Free Chance McCall by Sharon Sala Page B

and I are going riding and we thought you might…” She stopped short.
    The look of total devastation came and went so quickly that only Chance saw her pain. It was inevitable that this meeting would happen, but it was more than bad luck that she was with this man when it did. He was the only one who’d managed a return engagement in the constant string of men who’d been paraded through the Triple T. His mere presence was a threat to Chance’s sanity.
    “Sorry,” she said as her world shattered quietly into tiny pieces, “I didn’t know you were busy.”
    “It’s okay, Jenny,” Marcus said, unaware of the tension. “We were just finishing our weekly update. And as for the riding invitation, I’ll have to pass. As soon as Chance and I are through, I’ve got to fly into Dallas for a meeting. I won’t be back until tomorrow.”
    Chance saw the look of expectation that swept through Nelson’s eyes when he realized that Jenny would be alone. His fingers curled into fists and he actually took a step forward before the silent plea on Jenny’s face stopped him short.
    “Oh hell,” he said softly, not caring who heard him or what interpretation they made of the remark. “I’ll be outside if you have anything else to say to me, boss. I need some air.”
    Chance walked past Jenny without saying a word, and left the men staring at each other in stunned surprise.
    Pain twisted and coiled around Jenny’s heart. I can’t take much more of this , she thought, sinking limply into the chair beside the doorway.
    “I wonder what’s wrong with him?” Marcus mumbled, and then shrugged. His foreman was an enigma he’d long since given up trying to understand. What he cared about was performance, and Chance McCall was one of the best. The Triple T had never run so smoothly.
    “You two run along and have your ride. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jenny,” Marcus said, as he began shuffling papers on his desk. “Nelson, you come back soon, you hear? It’s real nice having a young man like you around the place to help out.”
    Jenny couldn’t believe it. Nelson Turnbull didn’t know steers from heifers, and barely knew the ass end of a horse. Why couldn’t her father see what was staring him in the face? She had been coming apart for months, and he thought she was having the time of her life.
    But Jenny knew it was partially her own fault. She hid her feelings very well. Suddenly her frenetic rebellion of the past few months caught up with her. She sighed, looking up with barely disguised distaste at the man who’d been sniffing at her heels as if she were a bitch in heat. She buried her face in her hands, ashamed of her behavior, and knew that Nelson Turnbull’s time was fast running out. After today, she’d tolerate no more unexpected visits from Marcus’s “friends.”
    If he wanted to expand his properties, he could buy more land. Chance didn’t want her and Marcus didn’t know what to do with her. For two cents, she’d move out, take her marketing degree, and put it to use.
    “Come on darling,” Nelson urged, “let’s go get our horses. We’ve got several hours of good daylight left before I need to leave.”
    Jenny sighed. There was no way to get out of this ride. It had been her idea. “Okay,” she said, “but you have to let me choose your horse this time. Last time you nearly took a header. Cheyenne is too much horse for you.”
    “Nonsense,” he argued, getting a look on his face she’d come to recognize as mutiny, “I can handle anything you’ve got.”
    Jenny kept her mouth shut. It was one of the few times that she didn’t feel the need to argue with total idiocy. It was probably because she could not have cared less.
    “Henry! Saddle Cheyenne,” Nelson ordered, as they entered the stable area.
    The wizened cowboy squinted his eyes even tighter than usual and spat. Tobacco juice sliced through the air, landing within inches of the highly polished, obviously new boots that Jenny’s latest