by Eve Gaddy
“Jeff doesn’t ride.”
“No? Well, that’s no reason for you to miss out on something you enjoy. Have you been riding long?”
She nodded. “Since I was four or five. I grew up on a ranch in Texas.”
Dylan tilted his head, considering her. “You’re a cowgirl.”
“Not anymore. Now I’m a doctor.”
“Do you miss it?”
She took a sip of beer. “Sometimes. There are things I miss. My parents still live there. They’ve got a ranch in Aledo, a town outside of Fort Worth. I haven’t been back since I moved up here. My parents have come up to see me, but it’s hard for them to get away.”
“What do you miss the most about the ranch?”
“Horses.”
“I can remedy that.”
“Uh-huh. I bet you can.”
“You’re awfully suspicious. What’s wrong with a friendly ride?”
“Nothing. As long as that’s all it is.”
“Cross my heart,” he said, suiting action to words. “I won’t hit on you.”
She didn’t look like she believed him. “I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“Don’t hold your breath. I only said I’d think about it.”
“Got it.” But it was a start. And the fact that the boyfriend was surely fictional didn’t hurt, either.
Sam knew she shouldn’t have but when Dylan asked her to dance she said yes. Somehow, one dance stretched into two, then three. By the time a slow song came on she didn’t argue. Instead, she let him pull her into his arms and move to the music.
He held her firmly, but not too close. His hands stayed at her waist and didn’t wander. He wore some kind of woodsy aftershave that smelled great. As they danced she drifted closer to him, enjoying the sensation of being held against a hard, masculine chest. She’d forgotten how to dance with someone who actually knew how to dance and didn’t just shove her around the dance floor and expect her to fend for herself. She liked it. Too much.
“I shouldn’t be dancing with you so much,” she said, late in the evening, having lost count of the number of dances.
“Why?” he asked, smiling down at her.
“You know why.”
“Because of your imaginary boyfriend?”
“No,” she said, not bothering to dispute his words. “Because I like it too much.”
He laughed and pulled her closer. “So do I, Sam.”
Later on, Sam was standing in front of the mirror in the rest room putting on lip-gloss when Bianca appeared behind her.
“Well, well,” Bianca said. “If it isn’t Ms. I’m-not-interested herself.”
“Wipe that smug grin off your face,” Sam said to her friend. She capped her lip-gloss and turned around to face Bianca.
“Why? I knew you two were perfect for each other. Obviously, I was right.”
“You’re jumping to a pretty huge conclusion there. We’ve been dancing. Only dancing.”
“Yes, you’ve been only dancing for the last hour. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Only dancing, my butt.”
Sam saw no point in arguing. “Dylan knows I’ve been lying about having a boyfriend. I haven’t admitted it yet, but he knows.”
“No surprise there. It’s obvious you don’t. You don’t act like you’re committed to anyone.”
“I suppose not.”
“Well, don’t be so glum about it. Dylan’s a good guy. Can’t you just have some fun?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I tried.”
“And we both know why.” She paused and added softly, “You’ve got a new life here, Sam. It’s time you lived it instead of letting it pass you by.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” she protested, guiltily aware that there was more than a grain of truth to what Bianca had said.
“It’s been more than a year. When are you going to forgive yourself for something that you weren’t responsible for?”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“Yes, it is. You’ve punished yourself enough, Sam. You deserve something good to happen to you.”
“And you think that something good is Dylan Gallagher?”
“I think he could be. If you let him.”
“I’ll think about it,” she told Bianca, just as she’d told Dylan.
Bianca was right. Sam knew that she had not been responsible for Gary Baxter’s actions. Not for any of them, and particularly not for the final act that sent him to prison.
But that didn’t make his wife Amber any less dead.
Chapter Five
Dylan walked Sam to her car. She’d parked in the lot by the courthouse, so it didn’t take long to get there. The night was cold and clear, the stars bright and plentiful. “I had fun tonight,” she told him, mindful of her talk with Bianca.
“I did, too. Tell me something, Sam.”
“Okay, what?”
“Why the lie? Your boyfriend is pure fiction, isn’t he?”
She started to deny it but after looking at Dylan, she knew it would be pointless. Tired of maintaining the fiction, she told him the truth. “It’s easier than explaining over and over again that I don’t want to date.”
“Why don’t you want to date?” He leaned back against her car hood, hands in pockets.
Was Bianca right? Was Sam punishing herself and that’s why she’d stopped dating? Or was it simpler than that?
“I choose the wrong men. I think they’re good guys and then I wind up getting burned. My judgment concerning men, or at least, the men I go out with, is crap. I always fall for someone who’s going to hurt me.”
“So you stopped dating altogether? Don’t you think that’s a little drastic?”
“No. I think it’s entirely reasonable.” She rubbed her arms. “I’m freezing. If we’re going to talk let’s get in my car and let me turn on the heater.”
“Suits me.”
“My last three relationships were a complete bust,” she said after they got settled inside the car.
“All for the same reason?”
She shrugged. “More or less. One was married, which I didn’t know until after we got involved. I broke it off when I found out. The next man was very charming and completely incapable of being faithful. Which I also broke off after discovering he was cheating on me. The last one was a sweetheart. But he was a player. After that I more or less swore off men.”
“Aha. Now I see why you don’t like me. You think I’m a player.”
“I do like you. That’s the problem. I like you but...you have a certain reputation.”
He stretched his arm across the back of her seat and toyed with her hair. “And what is this reputation?”
“You know exactly what it is. You’re nice, you’re charming, you’re hot and you’ve never dated anyone seriously. At least as far as anyone here knows. Are you going to deny it?”
He laughed. “I can’t really answer about the first part, but it’s true I’ve never been serious about a woman. I have nothing against it, though. I like women.”
“So I hear,” she said dryly.
He grinned. He was still playing with her hair, which made it hard for her to think. How crazy was that? Her hair? “Have you ever been in love?” she asked.
“No. Have you?”
She started to answer, ‘of course’ but she stopped before she got the words out. Had she been in love? Really in love? “I thought I was a couple of times,” she said, for some reason compelled to be honest. “But when it didn’t work out I wasn’t sure I ever had been.”
“So, you’ve never been in love either. And now you won’t date because you’re afraid you’re going to be hurt again. Plus, you don’t want people to think you’re a player.”
“Women aren’t players,” she protested.
“Oh, baby, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve known a number of them.”
Come to think of it, so had she. “Okay, I’ll concede that point.
We don’t call them that, usually. More like a flirt or maybe a tease.”
“Whatever you want to call them, that’s not who you are. It’s not who I am either.”
He had no idea how much she wanted that to be true. Maybe it was true. Was she so jaded she couldn’t trust any man to be what he seemed?
“I’m not asking you for a commitment, Samantha. I’m asking you to give me a chance. That’s all. If we have fun, great. If not—” He shrugged. “Then that’s that and no hard feelings. Sound like a deal?”
“You never give up, do you?”
He smiled. “Nope. Not when I really want something.”
Her breath caught as she looked at him. He wanted her. And damn it, she wanted him right back. But she wasn’t quite ready to give in.
“What would this date involve?”
“We could take in a movie, go for a ride, build a snowman. Go to dinner. Anything you want.”
He wouldn’t stop pursuing her unless she shut him down entirely. Which, if she were honest with herself, she really didn’t want to do. “I have tomorrow off. What if I come out to your place and we go for a ride?”
“That sounds great. What time?”
“Is eleven okay with you?”
“Eleven it is. I’ll have Sunshine ready and waiting.”
“You’ve already decided what horse I should ride?”
“I decided that the first time I asked you to come riding. You’ll like her. Everyone does.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “See you tomorrow.” He got out of the car and strode off.
Damn. She was not tingling from a kiss on the cheek. That would be absurd.
Looks like you’re absurd then, sister.
“Hey, Boss, there’s a lady asking for you. I put her in the tack room, where it’s warm.”
Dylan had just finished saddling his gelding, Hawkeye. Leading the horse to the front of the barn, he said, “Thanks, Connor.”
“Boss, can I talk to you a minute?”
Dylan stopped. “If you’re quick. I don’t want to keep the lady waiting.”
Connor smiled. “Can’t blame you there.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose and tipped up his hat, but he seemed to be struggling for words.
“Spit it out,” Dylan said.
“That new guy you hired?”
“Jim Monroe? What about him?”
“He don’t know much about horses.”
“Yeah, I know. He admitted he didn’t. But he doesn’t need to know anything to muck out a stable. And with Clay out we need the help. Even if it’s just grunt work.” And now with the cancer diagnosis who knew how long Clay would be unable to work.
“Yeah, but...Burt don’t like him.”
“Burt likes everyone.” Burt was the stable dog who loved horses and horses loved him. Dylan had never known Burt to be anything other than friendly to people, either.
“He don’t like Monroe. Burt growled at him.”
“Really? That doesn’t sound like Burt. Do you know why he growled at him?”
“No, but I thought Monroe was gonna kick him.”
“Did he?” That would put a whole different complexion on the matter.
“No, but that’s because I showed up before he could. I don’t think he likes either dogs or horses. Makes me wonder why he wanted a job here. He’s weird, Boss. Always standing around staring and talking to himself.”
Dylan resisted the urge to ask what Monroe said when he talked to himself. Maybe he just wasn’t that bright. “I can’t fire the man because Burt doesn’t like him. Tell him to stay away from Burt and I’ll talk to him later. Will you saddle Sunshine?”
“For the lady?”
“Yes. The new saddle we got for Mia,” he said, speaking of his brother Wyatt’s wife.
That conversation didn’t bode well for the new employee. Damn it, he’d had a hell of a time finding anyone to hire, period. Much less an experienced ranch hand. He’d had to settle for what he could get. Someone who was inexperienced but willing to take any job.
To tell the truth, Dylan thought there was something a little off about the man too. But he’d claimed to really need the job, and he’d looked down on his luck, so Dylan gave him a chance. Dylan was well aware of his soft spot for anyone or any animal who just needed a break. Usually, it didn’t get him into trouble. He’d been wrong about people a time or two, but never about the animals. Which was one reason he was intent on helping Trouble.
He left Hawkeye at the entrance to the barn.
When he opened the tack room door he saw Sam standing with her back to him, looking at the pictures on the walls. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
Sam turned around and smiled at him. She was bundled up in a down parka, blue jeans and a pair of well-worn cowboy boots. She’d tossed her knit hat and gloves on one of the tables and unzipped her jacket. “That’s all right. I was just admiring your photos. Are these all your horses?” she asked, gesturing at the wall of photos.
He walked over to her. “The more recent ones are. The older ones are horses my dad raised.”
“Tell me about them.”
“My dad raised quarter horses. That first one there was his original stud. He had a fancy name, but we just called him Bucky because he was a buckskin.” He continued, pointing out each one and giving a bit of their history. “This is my Fjord stud, Riptide. And the picture next to him is my first Fjord mare, Aria.”
“They’re beautiful. Their manes are so unusual. They grow that way? White with a black interior? How do they make them look like that? It almost looks like a checkerboard.”
“Part of it’s natural, part of it’s the cut. The distinctive cut of the mane, not to mention the color pattern, are some of the things that set them apart. Their manes stand up unless they’re really long, like my new horse’s. He hasn’t progressed to the stage where we can cut his mane yet.” And sometimes Dylan doubted he ever would. “Let’s go ride. I’ll take you to see all the other horses afterwards, if you want. They’re pastured but we’ll bring them in a little early because of the weather.”
“I’d love to see the horses. Is Sunshine a Fjord?”
“She is. How long has it been since you were on a horse?”
“I haven’t ridden since before I left Dallas. Several months ago. But I’ve been riding since I was four.”
“That’s right. You mentioned at the party last night that your parents own a ranch.”
Connor came in and gave him the thumbs-up sign. “Sunshine is ready and waiting. She’s out there with Hawkeye.”
“Thanks, Connor.”
“Sure, Boss. Want me to check the stirrup length?”
“I think we can handle it,” Dylan said dryly.
“Why does he keep smiling like that?” Sam asked after he left.
“I imagine because he thinks you’re pretty and wants to hit on you.”
She seemed taken aback, then laughed. “Even though I’m here to see you?”
“Connor’s never been picky about whose girl he goes after.” He opened the door and motioned for her to go out.
“We haven’t even had a date. How can I be your girl?” Picking up her hat and gloves, she waited for him to answer.
Dylan gave her a slow smile. “You’re not. Yet. But a man can dream.”
Chapter Six
I’ll be goddamned. It’s her. Doctor Samantha Striker. The bitch is here. What in the hell is she doing out here? She works at the hospital. Maybe she came out here to ride. But it’s not a stable. It’s a horse-breeding ranch. I wonder if she’s buying one?
Standing inside one of the stalls, pretending to muck it out, he watched as the bitch and his boss came out of the tack room, untied their horses and led them out of the barn.
Oh, I get it. Looks like the boss wants some of that. Yeah, she’s a looker. He smiled, thinking about his plans for her. But she won’t be pretty once I’m done with her.
I guess I’ll find out if I look as different as I think I do.
If she knows who I am when she sees me.
But not yet. Not yet.
First, I’m going to have me some fun with Dr. Samantha Striker. She’ll be sorry she fucked with me and mine. Very, very sorry.
A man can dream, Dylan had said. He was smooth, very much so. But he was sincere. At least, he sure seemed to be sincere.
Sam still wasn’t sure why she’d given in to the urge to get to know Dylan better.
Partly because you think he’s hot, dumbass.
Sure, that was some of it, but she’d begun to realize there was more to him than the carefree bachelor he was reputed to be. He worked hard. He ran a horse ranch, and from what she’d heard, a successful one. Apparently, though, he still found time to attend to his social life.
He’d said, unnecessarily in her opinion, that he liked women. And women sure as hell liked him. But the very fact that he was still friends with the women he’d dated in the past was significant. According to Bianca, all of the women, which made him even more unusual.
Bianca can’t possibly know all of them, she reminded herself. Besides, some men were very good at concealing their true nature. She should know.
But all men weren’t deceivers like her unlamented ex-boyfriends. Although Sam realized that her experiences had made her more than a little unsure of her judgment where men were concerned.
She was going riding with him. It wasn’t a big deal and didn’t mean anything. She liked him.
It’s a little more than that and you know it. You have the hots for him.
No, I don’t. Thinking he’s hot and having the hots for him are two different things.
Why was she blowing the whole thing out of proportion?
“Have you finished arguing with yourself?” Dylan asked.
Surprised, she looked at him. “Why do you ask that?”
“It’s written all over your face. I should go. No, I shouldn’t. It’s not a big deal. But maybe it is. Yes, no, maybe. What I want to know is what tipped the scales in my favor?”
Sam smiled. “The horses, of course.”
Dylan laughed and picked up the reins of a pretty golden-reddish mare with a black and white mane. A red dun, he called her. She nickered when she saw him, nudging him when he came closer. He stroked her nose and looked at Sam. “This is Sunshine. Sunshine, this is Sam.” He handed the reins to her and got his own horse to lead the horses out of the barn.