Cowboy Casanova - Lorelei James [36]
“I thought all the McKays had more money than they knew what to do with and didn’t owe anyone anything.”
“Not all the McKays. Especially not those of us who’ve built houses or businesses or bought land. I’ve got monthly payments.”
“So what do you think my chances are of getting the money?”
“Most bankers are real tight-asses in this economy. They’ll take into account that you own the land. But they’ll also take into account if your proposed improvements will actually increase the property value.”
Rielle sighed. “Too bad the barter system doesn’t still work with everyone.”
“No kiddin’. Speaking of…thanks for checking in on the dogs this weekend.”
“No biggie. I had nothing else going on. Rory was supposed to be home this weekend but she had to work.”
“How’s her first semester of graduate school?”
“Good. She’s still bartending at Happy John’s three nights a week since her graduate assistant grant only covers classes. I wish I could help her out more.”
Ben shot Rielle a sideways look. “Is that part of why you’re applying for a loan? To give Rory money for school? Because, Ree, I gotta tell ya, your stubborn daughter ain’t gonna be happy about that at all.”
Rielle smiled. “Like mother, like daughter, huh? Too damn independent for our own good. Don’t worry, and don’t tattle on me. The loan is strictly for the Sage Creek.”
The remaining ride to town was quiet. The new National West Bank was an eye-catching structure comprised of blocks of native sandstone, glass and steel. The wooden beams on the outside added an Old West touch, as did the metal trim that would weather and rust in the harsh Wyoming elements. It was a nice addition to the town, even when he questioned whether the citizens of Sundance could support a second bank.
Rielle checked her make-up in the passenger mirror and slicked on a coat of Chapstick. Fussed with her hair. Mumbled to herself and pushed up the sun visor with a decisive snap. “Okay.” She curled her fingers around the door handle. “Ready?”
“You look ready. Knock ’em dead, tiger.”
“Aren’t you coming in with me?”
“Have you taken a good look at me? The last thing you need is them seeing me tracking mud and shit across their brand new carpet. I’ll stay in the truck.”
Ben sank into his leather seat and pulled his hat down over his eyes, wishing he could take a catnap. He’d had a restless night, thinking about Angel. Wondering if he’d recognize her without that funky-ass wig. Wondering how her real hair would feel wrapped in his fists as he fucked her mouth. His flashbacks made the crotch in his jeans uncomfortably tight, forcing him to redirect his thoughts.
He studied the building’s clean lines. He’d built his log house himself and appreciated how form and function affected design, yet retained an artistic feel. As he thought about art, he remembered his cousin Carter had been commissioned for a large sculpture for this bank. Ben always loved seeing what works his crazy-talented cousin created. He was already here. He might as well sneak in and have a quick look-see.
The inside of the bank was as impressive as the outside. The place was busy and no one took notice of him as he stopped in front of the massive sculpture, prominently displayed beneath a circular skylight. A rusty chain enclosed the art—a horse head carved from wood, surrounded by twisted sections of metal of varying heights, sizes and finishes that gave the impression the horse was running through tall, native grasses.
“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”
He recognized that sultry voice immediately. Ben spun around so fast he made himself dizzy and couldn’t believe his eyes. “Angel?”
Her jaw nearly hit the floor. “Bennett? You… What are you doing here?”
Before he could answer, a hearty hand landed on his shoulder. “Ben! I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.”
Dazed, he glanced at Bill, his insurance agent, who’d inserted himself between him and Angel.
Bill said, “What brings the elusive Ben