Hoping that she was hiding the shakiness she’d felt since realizing that her prospective client Mr. Smith was The Grayson—famous rodeo rider, local business owner, endorser of everything from beer to saddles—Billie calmly started back to her office. “He’s a client, Amberleigh. No more or less important than any other client. His marital status isn’t relevant.”
Right.
Which was why she’d darn near tripped over her own feet in shock when she’d come out to greet her new client and recognized him. “Besides, you know the rules.” No romantic involvement with clients. It was DeForest Allen’s sacrosanct rule after having seen too many deals go south because of it.
“Keep tellin’ yourself that, hon. Some girls would think losing a job over a guy like that to be well worth it.” Amberleigh smiled knowingly as Billie passed her.
Once in the office that she’d been assigned three weeks ago when she began working with Austin Elite, she moved the chair Grayson had used back to its usual position before sitting down in her own chair.
Then it felt like all the strength in her body left her and she dropped her head onto her desk. Not caring if anyone did see.
From the top of his wavy, caramel-brown hair to the bottom of his expensive boots, Grayson was six-plus feet of drop-dead gorgeous.
Her skin felt flushed and her heart was racing.
She definitely needed to get herself under control before she met him the next day.
“How’d it go with the reigning King of Rodeo, Belinda?”
She sat bolt upright, assuming a confident smile for her boss. She didn’t believe for one second that DeForest Allen had known who her prospective client was before Grayson arrived, any more than Billie had. “It went very well, Mr. Allen. I’m setting up a tour of six properties for tomorrow morning.”
He nodded his silver head. “Close the deal quickly, Belinda. We don’t want another Dickinson situation.”
“No, we don’t, sir.” But inwardly, she’d tensed. She’d hoped by moving from Houston and back home to Austin, she’d have left the Dickinson situation behind her. She reminded herself that she’d been here only a few weeks, though. And trust took time.
Plus the proof of signed sales contracts. Dickinson aside, Billie had had plenty of those since getting her license years earlier. Reminding her boss of them, though, was probably not very politic. Despite her track record, she was still surprised he’d hired her. Austin Elite was the premiere agency in town. She’d never actually expected to be offered a position there.
He cupped the steel door frame of her cubicle, oblivious to the clear fingerprints he left on the glass. He was the firm’s owner and broker, so they were his glass walls to smear up however he wanted. “Don’t wait for the weekly status meeting to keep me posted.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
She waited until he’d entered his own office before letting out another breath.
Did he think she wanted another Dickinson situation? Rhonda Dickinson, reeking of Texas oil money, had been a nightmare of a client, pulling out at the last minute on three different sales because she’d happened to find something that looked “just a teensy bit better” each time.
Of course, they hadn’t been better in the end, either.
Ultimately, she’d blamed Billie—and subsequently the Houston-based agency she’d worked for—for her own inability to commit, and took her business to their chief competitor.
Last Billie had heard, Rhonda still hadn’t signed her name on the bottom of a purchase contract. It was some small comfort, she supposed. If Billie would have been able to get the woman to commit, it would have been her largest sale to date. But now Billie had Grayson Smith—make that Grayson Fortune—as a client.
The Fortune name was a big one around Texas. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was connected to it.
Her phone chimed musically and she automatically reached out to answer it. “Billie Pemberton.”
“You goin’ to Selena’s birthday party this week?”
At the sound of her cousin Max’s voice, Billie glanced at the photos sitting on top of her filing cabinet and plucked one from the collection, of Max taking down a steer. She’d used the excuse of putting Grayson’s water glass there earlier to turn the shot of her cousin away from her new client’s view. “I’m bringing the cupcakes and Mom’s hosting, so yes. You?” Selena was the daughter of a mutual cousin.
Max laughed. “You know I’d skip it if my ma wouldn’t make my life miserable for it. Too bad I’m not on the road somewhere.”
“When are you heading out again?” Even though they each had four older siblings of their own, she and Max had been close as thieves their entire lives. Didn’t hurt that their mothers were sisters, so they’d been raised more like brother and sister than cousins. Now, when Max wasn’t out at some rodeo, he stayed with his folks, Mae and Larry. Billie had a one-bedroom apartment in downtown Austin, into which she was still moving her stuff from Houston.
She opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet and tucked the picture of Max inside. She’d leave it there, where there would be no chance of her newest client spotting it.
It was pretty unlikely the rodeo star would care that she had a photo of the young man who’d bested him in El Paso, but she wasn’t going to take chances.
Nor was she going to take chances that Max would learn the identity of her new high-profile client. After what had happened earlier that year, he’d consider it treason.
“Coleman starts the day after Selena’s deal, so we’ll drive over once it looks like I can git along without Mama getting ticked.”
“Travis going?” When Max’s buddy Travis Conrad wasn’t competing in tie-down roping, he hazed for Max.
“Yeah. Hopefully, we’ll still have enough time to catch some z’s before slack.”
“Slack,” she knew, was the time scheduled for overflow contestants to compete, because they couldn’t all be scheduled into the regular nightly performances. It was generally free to get into, whereas the performances were not. Fortunately for the competitors, a slack event counted just as much as a performance event. Like Max said, the paycheck was the same whether there were paying crowds in the grandstand or not.
Of course, a lot of times that paycheck was a big fat zero. Considering the entrance fees, as well as the cost of getting themselves, their gear and their horse, if they even had one there in the first place, rodeoing often meant cowboys headed on down the road already in the hole. Max loved it, though.
Personally, Billie liked having a bank account that wasn’t always in need of life support.
She turned back to face her desk. “And after Coleman?” She tapped her glass keyboard, systematically printing off the listings Grayson had liked, as well as a few more to recommend if needed.
The Fourth of July was less than a month away and she knew Max would be particularly busy. “How many rodeos are you packing in this year?”
The few weeks in and around the Independence Day holiday were affectionately known as Cowboy Christmas because of the sheer number of opportunities a person had to enter the most rodeos for the most money.
“Long as my truck, trailer and gear hold out, seven, including Reno. Got three saddle bronc riders plus Trav hitching rides with me. Helps a lot on expenses and the driving when we’ll be covering some four thousand miles.”
She grimaced, just thinking about five men packed into such