The Rebel. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
them. “Like it or not, yes.”
He stood there, entirely too close to her. Assessing. Then his gaze shuttered, his expression revealing nothing.
“Unfortunately for both of us, Lily, I work more effectively on my own,” he informed her quietly. Then he turned and retrieved his tablet. “I suggest we divide and conquer the tasks for setting up Mesa Falls Ranch as a new account and leave it at that.”
Blindsided by the abrupt turn in the conversation, she didn’t even know what to say to that as he tapped open his screen.
“Do you care at all about this company?” She’d always had the impression that he didn’t trust her fully. But he’d never come out and admitted he didn’t want to work with her. “Because you’re doing it a grave disservice to cut me out of the loop.”
She could see the muscle in his jaw flex, his mouth flattening into a thin, determined line before he spoke again.
“That’s never been my intention. I can send daily briefs on everything that happens here. But I’d prefer we get the work done so we can fly back to our respective coasts, where we can turn our attention to our own projects.”
Anger simmered, but she locked it down to maintain professionalism.
“And I respectfully decline.” She gathered her things, knowing it would be wisest to retreat until cooler heads prevailed. But first, she leveled her gaze at him. “I plan do to my job right here, where my presence is clearly needed.”
Braking to a stop in one of the ranch’s utility vehicles the next morning, Marcus switched off the ignition and hoisted himself up to lean on the roll bar for a better view. The ranch foreman had offered him the choice of horse or vehicle to tour the property today, and Marcus had opted for the two-seater with no cab and a little wagon in back. He hadn’t informed Lily of the tour, leaving before dawn. He knew that was a mistake. That he was hurting the company because he couldn’t keep his emotions under control. Right now, he needed space to clear his head and figure out his next move.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, he reached for his camera on the passenger seat and withdrew the wide-angle lens from his bag. He had a couple of possibilities for a shot from this vantage point, and he lined up the first one, focusing on some dried wildflowers in the foreground.
Taking photos of the ranch was the best distraction, a pleasure in an otherwise tense trip. Adjusting the settings for shutter speed and aperture, he calculated what images he still needed for the social media campaign before he could head home.
Devon had messaged him during the night, saying the US Embassy was working with him to get his credentials reissued but that no progress would be made over the weekend. Marcus had resisted the urge to fire back a scathing response, unwilling to alienate Devon when he needed to convince him to let Marcus buy him out of the company. Later today, he’d tell Devon they needed to reschedule the Mesa Falls Ranch trip for another time.
Without Lily Carrington.
Just thinking about her spoiled his first shot of the wildflowers. Because he suspected her of spying for Devon? Or because Marcus wanted her for himself? Both options messed with his head.
While he’d always been drawn to Lily—in spite of his concern that she owed her loyalties to his brother—he’d been able to rein it in since they worked on opposite coasts. Being with her in person, when he was already grappling with his frustration with Devon, brought an unwelcome fiery element into his emotions for her. That’s why he’d let her take the meeting with the ranch manager alone this morning while Marcus toured the place on his own. He got a better feel for clients by seeing what they had to offer—in the case of Mesa Falls, by exploring the ranch—than by listening to them. In his experience, customers were often too close to their product or service to be able to see the subtle facets of what made it unique. Long before Salazar Media became a national brand—and before Devon got his business school “best practices” involved with every aspect of the company—Marcus had excelled at finding his clients’ individuality.
He wanted to bring the company back to that original goal—giving each account a distinctive voice and image that stood out from the rest of the media noise. And now, peering through the wide-angle lens to see a herd of elk step into the golden field, Marcus knew he could do that here. Swapping to a zoom, he zeroed in on the elk with video and stills, already seeing a way to set Mesa Falls Ranch apart in the marketplace.
He was almost finished when the hum of another nearby motor distracted him. He turned and saw a second utility vehicle approaching, a cowboy at the wheel, a tall, slender brunette dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt in the passenger seat.
It was Lily. She gripped the roll bar, her big sunglasses shielding her face from the sun now at its zenith. Her lips were pursed, her hair uncharacteristically flyaway, the dark strands dancing around her face as the vehicle picked up speed. When they braked to a stop near him, she stepped out with tense shoulders, her tall boots with high heels better suited to a fashion runway than a Montana meadow.
“Hello, Marcus,” she greeted him, impatiently swiping her hair away from her face. She kept her voice low, for his ears only. “You missed the morning meeting.”
“I left it in your capable hands,” he told her before turning his attention to the burly rancher dressed in worn jeans and a dark Stetson who strode at a more leisurely pace behind Lily. “You must be Coop?”
“Cooper Adler, at your service.” He tipped his hat and shook Marcus’s hand.
They’d spoken on the phone a few times while Marcus had been planning the trip. The ranch manager was responsible for the environmentally friendly practices taking root here, and they’d discussed how a social media campaign to document Mesa Falls’ move to green ranching would hold a lot of appeal for potential guests.
“I was just taking some photos to inspire the creative team when I return home. We’re going to start work on a company narrative next, and I’ll send a team out here to take more footage once we firm up our approach.”
Lily hovered at his elbow as he spoke. Every now and then the breeze stirred a long strand of her hair to brush against his shoulder. A silky, barely there touch.
“Just let me know whatever you need.” Coop nodded but didn’t seem all that interested in the whys and wherefores of the social media profile for the ranch. “I drove out here to see you in person since Ms. Lily told me you might be leaving soon?”
“My brother couldn’t make it, so I’m afraid—”
“The ranch owners really wanted to have a welcome reception to meet you and your brother. Weston Rivera has asked to firm up a date with you both.” Coop frowned, his forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows knitted. “And, more importantly, Weston wanted me to let you know that he has papers to deliver to you and your brother. But he says he needs to give them to the two of you together.”
“Papers? From who?” Marcus was surprised the man had never mentioned it in their preliminary phone conversations. Beside him, he felt Lily tense.
Had she known about this? And, more importantly, did she know what was in those papers?
Coop scratched a hand along his jaw. “From your father. He left them with Gage Striker—one of the other owners—the last time he was up here.”
Lily cleared her throat, softly drawing Coop’s attention before Marcus could demand answers.
“Cooper, did Alonzo Salazar spend time here very often?” she asked, her expression perplexed.
Marcus found himself wanting to know the answer, too. And why the hell had his father entrusted documents that belonged to him to one of the owners of Mesa Falls Ranch before his death? At least it appeared that Lily didn’t know about the documents, though his rising anger eclipsed any relief he might have felt.
The