“No. Have you?”
“Hardly.” Mandy clenched and unclenched her fingers in an attempt to mitigate the tension she was feeling. “You will let me know when the analysis is done.”
He stopped the car alongside the two livestock trailers bearing the Prescott logo and turned off the ignition.
“I’m not going to sneak out and sell the company behind your back, if that is what you’re asking.”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
Ty blew out a breath. “I checked in with the consultants before we left. They are hoping to have some preliminary figures on the business by Tuesday. As soon as they come through, I’ll review them with you. Promise.”
“You know I’m going to fight you with everything I can if you try to sell. Last night didn’t change that.” She held her breath, hoping it had for him but knowing by his amused half smile that nothing had changed.
“I didn’t think it would, Mandy. And I’m in full agreement on keeping pleasure and business separate.”
Of course he was, because he’d have no trouble doing that. If only it would be as easy for her.
“I’m hoping the numbers will make the case all by themselves. One way or the other,” he said as he shoved the keys into his jeans pocket.
That was the flaw in his thinking. No amount of accounting could capture the intrinsic value she placed on Prescott Rodeo Company. How could mere numbers reflect the sweat and labor her grandfather and father had spent building up the company that carried their name? Or the joys and triumphs she’d experienced in working with the animals? Or the warm sense of community that had grown with the enterprise? All of this was the legacy she wanted to provide her children. And Tuck’s children, even if her brother didn’t value it yet as much as she did.
“You could be a rich woman, Mandy. Especially if you decided to develop the ranch land once the company was sold. Rich enough to start your own stock company, if that’s really your passion.”
Though she’d never willingly sell the ranch, she’d thought about starting another company if Prescott was sold. But why sell something to buy the same thing. “I wouldn’t be able to use the name Prescott Rodeo Company, would I?”
“The name could be part of the company’s goodwill value.”
“How about Prescott Stock Company?”
He shrugged. “Depends on the type of restrictions the buyer asks for. They could ask for a noncompete clause but only for a set time, generally no more than two years.”
Two years. Seemed a lifetime. Six months seemed a lifetime.
“And then I’d be starting over. All the bloodlines my grandfather and Harold took such great pains to preserve in breeding programs would be for the benefit of someone else. No, Ty, I intend to keep what I’ve got. It may surprise you,” she said, grabbing the handle to open the door as a wave of irritation rolled over her, “but some things can’t be measured in dollars and cents.”
She stepped out of the car as his driver’s door clicked shut. She closed her door with a little more gusto, causing a loud clang.
He stared at her from across the top of the car, the sun’s rays bouncing off the shiny black surface of his sunglasses.
“Everything has a price, Mandy. And trade-offs. The decision comes in figuring out which trade-offs are worth it.” He glanced away, undoubtedly to check out movement across the yard, before focusing back on her. “Just want to be sure starting your own company is something you’ve given some thought.”
“I have thought about it. And I want Prescott.”
He walked around the car, heading toward her with deliberate steps, his long legs closing the distance in seconds. He stopped mere inches in front of her, invading her space. She peered up into a face just a breath from her own and silently cursed the mask of glass that guarded his eyes.
She wanted to know what he felt, not just what he said. Did he have any regard for her, for what she wanted?
“So what’s the plan?” he said, his question catching her off guard.
“The plan?”
“With the rodeo committee.”
He’d changed the topic without apology or explanation.
“I think I should see the rodeo committee. Alone. I know these people. I feel very comfortable requesting an explanation. They’ll likely be more honest with just me.”
He nodded, surprising her with his acceptance.
“I should probably see Stan, then,” he said.
“He’s the primary potential buyer, isn’t he?”
At that question, he removed his sunglasses to look her square in the eye. “Yes. So far.” Unfortunately, his stoic expression didn’t reveal anything that gave her hope—about her or Prescott.