The Princess of Coldwater Flats

by Nancy Bush

  The rain ran over the sunbaked ground, turning to dusty rivulets that squiggled wildly in all directions. Sammy Jo inhaled and smelled more of Cooper’s scent. She watched rain runoff the brim of his hat and felt it trickle down her own temple.

  They stood in silence for several moments while steam rose like wisps of smoke from the thirsty ground. Thunder rumbled threateningly after each split of lightning. Rain splattered and chattered like a frenzied conversation as it hit the still water of the pond. A beaver head appeared, then ducked back under the surface. Sammy Jo looked at Cooper, whose eyes crinkled with amusement.

  “They’re too cute for words, the little devils,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  They stared at each other. Sammy Jo couldn’t help remembering that last kiss. From the way his gaze traveled to her lips, he seemed to be thinking of it, too.

  Thunder growled again. Sammy Jo stepped back, her boot slipping slightly. Cooper’s hand automatically grasped her arm, but in the process, his fingers accidentally grazed her breast.

  Sammy Jo swooped in a breath. She felt his fingers tighten, saw the change in his expression. Passion grew in the dense, warm privacy of the rain.

  “Sammy Jo,” he said softly, so softly she wasn’t certain he’d really said anything.

  “We should go back.”

  “We should,” he agreed, pulling her close, too close. She shook her head as his mouth came down on hers, gently this time, completely shattering her resistance.

  His hat slid down to the wet ground. He ignored it as his lips molded hers. Sammy Jo’s breath escaped on a sigh of pleasure. His mouth drove conscious, sane thought from her mind. All she felt was moist heat from that kiss. Shivers down her back. Goosebumps on her arms.

  His hands slid down her back to the base of her spine, drawing her forward until she was pressed so close she could scarcely breathe. Rain poured around them, dampening her hair, her skin, sticking her shirt to her back and chest. She felt his heart pounding sure and strong against breasts that felt oddly full and tight.

  And then his lips parted hers, and he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. Sammy Jo jerked, mewed out a sound of protest, then was flooded with liquid sensation. Her head reeled. The smell of moisture and damp leaves and some musky, primal scent she wasn’t certain existed outside of herself blended into an exotic concoction; the scent of desire.

  She wound her arms around his neck. Heat emanated from his skin. Her fingers explored his hairline, and his own hands tangled in her mane, ripping the ponytail loose, luxuriating in the silken fullness of heavy blonde strands.

  BOOM! The crack of thunder was loud enough to wake the dead. Sammy Jo jumped, and even Cooper jerked in surprise. They broke apart, staring at each other. Sammy Jo’s chest heaved.

  “Just thunder,” he said.

  “Uh huh.” His eyes were slumberous, yet flamed with pulsing excitement.

  “And electricity,” he added quietly.

  “Yup.” Sammy Jo couldn’t speak. She watched his gaze drop to her still-trembling breasts, and her cheeks burned. “I don’t get it,” she admitted with pure honesty.

  Cooper shook his head, the black strands of his hair sensuously wet. “Haven’t you kissed anyone before?”

  “Of course I have,” she said scornfully.

  “And?”

  “What?”

  “What don’t you get?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he suggested, “Why you want to kiss me?”

  His arrogance set her teeth on edge and her blood on fire. She fought against his compelling attraction. “It’s you who wants to kiss me.”

  “You’d like to believe that.”

  “I do believe it. Because it’s true.”

  “You just hate the fact that you liked it. And you want to do it again.” Passion lurked in his eyes, waiting to be reignited.

  Her heart slammed inside her chest. “You’re an arrogant son of a bitch.”

  “We could test the waters again,” he suggested, his gaze frankly appreciative as it swept over her rain-soaked body.

  “No.” This was dangerous. In an undefined way. Her instincts were on overload, crying out for fulfillment. Fulfillment with Cooper. But this was tricky. Complicated. Downright reckless.

  He can never know how right he is. “I’ve gotta go think about things.”

  “What things?” His hands tugged on her arm, pulling her near once again. She concentrated on his top button, but above that, where his shirt gapped, she could see a smattering of dark chest hair. Without conscious consent, her fingers touched that bare skin. He drew a sharp breath. “Sammy Jo,” he warned huskily.

  She snatched her hand back. “Sorry. I—I can’t get sidetracked. I’ve got the Triple R to think about, and this won’t work.”

  The words were ripped from that logical part of her mind that had led her throughout her life. It was a part that had served her well, all things considered. She never questioned its dominance over her emotions. Its logic was clear, where feelings and desires were murky and dangerous.

  But it was the wrong thing to say to Cooper Ryan.

  “Because I’m not husband material?” he asked in a quiet, ominous voice.

  “Because you won’t help me.”

  “What do you want me to do? Invest in the damn thing with you?”

  “Why is that so terrible an idea?” Sammy Jo yanked her arm back, growing annoyed in spite of her attraction to the man.

  “You’d do anything to save this ranch, wouldn’t you? You really would buy a husband.” He snatched up his hat, rain pouring off the brim unheeded. “Or maybe, just an investor,” he added.

  “You think I kissed you because I thought that might change your mind?”

  “Well?”

  Passion dissolved into fury. She wanted to kick him. “Actually, I hadn’t thought of it until you put the idea in my head. Tell me, did it work?”

  “No.” His voice was frigid.

  “Too damn bad. Looks like I’ll have to marry Brent or Tommy or whoever decides to pop the question first.”

  “You do that.”

  “I sure will.”

  “You wouldn’t know the first thing about how to be a wife.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t I? I’m sure as hell getting some great lessons on kissing, aren’t I?”

  His arm shot out. Sammy Jo jerked back, fists clenched. “Don’t touch me.”

  “You can’t see a damn thing beyond this ranch,” he declared. “You hate the idea of marriage, but you’d get married just for the Triple R.”

  “I don’t hate the idea of marriage.”

  “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met!” he snarled, his own temper igniting, and from the looks of it, it was a bear.

  “Okay, you got me. I don’t want to be married. I just want my ranch. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “At least it’s the truth.” He threw her a look of pure disgust.

  “The hell it is,” Sammy Jo snarled. “Your opinion of women is even lower than I thought, which is saying a lot.”

  “I had a good teacher.”

  “Yeah?” Sammy Jo wasn’t buying it. “Who?”

  “My ex-wife.”

  Shaking her head, Sammy Jo said recklessly, “I feel for her. She must’ve been out of her head to ever marry you in the first place.” Shoving at Cooper’s chest, she surprised him into stepping backward. Unwinding Goldie’s reins, she led the horse away from the dam and Cooper, throwing him a last, disdainful look. His own expression had turned to stone. “I was crazy to think I could marry someone to save the ranch,” she raged. “I was even crazier to say so aloud. All it did was give chauvinists like you extra fodder. But the biggest mistake I ever made was thinking you might actually help me out of the kindness of your heart. You’d have to have a heart, and I’m sure you do.”

  With that, she slapped the reins against Goldie’s neck and the mare trotted away from the pine grove.

  Cooper balanced his glass of scotch and soda on his
chest as he lounged deeply in the back-porch chair. He’d pulled his hat low over his eyes, effectively hiding his cold glare. He’d snarled at Jack and Lettie for no good reason, and now they were keeping their distance. Good. He wanted to be alone. He deserved to be alone. And he sure as hell was going to be alone, even if he had to bite someone’s head off to do it.

  What had he been thinking? How could he have indulged in that spate of kissing with mule-stubborn Sammy Jo Whalen? Chauvinist? Hah. He was a masochist!

  Swearing softly and succinctly under his breath, he poured a huge gulp into his mouth, letting the liquor and soda burn his tongue and mouth for several seconds before swallowing.

  Okay, she was attractive. And okay, there really hadn’t been another woman since Pamela. The divorce had temporarily cooled his lust, dulled his sex drive. He’d been celibate ever since, though he’d never much thought about it, such had been his disinterest. But, hell. Sammy Jo Whalen had cured that temporary state. Being near her was like being burned alive.

  He didn’t even like her.

  Cooper shifted position, uncomfortable with his thoughts. Sexual attraction knew no reason. Although he supposed he should be horrified that he was in lust with a woman he found repellent, he accepted it as the male curse. What he couldn’t let himself do was act on it. That was a fact.

  Okay, okay, for a moment there, he’d found her kind of charming. But it was the rain and the storm and the relaxing of that prickly wall she surrounded herself with. And then as soon as she showed her true colors again, he’d wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled and she showed some sign of…‌what? Remorse? Guilt for being who she was? Oh, hell! he thought. After he shook the living daylights out of her, he wanted to throw her on the ground and kiss her senseless.

  Cooper growled in frustration, tossed back the rest of his drink and jumped to his feet. Stretching his shoulders, he prowled the space of the porch, his gaze involuntarily turning again and again to the Whalen property.

  He needed a woman. A willing woman who could cure him of this self-destructive interest in Sammy Jo. It had been far too long, anyway. They wouldn’t understand that Pamela’s wickedly avaricious ways had almost cured him of women altogether. But one sharp-tongued, headstrong, long-legged woman had reawakened his desire into an ache that couldn’t be ignored. Or assauged by anything less than a wild, sexual ride.

  “Damn it,” he said softly, annoyed right down to his boots.

  The trouble was, he wanted only Sammy Jo.

  Only Sammy Jo.

  With fist-clenching resolve, he reached for the phone and called Bev Hawkins. Maybe she could save him.

  “Hello, there! Anybody home?” Brent Rollins called from the barn door.

  Sammy Jo slipped Tick-Tock an apple core and peeked around the end of the stall door. Brent was framed in the doorway.

  “We’re here,” Doc Carey said before Sammy Jo could answer. He waved at Brent to come in.

  Tick-Tock crunched the apple and blew against Sammy Jo’s shirt. She rubbed the mare’s nose absently.

  “How’s the mare?” Brent asked as he gingerly stepped across the hay-strewn barn floor. Sammy Jo could’ve told him there wasn’t anything noxious he would step into, but she held her tongue and hid her annoyance.

  “Needs to be shod,” Doc Carey stated in his critical way.

  “Barefoot and pregnant,” Sammy Jo agreed with a smile.

  Brent laughed, and Sammy Jo’s mood improved. Anyone who appreciated her humor couldn’t be all bad. He just wasn’t a rancher.

  “She looks good.” Brent eyed the mare from a safe distance. Sammy Jo knew he’d be lucky to know which end was the front and which was the back.

  “Healthy as a horse,” Sammy Jo said.

  “You take good care of her.” Doc Carey scowled, as if Sammy Jo’s levity were a sign of irresponsibility.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Just pay when you can.”

  The vet left the barn, and Sammy Jo couldn’t prevent herself from heaving a sigh. She heard the engine of Doc Carey’s truck sputter and cough before catching. Moments later, gravel crunched as the truck left.

  Brent leaned against an empty stall door. “Ouch,” he said, reading her thoughts. “Big bill?”

  “Big enough. But I couldn’t let Tick-Tock and her unborn foal die.”

  Brent nodded, looked around uncomfortably, then finally said what was on his mind, “There’re a lot of rumors going around.”

  “About me?”

  He nodded.

  Sammy Jo could imagine. “What kind of rumors?” she asked tiredly.

  “Oh, you know…‌.” He shifted uneasily.

  “Would the rumor you’re referring to be the one about me wanting a husband to help save the Triple R? That one’s true.”

  “Is that why you came to see me the other day?”

  Her throat hurt. “Yup. Sorry if I’ve spoiled your illusions, Brent.”

  “I didn’t have any illusions to spoil. You know how I feel about you.”

  His admission made her feel worse.

  “I’m just afraid that you’d change your mind down the road,” he said.

  “If and when I get married, it’s for keeps,” she said with raw determination.

  Brent’s face relaxed. “I’d love to marry you. I’d just like to think you’d want to marry me, too. For me. Not just to save the ranch.”

  He said the words. He’d all but got down on one knee and proposed. But all Sammy Jo felt was utter numbness.

  “I don’t know what to say, Brent.”

  “Do I have a chance, Sammy Jo? I mean, there’s nobody else in your life,” he went on conversationally. “You’ve never shown interest in any other man. My biggest fear has always been that you didn’t like us at all, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know you mean,” Sammy Jo said dryly.

  “So, I’ve come to the conclusion that my biggest competition is the ranch.”

  “The ranch?” Sammy Jo repeated, somewhat surprised. She’d half expected him to name Cooper as his competition, as if he somehow knew about that hot kiss in the rain and her own reckless response. Obviously, he hadn’t heard about the kiss at the veterinary clinic.

  “The ranch. Ridge Range Ranch. The Triple R,” he clarified. “Your only suitor. The only one you’ll have.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “But now there’s a way that you can have your suitor, and maybe I can have a little bit of you, too,” he added quietly. “What do you think?”

  “About what?” she asked, half-hysterically.

  “About you and me getting engaged. It’s not such a bad idea, is it?”

  She was about to tell him it was a terrible idea when she saw the anxious look on his face. Remembering Tess’s warning about being careful, she murmured painfully, “Brent…”

  “It’s the answer to your problems. And I think—I think I’d be good for you.”

  Sammy Jo turned away, hiding her face. It hurt because she knew it wasn’t right. She could never be what he wanted, what he needed. She didn’t feel that way about him, and she would never feel that way about him. Some things you just knew.

  “Sammy Jo, I love you,” Brent said awkwardly.

  “No, Brent. No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do!” he argued, belligerent as a child.

  “Can I think it over?” she asked, wanting to end the conversation before she hurt him irrevocably.

  “You don’t have much time, though, right?”

  “I’ll think fast.”

  “Do that. Please.”

  She fought not to react when he kissed her lightly on the cheek before leaving. She heard him cross the barn floor, his steps careful as he negotiated his way through what might be lurking in the hay. She felt like laughing and crying at the same time.

  She stayed beside Tick-Tock a long, long time after that, one hand stroking the mare’s silken neck. She thought about Brent Rollins. Thought about his proposal
.

  But all she could really see was Cooper Ryan’s strong face, and all she could think about was the touch of his hard fingers, his unique woodsy masculine scent, the sound of ragged breathing, the taste of rain on his lips. And the mesmerizing gaze of passion-filled blue eyes.

  “Put that in the Corral, why don’t you?” she murmured despondently, sinking onto a hay bale.

  Tick-Tock nuzzled Sammy Jo’s hair and ignored her problems completely.

  THE PRINCESS OF COLDWATER FLATS — NANCY BUSH

  Chapter Six

  “Did ya hear the news?” Aggie chortled, ringing up bags of seed for Sammy Jo at Bentley Feed and Grain. “That handsome neighbor of yours is seeing Bev Hawkins!”

  “I heard,” Sammy Jo answered, her gaze fixed on the half a dozen thirty-pound bags. If Aggie didn’t give her credit, she’d be in a hell of a pickle.

  Aggie shook her head and swiped at the gray hair that had escaped her bandanna. “Ever since she and Roy split up, she’s been actin’ like a city gal. But I think that Mr. Cooper’s just the man to keep her in town. Mmmm-hmmm!”

  “Mr. Ryan.”

  “Huh?”

  “His name’s Cooper Ryan.”

  Aggie’s shaggy eyebrows lifted at Sammy Jo’s testiness. “I bet Bev remembers it.” Sammy Jo clamped her jaw shut, her face blushing furiously. Aggie went right on, “Oh, that dark-haired fellow’s got a sexy drawl. My, my. Supposedly from the city, but he ain’t got any of them silly ways.”

  “He’s got some silly ways,” Sammy Jo argued darkly.

  Aggie shot Sammy Jo an amused look. “Got your cap set for him, Sammy Jo?”

  Sammy Jo snorted. “He’d be the last man I’d be interested in.”

  “And why is that?”

  Realizing Aggie was digging for information, Sammy Jo wished she’d never allowed herself to be drawn into this conversation. “Because he’s domineering, argumentative and judgmental, and I just don’t like him.”

  “Oh.” Aggie’s look was knowing.