Free Mistletoe Rodeo (Welcome to Ramblewood) by Amanda Renee

again, but he feared his decision to quit the rodeo might do just that.
    The rodeo had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. It was the last common thread he’d had with his father, and now it was gone. He hoped to regain some connection to his father by dedicating more time to Bridle Dance. Shane would have to accept it.
    “What about breakfast?” Kay asked.
    “Feed it to Barney. The minute I leave, you’re going to make him a plate anyway. This way you won’t have to cook twice.” Chase gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll touch base with you later after I speak with Nola.”
    “Give her my best.” Kay reached out and stayed him with her hand. “Chase, I don’t think any less of you for retiring. As a mother, I want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. I had to ask.”
    Chase gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, headed toward the back door and snatched his black Stetson off the hook on his way out. He clambered down the porch stairs and headed toward his restored red 1954 Chevy pickup. Despite his net worth, it was one of the few things he owned for himself, and it was his most prized possession, next to his horse, Bocephus. Chase had named him after his favorite country singer, Hank Williams, Jr., who’d been given the famous moniker by Hank’s father.
    Normally he’d take Bocephus for a ride to clear his head, but this morning his horse wouldn’t cut it. He wanted Nola. He needed to hear her voice, and the food bank gave him an excuse to call. Driving toward town, Chase dialed her number. Disappointed when he heard her voice mail greeting, he stumbled over leaving a message.
    “Hey, Nola, it’s Chase...Chase Langtry. I was wondering, if you—uh—happened to be free, if you—you might want to meet and d-discuss the Ramblewood Food Bank. That’s if you have the time.”
    Well, that was brilliant
. Chase was well versed in public speaking. Between interviews, the rodeo school and the various clinics he conducted throughout the country, leaving a simple voice mail shouldn’t have been difficult. And it probably wouldn’t have been if the feel of Nola’s body against his wasn’t still ingrained in his brain. His morning had had a rocky start and he knew Nola’s straightforwardness and sensibility would refocus his attention on the Mistletoe Rodeo.
    Who was he kidding? He just wanted the chance to kiss her again.
    * * *
    “Y OU WANTED TO see me?” Nola stood in Pete Devereaux’s doorway.
    Looking up from behind his desk, Pete motioned for Nola to take a seat in one of the chairs across from him. The man regarded her for a moment, removed his reading glasses, walked to the door and closed it. Returning, he perched on the edge of his desk, making Nola instantly uneasy with him towering over her.
    “The Chase Langtry piece was good but not what I had expected. You definitely appealed to the softer side of our viewers, but it wasn’t the angle we agreed on. We shelled out a substantial amount to fly you and George to Vegas to capture a story, regardless of which way it went. With the exception of George’s footage inside the arena, the trip was a waste. We’re a relatively small studio—we can’t afford to send two people on location and not have a story to show for it. Your only saving grace on this was the inclusion of the Mistletoe Rodeo. It’s your story, but I don’t think you’re doing yourself any favors spending time on a holiday piece. Let me assign this to one of our rookies and you can concentrate on something a little more substantial.”
    The thought of someone else covering the Mistletoe Rodeo caught her a bit off-guard. She’d handed stories off in the past, but she wasn’t about to loosen her grip on this one.
    “With all due respect, I think there’s more to the Mistletoe Rodeo than what you’re seeing on the surface. You have an entire community reaching out to the farmers and ranchers in need. I was stunned at the demand