Just One Shot
Book Six of the Billionaire Barons of Texas Series
Chapter One
“Is it always this hot in Texas?” Siobhan’s friend and former college roommate, Bridget, waved her hand in front of her face. As if that was actually going to help.
Her gaze fixed ahead, Siobhan didn’t bother to look up. “You’ve heard the expression, fry an egg on the sidewalk?”
Squinting at the sunlight, Bridget nodded.
“Texas invented it.”
“I think next time I visit, I’ll pick a cooler month.”
Her camera centered on a baby bird pecking at the dirt under a scraggly shrub, Siobhan snapped the shot before facing her friend. “Probably October. As long as rain doesn’t bother you.”
“I think I’d rather be soggy than melting.”
Siobhan chuckled. Her friend did have a point.
“Remind me again, why we’re traipsing out here in this horrid heat?”
“State Fair.” Texas has some of the most undervalued national parks in the country. If she wanted her photographic career to flourish at a level suitable to the Baron name, she needed some recognition. Winning a ribbon or two at the Texas State Fair would fit the bill. Animal and nature photos dominated the history of award winning photography, and the Texas parks had both in abundance.
Bridget unscrewed the cap on her warm water bottle and guzzled what was left inside. “You’ve got twenty, thirty minutes tops to get your prize photograph and then we’re heading back to the hotel for a water refill.” Bridget’s mouth tipped up in the closest thing to a smile Siobhan had seen all day. “And a dip in the pool to cool off sounds pretty good too.”
Once again, her friend had a good point. The heat was a tad oppressive this time of year. “Deal.”
Now a true grin spread across Bridget’s face.
Ten minutes later, Siobhan lowered her gaze along the precipice to one side and spotted the perfect shot. “There.”
Bridget’s gaze danced left and right, up and around. “There where?”
Leaning against a boulder, her arm outstretched, Siobhan pointed at the lone pink bloom thriving amongst the rocky side. “Right there. That flower.”
When Bridget’s gazed reached the end of Siobhan’s finger and settled on the flower, a deep frown formed between her brows. “Doesn’t look like much of a shot to me.”
“Oh, it will be.” In her mind, Siobhan could see it now. She just had to get, “Closer.”
“What?” Bridget inched forward, glanced at the drop only a few feet away, and eased back. “There has to be another… hey, be careful.”
Standing at the very edge of the hillside, Siobhan tipped her head and her camera but there was no way she could get the angle she wanted. Blowing out a deep breath, she looked up. Even she didn’t have the nerve to climb along the rocky edge to get closer. Maybe if she had the right equipment, but not barehanded. And then she spotted it. A lone tree up above.
“I don’t like that look.” Her hand shading her eyes, Bridget lifted her gaze upward. “Whatever you’re thinking, this is a bad…hey. Where are you going?”
Anxious to get her shot while the sunlight was behind her, Siobhan took off up the narrow path at a fast clip. “The tree.”
“Tree?” Bridget followed, her attention on the rocky path. “Are you sure you Barons aren’t part mountain goat? Slow down.”
“I don’t have much time.”
“You have your whole life ahead of you. That is unless we fall off this cliff. Slow down.”
“There.” The lone tree stood strong and tall, if a little lifeless.
“What do you want with a dead tree?” Bridget inched left, avoiding the edge of the rocky path. There was no missing the moment her gaze shifted from the drop to her right, then back to Siobhan. A gasp could have been heard clear across the ravine. “Get off that tree.”
Already halfway up the trunk, Siobhan was convinced the roots were firmly planted and even if there was little life left in the tree, all she needed was to reach that first limb and she’d be able to shimmy across for her shot.
“Siobhan Pegeen Baron, get down here right this minute!” Stomping her foot hard on the ground, Bridget dropped her fisted hands on her hips. “You’re going to get yourself killed for a stupid photograph.”
“It’s not stupid, and I’m not going to…Oops!” Her foot skidded away from the rough bark and feeling the tug of gravity against her well-rounded Irish derriere, Siobhan quickly hugged the tree with both arms.
“Oh, dear lord. Your mother will never forgive me. You scoot back here right this minute!”
Siobhan didn’t have to look down at her friend to know the woman was both spitting mad and terrified. Now that Siobhan was literally out on a limb, there was no point in turning back without the shot. Releasing one arm to move the camera still dangling from her neck, Siobhan shifted her weight more heavily onto the massive branch.
“You’re not listening to me.”
“Just another minute.” Unable to balance both her weight and the camera, Siobhan set her favorite camera on the branch and with a little scooting forward, clicked away. A cloud rolled by, creating partial shade beside the flower and she clicked some more. Mother Nature was wonderful.
The photograph taken, convinced the blue ribbon would be hers with these shots, she just had one thing to figure out. How the heck was she going to get out of this tree without getting herself killed?
* * *
All Jack Preston needed was a few hours of shut eye and he’d be able to do more than sleep in his soup tonight. Loosening his bow tie, he shoved it in his pocket and undid the shirt button that had been choking him for hours. When he’d donned this penguin suit last night, he’d expected to be home, or at least in bed, long before sunrise. What he hadn’t expected was an after party to end all after parties.
The last two hours felt like he’d been swept back in time to a mid century musical blockbuster. Seriously, not till last night had he ever seen an entire room of guests singing around a grand piano for hours except for in old movies. Dancing with every able bodied single female in attendance was nothing unusual, but doing so until the sun sparkled through the penthouse windows and Devlin Baron’s maid served the surviving twenty or thirty guests breakfast was another first.
Somehow between chatting up a stacked blonde he’d hoped to set a few sparks off with, being roped into reliving his and Devlin’s senior year performances in Godspell, and the most ridiculous game of charades that had everyone laughing till they cried, Connie Danner had caught him in a moment of weakness and sweet talked him into being her last minute plus one to a black tie wedding. Another blasted wedding. Tonight. This last year he’d been to more weddings than he had in the previous decade. When Andrew Baron married, the core group of college buddies who thought nothing of zipping over to Monaco for a good yacht party on a moment’s notice hadn’t been seriously affected. By the time his best party buddy, Kyle, married and hung up his party hat, a domino affect of falling bachelors seemed to have started. The newest crop of most eligible bachelors weren’t the same as his long time cohorts.
Less than ten minutes on the road and his phone sounded, his mother’s name flashing on his dashboard. With a tap of his steering wheel, he picked up the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“You’re late.”
Glancing quickly at the clock in front of him, he frowned, forcing his mind to run through late for what.
“Margaret is muttering in the kitchen. You know how she hates keeping food warm.”
Brunch. “Sorry, Mom. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
“See you then, son.” The softness returned to her voice. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” No matter how tired he might be, his mom’s routine of saying love you rather than goodbye, always made him smile.
At the next stop light, he rolled up his sleeves, undid another button on his shirt, and made a mental note to grab his loafers from the trunk and ditch the dress shoes. Even though he was no longer a teen needing to sneak around from his parents’ oversight, he could at least try and not make it too obvious that he’d been out all night.
His phone dinged with a message as he pulled onto his family’s property. The dashboard spit out that Connie needed to be at the church an hour early to dress with the girls, but her car was making funny noises on the drive home and would he please pick her up instead of meeting her there. Though he’d rather have had a few extra minutes to nap this afternoon, it looked like he was going to be hanging out at an empty church waiting for another wedding. Parked in front of the house, he tapped out No Problem and slipping the phone into his pocket, darted up the front steps.
Already seated at the table, his father casually let his gaze scan Jack from head to toe and back before a familiar deep set lines formed between his brows. “Late night?”
Jack resisted the urge to make excuses and simply dipped his chin before leaning over his mother’s side for a quick hug and kiss hello. “Still playing bridge this afternoon?”
Smiling sweetly, his mother spread jam on a croissant and nodded. “The McKenzies are in Europe so we’re playing with the Whitehalls. Should be interesting.”
Serving himself from the buffet sideboard, he pulled up an image of the Whitehalls in his mind. “Isn’t she the one who cheats at cards?”
“They both do,” his father muttered over the coffee cup at his lips.
“We have a plan.” His mother’s grin turned sly. “We’re going to insist the men play against the women. Tiffany won’t have a partner to signal.”
Jack smiled at his mother. The woman always had a solution for any problem.
“Speaking of partners.” His father set his coffee cup down on the table. “You’re not getting any younger.”
And here came the familiar song and dance. Ever since Jack’s thirty-fifth birthday, his father had been more insistent that it was time for him to settle down. Ever since Kyle’s wedding, his father had found a way to work the subject into every and any conversation. “None of us are.”
“You know what I mean.” His father reached for a warm croissant and split it open. “Even Kyle Baron smartened up and found a nice wife. At this rate you’re going to be wearing dentures and raising kids at the same time.”
“No need to exaggerate, Dad. I’m not that old.”
“You’re not that young either.”
Touché. It wasn’t like Jack didn’t envy Kyle and his brothers just a little bit, but some men weren’t cut out for settling down. Jack didn’t have it in him to be domesticated. His father would simply have to accept sooner or later that watching TV with the little woman and changing diapers was not in the cards for Jack.
“Is it always this hot in Texas?” Siobhan’s friend and former college roommate, Bridget, waved her hand in front of her face. As if that was actually going to help.
Her gaze fixed ahead, Siobhan didn’t bother to look up. “You’ve heard the expression, fry an egg on the sidewalk?”
Squinting at the sunlight, Bridget nodded.
“Texas invented it.”
“I think next time I visit, I’ll pick a cooler month.”
Her camera centered on a baby bird pecking at the dirt under a scraggly shrub, Siobhan snapped the shot before facing her friend. “Probably October. As long as rain doesn’t bother you.”
“I think I’d rather be soggy than melting.”
Siobhan chuckled. Her friend did have a point.
“Remind me again, why we’re traipsing out here in this horrid heat?”
“State Fair.” Texas has some of the most undervalued national parks in the country. If she wanted her photographic career to flourish at a level suitable to the Baron name, she needed some recognition. Winning a ribbon or two at the Texas State Fair would fit the bill. Animal and nature photos dominated the history of award winning photography, and the Texas parks had both in abundance.
Bridget unscrewed the cap on her warm water bottle and guzzled what was left inside. “You’ve got twenty, thirty minutes tops to get your prize photograph and then we’re heading back to the hotel for a water refill.” Bridget’s mouth tipped up in the closest thing to a smile Siobhan had seen all day. “And a dip in the pool to cool off sounds pretty good too.”
Once again, her friend had a good point. The heat was a tad oppressive this time of year. “Deal.”
Now a true grin spread across Bridget’s face.
Ten minutes later, Siobhan lowered her gaze along the precipice to one side and spotted the perfect shot. “There.”
Bridget’s gaze danced left and right, up and around. “There where?”
Leaning against a boulder, her arm outstretched, Siobhan pointed at the lone pink bloom thriving amongst the rocky side. “Right there. That flower.”
When Bridget’s gazed reached the end of Siobhan’s finger and settled on the flower, a deep frown formed between her brows. “Doesn’t look like much of a shot to me.”
“Oh, it will be.” In her mind, Siobhan could see it now. She just had to get, “Closer.”
“What?” Bridget inched forward, glanced at the drop only a few feet away, and eased back. “There has to be another… hey, be careful.”
Standing at the very edge of the hillside, Siobhan tipped her head and her camera but there was no way she could get the angle she wanted. Blowing out a deep breath, she looked up. Even she didn’t have the nerve to climb along the rocky edge to get closer. Maybe if she had the right equipment, but not barehanded. And then she spotted it. A lone tree up above.
“I don’t like that look.” Her hand shading her eyes, Bridget lifted her gaze upward. “Whatever you’re thinking, this is a bad…hey. Where are you going?”
Anxious to get her shot while the sunlight was behind her, Siobhan took off up the narrow path at a fast clip. “The tree.”
“Tree?” Bridget followed, her attention on the rocky path. “Are you sure you Barons aren’t part mountain goat? Slow down.”
“I don’t have much time.”
“You have your whole life ahead of you. That is unless we fall off this cliff. Slow down.”
“There.” The lone tree stood strong and tall, if a little lifeless.
“What do you want with a dead tree?” Bridget inched left, avoiding the edge of the rocky path. There was no missing the moment her gaze shifted from the drop to her right, then back to Siobhan. A gasp could have been heard clear across the ravine. “Get off that tree.”
Already halfway up the trunk, Siobhan was convinced the roots were firmly planted and even if there was little life left in the tree, all she needed was to reach that first limb and she’d be able to shimmy across for her shot.
“Siobhan Pegeen Baron, get down here right this minute!” Stomping her foot hard on the ground, Bridget dropped her fisted hands on her hips. “You’re going to get yourself killed for a stupid photograph.”
“It’s not stupid, and I’m not going to…Oops!” Her foot skidded away from the rough bark and feeling the tug of gravity against her well-rounded Irish derriere, Siobhan quickly hugged the tree with both arms.
“Oh, dear lord. Your mother will never forgive me. You scoot back here right this minute!”
Siobhan didn’t have to look down at her friend to know the woman was both spitting mad and terrified. Now that Siobhan was literally out on a limb, there was no point in turning back without the shot. Releasing one arm to move the camera still dangling from her neck, Siobhan shifted her weight more heavily onto the massive branch.
“You’re not listening to me.”
“Just another minute.” Unable to balance both her weight and the camera, Siobhan set her favorite camera on the branch and with a little scooting forward, clicked away. A cloud rolled by, creating partial shade beside the flower and she clicked some more. Mother Nature was wonderful.
The photograph taken, convinced the blue ribbon would be hers with these shots, she just had one thing to figure out. How the heck was she going to get out of this tree without getting herself killed?
* * *
All Jack Preston needed was a few hours of shut eye and he’d be able to do more than sleep in his soup tonight. Loosening his bow tie, he shoved it in his pocket and undid the shirt button that had been choking him for hours. When he’d donned this penguin suit last night, he’d expected to be home, or at least in bed, long before sunrise. What he hadn’t expected was an after party to end all after parties.
The last two hours felt like he’d been swept back in time to a mid century musical blockbuster. Seriously, not till last night had he ever seen an entire room of guests singing around a grand piano for hours except for in old movies. Dancing with every able bodied single female in attendance was nothing unusual, but doing so until the sun sparkled through the penthouse windows and Devlin Baron’s maid served the surviving twenty or thirty guests breakfast was another first.
Somehow between chatting up a stacked blonde he’d hoped to set a few sparks off with, being roped into reliving his and Devlin’s senior year performances in Godspell, and the most ridiculous game of charades that had everyone laughing till they cried, Connie Danner had caught him in a moment of weakness and sweet talked him into being her last minute plus one to a black tie wedding. Another blasted wedding. Tonight. This last year he’d been to more weddings than he had in the previous decade. When Andrew Baron married, the core group of college buddies who thought nothing of zipping over to Monaco for a good yacht party on a moment’s notice hadn’t been seriously affected. By the time his best party buddy, Kyle, married and hung up his party hat, a domino affect of falling bachelors seemed to have started. The newest crop of most eligible bachelors weren’t the same as his long time cohorts.
Less than ten minutes on the road and his phone sounded, his mother’s name flashing on his dashboard. With a tap of his steering wheel, he picked up the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“You’re late.”
Glancing quickly at the clock in front of him, he frowned, forcing his mind to run through late for what.
“Margaret is muttering in the kitchen. You know how she hates keeping food warm.”
Brunch. “Sorry, Mom. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
“See you then, son.” The softness returned to her voice. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” No matter how tired he might be, his mom’s routine of saying love you rather than goodbye, always made him smile.
At the next stop light, he rolled up his sleeves, undid another button on his shirt, and made a mental note to grab his loafers from the trunk and ditch the dress shoes. Even though he was no longer a teen needing to sneak around from his parents’ oversight, he could at least try and not make it too obvious that he’d been out all night.
His phone dinged with a message as he pulled onto his family’s property. The dashboard spit out that Connie needed to be at the church an hour early to dress with the girls, but her car was making funny noises on the drive home and would he please pick her up instead of meeting her there. Though he’d rather have had a few extra minutes to nap this afternoon, it looked like he was going to be hanging out at an empty church waiting for another wedding. Parked in front of the house, he tapped out No Problem and slipping the phone into his pocket, darted up the front steps.
Already seated at the table, his father casually let his gaze scan Jack from head to toe and back before a familiar deep set lines formed between his brows. “Late night?”
Jack resisted the urge to make excuses and simply dipped his chin before leaning over his mother’s side for a quick hug and kiss hello. “Still playing bridge this afternoon?”
Smiling sweetly, his mother spread jam on a croissant and nodded. “The McKenzies are in Europe so we’re playing with the Whitehalls. Should be interesting.”
Serving himself from the buffet sideboard, he pulled up an image of the Whitehalls in his mind. “Isn’t she the one who cheats at cards?”
“They both do,” his father muttered over the coffee cup at his lips.
“We have a plan.” His mother’s grin turned sly. “We’re going to insist the men play against the women. Tiffany won’t have a partner to signal.”
Jack smiled at his mother. The woman always had a solution for any problem.
“Speaking of partners.” His father set his coffee cup down on the table. “You’re not getting any younger.”
And here came the familiar song and dance. Ever since Jack’s thirty-fifth birthday, his father had been more insistent that it was time for him to settle down. Ever since Kyle’s wedding, his father had found a way to work the subject into every and any conversation. “None of us are.”
“You know what I mean.” His father reached for a warm croissant and split it open. “Even Kyle Baron smartened up and found a nice wife. At this rate you’re going to be wearing dentures and raising kids at the same time.”
“No need to exaggerate, Dad. I’m not that old.”
“You’re not that young either.”
Touché. It wasn’t like Jack didn’t envy Kyle and his brothers just a little bit, but some men weren’t cut out for settling down. Jack didn’t have it in him to be domesticated. His father would simply have to accept sooner or later that watching TV with the little woman and changing diapers was not in the cards for Jack.
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