Rodeo Sweetheart

by Betsy St. Amant

  “It’s a long story.” Too long. Sam tucked her hair behind both ears and sighed.

  Cole shook his head as he began coiling the rope. “Seems to me your list of debtors is getting longer every day, kid.”

  “Sam, seriously, you can find other ways to earn money.” Ethan landed awkwardly on his feet inside the pen. “This is crazy. Let me help you.”

  “This is not crazy. My dad did it.” A rapidly fraying thread inside Sam snapped and fresh tears added to the pressure pounding in her head. She jerked away from Ethan’s outstretched hand. “And I don’t take charity.”

  “I’m not talking about charity.” Ethan looked at Cole, as if for help.

  The cowboy’s features tightened, and Sam welcomed the rush of warmth that Cole’s protection offered. At least someone was looking out for her. Her surrogate big brother believed in Sam’s riding ability, so who cared if a near-stranger did not? The flippant thought tugged at Sam’s stomach. She did care what Ethan thought, more than she had the strength to acknowledge.

  Kate quickly climbed the fence—much smoother than Ethan had—and looped her arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Maybe Ethan has a point. We should try to come up with another plan. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Flashbacks of hooves, horns and hospital beds filled Sam’s mind and she blinked against the torrent. She didn’t want to get hurt, either. But if a simple bake sale or car wash could solve the farm’s problems, Sam would have been whipping up cupcakes and lathering trucks long ago. It wasn’t as if she had a long list of options. She sank against the fence. “It’s not that easy.”

  “It can be if you get creative.” Ethan stepped beside her.

  A frown crinkled Kate’s eyebrows. “Sam, do you really want to do this? Is it that important to you? If it is, we’ll support you. Or at least I will.” She shot a wary look at Ethan.

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not a matter of being supportive. I just don’t want Sam to end up under some bull’s hooves.”

  The audible blow landed like a sledgehammer to Sam’s heart. She gasped in pain and Cole’s face darkened. “Drop it, Ames. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Without waiting for a reply, Cole grabbed Lucy’s rope and led her toward the barn, his boots clomping loudly on the packed dirt. The shadows swallowed them whole as they disappeared inside the stable.

  “Was it something I said?” Ethan winced.

  Kate’s eyes bugged. “You mean, you don’t know?”

  Sam quickly interrupted. “Kate, it’s okay.” Ethan didn’t know the details of her father’s death, or else he’d probably have used better terms. But she wasn’t ready to tell him—not now, maybe not ever. Sam drew a shuddery breath. If that look on Cole’s face had been any indication, he’d felt the sting of Ethan’s unintentional barb, too. Sometimes Sam forgot she wasn’t the only one hurt when Wade Jenson died. He’d been like an uncle to Cole.

  Kate’s lips pressed together and she nodded in understanding. “I’m gonna take off, then. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She glanced at Ethan, shook her head and made her way silently toward her pickup parked across the field.

  “So is Cole just your spokesman?” Ethan leaned his elbow against the rail beside Sam. A strand of dark hair, long ago having lost its gel, sagged against his forehead. “Or something more?”

  Sam turned to face the same direction, lodging one booted foot against the bottom rail. “He’s more like a big brother than anything else. He watched me grow up.”

  “Stable hand by day, protector by night.”

  “Something like that.” Sam tossed back her hair. “But I speak for myself.” She always had, after her father died. If she didn’t, no one would.

  The breeze stirred Ethan’s hair and puffed the sleeves of his polo shirt. At least he hadn’t resorted to wearing those designer shirts with the pearl buttons that Daniel wore. He must have thirty of those things and changed them twice a day. Sam wasn’t sure what was more annoying—that Daniel was trying too hard to fit into the ranch world, making a mockery of it in the process—or that Ethan fit in without seemingly trying at all. He simply did the work like any other stable hand, minus the traditional attire. Hard as she tried, Sam couldn’t picture Ethan in anything other than his signature jeans, khakis or polo.

  Although a black felt cowboy hat would really bring out his mysterious dark eyes.

  Sam jerked, stung by the errant thought, and slid away from the fence. “I’ve got to go. It’s late.”

  “If I said something to hurt you, I’m sorry.” Ethan’s quiet voice broke the silence of the night.

  “It’s not your fault.” In a way she wished it was. Then she could channel the anger and frustration toward someone, toward something tangible. But she had no one to blame for her and her mother’s current situation. It wasn’t her father’s fault, and Sam knew better than to blame God—completely, anyway. His grace had been the only thing to get them through the blindingly dark days after Wade’s death. Maybe riding that bull would be the therapy she needed. Not only would it accomplish her goal for the farm, but it could release the years of buried tension. Is that why her dad rode all those years?

  Too much to think about on sore muscles and no sleep.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She lifted her hand in a wave to Ethan and quickly slipped away toward the main house, toward the solace of her bedroom, toward precious sleep that could numb the emotion for another night.

  Toward the pillow she’d already sobbed into enough for one lifetime.

  Ethan watched Sam walk away from him, and not for the first time. He thought he’d found the perfect opportunity to talk Sam out of this crazy bull-riding idea and into something tamer. But she seemed determined to do this, and for reasons he hadn’t yet grasped. How many more secrets were hovering over the Jenson ranch?

  Ethan gripped the paddock fence with both hands and winced at a splinter that worked its way under his skin. Sort of like a certain cowgirl. He’d known Sam for, what, a week or less? And he was already overly concerned about her well-being—his heart pounding every time the steer bucked, his stomach tightening every time Sam fell. This was foolish. It was a crush, at best. Sam was different from the women he was used to dating, so she seemed appealing. That was all, right? Opposites might attract, but they rarely meshed. It’d be stupid of him to think otherwise.

  He shoved away from the fence and headed toward his cabin, the lie stinging worse than the splinter in his palm. He didn’t need this. He was here to make a sale, gain financial independence and hit the road. Figuratively and literally. Sam was a distraction—a beautiful one, but still a distraction. He had to find a way to get this whole business scheme of his father’s over with before he did something stupid.

  Like fall in love.

  There was a note scribbled on Ethan’s nightstand informing him that Daniel couldn’t sleep and had gone to play pool in the lodge. He wanted Ethan to come meet him when he got back from his date. Ethan’s lip curled as he tossed the letter in the trash. Watching Sam get trounced by a beast wasn’t a date, and definitely not with that Cole guy watching his every move.

  Ethan stood in the middle of the room, halfway between his bed and the door. He could go put up with Daniel and his competitive streak, or he could go to bed.

  And dream about Sam all night.

  With a scowl, Ethan yanked the door open and shouldered through the cool night air toward the lodge. At least he could be certain Sam went to her home to sleep and not to the big game room off the main house.

  Daniel waved from the back corner of the room and tossed him a stick. “Glad you made it. Now I can beat someone instead of playing by myself.” He broke and the balls scattered across the green felt. “Stripes.” He missed the next one.

  “Nice try. You’re going down.” Ethan leaned over the table and lined up his shot, eager to vent his frustration. The cue ball ricocheted off a solid orange and slid easily into a corner pocket.

  Daniel grunted his approval. �
�So where were you tonight? And don’t give me that meeting junk again.”

  “It was a meeting.”

  “Right. And I’m Annie Oakley.”

  Ethan aimed for the solid green and overshot. “Your turn.”

  “You didn’t answer me.” Daniel sunk a striped ball in the left corner. “You were with Sam.”

  “It was work-related.”

  “I’d like to work with her.” Daniel winked as he studied the table for an opening.

  Ethan gripped the cue stick with both hands. He knew Daniel would try to weasel into his relationship with Sam, had seen it coming a mile away. Ethan blinked. Wait a minute. What relationship? He shook his head. This entire process was getting too confusing. One thing he knew for sure, he didn’t want his womanizing cousin anywhere near Sam.

  Daniel powered another ball into the hole. “Is she seeing anyone?”

  “I don’t think so.” He’d never asked, but there was no way Sam had time for dating. It was obvious her focus remained solidly on the ranch and her goals. Ethan cleared his throat. “But she’s not your type.”

  “I like all types.”

  “Just leave her alone.” Ethan’s voice rose and he quickly bit his lip. But it was too late. The truth glimmered in Daniel’s eyes and he grinned.

  “No problem, man. You can have her. I won’t give you any competition, even if your dad did ask me to.”

  Disbelief clouded Ethan’s vision. His father had just said the other night that he didn’t want Ethan getting close to Sam romantically. In fact, Jeffrey’s exact words were Don’t be ridiculous, if I wanted someone to date Sam, I’d ask Daniel.

  Reality struck hard and Ethan’s heart stammered. His dad was manipulating them all. It was so obvious now. If Jeffrey could ask Ethan to lie, then he wouldn’t have any problem lying in return—even to his family.

  Daniel leaned over, aimed and sunk the eight ball into the corner. “That’s the game.”

  Ethan swallowed the mixture of anger, embarrassment and denial rising in his throat as he returned the cue stick to its stand by the wall.

  It was a game, all right.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You didn’t have to come.” Sam shot a sidelong glance at Ethan, who ambled along beside her on Miss Priss. A breeze chilled the morning heat on Sam’s back. Even Diego’s withers felt warm under her fingers. Just another typical July day in Appleback, Texas. She pushed at the cowboy hat on her head, knowing her hair must be a sweaty mess underneath. “You could have gone with Cole and the others on the regular ride.”

  “Checking fences is part of ranch life, isn’t it?” Ethan grinned and the sun highlighted his brown hair. “I want to learn it all.”

  “It might get boring.”

  “I doubt that.” Ethan’s eyes held a deeper meaning and Sam quickly looked away, her heart stuttering.

  Beneath her, Diego stirred and Sam tried to calm the rush of emotion her mount noticed. “Better you than Ethan,” she mumbled to the horse.

  Ethan leaned over in the saddle. “What’s that?”

  “Nothing.” Sam smiled, hoping it covered the confusion she knew lingered in her eyes. She squeezed Diego’s side to urge him into a trot. “Let’s go. At this rate, we’ll never finish checking the borders.”

  They rode toward the east perimeter, the weeds and overgrown grass parting around the horses’ legs. Ethan didn’t bounce nearly as hard in the saddle as he did on their first trail ride, and Sam shoved back the smidgen of pride for her part in the improvement. She might be a good teacher but Ethan, as much as she hated to admit it, had natural ability on a horse. He just needed the time and confidence—which he was obviously gaining as he no longer clung to the saddle horn—to develop it.

  “What happens if we find a break in the fence?” Ethan’s eager expression seemed as if he hoped they would.

  “We note it and send Cole back later to fix it.”

  “You can’t fix it yourself?” Ethan’s cocked eyebrow held a challenge, and Sam bristled.

  “Of course I could. But it’s barbed wire and Cole’s stronger. He can pull it three times as fast as me.” Not to mention she hated messing with those sharp barbs. Besides, it wasn’t like she didn’t already have enough on her cracked, overflowing plate. “Time is money on a farm.”

  Ethan’s mouth twitched.

  “What? You think you could do it?” Sam pulled Diego to a halt.

  Ethan stopped Miss Priss and urged the mare in a circle to face Sam. She tried not to be impressed at the easy movements he used, as if he’d been doing it for years instead of days. Ethan shrugged. “It can’t be that hard.”

  “In that case, why don’t you come out with Cole later and let him show you the ropes?” Sam snorted. Less than a week on a horse and Ethan thought he was a real working cowboy? Typical. “You’ll think twice.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Ethan shifted in the saddle. “I think I could pick it up after one try.”

  “One section of fence, and you’re an expert? I’d let Cole be the judge of that.”

  “Then let him.” Ethan grinned. “What do you say?”

  Sam tilted her head. “All right. Kate and I were planning on going to the Appleback street fair tomorrow night. I say if you don’t—under Cole’s supervision—fix any broken fence within two hours’ time, then you have to sign up for the dunking booth.”

  “And if I make the deadline?”

  Sam pursed her lips. “You won’t.”

  “But if I do…” Ethan’s eyes glimmered in challenge. “You have to enter.”

  Sam sidled Diego up close to Miss Priss and offered her hand to Ethan. “Deal.”

  They shook, and Sam smirked. She couldn’t wait to see Ethan and his trademark polo floating in a pool of water.

  Ethan winced as another barb bit into his glove. Cole, several feet down by the post, shot him a knowing look and Ethan tugged harder at the fencing despite his screaming biceps. He couldn’t let Cole know he was struggling, or the cowboy wouldn’t tell Sam that Ethan did the job correctly. The only thing worse than splashing into a small town’s annual dunking booth would be the gloating look on Sam’s face if he lost.

  He pulled again. No matter who won, at least Ethan had a date to the fair. Sam never would have considered inviting him to come with her and Kate otherwise. Ethan wrinkled his brow. Invited, challenged—same difference, right? Regardless, Ethan now had tangible proof to show his father he was spending time with Sam doing fun things. Bottom line—if he was with her, Daniel wouldn’t have a chance to move in. Never had appearances become so important.

  And never had a work project become this complicated.

  He shuddered at the thought of his father finding out Ethan’s real plans to leave the company. He pushed aside the thought and concentrated on the physical ache in his muscles. He’d never worked so hard, but the thought of getting to spend tomorrow with Sam in a non-chore atmosphere made sweating over a prickly pile of fencing almost worth it.

  Although, on second thought, it would be awfully hard to explain to his dad why he was out in a pasture in the middle of the afternoon, helping to repair a fence instead of working to destroy it as Jeffrey requested. The complications kept piling up. It’d be pretty simple to sabotage the fence, even under Cole’s scrutiny. But Ethan refused to participate in his father’s devious plans. He’d rather make excuses to his dad than hurt Sam any more than he was already going to have to.

  “How does this work, exactly?” Ethan strained harder and his gloves slipped. The fencing snapped free and fell to the ground in a messy tangle of wire. He sucked in his breath. Now he’d done it. Once Sam heard about this, he’d lose for sure. He turned his gaze to Cole, who snickered.

  “Guess this might be a good time to introduce you to a little thing I like to call a fence stretcher.” Cole held up a long yellow tool and grinned.

  Ethan’s mouth opened. “You’ve got to be kidding me. How long were you going to let me pretend that I was being productive?”
r />   “I reckon ’bout ’til you gave up.”

  “Great.” Ethan ran his gloved hand over his face and groaned.

  Cole began stringing the wire through the machine. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Sam. I know about your little challenge.”

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you help me?”

  “Sam needs a dose of her own medicine now and then.” Cole pushed his cowboy hat back with one hand. “Besides, it’d be pretty funny to see her in that dunking booth. She takes herself too seriously.”

  “So you’re going to tell her I fixed the fence?” Ethan couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “Reckon there’s no reason not to—because that’s exactly what you’re going to do.” Cole’s face drifted back into his usual scowl. “Now get over here, you’re not getting out of this without some work.”

  Ethan scrambled to follow the cowboy’s orders, his heart light for the first time in days. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Sam’s face when Cole gave her the progress report, or hear the inevitable scream when Sam realized what she’d agreed to. He checked his watch and winced. They’d be cutting it close.

  He took the tool from Cole and got to work.

  Sam almost swallowed her gum as she glimpsed Ethan and Cole riding toward the barn on Miss Priss and Salsa—laughing. She’d figured Cole would have torn Ethan to shreds after hours of fence repair—both physically and emotionally. But the smile Ethan wore as the twosome dismounted by the stable was brighter than the stars beginning to poke through the navy sky.

  She hesitantly made her way toward them, automatically reaching out to take Miss Priss’s reins from Ethan.

  “I’ve got her.” Ethan’s hair, mussed, sweaty and without an ounce of leftover gel, flopped on his forehead and he shook it back with a grin. “A man’s got to finish what he starts, right?” He nodded once at Cole before leading Miss Priss into the barn.

  Sam turned toward Cole and fisted her hands on her hips. “Okay, what happened out there? You two left as Felix and Oscar from The Odd Couple, and came back all buddy-buddy.”