I shift in my seat, eyes darting to the two other people in the room. The guy has the good sense to look down at the papers in front of himself.
But the woman holds my gaze. That same unflinching look on her face. And somehow, I just know she’s judging me.
My hand swipes across my mouth as I clear my throat. “Well, how do we get them back?”
Kip leans back with a deep sigh, fingers tapping against the armrests of the chair he’s in. “I’m not sure we can. In fact, I think we might be doing damage control more than anything. Hoping other sponsors don’t jump ship. Wrangler. Ariat. These are all companies who know their clientele. And their clientele are the people you’ve pissed off. Not to mention, punching a man with a camera rolling is a PR nightmare.”
My eyes find the ceiling as I tip my head back and swallow audibly. “Who knew not liking milk was a crime? And that guy deserved to have his jaw adjusted.”
The woman across from me huffs out a small scoff, and my eyes slide over to hers. Again, she doesn’t look away. The fuck is she staring at?
She just smirks. Like me blowing a multimillion-dollar sponsorship is funny to her. I’m exhausted. I’m sore. My patience is beyond fried. But I’m a gentleman, so I rub my tongue along the front of my teeth and turn my focus back to Kip.
“If that camera hadn’t been filming, it would have been fine. But don’t let anyone hear you talking that way about assaulting someone. I worked my ass off to keep that fucker from pressing charges.”
I roll my eyes. I’m pretty sure worked my ass off is code for spent a bunch of my hard-earned money to shut the guy up. “Why was the camera even rolling? Was it intentional?”
The older man sighs and shakes his head. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? The damage is done.”
“Fuck.” I groan and let my eyes drift shut for a moment as I roll my shoulders, taking stock of how painful the right one is. The way I landed on that last ride was not ideal. Rookie dismount.
“So, I have a plan.”
I peer back at Kip through the slits of my eyes. “I already hate it.”
He laughs. And smiles. Because that fucker knows he has me over a barrel. We both know my days are numbered, and I’ve made the mistake of telling him my family needs more money to maintain the ranch long-term. I’ll take what I need to live comfortably somewhere on our land and then work with my older brother, Cade, to keep Wishing Well Ranch up and running.
That’s what you do for family. Whatever it takes.
“That’s fine. We both know you’ll do it anyway.”
I glare at him. What a dick.
He gestures across the table. “This is Summer. She’s new on the team. Has been an intern here for several years. She’s also your new shadow.”
My brows scrunch up along with my nose. Because this plan already smells like shit. “Elaborate.”
“For the next two months, through the end of the World Championships in Las Vegas, she will work as your assistant. A media liaison. Someone who understands public perception and can help you polish your image. You two will discuss and come up with a plan. And then she’ll consult with me so that I don’t strangle you for being such a colossal cocksucker. I’m sure she’d be open to helping with any other administrative work you might need as well. Mostly, though, she’ll be there to watch and keep you out of trouble.”
I glance at the woman, and she nods, not seeming alarmed by this suggestion at all.
“Now I know you’re kidding. Because there’s no way you’d assign a man my age a glorified babysitter. That’s just insulting, Kip.”
I want him to burst out laughing and tell me this is his idea of pulling my leg.
But he doesn’t. He just stares back at me, like the woman, giving my brain time to catch up to what he’s already decided for me.
“The fuck outta here.” I laugh in disbelief as I sit up straighter to glance around the room for some proof that this is a really excellent and hilarious joke. Something my brothers would pull on me for sure.
But the only thing I get is more silence.
This is not a drill, not a joke. This is a fucking nightmare.
“No, thanks. I’ll take that guy.” I point at the other dude. The one who can’t even look me in the eye. He’ll be perfect for me to pretend he doesn’t exist. Not the uptight ball-buster who stares at me like I’m a dumb hick.
Kip steeples his hands again and crosses his legs. “No.”
“No?” I sound incredulous. “I pay you, not the other way around.”