What had gotten into him?
During the rodeo board meeting, thoughts of Erin kept creeping into Sawyerâs head. When he passed the road leading to the Delong ranch, Sawyer decided to visit her. Besides, he could use the excuse that he wanted to ride. He was a cowboy.
He parked his truck and saw Erin in the corral, practicing her barrel racing. He sat and watched her ride the figure eights. Slipping out of his truck, he softly closed the door.
She didnât bounce in her saddle, nor did she yank on the reins. She leaned into the sharp turn, keeping her weight off the horseâs back. They worked in unison as a well-oiled machine. When she finished the last figure eight, she let her horse canter around the corral, cooling both her and the horse.
âYouâve got a good seat,â he said.
âHours of practice.â
Her face glowed and her entire body appeared relaxed and at ease, the most relaxed heâd ever seen her. This was a joyful woman, who loved riding and competing. As she came toward him, he felt himself being drawn to that smile.
Chapter One
Erin Joy Delong stood before the closed conference-room door. On the other side lay the truth she needed to face no matter how ugly. Grasping the doorknob, she took a deep breath and turned it.
All talking ceased. The air-conditioning clicked on, filling the dead silence.
Erin looked at each of the seven men seated around the table. No one would meet her gaze except for the stranger standing at the head of the table. A slide of his presentation on how to reorganize the bicounty rodeo lit the screen behind him.
Her knees nearly buckled. She hadnât gotten the job. No, the job of reorganizing the rodeo that her great-grandfather established had gone to a total stranger.
âErin, we didnât expect you,â Melvin Lowell, the rodeo boardâs president, said.
She didnât doubt it. âSorry Iâm late, but after I talked with dadâs doctors at the hospital this morning, I ran into a big accident on the interstate just outside Albuquerque. Then, finding this unscheduled Thursday meeting proved tricky, since youâd moved it from the rodeo headquarters.â
The men around the table shifted in their chairs as if they were ashamed of themselves. They continued to avoid her gaze.
âHowâs your father?â Mel asked, as if nothing was off-kilter.
She stepped into the elegant meeting room at the new conference center. âHeâs improving from the stroke, but we wonât know the extent of the damage for several days. I drove in as his representative on the board.â
âIs that legal?â Norman Burke, one of the board members from Harding County, asked. âI mean, if he canât talkââ
âYou can call my mother or the floor nurse at the hospital, Sylvia Carter, who witnessed Dad nodding for me to represent him until he came back.â
âOh.â
Erin glanced at the man giving the presentation and caught the hint of a smile that crossed his face before it disappeared.
The muted brush of her boots on the carpet was the only sound in the room as she walked to the empty chair on the opposite side of the table and sat. In front of her was a slick folder that read âTucumcari Rodeo Proposal by Sawyer Jensen.â Her eyes jerked up and clashed with Melvinâs. He didnât look away.
âI take it Mr. Jensen won the contract?â
âYes, we voted for him at the last meeting,â Mel replied, his head held high. âDidnât anyone tell you?â Too much satisfaction laced his voice. Most of the other board members kept their gazes fixed on the table.