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“Tomorrow morning.” Her mother laid the agreement aside. “After your lessons.”
“What about tomorrow morning?”
“Showing Deacon around. I can’t make it. The hay delivery is scheduled for nine. After that, Mercer and I will be meeting with Dr. Houser.”
The Becketts’ veterinarian. He regularly visited to check on all new livestock, administer vaccinations, deworm the horses and calves, treat injuries and a dozen other reasons. Mercer, as the head of livestock, would want to oversee both the hay delivery and Dr. Houser’s visit.
Was her mother possibly okay with all of this?
“Deacon’s been coming here for months,” Liberty protested. “He doesn’t need to be shown around.”
“A tour of the operations,” he said.
Clearly, she’d missed a vital part of the discussion.
“Before I can finalize the partnership agreement,” he explained, “I need to have a thorough understanding of how each individual aspect of the arena operations functions and what kind of revenue it generates.” He consulted his tablet. “Rodeos. Livestock leasing. Horse boarding. Classes. Teaching clinics. Team penning and bucking competitions. I’ll also require access to the office and all the files. Your mother said you’d be available.”
“Me,” she answered flatly.
His brows rose. “Is there a problem?”
“Problem?” This could not be happening to her. “Let’s see. Where do I begin?”
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