Samantha’s Cowboy (10 page)

“Thank you.” Wade slipped the note into his pocket.

“We done now?”

“I need directions to Beulah’s.”

“Got a hankerin’ fer pig’s feet, have ya?” At Wade’s frown, Barney added, “Beulah runs a special on Wednesdays—pickled pig’s feet.”

Wade would not be sampling the
special
today. He set his business card beneath the cat’s swishing tail. “Call me if Samantha places another order and I’ll give you a credit card number over the phone.”

“Don’t take credit cards.”

Since when did a business not accept a credit card as payment?

“You can leave a check with Sam or Millicent. They’ll get me the money.”

“Millicent doesn’t drive.” The dowsing queen couldn’t see more than five feet in front of her.

“Sure she does. Takes that old Bel-Air in the barn fer a spin every once ’n while.”

Wade suspected the last time the old woman had driven, Nixon had been president. “I’ll bring the check by.”

“Suit yerself.” Barney clicked his false teeth and the cat’s ears perked.

Wade sneezed again. He had to get out of there before his eyes swelled shut. “Where did you say Beulah’s was?”

“Didn’t yet. Ya hijacked the conversation.”

Swallowing his impatience, Wade said, “I apologize.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to apologize fer. Some folks jest got the need to yak is all.”

“Barney, where is Beulah’s?”

“Go out to the main road ’n take a left. Her place is ’bout a mile down on the right. Pink house. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” As soon as Wade left the store he sucked in several deep breaths, clearing the mold spores and cat hairs from his nostrils. He followed Barney’s directions and spotted Beulah’s—a bubble-gum pink Victorian sitting in the middle of nowhere.

Glossy black shutters and a black front door decorated the home. The upper-story windows were open and lace curtains blew in the breeze. A black iron fence surrounded the property and in the middle of the yard stood a sign as big as a billboard with
Beulah’s
written
in fancy black script against a pink background. The place reminded Wade of a nineteenth-century bordello complete with chickens pecking the dirt driveway.

He parked in the lot behind the house, noting two sheriff’s vehicles among the slew of pickups—an indication Beulah served a decent lunch. When he spotted Samantha’s truck his blood pumped a little faster. In the back, there was a patio crowded with black resin tables shaded by pink umbrellas. The place was packed with men—ranch hands, deputies and cowboys. Samantha sat in the middle of the sea of testosterone, her long hair glinting in the sunlight. The patrons at the table had their eyes glued to her beautiful face.

Jealousy zapped Wade square in the gut, but he resisted the urge to morph into a caveman, throw Samantha over his shoulder and race off with her. One kiss didn’t mean he had any claim on her.

But you wish it did.

The chance of entering a lasting relationship with Samantha would be zero-to-none after he revealed Dawson Investments had lost—make that stolen—her trust fund. Wade’s first responsibility was to his client, then the firm. He preferred to confront his uncle before coming clean with Samantha, but decided to break the news to her over lunch today.

In a suit and tie he’d stand out like a sore thumb among the cowboys, so Wade shrugged out of his jacket and tossed his tie across the front seat. Then he rolled up his sleeves. He couldn’t do anything about his glasses except push them up the bridge of his nose. The patio gate emitted a loud squeak when he opened it.

Samantha flashed a beautiful smile, then met him on
the sidewalk. He was aware of the envious stares he attracted and decided he liked being the guy with the beautiful woman for a change.

“Hi,” she said. “Hungry?”

“Starved.”
For you.
Her smile widened and his chest tightened. Samantha was good for his ego—he didn’t have to do or be anything extraordinary to measure up in her eyes. A sharp stab of conscience reminded him that her feelings would change after she learned the truth about her financial situation.

“Beulah’s got a table for us inside.” She took his hand and led him into the house through a back door, then down a narrow hallway to a parlor at the front of the house. Samantha stopped at the table next to a window with a view of a garden. As soon as they were seated a large woman waddled into the room delivering water glasses and menus.

“This the man ya been waitin’ fer?” Dressed from head to toe in a pink muumuu and wearing black ballet slippers, the woman scrutinized Wade.

“Beulah, this is Wade Dawson. Wade this is Beulah.”

“Nice to meet you, Beulah.”

“Likewise. Today’s special is pickled pig’s feet.”

Samantha didn’t bother perusing the menu. “I’ll have the club sandwich and fruit salad.”

Wade didn’t want to waste their time together. “The same for me.”

“Too bad. My pig’s feet is juicy and tender.” She snatched the menus off the table and disappeared.

“Did you have trouble finding Beulah’s?” Sam swallowed a groan at the stupid question. Why so nervous all of a sudden? Lunch had been Wade’s suggestion not hers.

His gaze dropped to her mouth and her stomach flipped upside down. “This is the only pink house for miles.”

Flustered, she asked, “Did you stop by Barney’s?”

“I paid the bill and you have a nine-hundred-dollar credit on your account.” He sipped his water, then added, “Barney said you’d confused him with the last order you called in.”

“Oh?” Panic raced through her. She couldn’t remember her previous conversation with the store owner.

“You ordered tools and supplies for the new barn, then called the next day and placed a second order for the same items. He wondered if you were building two barns on the property.”

Oh, God. She was busted.
Calm down. Take a deep breath. Relax.

“You aren’t considering two barns, are you?”

“Not right away,” she answered, flushing. “I must have misspoke.”

“Barney’s an interesting character.”

Grateful Wade didn’t press her about the mix-up on the supply order, Sam relaxed. “I’ve known him since I was a little girl.”

“Is he married?”

“No. He’s been after Beulah to tie the knot with him for years, but she’s sworn off men after her first love left her for a younger woman.” Sam was dying to learn more about what happened between Wade and his ex-wife, but chickened out and asked about his son instead. “How’s Luke?”

“He’s eager to return to the ranch and help out this weekend.”

“Saturday they begin construction of a new aluminum horse barn.”

“
They
meaning your brother’s cowboy buddies?”

“No. I hired a local construction company.” Her answer elicited a frown from Wade. “What’s wrong?”

“I wish you’d check with me before spending more money.”

The whole money budgeting thing was getting on Sam’s nerves. “Is it really necessary to keep close tabs on what I spend? The cost of renovating the ranch won’t make a dent in my trust fund.”

“The more withdrawals from your account the more penalties you’ll incur.” His hand clenched the fork next to his water glass until his knuckles whitened. “If I’m informed ahead of time what your plans are I’ll withdraw enough money to cover several projects and you’ll incur fewer penalties.”

Or you’ll try to talk me into holding off on the project.
Not wishing to argue about the ranch, she said, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better about keeping you informed.” Not an easy task when she barely remembered her plans from one day to the next.

“Won’t be long before the property is ready for horses. Are you excited?” he asked.

“Yes and no,” she answered honestly.

“I’m listening.” He flashed an encouraging smile.

The urge to confide in Wade tugged at Sam, but she hated exposing her shortcomings. She wanted Wade to view her as confident, assured and reasonable. “I’m eager to help the horses but I wish the renovations on the ranch were completed.”

“I imagine fostering neglected horses will be a
change from caring for the spirited thoroughbreds you grew up with.”

She let Wade’s assumption pass without correcting him. “I’m worried that no matter how much I work with the animals I might not be able to help them.” What she really wished to share with Wade was her fear that she’d panic if a horse became too spirited.

Wade rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, distracting her. “Don’t underestimate yourself,” he said. “You’re a determined woman.” Sam melted under his warm gaze. “Speaking from experience,” he continued, “the rescued horses won’t stand a chance against your sweetness.”

Oh, Lord. Wade knew just what to say to make her heart skip a beat. His smile reeled her in and for a moment she imagined becoming intimately involved with him. Wade believed in her. Supported her choices. Encouraged her to pursue her heart’s desire. It would be so easy to fall in love with him.

“I want this ranch to succeed. I’ve dreamed of becoming involved in a worthwhile project and now that it’s within reach I’m concerned something will happen to jinx the dream.”

Wade dropped his gaze to the tabletop and cleared his throat. “Samantha,” he said, “there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now.”

His nervousness could only mean one thing—he was as attracted to her as she was to him. Her heart soared at the idea that they’d both been thinking along the same lines—wanting more than simple kisses from each other. “Me, too, Wade.”

He glanced at her, his eyes wide with surprise. “What are you talking about?” he asked hesitantly.

“I feel the same way about you,” she whispered, leaning across the narrow table until their mouths were only inches apart. “I really like you, Wade.” She pressed her lips to his and shuddered when he groaned.

The kiss went on forever, his lips serenading hers with the sweetest touches, nibbles and flicks of his tongue. When he pulled back, desire swirled in his brown eyes and Sam knew she wanted all of Wade—preferably in her bed.

Thursday morning Samantha lounged by the pool after swimming laps. She’d needed the physical exercise to take the edge off the aroused state she’d woken in earlier—not that she’d minded her restless night in bed.

Her sleep had been filled with dreams of her and Wade making love. She blamed the erotic images on the kiss they’d shared at lunch yesterday. She’d never been so bold with a man, but Wade drew her to him in a way she didn’t understand and had no control over. She preferred to believe her attraction to Wade was purely physical, but when she gazed into his dark brown eyes her heart convinced her otherwise.

Tired of fretting over her feelings for a man she could never be with, Sam donned her bathrobe and headed inside to confront a different obstacle—her father. She marched through the house to his office, then paused outside the door. “Got a minute, Daddy?”

He motioned to the chair in front of the desk. No smile. No greeting. Except when he’d comforted her after her nightmare, she’d been the recipient of the pro
verbial
cold shoulder
since her father had returned from his business trip and discovered that she’d purchased the Peterson property.

The time had come to clear the air between them. She claimed the leather chair in front of his desk, and fiddled with the tie on her robe in an attempt to conceal her frayed nerves. Out of respect for her father, she allowed him to speak first.

“I hear you’ve taken a leave of absence from your job.” He tossed his reading glasses onto the desk.

The
job
he referenced was a glorified public relations position that required no other skills than being able to stuff Cartwright Oil brochures into envelopes and mail them. Her father had created the PR job because he felt sorry for her when she’d moped around the house after graduating from high school while her classmates prepared for college. College had been out of the question because of her memory difficulties. Sam believed her father had been relieved when she’d agreed to work in his offices—easier to keep an eye on her and ensure she came to no harm.

Whether her plans to open a sanctuary ranch succeeded or not, Sam refused to remain in a job that made her feel useless. “I won’t be returning to work.”

“Ever?”

In case her father intended to sabotage her new project, hoping its failure would force Sam to reconsider, she confirmed, “Not ever.”

“Why didn’t you discuss purchasing the Peterson property with me?”

She’d bruised her father’s feelings when she hadn’t sought his counsel before contacting a Realtor. “I had
enough money saved to buy the ranch without dipping into my trust fund.”

“Where did you get that kind of money?”

Was he serious? Her father paid her an outrageous salary. She had no social life. No significant other to spend money on. She lived at home. Had few bills. Her paychecks went straight into the bank. “I spent little of the salary you paid me.”

An exasperated huff burst from him. “I deserved to know what my daughter intended to use her inheritance for.” He waved a hand in the air. “If Matt hadn’t leaked your secret when I spoke with him a week ago, I might never have learned your plans for this horse ranch you intend to operate.”

Oh, dear. She should have expected her secret wouldn’t remain sacred for long. “I didn’t tell you, Daddy, because I knew you’d try to change my mind.” Like he’d done each time she’d ventured too far from the safety net he’d cast over her after the accident.

“You’re damned right I would have protested. This is a foolish, dangerous game you’re playing with your life, Samantha. You can’t expect me to stand aside and watch—” He swallowed hard and dropped his gaze to the desk calendar.

Sam hurt for her father. She couldn’t remember the month following her accident, but her brothers had said their father refused to let her out of his sight during those thirty days. “I want you to keep me safe, Daddy.”

“Then let me,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse.

Sam launched herself out of the chair, skirted the desk and went down on her knees at her father’s side.
“If I’m ever going to have the life I want, I need to prove I can stand on my own two feet.”

“After your injuries, honey, no one expects you to—”

“
I
expect me to. I realize you only meant to protect me, but you should have let me go.”

His face paled and Sam rushed to explain. “I should have ridden a horse as soon as the doctor gave the okay. Yes, I was frightened, but it was your fear, Daddy, that stopped me from trying.” She wiped at a tear that escaped her eye. “I love horses. I want that part of my life back.”

He cleared his throat. “I almost lost you, honey. It’s not an experience a parent forgets. Ever.”

“I’m a fighter, Daddy.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “You get that from me.”

“Cartwrights don’t walk away when the going gets tough,” she said.

He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Why SPCA horses? They’re unpredictable. Dangerous.”

“For the past few months I’ve been caring for horses at the equine center. Just ones that are mild tempered and in need of a little TLC. I give you my word I won’t go near the aggressive ones.”

“If anything happens to you…” He clamped his mouth closed.

“Nancy Parker is teaching me how to rehabilitate abandoned and neglected horses.” Sam squeezed his hand. “I’m positive I’ll be ready to handle the animals once the ranch renovations are complete.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been working at the SPCA?”

“Because you would have tried to stop me.”

“Letting go is difficult,” he admitted.

“You managed fine with Duke and then Matt.”

“You’ll come to me if you need anything? Anything at all?”

“Of course.”

“And you won’t object if I drop by the Peterson property to check up on you?”

“You’re welcome anytime.”

“Unannounced?” he added.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You and your financial adviser, Wade Dawson, appear to get along quite well.”

Had her feelings for Wade been that transparent? Sam hopped up from the floor and moved to the window overlooking the front yard. “He frustrates me.”

“Oh?”

“Wade won’t loosen the reins on my money.” She faced her father. “At the risk of sounding like a spoiled rich girl—”

“Which you are,” her father inserted.

“—does it really matter if I pay top dollar for labor and construction materials when the cost of fixing up the property will barely make a dent in my funds?”

Her father grinned. “You could do worse than a man who possesses a healthy respect for money.”

She worried her father hoped something might develop between her and Wade. Refusing to encourage him, she said, “Wade’s too academic for me, Daddy. We don’t have much in common.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, young lady. You have a lot to offer.”

Maybe, but the one thing she couldn’t offer was
being a mother to a man’s child—even if that man was Wade and the child was Luke.

“Dawson’s boy is quite a character.”

“Luke’s a sweet kid.” And one she’d become far too attached to for her own good.

“Have you told Wade about your accident?”

“No.” There wasn’t any reason to unless she and Wade entered into a permanent relationship which would never happen.

“Is that wise?” Concern darkened her father’s eyes.

Ignoring the heat rushing to her face, she insisted, “It isn’t any of Wade’s business.” She changed the subject. “I’m driving out to Henderson Tractor-Trailer to buy a used trailer for the property.”

“Temporary housing?” he asked.

She nodded. “I haven’t decided whether to save or demolish the Peterson farmhouse.”

When he opened his mouth to offer advice, Sam cut him off. “After I shop for trailers I’ll be at the SPCA stables for a while.”

Her father’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m a phone call away if you need me.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” After she got dressed, Sam left the house, feeling more positive than she had in a long while. The trailer shopping took less time than she’d anticipated thanks to Mr. Henderson’s generosity. He’d agreed to deliver a showroom trailer to the Peterson property tomorrow morning. Next, she headed to the SPCA.

Although she was thrilled that her father had given her his support, she was well aware her plans to work with horses put him in a vulnerable position. If anything happened to her he’d never forgive himself for not inter
vening. She’d acted brave and self-assured in front of him—she could do no less. But deep down, Sam admitted that although she’d become more confident around horses, there were moments she experienced panic attacks.

When she arrived at the SPCA, she noticed that Blue, Red and Whisper were in the paddocks. Nancy’s truck was nowhere in sight and the SPCA trailer was absent from its parking spot. Deciding to work with Blue on her own, she retrieved a grooming belt from the tack room in the horse barn. She adjusted the belt round her hips and checked to make sure she had all the proper grooming tools.

Blue had yet to allow her or anyone at the SPCA to groom him. The gelding’s wounds had healed but Sam believed the pain from his injuries was still fresh in the horse’s mind and when the brush touched the scars the animal panicked. She entered the paddock quietly, so as not to startle the animals.

Two weeks ago she’d begun a routine with Blue—wearing the grooming belt in his presence. Each time Blue had reared up or run off. Then a few days ago when Sam had entered the paddock Blue had stood his ground. She’d walked up to him and stroked his neck but had refrained from using any of the combs.

Today Blue’s ears perked when she advanced toward him and he swished his tail in welcome. Sam rubbed his nose. “Hey, Blue. How’s my favorite guy?”

He stomped his foot and, unprepared for the movement, Sam’s heart jumped inside her chest. She moved to his side, then ran her fingers lightly over the worst of the scarring across his chest and left shoulder. His
muscles tensed and Sam held her breath, forcing herself to keep her hand against the puckered flesh. After a few seconds, Blue relaxed and dipped his head into the grain bucket attached to the paddock post.

Slowly, Sam removed the soft-bristled body brush from the grooming belt. Normally she’d begin with the currycomb to loosen the dirt under the horse’s hair but its rubber teeth would be too rough on Blue’s sensitive scars. She allowed Blue to sniff the brush. The horse nudged the grooming tool, then gave a warning snort.

Sam wished she could give up and leave poor Blue alone, but if she walked away now Blue would win, and he’d never allow her or anyone to groom him. She had to show Blue that she was the boss and meant him no harm.

Deep breath.
Sam slipped her hand beneath the strap across the back of the brush, then held it under Blue’s nose again while she stroked his neck with her bare hand. Eventually Blue relaxed and Sam ran the bristles lightly across his hide, avoiding the scars. “See, Blue. You like this, don’t you, big guy?”

After making sure she stood out of the way of Blue’s hooves, Sam held her breath and placed the brush against the puckered flesh. Blue tensed. His belly filled with air. The whites of his eyes flashed. Sam kept the soft bristles against his scars. If she didn’t show Blue she was higher up in the herd than him she’d never earn his respect.

Sam counted to ten before moving the brush to his neck and stroking his hide. After the horse relaxed, she repeated the process and placed the brush against the scars on his chest. Blue made no threatening movement and Sam rewarded him with several love pats before she
put the brush back in the grooming belt. “Good boy, Blue. That’s enough for now.”

Proud of herself for sticking to her guns she cut through the middle of the paddock toward the gate. She wasn’t sure what made her glance over her shoulder but when she did, she darn near fainted. Blue pawed the dirt, snorted and charged.

Sam wasn’t sure if it was sheer determination or stupidity that kept her from fleeing. Shoulders squared she thrust her arms out to her sides and waved them. “Stop!” she shouted, then stamped her foot.

Blue veered away at the last second, his tail slapping Sam across the face. Heart beating like a jackhammer she remained rooted to the spot, daring Blue to charge again. Sides heaving the gelding dropped his head and slowly walked toward her, then gently nudged her chest with his nose. Tears welled in Sam’s eyes. Blue had conceded defeat. Dear, God, she’d won.

With shaky hands she stroked his nose. “I’ll never hurt you, Blue.” After a few more pats, Sam once again turned her back on the horse and walked to the gate. A docile Blue followed. Before she left the paddock she fished a carrot from her pocket. “You and I are going to be good friends, Blue.”

“A
RE YOU SURE
M
ISS
S
AM WANTS
us to go fishing with her, Dad?”

“Positive.” Wade turned the BMW onto the freshly graded and graveled road leading to the Peterson farm. Samantha had phoned his office and invited him and Luke out to the property Saturday to fish and picnic. Even though the weather forecast predicted late-after
noon thunderstorms, Wade had jumped at the chance to do something other than shovel dirt on his day off. And spending time with Samantha was hardly a chore.

Wade had used the long drive to the ranch to rehearse what he’d say to Samantha about her trust fund. He’d carried a hefty load of guilt on his shoulder since their lunch this past Wednesday.

He was ashamed to admit Samantha’s kiss at Beulah’s had caught him off guard and derailed his confession. Part of him was glad he hadn’t been forthright with her. He cared for Samantha and he admitted he’d gotten a little cocky when he’d realized she was attracted to him. The fact that she was nice to Luke and that his son liked Samantha, too, had Wade contemplating the future. He hadn’t been looking for a serious relationship when Samantha exploded into his life but now he had trouble picturing a future without her. He knew if they were to have a chance together he had to fess up.

“Did you tell her we can’t fish?” Luke squinted out the window.