When Mandy Prescott had called to offer her the job in Denver, she’d turned it down. She’d told Mandy about her father’s heart attack and her decision to work at the family business. Mandy had been surprisingly supportive, telling Libby she understood the decision since her own grandfather, the head of Prescott Rodeo, was seriously ill, and Mandy wouldn’t think of leaving the business in other hands.
“I’m good, Daddy.” She scooped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and enjoyed the taste sensation of cold chocolate and icy hazelnut.
“Libby, it’s been weeks since you went to that rodeo with Deidre Cochran. You can’t go on like this.”
“Like what?” she asked, although she knew exactly what he would answer. He’d been telling her for days.
“You’ve become a workaholic at the dealership. Every day, 8:00 a.m. until closing. No break. And when you are home, you sit on this couch, watching mindless reality shows and eating ice cream.”
“It’s all that appeals to me.”
He let out a long sigh. “It’s not the ice cream. It’s the routine. It’s not healthy. You need some balance. Take it from someone who is paying for years of the wrong routine. You need to get on with your life.”
She felt the tears swamp her eyes. “I don’t want to get on with my life.” Why should she? It wasn’t the life she wanted. She stroked Cowboy’s soft fur, hoping it would calm her some.
“So you’re going to stay in a holding pattern, never moving forward?”
She wasn’t ready to move forward. She didn’t know where forward would lead, but she was sure she wouldn’t like it, so she was in no hurry to get there. “Yes.”
Her father shook his head, his eyes showing concern. “Look, you’ve got to accept Chance’s decision.”
“I have accepted his decision. And my ‘routine,’ as you call it, has nothing to do with him. I am putting in the hours at work because, surprisingly, I enjoy it. It’s not at all what I thought it would be. And I’ve got a lot to learn, so I need to put in the time. The rest is just my way of relaxing.”
At least she was functional. She went to the dealership every day. She’d run tons of analysis on inventory, customers, potential markets, and promotions. And the insights she gained had been paying off. From the price points to the targeted direct mails to the customer service upgrades, she’d seen an uptick in volume. Slow but perceptible. And every moment she focused on work was one less moment she was thinking about Chance. Or her father’s health.
“And that’s all good. But at what cost to you?”
“No cost. This is what I want to be doing. Now and in the foreseeable future. Isn’t this what you wanted all along? Your daughter running the business rather than running after Chance Cochran?”
“I want you to be happy. If I’ve learned anything these last few weeks, it is that life is short. I wish I could knock some sense into that boy.”
“I thought you were worried about how he’d treat me?”
Her father nodded. “I was, but if he didn’t do anything when Deidre showed up, well, I can’t think of a bigger button for you to have pushed. By all accounts, he acted decent, even if it didn’t work out like you’d hoped. He’s better than I gave him credit for, I’ll admit. You’re both fine young people who can make a wonderful life together.”
Libby felt tears sting her eyes. “Now can you convince Chance of that?”
“I wish I could, baby girl. I wish I could.”
Suddenly, her father reached for the arm of the couch and slumped onto the cushion, his face an ashen gray.
Libby’s heart squeezed as she reached for him. “Daddy? Daddy?”
*
Chance looked over at Lonnie sitting next to him in the passenger seat of his pickup as they sped along the lightly traveled interstate at midday, heading toward one of the last rodeos before the season ended. Lonnie was swiping through his cell phone, no doubt checking his Facebook feed. The guy obsessed over social media and was closing in on a thousand followers.
“Check out the rodeo, while you’re at it, and see if we know who we’re riding yet,” Chance said.
After Pendleton, Chance had steadily climbed in the standings, but it hadn’t been enough to get him over the hump. He was sitting at number sixteen in the rankings, just a few hundred dollars behind the guy at number fifteen, the cutoff for the NFR. This event would be his last chance to make it.
Lonnie, too far back in the standings to catch up, was just being a good friend by accompanying Chance to the event. Of course, Lonnie stood to make a little money too, given the competition would be cowboys chasing that number fifteen spot and not necessarily those who were sitting at the top of the heap.
“Just checked. They haven’t done the draws yet,” Lonnie said, setting down his cell phone.
Chance had been thinking a lot lately. A lot about Libby. She still texted him now and again, usually after a win, congratulating him, but he hadn’t answered any of her texts. He hadn’t known what he wanted to say. He’d been trying to figure it out these last few days.