Page 68 of A Cowboy to Call Her Own

Asher tossed him the bag of chips and said, “Help yourself.”

Pierce popped open the bag, fished out a chip and aimed it at Asher. “You’ll want to read that.”

“What is it?” Asher brushed the crumbs from his hands and opened the folder.

“Your next step up the ladder.” Pierce stuck the chip into his mouth and crunched down. He smiled around the bite. “Figured you might like a new challenge in a new location.”

Asher chased his bite of sandwich with a deep sip of soda as he scanned the top page. “The London office.” That was unexpected. And not entirely off-putting. With more distance between him and Kentucky, surely the memories would fade faster, and he would finally be back to himself. Asher asked, “When do you need an answer?”

“Take as long as you want,” his boss said. “But don’t take any calls from anyone at Fletcher and Rowe Capital.”

How about a call from a cowgirl? Asher avoided checking his phone. Kelley was not calling him. He made sure of that before he left Gold Finch. Asher wrapped up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it in the trash bin. “I’m late for a meeting. I’ll let you know what I decide soon.”

“I’m just going to hang here and finish this sandwich.” Pierce stretched out in the chair and grinned. “Don’t tell anyone where I am.”

“You got it.” Asher tapped the offer letter, then asked, “Do you think this counts as a second act?”

“Are you looking for one?” Pierce took a bite of the sandwich and stared at Asher.

Asher shrugged. “Just recalling a conversation I had back at home.” With a cowgirl he could not quite get off his mind.

“If that’s what it takes to get you to accept the offer, call it whatever suits you,” Pierce said. “Just sign it so I can sleep well knowing you’re working for me and right where you need to be.”

Asher nodded and headed to his next meeting, but he could not shake the feeling that he needed to be somewhere else entirely.

That night, all Asher could do was pace around his empty flat. He did not notice before how sterile his place was. There were no photographs. No pictures on the walls. Just a modern metal art piece the staging company had left when he bought the flat and the furniture in it. Yet, it was the silence that sat heavy around him. He opened the sliding glass door, letting the nighttime buzz of the city sweep in. His ears strained for something different, something more like laughter and easy conversation.

Too restless to sleep, he reached for his backpack and his no-fail distraction: work. Only he pulled out a large yellow envelope with a Foxglove Bank and Trust return address. The financial statements for the Blackwell Stables were inside. Valerie had hand delivered them to Big E at the diner when she caught the older cowboy eating pie there. Asher opened the envelope, pulled out the paperwork and discovered a familiar magazine inside.

He flipped to the sticky note-marked page and chuckled. It was another Velvet Dusk cologne ad with the same cowboy and same white stallion and same tagline about leaving a trail they will remember. Except there were colorful signatures and well wishes from the bank staff covering the page. On the sticky note, someone had written,don’t forget you can leave a trail and follow it back home whenever you want.

Asher picked up the bank statements. He might not be following that trail home, but he could take care of some unfinished business. Logging in to his laptop, Asher got to work on the stable’s financials. The sun was a few hours from rising when Asher finally crawled into bed. He missed his cowgirl and did not know what to do about the ache in his chest. But he knew one thing. There was no financial crisis that drove Walter Blackwell to extreme measures.

That revelation prompted Asher’s phone call to Big E on his way to work later that morning. He wanted Big E to know it was looking less likely that Walter was guilty of doping Pride. If only that did not bring about another set of unanswered questions. The first of which being, if not Walter, then who drugged Pride?

“We’re gonna have to keep digging until we figure things out.” Big E sighed over the phone line. “Seeing as I’ve got you, I have other news.”

Asher’s footsteps slowed. “You don’t sound happy. What happened?”

“I suppose it’s all in how you look at it,” Big E said. “Got a buyer interested in River Run.”

“That’s good.” Asher clenched his phone and switched ears. “That’s what we wanted. That’s real good.” And Asher would be real good soon, too. After all, that was what he wanted.

“Since you’re okay with it, I’ll work out the contract for purchase,” Big E said mildly. “And send it over for your review.”

“That will be fine,” Asher said quickly and walked into the lobby of his office building. “Just fine.”

“And Asher… You should know you were right.”

“About what?” Asher asked. Because nothing was feeling quite right inside him at the moment.

“Derby Dreamer,” Big E replied. “He had a bit of a stumble in warmups at the Rising Star Classic. Nothing serious. No damage done, but he had to be pulled from the main event.”

Asher rubbed his forehead with his free hand. Not exactly how he wanted that to go. “I’m glad he’s okay.”

“How about you?” Big E asked. “You okay out there?”

No. Not quite. But he would be. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m working on it.”