by Nancy Bush
“It’s kind of a picnic,” Bev babbled, clearly feeling a little presumptuous. “We could eat in the kitchen or dining room or…?”
“Here.” He took the tray from her and led her into the family room. Placing the food on the roundtable, he sat in a chair and Bev perched herself on the couch.
Looking at her well-manicured profile, Cooper told himself that this was what he needed to expunge Sammy Jo from his system. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Bev. On the contrary, she was beautiful, intelligent and clearly interested in him.
She removed the foil and revealed cold sandwiches and cucumber salad. “It’s so hot,” she murmured.
“It’s great.”
Cooper found himself a beer. There was no wine for Bev, so after a long, hard look at his beverages, she accepted a longneck herself. One sip and she was through, however. Cooper had to at least congratulate her on being a good sport.
As soon as they were finished eating, Bev settled deeper into the couch, her eyes silently inviting him to join her. With a heavy reluctance that made him irritated with himself, he sank onto the couch beside her, but he made no move to touch her.
What in God’s name is wrong with me? he asked himself, scowling.
Bev read his expression. “Something wrong?”
“No. I was just…thinking.”
“About what?” She smiled encouragingly.
Sammy Jo. “The ranch.”
“You said you were going to change the name, but it’s still Serenity, isn’t it?”
Cooper grimaced. “I’d thought about trying to combine it with the Triple R. I even kind of made that suggestion to Sammy Jo.”
Bev straightened abruptly. “You mean, buy it from her?”
“In a manner of speaking. Except she could still run the place. Then the name of the whole spread could be the Triple R.”
“By your tone, I take it she turned you down.”
“She wasn’t too keen on the idea,” he sidestepped, mouth working at the memory of Sammy Jo’s raging fury.
“Well, I’m glad.” Bev snuggled closer.
“Glad?”
“Sammy Jo is so one-way. You’d be fighting with her all the time and nothing you’d do would be good enough. Now, if she sold it to you outright, that would be different. But take it from me. I’ve known Sammy Jo Whalen most of my life and she’s…well, she’s tough and stubborn.”
Cooper heard the words but all he remembered was the way she’d moved in his arms, and the way she’d tasted like warm honey, the sadness that had wrapped around his soul over the waste of the oak tree, her friend.
“She’s going to marry Brent to save that ranch, but it won’t last.”
“The marriage?” The words tasted like ashes in Cooper’s mouth.
“And the ranch. Brent will sell that place just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s what he does. And though he may like Sammy Jo—I mean, he’s always been infatuated with her—he’ll still dump the Triple R soon as he can. He hates ranching.”
“Sammy Jo will never give it up.”
“She may be smart, but if he’s putting up the money, she won’t have much of a choice. I know her. She’ll feel too guilty. And then when it becomes available, all you have to do is grab it. Trust me on this.”
He did. He sensed that every word she spoke was the unvarnished truth, and Sammy Jo would come out the loser no matter what she did. But she couldn’t marry Rollins. She couldn’t.
“Did you see this afternoon’s Corral?”
“The local rag?” Cooper smiled at her mock outrage. “No.”
“Their engagement was announced.”
“Whose?” he asked automatically, though dread filled up every spare space inside him as he waited for the expected answer.
“Brent and Sammy Jo. That’s who we’re talking about, isn’t it? The wedding’s early this fall. Cooper, you could have the Triple R in your hands by the end of the year.”
Her eyes shone. She not only wanted him, he realized, she wanted a healthy bank balance. And she was a quick study when it came to cold hard cash.
Pamela had been, too.
She snuggled closer to him, clearly waiting to be kissed. Conversation had dwindled to nothing. A clock ticked gently. It could have been romantic, seductive and private, a perfect place for lovemaking, the perfect woman to erase the memory of Sammy Jo. But it wasn’t. Something was wrong. And Cooper worried that what was wrong, wasn’t going to be easily fixed.
“Bev…”
She placed the manicured fingers on his lips. “Don’t say anything.”
With that, she kissed him lightly, invitingly. Detached, Cooper checked his own reactions and was both relieved and mildly alarmed to learn she had no effect on him whatsoever.
She drew back expectantly. He couldn’t even fake an interest, and his feelings must have shown for she suddenly pulled back. “You don’t want me here, do you?”
“I’m not sure what I want,” he said honestly.
“Well, aren’t I the fool,” she muttered, hurt.
“No.”
Bev didn’t listen. In a nyloned-whisper of righteous indignation, she got to her feet and quickly put some space between herself and Cooper. He stood up more slowly.
“You know, they told me I was wasting my time. Told me to go back to Roy, as if he’d have me,” she added on a bitter laugh. “But I didn’t listen. I just wouldn’t listen.”
“Who told you?” Cooper asked as Bev snatched her purse and headed for the door.
“Everybody. Half the town thinks you’re trying to steal Sammy Jo Whalen’s ranch from her, the other half thinks you’re in love with her.”
“I’m not in love with her,” Cooper denied quickly.
“In lust, then. We’re not blind, you know. Not really.” At the door, Bev hesitated, seemingly at a loss. Finally, she shrugged and added, “But she’ll marry Brent Rollins to save that damn ranch before she’d even look at a man. That’s the kind of woman she is. She’s already married to the Triple R, and she doesn’t want any other lover. Keep that in mind when you’re in bed alone, Mr. Ryan, and remember what you threw away.”
* * *
Once Sammy Jo reached the barn, she threw a bridle over Goldie’s tossing head and led the quarter horse into the corral, then proceeded to yank off her boots and socks. Mounting the bareback animal, she clucked to her with her tongue until Goldie was moving around the ring in a slow, rhythmic gallop.
Heart slamming against her ribs, Sammy Jo pulled her feet to the mare’s withers, gathering her courage. Carefully, she transferred her weight to her feet until she was riding Goldie in a tense squat. She tied the reins and let them fall over the horse’s neck.
“Keep going,” she whispered. “Keep going.”
Goldie’s ears flicked back and forth. She tried to quicken her pace but Sammy Jo shushed her back to her gentle gallop. With painstaking care, Sammy Jo straightened her legs, then unbent until she was standing, arms straight, knees slightly bent, the wind provided by the running horse fanning through her hair.
What the hell are you trying to prove?
The pain inside her chest was a hard ball. She fought it even as she concentrated on Goldie’s rhythmic movements.
I love him. I love Cooper.
Sammy Jo’s foot moved. Her arms circled wildly. With a cry, she struggled to slide down but she was too late. Suddenly, she was flying through the air, the ground rushing up to meet her. Her cheek smashed down as she landed face-first in the hard dust.
She was out cold before Goldie had run another ten hoofbeats.
THE PRINCESS OF COLDWATER FLATS — NANCY BUSH
Chapter Ten
Cooper pounded his fist against Sammy Jo’s front door. The noise echoed across the fields, but there was no answer from inside the house apart from Trigger’s frantic barking.
Frowning, Cooper walked to where Sammy Jo’s pickup stood. He touched the hood. Cold. Was she with Rollins? It was en
tirely possible. Probable, even. He just didn’t want to believe it, yet they’d announced their wedding plans in the paper this afternoon, so clearly Sammy Jo had done nothing to call the marriage off.
“Damn.” He kicked dust with his boot. Hearing the snort of a horse, he walked around the side of the house, feeling like a trespasser. The bay with a white blaze down its nose that she’d ridden to the beaver dam stared at him over the top rail of the fence.
“Hi there,” Cooper greeted the horse. It shook its head and snorted, and he walked toward it, his mind elsewhere.
A jean-clad leg showed through the rails.
“Sammy Jo!”
Cooper ran the last few yards. She lay completely still, her cheek buried in dirt, her arms and legs flung wide. He vaulted the rail and was at her side in two ragged breaths, feeling for a pulse.
Her heart beat pure and strong. The wash of relief that engulfed him left him shaking. Groaning, Sammy Jo winced as her eyelids dragged open.
“Sammy Jo,” Cooper said. “Are you all right? Please tell me you’re all right.”
She slowly turned over. Another groan, louder. Cooper tried to stop her from moving, his hands on her shoulders.
“Oh, my head,” she moaned, squeezing her eyes closed.
“Did you fall? What happened?”
“I was riding Goldie and I…” She sucked in a breath. “Screwed up.”
Cooper wanted to shout with laughter and drag her close to his chest at the same time. “This might ruin your reputation as an accomplished horsewoman.”
“No more trick-riding,” she murmured as she struggled upward.
“Whoa. Stay down a minute let me do some checking.”
Sammy Jo’s eyes flew open again and she inhaled sharply as Cooper’s hands ran down her arms, chest, hips and legs. “What kind of trick-riding were you doing?” he asked, his hands lingering lightly on her shins.
“How am I?”
“No broken bones.”
Cooper slid an arm around Sammy Jo’s shoulders. She waited a moment, gathering strength, before climbing to her feet. Her knees wobbled, and she hung onto Cooper as if he were a lifeline.
“Maybe I should take you to a doctor.”
“Oh, please. I just need to get into the house.” Sammy Jo stepped forward, grabbed hard for Cooper and winced. Looking down at her hand, she muttered, “My wrist.”
“It’s starting to swell. You must’ve sprained it.” He eyed her closely. “You’re as white as a sheet.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“We’ll let the doctor decide.”
Over her protests, he led her to his truck and drove her into the Coldwater Flats clinic. It was late, but the town’s doctor was still at work and willing to check Sammy Jo out. Cooper marveled at the continual surprises the small town offered.
“If we were in L.A., you’d have to check into the emergency room and hope the doctor would see you before Monday,” he told Sammy Jo as she headed for the clinic’s back rooms.
She smiled wanly.
An hour later, she returned to him, her wrist wrapped in an elastic bandage. Cooper liked it when the doctor told him the extent of Sammy Jo’s injuries—which amounted to bruises, scrapes and a sprained wrist—as if she somehow belonged to him. Sammy Jo, however, was clearly not as appreciative of the situation, if Cooper correctly interpreted the look she was giving both him and the doctor.
“She isn’t concussed,” the doctor finished. “But I think it would be a good idea to keep a watch on her.”
“I’m fine,” Sammy Jo insisted.
“I’ll stay with her,” Cooper told him.
Sammy Jo kept her silence as he drove her home, but when he tried to help her inside, she shook off his arm and walked to the couch on her own power. Once settled, she said clearly, “Thank you, Cooper, but I’m really okay. You don’t have to stay.”
“I want to stay.”
His concern touched a corner of her heart, but she fought to ignore it. “And they say I’m stubborn,” she mumbled.
“What kind of trick-riding?” he asked again, plumping a pillow behind her head. He was gratified to see color had returned to her face.
“Nothing.” She looked away, plucking at the tassel on a pillow, purposely avoiding his probing days.
“Don’t tell me you were standing on that horse. Or worse.”
“Was there a purpose to your visit? Besides your rescue, that is, which I’m grateful for.”
“Sammy Jo, for God’s sake.” Cooper prowled around the room in frustration. “What are you trying to do, kill yourself?”
Her lips parted. Sweet pink lips. He steeled himself for the spurt of fury bound to be forthcoming, but instead of answering, she went suddenly silent. Her jaw snapped shut.
“That is what you were doing, wasn’t it?”
“Of course not. I was just feeling reckless and out of sorts.”
“So you stood on the back of a running horse when no one was around? Perfect.”
“Well, it seemed like the last time I might be able to do it.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t marry Brent! And I’m going to lose the ranch. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about any of it.” Sammy Jo’s voice broke in spite of her resolve to control herself. Aching inside, she turned her face into the pillow, furious with herself and with Cooper for a whole passel of reasons.
The silence that followed stretched her nerves to breaking. “You and Brent have called it off?”
“I’ve been trying, believe me.” Her voice was muffled.
Cooper perched beside her. She inhaled his familiar scent and silently berated herself for being so susceptible. “What about the ranch?”
“The ranch,” she repeated bitterly. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“I don’t—” He cut himself off, gritting his teeth. “I don’t want to see you unhappy.”
“Too late.”
“What can I do to help?”
The words sounded torn from his soul. Sammy Jo risked a look into his blue eyes and saw only deep sincerity and concern. She licked her lips. “Is the offer still open?”
“Offer?”
“To be your mistress if you’d let me run the ranch. If your offer’s still on the table, I’d like to accept.”
“Sammy Jo…” Cooper automatically reached for her, but she fended him off.
“Answer me first. Please.” Her voice shook with determination and pain.
“Not a mistress. Jesus…”
“What, then?” she demanded.
“You don’t have to make that deal.” He felt slightly sick with himself, seeing it through her eyes.
“What, then?” she ground out. Cooper sought about for something to say, but when he couldn’t, she said intensely, “Didn’t you ask me what you could do to help? Well, I’m answering. Do we have a deal, or not?”
Cooper gazed down into her dirt-streaked, stubborn face. Her chin trembled, but she wouldn’t cry. He was caught off guard by an intense wave of emotion as Sammy Jo inched her chin higher, waiting for his reply.
He’d backed this brave, feisty woman into a corner and he hated himself for it. His offer, which he’d fooled himself into believing would be good for both of them, was cheap and dirty. It was a backroom deal, and she’d only agreed out of desperation.
Yet he was jubilant that she’d given up Rollins.
“Can we talk about this later?”
“I don’t have later, Mr. Ryan.” Her voice was stone.
Cooper mentally kicked himself for creating a situation he couldn’t get out of. If he tried to back out now, he’d destroy her pride entirely.
“Is it a deal?” she demanded again.
“It’s a deal,” he responded, and with that, Sammy Jo turned her back to him, falling into uneasy sleep after heaving one long, shuddering sigh that stabbed like a knife in Cooper’s chest.
A knock on the back door brought Cooper out of a self-induced daze. He
’d been watching Sammy Jo’s breathing, determined to stay and make sure she was all right, no matter that she would undoubtedly chew his ear off for his concern as soon as she awakened.
Looking up, Cooper saw it was Carl, Sammy Jo’s hired hand. Quietly he got to his feet, walked across the room, slowly opened the squeaking screen door and joined Carl on the back porch.
“I’m done for the day,” the older man said, patting his pockets for the crumpled pack of cigarettes. Putting one to his lips, he mumbled, “But I think this might be my last day. Sammy Jo inside?”
“She’s asleep. She had a fall off a horse.”
“Don’t sound much like Sammy Jo. Is she all right?”
“I’m kind of keeping an eye on her.”
Frowning, Carl said, “Wish I’d been here. I was up untanglin’ one of the cows from some old barbed wire. A real mess. The animal bawlin’ and jumpin’. But she’s unhurt.” Carl hesitated, his frown lines deepening into dark crevices. “I got a job over in Prineville with a construction company. I know Sammy Jo’ll pay me when she can, but I gotta take this job now.”
“Sammy Jo and I have agreed to become business partners,” Cooper said slowly. “If you come over to my place tomorrow, I’ll bring your wages up-to-date.”
“You sure?” His expression lightened. “I mean, I don’t want to upset Sammy Jo. She don’t like charity.”
“It’s not charity, believe me,” Cooper said dryly.
“I sure could use the money.”
Cooper walked to the barn with him to where the man’s beat-up truck was parked next to an equally dilapidated tractor. As Carl climbed inside the truck, he seemed to develop second thoughts.
“I thought Sammy Jo was marryin’ Brent Rollins. How come you’re her business partner?”
“That marriage might not come off,” Cooper revealed, stepping back so Carl could reverse. The truck’s engine bumped and throbbed and missed. Carl had to give it some serious gas while throwing it into reverse. Cooper unlatched the gate, and the vehicle departed in a plume of dust.
He entered the house, looked down at his dust-covered boots and decided to take them off. In stocking feet, he returned to where Sammy Jo lay on the couch. The doctor didn’t think she had a concussion, but Cooper didn’t want to take chances.