by Nancy Bush
A tad too decisively as it turned out, because Ginny commenced to choke and sputter, coughing so hard Cooper had to slam her on the back a couple of times.
Gasping, she came up for air. “You go tell her that, mister. And after you do, come back here and let us know how she took the news.”
Josh, Sam and Ginny suddenly broke into uproarious laughter. They might all agree that Cooper ought to buy the Triple R, but convincing Sammy Jo of that fact appeared to be another matter altogether.
“Sounds like Ms. Whalen doesn’t take kindly to advice,” Cooper said.
They all doubled over again. And that’s when Sammy Jo Whalen herself strode into the High Noon Saloon.
THE PRINCESS OF COLDWATER FLATS — NANCY BUSH
Chapter Three
Conversation stopped as fast as flames doused by a bucket of cold water. Sammy Jo looked around in confusion. You’d think the patrons of the High Noon Saloon had never seen a woman in a skirt before.
“Well?” she demanded of the room at large. Immediately, everyone’s nose went back to their beer glasses, pool balls clicked and the din of conversation returned.
Sam scurried over to her end of the bar. “What would you like, Sammy Jo?”
“I don’t really want anything, Sam. I was looking for…”
Her gaze landed squarely on Cooper at that moment. He was leaning against the curve of the bar at the far end, elbows back, chest thrust forward so that his denim jacket revealed the straining buttons of his shirt. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man’s body. She didn’t have to stretch her imagination to know how hard those muscles must be.
“I was looking for Doc Carey,” she lied, switching gears.
“The doctor don’t drink,” Sam said, regarding her curiously.
“One of my mares is sick and me and the doc have been missing each other. Just thought I’d look here.”
She wasn’t fooling anyone, but Sam wasn’t sharp enough to get the picture. She hoped Cooper wasn’t paying close attention to their conversation. He had ears that heard too much and eyes that saw too much. She knew that for a fact already.
“Hi, there, Sammy Jo,” Josh Johnson greeted her, rising from his stool and gesturing her to take it.
“Hi, Josh. Thanks, but I’m just stopping by.”
“Have you met your new neighbor?”
Sammy Jo spared a glance at Cooper whose eyes slid her a disinterested look in return. “We’ve met. How are those cattle doing?”
“All taken care of,” Cooper answered.
“Meaning?”
“They’re mostly gone.” His voice was tight and Sammy Jo couldn’t help flushing, mad at herself for antagonizing him right off the bat. What was she thinking? “Is there a problem?” Cooper drawled. Everyone looked at Sammy Jo expectantly.
“Not that I know of. Sam, I’d like a beer, after all,” she called to the bartender.
“What brought you to the High Noon?” Josh asked her.
“Oh, nothing much.”
“Said she’s looking for Doc Carey,” Sam supplied, handing her a foaming glass.
Sammy Jo ground her teeth together as Josh said, “Now, you know the doc don’t drink.”
She could feel Cooper’s heavy, assessing gaze. Her flush deepened, hot and embarrassingly red, she was sure. “Tick-Tock’s got a problem. Some kind of bowel obstruction.”
The men instantly forgot their needling and offered words of worry and consolation. Cooper looked from one face to another, until Josh explained, “Sammy Jo’s mare, Tick-Tock, is pregnant. Bowel obstruction…sounds bad.”
“Where’s the mare now?” Cooper asked.
She could hardly mention Doc Carey had taken the horse into Bend without revealing she’d made this stupid little lie up in the first place. “I got her to the veterinary hospital in Bend,” she said dismissively.
Josh wouldn’t let it go. “Who’s working on her? Timmy?”
Timmy was Doc Carey’s assistant vet and more butcher than surgeon. No self-respecting livestock owner would trust him. “Lord, I hope not,” she muttered fervently.
A round of “Here, here” followed with lifted glasses and nods of agreement. Cooper’s mouth quirked in amusement but he raised his beer along with the others.
“So, Sammy Jo, why are you all dressed up?” Ginny Martin asked, leaning on her pool cue and slipping Sammy Jo a mean-mouthed look.
“I’ve been to the bank.” Just my luck, Sammy Jo thought with an inward sigh. She and Ginny’s rivalry went way back, ever since Brent Rollins chose Sammy Jo in the sixth grade as his junior court rodeo princess. It had been her first crown, a kind of foreshadowing of the future, but Ginny had never forgiven her. Sammy Jo hadn’t bothered to mend fences. What was the point? Ginny wouldn’t believe Sammy Jo didn’t give a damn about Brent then, now, or ever.
“That the only reason?” Ginny persisted, eyeing the open-throat of Sammy Jo’s peasant blouse. “I’ve never seen you dress up for anything, ‘cept’n maybe to accept a trophy. Did you know Sammy Jo here’s a local celebrity?” Ginny turned to Cooper. Sammy Jo wished she’d just shut up. “Barrel- racing mostly, but she’s collected some trophies for trick-riding and other things. Even won a heart or two, though she’d like to tell ya different.”
Burning inside, Sammy Jo wondered what was going on between Ginny and Cooper Ryan. Not that she cared. Much. But she hated being a source of amusement to anyone. “If you’re talking about Brent, why don’t you just spit it out?” Sammy Jo challenged.
Ginny’s lips tightened and she turned back to her game, slamming several balls into the pockets.
“So, how did it go with Matt Durning?” Cooper asked casually.
Sammy Jo sipped at her beer, trying hard not to even look at Cooper. She didn’t know why, but it bothered her to meet him eye to eye except for brief little glances. “It went bad.”
“He’s calling the loan?”
“He’s called the loan,” she corrected. “You heard me asking for more time the other day. It really burns me up. We’ve never missed a payment to anybody. He has no right.”
“We?”
“Gil—my dad—and I. My dad raised me.” Why she’d added that bit of trivia, she didn’t rightly know.
“How’s your income statement look?” Cooper asked. “Bankers like fat, healthy income statements.”
Sammy Jo met his gaze squarely this time. “It sucks,” she admitted.
He grinned. And then he laughed aloud, the sound deep and musical, reaching into Sammy Jo’s insides and mixing them up in a way that made her uncomfortable. His teeth were white and straight, his lips thin and yet, sexy and appealing, in a way no man’s had a right to be.
Sammy Jo yanked her thoughts back hard, annoyed at this flight of fancy. She felt like a teenager, for God’s sake, thinking about the man’s body parts while her heart fluttered and trembled as if it were about to quit altogether. Good Lord.
“That’s too bad, Sammy Jo,” Josh commiserated.
“A real bitch,” Sam added.
If Ginny had heard this exchange, she gave no sign of it. For that Sammy Jo was glad. That “real bitch” comment was just aching to be interpreted in other ways, and Sammy Jo didn’t feel like getting into it with Ginny.
“What do you plan to do with Serenity?” Sammy Jo asked Cooper.
“Before or after I change the name?”
She actually smiled. “Thank God.”
“Seems to be the general consensus around here,” Cooper observed with a good-natured drawl.
“When Ethan Riggs named the place serenity Ranch, my father nearly took a shotgun to him,” Sammy Jo said, her voice bubbling with amusement. “It used to be called Cotton Creek Ranch, after the stream, but it’s been years since Riggs bought it from the family that first homesteaded the place. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in changing the name back?”
“You never know,” Cooper said, sidestepping the question.
“Whatever you’d choose,
it’s bound to be better than Serenity Ranch.” She snorted. “Sounds like a retirement home for has-been rodeo stock.”
“Mr. Ryan’s bound to come up with something,” Ginny interjected.
Her tone caught Sammy Jo’s attention. There was something so calculating and slithery about it. Was Ginny interested in Cooper? She certainly acted as though she was, Sammy Jo thought, watching Ginny lean over the pool table once more. It irked her that Ginny played such a mean game of pool. Sammy Jo was hopeless at it. But then, Ginny didn’t know the first thing about ranching, so maybe they were even.
“Care to play me?” Ginny asked Cooper suggestively.
Sammy Jo burned. With difficulty, she kept her feelings out of her face. If Cooper Ryan fell for Ginny’s games, he wasn’t the man she thought he was.
“Can’t right now,” he told her. “I’ve got to be somewhere.”
“You meeting someone?” Ginny asked quickly.
Sammy Jo wanted to hear the answer to that, too.
“No, I just got work to do.”
He scooped up his hat and headed for the door. Sammy Jo followed him.
“I know you’re in a hurry, but I wanted to talk to you,” she said.
“About?”
“Oh…well…” she darted a glance to Josh, Sam and Jenny were all staring unabashedly. “The Triple R.”
Cooper’s gaze followed hers. After a moment, in that slow drawl she was becoming familiar with, he said, “I skipped out on dinner tonight with Lettie and Jack. Thought I’d grab something in town. You want to join me?”
Sammy Jo’s breath caught. This was the perfect opportunity. Better than she could have wished for.
“I owe you a dinner,” he reminded her.
“Yes, you do,” she agreed with a forced smile.
She didn’t turn around, but she could well imagine the annoyance that must be sharpening Ginny’s face. Her smile became more natural, widening into dimples.
Cooper held the door for her, his gaze rapt on her face. Uncomfortable under that frank appraisal, Sammy Jo instantly sobered, wondering what he found so keenly interesting about her face. “Tell me about the Triple R,” he invited as he strode past his truck and her pickup and meandered down the street to a steakhouse called Lou’s, little more than a hole in the wall, but renowned for its grilled T-bones.
“You’re pretty familiar with Coldwater Flats already,” Sammy Jo remarked as they stood outside the restaurant.
“I know this place and The Riverside are the only restaurants in town worth speaking of. I haven’t been to The Riverside yet.”
“The Riverside has better atmosphere, but more of the locals come here.”
“If you want to switch…?”
“I’m really more interested in conversation than food,” she admitted candidly.
For an answer, Cooper inclined his head and held open the door. A haze hung in the air from the wildly sizzling grill at the back of the place. Sammy Jo found a spot as far from the kitchen as possible and Cooper stretched out in a chair opposite her. His legs were long, lean and seemed to surround her. Sammy Jo tucked in her knees and felt intimidated.
“You really don’t have to buy me dinner.”
He shook his head. “It’s payback time.”
Staring at the menu, which she knew by heart, Sammy Jo said, “I’m not all that hungry. I think I’ll have a salad.”
“You’re not one of those women who starve themselves to save their figures, are you?” he asked curiously.
Sammy Jo shot him a look. “Do I look like the type?”
He grinned. “No.”
Her hands were sweating. Wiping them on her skirt, she dived in. “I just got some things on my mind, and food’s not one of them.”
“Y’all ready?” the waitress asked, pen poised. Dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, she shifted her gaze from Cooper to Sammy Jo and back again.
“I’ll have the T-bone and the lady wants a salad,” Cooper said.
“Ranch dressing,” Sammy Jo told the woman before she could rush away. The place wasn’t known for its congenial staff.
“Back to the Triple R,” Cooper said, settling deeper into his chair. He still wore his cowboy hat and it rested low over his eyes, making him seem half-asleep though Sammy Jo was certain he was as awake and alert as an eagle.
“You already know that I’m having some financial trouble. My father died a while back and well, you heard Matt Durning…I only have a few months left before the bank takes over.”
She felt like an idiot. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could scarcely hear herself, and what she did hear worried her. Was that really her voice, so breathy and filled with desperation?
“Three months,” Cooper said.
“Yeah, and thanks for that. Matt was getting sticky till you stepped in.”
“My pleasure.”
That nearly stopped her, but she managed, “So, I was thinking…”
“Go on,” he said when her voice faded out.
“I was thinking…” Sammy Jo didn’t know if she could go through with this. It was ridiculous to believe he would help her. Insane.
A vision of Uncle Peter’s gloating face crossed her mind. She could practically see him shaking hands with Matt Durning as they finalized a deal over the Triple R. As soon as the bank took over, she had no doubt Uncle Peter would be at Valley Federal’s front door, scooping up her ranch and enjoying the last laugh against her father.
“I was thinking maybe you could help me,” she blurted out.
Cooper Ryan’s blue eyes bored into hers. “How so?”
“You seemed—sympathetic— at the bank, and I just thought…maybe…you’d be interested in helping me out.”
“You want to sell?”
“Good God, no!” Sammy Jo gasped. “The ranch is mine. I just thought I could talk you into investing.”
“Two hundred thousand dollars?”
She shrugged unhappily. He’d heard every word in Matt’s office. “They’ve called my loan.”
“Not interested.”
His cold answer took her breath away. Sammy just stared into his dark blue eyes, totally annihilated. She’d pegged him wrong. An aborted spurt of laughter sounded behind her. She turned slightly and looked up. Ginny and Josh had made their way over from the High Noon, and were standing by their table. Ginny was laughing.
Sammy Jo’s cheeks flamed. She’d made a fool out of herself in the worst way.
“Sammy Jo, honey, not all guys are as gullible as Brent,” Ginny stated smugly.
“Mind your own business,” Sammy Jo seethed.
“You can’t always get your way just because you think the world owes it to you.”
“Did Mr. Ryan give you his advice, Sammy Jo?” Josh asked. He wasn’t laughing like Ginny, but he wasn’t helping the situation, either.
“Advice?” Sammy Jo stared bleakly at Cooper.
Cooper hesitated, shooting Josh a look so dark Sammy Jo wondered what was really going on. “I suggested you sell the place,” Cooper told her, but his gaze was sharp on Josh.
“Over my dead body.”
“I’m serious, Sammy Jo,” Cooper responded, his gaze softening.
The way he said her name made her stomach twist and her throat tighten. She didn’t like the feeling. And she didn’t like what he was saying.
But he kept on saying it, anyway. “You’ve got a big place to run there. It’s hard enough for a whole crew of ranch hands, but for one woman it’s impossible.”
All she heard was woman. Woman, as in weak, incompetent, unworthy and prone to hysteria. Oh, she’d heard it all from her father a hundred times. A thousand times.
Ginny’s smile was so big Sammy Jo could practically feel the waves of amusement emanating from it. “Do you mind?” Sammy Jo demanded of Ginny and Josh. Ginny looked as if she were planted for the next millennium, but Josh hustled her to a table out of earshot.
“I’m not selling, Mr. Ryan,” Sammy Jo told
Cooper through her teeth. “I’ve got someone to help me around the ranch now.”
“Who?”
“None of your business.”
“One person? You got one person to help you?”
Oh, he was pressing it. Why was he being so awful now? She could’ve sworn there was more to him the night that he’d asked her to dinner. He’d seemed so sincere. So friendly. But now he was as cold as a rattler. “I’ve got a whole army to help me, as a matter of fact.”
“Really?”
“I’m not selling.”
“When you change your mind, let me know. I’d be more than willing to help out.”
“I’ll bet,” she muttered. She had half a mind to kick him in the shins. He was just like all the rest of them. Worse. What had ever possessed her to think he might be interested in helping her? Really helping her?
Tess. Tess had told her the man was a philanthropist. Hah! Opportunist, more like it.
“You’re going to have to make a decision soon,” Cooper went on. “Don’t wait until the last minute. You’ll go under. You need to deal from strength.”
“I think I can get by without the patronization,” she squeezed out through her teeth.
His dark eyebrows snapped together. “I’m just telling you to be smart.”
“Why don’t you go tell it to somebody who cares?”
The waitress clattered Sammy Jo’s salad down so hard the lettuce leaves jumped onto the table. Sammy just stared at it, seething. Without another word, she slid out of her seat and strode through the front door. On the street, she stopped long enough to take a deep breath. Blasted men. They all thought the same way. Nobody wanted to help her. They just wanted to steal from her. And why not? Women—no, girls like her—were easy pickings. The men in this town were all counting on her to fail by virtue of her sex alone.
“The hell I will.” she gritted-out.
Smoke-filled air swelled around her as the door opened again and Cooper followed her outside. Sammy Jo stiffened, refusing to look at him.
“You don’t want to sell, I can’t blame you,” he said reasonably. His very reasonableness infuriated her further. “And I don’t like being the one to make you face reality, but Sammy Jo, you’re out of options.”