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
Quinn
As usual, Rini has me waiting on her ass. The barbecue starts in an hour and I’m ready and waiting in the lobby of the Phoxes Den. The fairgrounds are only twenty minutes from here but everyone has warned me traffic is bad during rodeo and parking is even worse. Thankfully, the lodge provides transportation to the rodeo. The next Sprinter is leaving in fifteen and we need to be on that one.
We made it to the ranch right after four and impressed doesn’t even describe my feelings about this place. I’m in a country chic heaven for the next two weeks. Between the wood flooring, huge log beams across the large window walls and sloped high ceiling, and the grandeur of this great room, I’m still in awe.
In here are three large, curved, espresso leather couches that encircle a massive tree structure in the middle of the room. The huge branches of the three are the actual ceiling beams. The tables are even custom-made tree trunks. Not only is this creative as hell, it’s absolutely beautiful. Everything in this entire lodge is gorgeous, especially my suite.
The same beautiful hardwood flooring throughout the lodge also graces the floor in my suite. The opulence was evident as soon as I entered. It’s huge with an ensuite bath containing a huge Victorian tub in the middle of the floor, a large sitting area with two high-backed, plush reading chairs and two tree trunk designed tables. It’s early spring so I won’t need a fireplace but there’s also a stoned fireplace in the sitting area.
My favorite part of the suite is the bed area. On top of a beautiful, cowhide-textured, oddly-shaped rug is an obviously hand-crafted, magnificent, grand, weathered timber bed. Four massive wood beams tower high above the mattresses and the thick headboard is cushioned with deep brown leather. To match the gorgeous bed, there is also a weathered timber dresser and nightstand, both with marble tops. Rini’s suite across the hall mirrors mine.
As I wait on her, I flip through my files on my phone. For each possible recruit, I have a promo sheet with a photo, stats, rankings, background, and current stats. I’m looking at a strong ten with Destry as number one and sexy Titus as my number two. For me, he’s for sure number one but not for sponsorship. For every-damn-thing else though. Shit!
I cannot get this man out of my mind. His sexy ass smile, arrogant but cute demeanor, and those soul stirring, dark eyes. Every time he looked at me, I damn near melted. And God! His big, strong hands! When he grabbed my arm, a jolt went through my entire body and I was seconds from moaning. There’s nothing like a confident cowboy, especially a chocolate one. I’m ready to get to this barbecue so I can handle Jaxson Boots business and see Titus again.
Feeling anxious, I text Rini: I swear you better be coming down the stairs right now!
Rini: Bitch! Look up!
When I glance up, I see her walking down the grand staircase, looking cute as hell in our custom pink, snip toe cowgirl boots, distressed jeans, a pink, cropped, oversized long sleeved shirt, and our tan, vented straw cowgirl hat with a pink hatband. She’s repping our brand. All she’s missing is one of our belts. I opted for my chocolate short set with my matching cropped trucker jacket. I, of course, am wearing our cute, tall, brown embroidery boots. I can’t lie; Titus one hundred percent influenced my outfit choice this evening.
“Where’s your hat?” she asks as soon as her feet hit the great room floor.
“For the barbecue?”
“Yes. It’s the rodeo. We are cowgirls for the entire time we’re here.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll wear one but not tonight. I spent too much time flat ironing and laying this flat.”
“You’re going to feel left out,” she warns before walking toward the door. “Come on. I want to take pictures before we leave. We look too damn cute.” When I stand, she turns back and studies my outfit. “Okay, thighs!” she exclaims. “Is this director of branding attire?”
“It sure is. We are going to a barbecue outside with cowboys and cowgirls. I’m dressed perfectly in my opinion.”
“Titus is going to love it.”
Not only has he been stuck in my head, he was the topic of our conversation during our ride here, along with Lab. He looked familiar to her so she looked him up. He used to be a competitor, bull riding, but he got injured and gave it up.
“I’m not thinking about him,” I say and she laughs. Hell, we both do; there wasn’t an ounce of veracity in my words. While smirking, she continues to the door and I follow.
Darkness has fallen and it’s a cool and interestingly quiet night. Even with the lodge sold out to guests, there’s a peaceful silence out here. The sounds of the city are muted on this ranch, creating a tranquilness I’ve never experienced so I take a moment to soak it all in.
There’s nothing but miles of land, a clear sky, and parked vehicles. Although the lodge is located on thousands of acres of land, the actual animals, barns, and ranch life are miles from it. To fully immerse myself in the ranch, I plan on touring it while we are here.
We are barely out here for five minutes before a black Sprinter pulls into the long driveway. It stops in front of us and two women, clearly inebriated, are helped out by the driver. He nods to acknowledge us as he gingerly guides them inside the lodge.
“They’re drunk already. That’s wild as hell,” Rini says while shaking her head.
“Black Ops Bourbon and Backfire Barbeque are sponsoring tonight. Maybe they indulged in too much bourbon before the food. The invite said drinks and apps until dinner at eight.”
“I’m trying to balance both. Brisket and bourbon are my focuses anyway but more brisket than bourbon because we are hitting Forty Acres after this.”
“What’s Forty Acres?”
“The spot to be at. I told you we were going out tonight. I swear you don’t listen when I talk.”
“I listen,” I rebut but she’s right to a certain extent because I did tune her out during the first part of our drive. I was too busy running my notes of the competitors through my mind. She did mention something about going out but that’s all I heard.
“Mm hm,” she scoffs.
The driver walks back out of the lodge along with three other people. Then he welcomes and helps us onto the Sprinter. Rini and I slide into the set of chairs in the front row on the passenger side so we have a clear view of the older cowboy chauffeuring us.
“I’m Rufus, one of your drivers here at the ranch. For the rodeo, we actually have three vans running from six in the morning until one a.m. We each run on thirty-minute schedules. We pick up and drop off here and at the main entrance at the fairgrounds. Don’t miss us and get stuck,” he says with a rich but wheezy laugh.
His parents must have known what he would grow up to be because no other name would fit him. If names have stereotypes, he’s the mold for Rufus. This caramel-toned man is dressed in full cowboy gear. His belly pokes out of his thick plaid shirt and his jeans are obviously his favorite pair. They have that comfortable but worn look; they’ve been through at least one hundred wash cycles. His steel toe boots even have spurs on the side and his hat is tucked comfortably on the dash of the ride. I truly want to call him Uncle Rufus.
I’m fascinated with Uncle Rufus for the entire thirty-minute journey. His rich and jovial historical lecture about the history of the ranch and Millers Pointe rodeo have me glued to his words. He’s a Millers Pointe native who grew up on a small ranch just ten miles from the fairgrounds and loves every moment of his country boy lifestyle. His daughter is a barrel racer and she competes in the morning. I make a mental note to scout out Kacey, with a K, Moore. Just off of the strength of her dad, I want her on our team.
When we make it to the main entrance, the lines are unbelievable. There are actually three separate lines marked: competitors, vendors, and general admission. I pull our vendor lanyards out of my small tote and pass one to Rini. She maneuvers hers over and around her hat and I place my own then pull my long hair through it.
Thankfully, our line is much shorter than the others so we enter the grounds in five minutes and follow the signs through to the Barbecue Kickoff. The rodeo is definitely in full effect. The massive carnival rides, food joints, games, vendors—local and national—and the livestock. There are tents everywhere and the entire vibe is lit. All the sounds of the town and the people are here. And it pains me to say this, but Rini is correct, I should have worn my hat. I feel like an outcast without one.
“I’m getting hungry,” Rini says.
“Girl! You didn’t hear mine growl,” I tease.
My stomach may not be growling but I’m ready to eat. The tent has to be near because the smell of the barbecue is permeating the air and tempting our stomachs. I’m definitely ready to eat some famous Millers Pointe barbecue. We have good spots in Crescent Falls but everyone rants and raves about Backfire.
The large white tent is located off from the actual arena. As soon as we enter, we are greeted by servers with bourbon drinks. I reach for a cocktail and Rini grabs a shot.
“Good food, good drinks, and hopefully good dick later,” she says, whispering her last words.
“I can’t with you.”
“Whatever! Don’t act like your mind isn’t in the gutter with mine, bitch! I know you. Look, I get it. You can be the director of branding here, but after this, I need you to just be my bestie on vacation with some fine ass cowboys. It’s my spring break and I’m outside. What happens at the rodeo stays at the gotdamn rodeo,” she says before clashing her boot shaped shot glass into my whiskey glass.
“Stays at the rodeo,” I say.
She places her empty shot glass on the cocktail table with other discarded glasses while I keep my drink. Before finding a table, my eyes take in the entire tent. Its mundane, white exterior is a stark contradiction to what’s inside. The dining and cocktail tables are all adorned with brown linens and lights are draped in the ceiling.
There’s a small stage up front with two dining tables, no doubt for the commissioners of the rodeo. There’s even a small dance floor in front. It’s filled with people dancing to the music from the live band on the left side of the stage. To the right, there’s a life size bull. Many people are taking pictures in front of and on it. The spark in Rini’s eyes lets me know she wants a pic.
We make our way through the pockets of people and I find the Jaxson Boots table. It’s near the stage and close to one of the portable air conditioners occupying the four corners. While it’s cool outside, the bourbon and crowd are generating warmth in here so the ACs are much appreciated. The table seats six but only four are confirmed for the night, me, Rini, my assistant Mandi, and our marketing manager Cal. They are both already here. After greeting them, Rini sits too.
The tables are decorated to fit the theme of the night as well. The centerpieces are small replicas of a horse saddle and cute little cowboy hats rest on each place setting. Our saddle has Jaxson Boots engraved on the side.
“I don’t think you want to sit,” Mandi leans in and says. “Destry is over there with Cavender’s.”
Cavender’s is our direct competitor and I refuse to see their logo on his shirt. So after taking another sip from my glass, I open my phone, read over his bio again, then stand. “Watch me work,” I tell them before heading to him.
I’m so laser focused on Destry as I walk that I’m caught completely off guard when I feel a hand on my arm. It’s him. Titus. I hadn’t even seen him but I definitely know his touch. When I turn back to face him, that sexy smile is on his face and those dark eyes stare into my soul.
“I hope you’re not leaving,” he says.
“Not before talking to you,” I admit honestly. Pointing my finger, I say, “My table and Rini are over there. I have to handle this first but you are for sure on my agenda for the night.”
“I hope I’m on you…your agenda for all night,” he utters and got damn .
Why is he so sexy?
The sound of his lazy baritone awakens every fiber of my being and sends my nerves into a frenzy of excitement. It’s sensual and feral. Yes, I looked that word up as soon as I was in my ride at that gas station. My curiosity was piqued by all that is him.
When I manage to find my voice, I quickly tell him, “I’ll be right back.”
With reluctance, he releases my arm and I hurriedly continue on to Destry. The rep from Cavender walks off right before I approach. Pictures don’t do this man justice. He’s very handsome and his charming smile adds to his good looks.
“The Destry Callahan,” I say with my arm extended.
He gladly accepts, then, surprising me, he responds, “The Quinn Jaxson.”
I didn’t think he would know who I am.
As if reading my perplexed mind, he adds, “I know exactly who you are.”
“Good because I’ll be watching your qualifying round tomorrow. Callahan, you make eight seconds look effortless.”
“Wouldn’t be much of a show if it looked hard, now would it?” he says in an arrogant cowboy way but I nod in agreement.
“You’re good for the sport, Destry. You know how to handle yourself in and out of the arena, and that’s exactly what sponsors like us look for.”
“I appreciate that. Lookin’ forward to getting that win.”
Without mincing my words, I say assuredly, “I’m sure you will and you’ll be wearing our name.”
He chuckles, either at my words or at his thoughts, because his next words are unexpected but music to my ears. “Whatever the offer is, yes.”
“That easy?” I question with a hint of skepticism. I’m well aware of my family’s name and the reputation of Jaxson Boots but part of me was expecting a little pushback from him.
“Pretty much. I’m not going to turn down money and you took the time.”
“Perfect! Welcome to Jaxson Boots. We can talk logistics tomorrow after the qualifiers. I would say good luck but I know you don’t need it.” I wink and he tips his head as if trying to focus on business but it’s clear from his wandering eyes that something or someone has his attention. Since my mission is accomplished and I have exactly what I came for, I let him off easy. “My team is waiting. Looking forward to partnering with you.”
“Absolutely,” he says with a nod.
After tipping his hat, he walks off and I do too. I spot two more of my potential recruits and make my way to them. I make introductions, give my pitch about the Jaxson Boots team, and allow them to boast about their accomplishments. I pass out my business cards and inform them that I will be attending the qualifying events this week to watch them work.
The qualifying rounds of the competitions start tomorrow. Each event has thirty-two competitors. Sixteen will compete Monday and Tuesday morning and late afternoons. Eight will advance to Wednesday and Thursday and any that don’t advance will have a chance at the wild card on Friday. The two finalists in each event will compete for the championship next week. It’s grueling and highly competitive because the prize purse is sixty-five thousand for each event.
Now that I’ve handled my business, it’s pleasure time and right now, my pleasure is wrapped in all black, staring over at me with a sexy smirk on his lips and lust in his eyes. He’s the good kind of trouble I’m craving to immerse myself in.