He couldn’t add himself to that long, long list. Not when he thought back to the way he’d coaxed a small smile out of her when he’d told her the names of his swans. Not when she’d looked at him, trying so hard to be strong, and asked if he’d still be here when she woke up.
Not when his own father remembered Renee as a little girl who’d needed a friend.
Something had to give. He hit the number for Chloe. “What?” she said, sounding breathless.
“And good afternoon to you, too. Listen,” Oliver said, bracing himself for the lie. He was not naturally good at deception. “You get to deal with ESPN. The contract negotiations are yours.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Is this a joke? Because it’s not funny, Oliver,” she snapped. “You know Dad would never let me do anything beyond carry the flag.”
“No joke,” he assured her. “Consider it a...” His mind scrambled for a reasonable explanation that wasn’t simply I don’t have time for this. “A test run. You do a good job on this, and we’ll give you more responsibilities. Because I think the rodeo should be yours.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie.
“And Dad agreed to this?” she asked, doubt heavy in her voice.
That was the problem with Chloe. She was too perceptive for her own good. “He wants the deal done.” He hedged. “He wants to see how you handle this and the clothing line.”
It’d been Chloe’s idea to capitalize on her popularity as the Princess of the Rodeo by launching an eponymous clothing line. She’d been overseeing the development of jeans, tailored T-shirts and sequined tops with the intent of launching with this year’s rodeo season. So far, so good.
But could she keep up that success and handle high-level negotiations? God, Oliver hoped so.
She was quiet and Oliver wondered if she’d say no. If she did, Oliver was screwed. “You’re sure this isn’t a joke?”
He was surprised at how young she sounded. “Chloe, you know I don’t have a sense of humor.”
“Ha. Ha. Fine.” She blew out a long breath. “I can do this, you know.”
“I know. I’ll forward you the information and let the ESPN people know you’re handling the account from here on out. And Chloe?”
“Yeah?”
He almost told her Renee was upstairs and maybe Chloe could come home for girlfriend time so he could get back to work? But at the last second, Renee’s face floated before him again, a single tear tracing down her cheek. He remembered the way her skin had felt under his hands as he’d wiped that tear away.
Renee needed him. Chloe needed to prove herself with the rodeo. And maybe it was wrong or selfish, but Oliver would rather help Renee than negotiate a TV distribution deal. Besides, all he needed to do for Renee was get her settled and see what he could do to help her out. How hard could that be?
He’d keep Renee’s presence here a secret just a little bit longer. He told Chloe, “Keep an eye out for Pete Wellington. Dad’s concerned he’s going to pull something.”
“Oh, wonderful. There’s nothing I love more than unspecified threats from disgruntled cowboys.” Oliver heard something in her tone beyond annoyance. But before he could figure out what that was, Chloe went on, “Fine. Anything else?”
“And keep Flash out of trouble,” he added, because that was what he always asked her to do. Not that it ever worked. No one could keep that man on the straight and narrow.
“You’re up to something,” she said, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “And when I find out what it is, you’re gonna pay.” With that parting shot, she hung up.
He looked at the clock on the wall. It was already three thirty. He had no idea how long Renee was going to rest but there was no shot in hell of him making it back to the office during the workday at this point.
She needs a friend. Oddly, the little voice that whispered this in his mind wasn’t his own or even Chloe’s—it was his mother’s.
Renee was not family. She wasn’t grandfathered under the long-ago deathbed promise Oliver had made. He didn’t have to take care of her.
And yet...
She needs a friend.
Had Trixie Lawrence said that once upon a time, perhaps when Oliver had complained about how much Renee and Chloe were bugging him and Clint?
He didn’t know. But one thing was clear. If he didn’t do his level best to help Renee out of this situation, his mother would be disappointed in him. Or she would’ve been anyway.
He stared at nothing in particular and then made up his mind. If he was going to get to the truth of the matter, he had to go straight to the source. He hit his lawyer’s number. “Miles? It’s Oliver. I need—”
“No, no—let me guess. Did you finally strangle your father? Or your brother? I’ve got twenty bucks riding on the answer,” Miles Hall replied with a laugh.
“Neither.” Oliver shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be doing any of this. Funny how that wasn’t stopping him. “I need to talk to Clinton Preston. He’s in jail in New York City on fraud charges for—”
“The Preston Pyramid guy?”
He scowled. Did everyone know about the scam but him? Sheesh. He’d have to have Bailey add “major scandals involving people I used to know” to his morning news briefs. “Yeah. Well, the son anyway. I need to talk to him on the phone. Can you make it happen?”
Miles was quiet for a moment. “Give me thirty.”
“Thanks.”
Clint had a hell of a lot to answer for. Starting with why he’d helped his father steal that much money and ending with why he’d asked Oliver to look after Renee.
Then, once Oliver had his answers and made sure Renee was comfortable and safe, he could get back to
