McKettrick's Luck by Linda Lael Miller

didn’t get through, I’ll try one more time. When I have something to say, I’ll call you.”
    Another round of applause from the family, louder this time.
    â€œDo you have the television set on or something?” Nigel asked with a frown in his voice.
    â€œYeah,” Cheyenne answered, with a wink for Mitch and Ayanna. The TV, with its foil-flagged antenna, probably didn’t even work. “Wheel of Fortune.”
    I’ll spin, Pat.
    â€œYou’ll have the car tomorrow,” Nigel promised.
    Cheyenne thanked him, hung up and then stood there, wondering whether to do a victory dance or burst into tears.
    Ayanna and Mitch stared at her, waiting for some reaction.
    â€œI need jeans,” she said. “And let’s splurge on supper at the Roadhouse. I’m buying.”
    She didn’t want to go near Lucky’s, because of old memories, and besides, the Roadhouse was more accessible for Mitch.
    Their faces glowed.
    â€œYou don’t own a pair of jeans? ” Ayanna asked, sounding stunned, looking down at her own battered Levi’s.
    â€œWhy does everybody make such a big deal about that?” Cheyenne retorted good-naturedly. “You’d think they were part of a national uniform or something.”
    â€œThey are,” Ayanna said.
    Half an hour later, with everybody spit-shined and presentable, and Mitch’s chair folded and loaded into the trunk of the rental car, they set out for town. Cheyenne dashed into the local Stuff-Mart, bought two pairs of jeans, two T-shirts, a denim jacket and some cheap but flashy boots. When she got back to the car, Ayanna was reading a newspaper, while Mitch, ensconced in the backseat, played a handheld video game.
    â€œAll set?” Ayanna asked, eyeing the bulging blue plastic bag Cheyenne carried.
    â€œAll set,” Cheyenne replied, hoping it was true.
    She had jeans.
    She had three weeks to change Jesse’s mind about selling his land.
    And it would take a miracle.
    Â 
    â€œN O ANSWER ,” K EEGAN SAID , hanging up the phone and sitting back in his chair again. His eyes twinkled as he studied Jesse, though the set of his face remained serious. “You know, cousin, you don’t look as if you want me to bring Cheyenne in for an interview, let alone offer her a job with McKettrickCo. And I find that fascinating, given that that was allegedly the reason why you came here in the first place.”
    Jesse couldn’t help scowling. He was losing his touch, he concluded. All of a sudden, people could read him like a book.
    Maybe he ought to stay away from that big poker tournament in Vegas. Leave well enough alone.
    As if he’d ever been able to do that.
    â€œShe’s coming to Sierra and Travis’s party with me on Saturday,” Jesse said, for the sake of clarity.
    â€œI see,” Keegan said sagely, grinning with everything but his mouth. “You don’t just like Cheyenne—you like her.”
    Jesse shifted in his chair. He’d drawn a line in the sand, marked his territory. So be it. “Just don’t put the moves on her, okay?”
    Keegan chuckled. “Now that’s funny, coming from you. I’m not the famous heartbreaker in this family, you know.”
    â€œI mean it, Keeg. Cheyenne’s vulnerable.”
    â€œ Vulnerable? Good God, you have been watching talk-TV. I remember her as serious and smart. Tough, too—she had to be, to grow up with Cash Bridges for a father. But ‘vulnerable’? I don’t think so, Jesse.”
    â€œThink whatever you damn well please,” Jesse said tersely. “But don’t mess with her.”
    Keegan held up both hands, palms out, in a gesture of amused concession. “I hear you,” he said, but the thoughtful look in his eyes still raised Jesse’s hackles.
    He thrust himself out of his chair, reached for his hat. “See ya,” he said.
    â€œSee ya,” Keegan replied.
    Jesse