by Nancy Bush
“He wants the Triple R.”
Tess shook her head. “He’s trying to tie you up all over the place. Making you his partner instead of waiting until you went under. If all he wanted was the ranch, he’d just sit pretty until Matt foreclosed on you.”
There was a certain logic there, but Sammy Jo didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t. Trusting in people’s good natures had never worked in the past.
“There’s something else I want to talk to you about, though,” Tess added.
“I can hardly wait,” Sammy Jo murmured, responding to Tess’s serious tone.
“Matt got a call from Peter Whalen.”
“Uncle Peter?” Sammy Jo’s blood ran cold. “When?”
“I wasn’t supposed to know, but when I heard your last name, well…” she made a face. “I think he’s hoping he can buy up the Triple R.”
“Good old Uncle Peter,” Sammy Jo said through her teeth, boiling inside.
“If you don’t want him to have it, you’d better go find Cooper Ryan.”
Sammy Jo didn’t remember the rest of the conversation. She paid the check by rote and walked Tess back to the bank. I shouldn’t care, she told herself. It’s over. But it wasn’t over. Not with Uncle Peter.
She drove to Serenity and barged through the front door without knocking. Lettie looked up in surprise. “Hello there, Sammy Jo. Did Mr. Ryan find you?”
“Was he looking for me?”
“He went over to the Triple R.”
Sammy Jo left without another word, wondering what Cooper could possibly have to say to her. But he wasn’t at the house when she arrived, and though she strode outside and hollered his name, he was nowhere on her property.
Think, think, think!
Drawing a deep breath, Sammy Jo whistled to Trigger, then the two of them walked up the lane to the remains of the oak tree. Her mind raced. How could she live with herself if Uncle Peter ended up with her beloved ranch? It was bad enough she’d lost it. But to him?
“I’d rather let Cooper have the ranch,” she said aloud. He’d offered to let her run it. He’d blamed her for overreacting to the mistress bit. Sammy Jo bit into her bottom lip. Maybe she had overreacted. Or maybe she’d acted that way because deep down inside she hoped…prayed…dreamed there might be a marriage proposal lurking around somewhere.
“Pathetic,” she muttered. But if she were willing to swallow her pride, she could work with Cooper.
It was time for some heavy decision-making.
THE PRINCESS OF COLDWATER FLATS — NANCY BUSH
Chapter Twelve
Tracking Sammy Jo Whalen all day had been easy; everyone remembered seeing her and they were quick to tell Cooper what she’d been wearing, what time it was they’d seen her and how sorry they were about her losing that ranch of hers. With scarcely a wrong turn, Cooper had ended up at the bank and talked to Tess, who bent his ear for half an hour about Sammy Jo and the miserable state of her affairs and how he ought to pay attention to his heart and stop making so damn many mistakes.
And then Matt Durning had called him over for another enlightening conversation. Now, hours later, it was growing dark and he was standing at the rail that divided his property from Sammy Jo’s staring across at the soft yellow light beaming from the windows of her house.
Sammy Jo…
Turning back to his house, he strode quickly inside and snatched up the sheaf of papers awaiting him on the kitchen table. He rolled up the papers and shoved them into his back pocket. Halfway to his truck, his mouth quirked grimly as he realized she would likely kick his rear end back to Serenity, cursing him all the while, as soon as he started talking. She wouldn’t want to hear one more “deal.” He couldn’t blame her.
But this was the deal of a lifetime.
The hot night breeze fanned Sammy Jo’s flushed cheeks as she sat beside the charred oak. The scent of burned wood still permeated everything. Inhaling deeply, Sammy Jo tried not to mind too much.
“You would hate this,” she said aloud, shooting a glance toward the heavens and her misguided father, rest his soul.
Sammy Jo’s mouth twisted in self-deprecation. All these weeks and months doing her darndest to save the place from the likes of Cooper Ryan and wham! Her worst enemy had been waiting in the wings, ready to strike. Peter Whalen had just bided his time until Sammy Jo burned through her last option.
But she wasn’t out of the game yet.
Standing, Sammy Jo brushed off the back of her jeans. Trigger climbed to her feet and looked up at Sammy Jo expectantly.
“It’s time to face the music,” Sammy Jo murmured to the dog, whose tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth. Cooper had been looking for her earlier. Now it was her turn to look for him.
Before Sammy Jo had taken three steps toward the house, the rumble of a truck’s engine cut into the still night, stopping Sammy Jo in her tracks. Twin beams of headlights bounced down her lane. She braced herself, half expecting Peter Whalen to step out of the cab and grin like the devil, gloating in his triumph.
But it was Cooper’s black truck that headed toward her. Her heart leaped in spite of herself.
Spying her, he pulled to a stop beside the tree. Trigger barked and wagged her tail in greeting as Cooper climbed from the cab and came around the truck to where Sammy Jo stood.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, bending down to scratch the Border collie’s ears.
“Actually, I wanted to see you, too.”
He shot her a glance, difficult to read in the darkness. “As I recall, you told me you’d kill me if I ever stepped foot on your property again. Or words to that effect.”
Sammy Jo’s gaze swept over him. His shirt was white, glowing in the evening shadows. He was leaning negligently against the truck, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed at his chest. A faint strip of moonlight gleamed off his belt buckle. Tonight, his ubiquitous cowboy hat was missing, leaving his dark hair to ruffle in the faint, evening breeze.
“I went to L.A.,” he said. “To finalize some business. And I met with my ex-wife, Pamela.”
“Oh?” Sammy Jo scarcely dared breathe. What was this all about? Any previous reference to the notorious Pamela had been said with anger or disgust. Much as Gil had referred to Sammy Jo’s mother.
“It was the first time I could look at her without thinking what a bitch she was. Not that she isn’t a bitch,” he added, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness. “But I don’t know. It was different this time. I just didn’t care anymore.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I haven’t been fair to you. I’ve made a lot of remarks about women and marriage and things.” He sighed. “None of it really had anything to do with you.”
Sammy Jo wasn’t sure what to make of this confession. “Well, I’ve got something I want to say to you, too.”
“About?”
“My remarks on being your…mistress,” she struggled to get out.
“Oh, let’s not get into that. Please. I’m tired, and I don’t want to fight.”
“Neither do I,” Sammy Jo assured him quickly, “but I thought—”
“Don’t think.” He suddenly shifted to his feet and reached for her, his hands clasping her forearms, dragging her close to his warm chest. Sammy Jo resisted out of habit, but then she collapsed against him, wanting him so much, it was an all-consuming ache. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought the burn of something hotter than tears. Love. She loved him, and she would be a fool to tell him so.
He kissed her. Hard. She reveled in it, her head falling back, her body limp. He laughed, a low rumble of seduction, and she shook her head.
“Oh, Cooper, don’t.”
“I can’t help myself.” His hands slid down her back, over her hips and buttocks. He dragged her close until there was no doubt about what he was feeling. “Kiss me,” he demanded, and she placed both hands on his face and held him captive, her mouth ravishing his, her tongue darting in hi
s mouth in hot exploration.
He swept in a startled breath. “Sammy Jo!”
In no time at all, they were lying on the grass, a tangle of jeans and unbuttoned shirts, and anxious fingers and mouths. Trigger whined and moved away.
“She’s learned,” Cooper breathed raggedly against Sammy Jo’s lips.
“Trigger?”
“Uh-huh.” He groaned as her tongue stabbed into his mouth again, slick and melting. “Sammy Jo, too,” he murmured, dragging a silent laugh from the depths of her.
“Hurry,” she whispered to him.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Just please…”
With quick, expert hands, he removed her boots and jeans. Her underwear followed. Then she lay on the ground, hair wild around her, bra and blouse half-on, half-off. Untamed, and ravaged-looking in a streak of silvery moonlight.
The sight of her broke Cooper’s control. He ripped off his own clothes and fell on her hard. Sammy Jo’s fingers clenched into his hair. There was something primal, needful about this lovemaking that she reveled in. She loved him. Loved him. It felt as if this might be her only time to show him.
His mouth found her breasts as his finger slipped inside the moistness between her legs. Sammy Jo moaned at this delicious invasion, winding herself around him.
I love you, she thought, the words circling through a haze of pleasure. I love you…
Cooper groaned as her own fingers delighted in a discovery of their own. “What are you doing to me?” he muttered.
“Nothing you aren’t doing to me,” she whispered.
“Sammy Jo…?”
“What?” Her heart nearly stopped at the tension in his voice.
He didn’t answer. Instead, his mouth moved lower, and still lower, until Sammy Jo’s hips arched upward as eager for him as he was to taste her. She cried out.
I love you…I love you…I love you.
The world spiraled, and then Cooper twisted to his back, dragging her atop him, thrusting inside her at the same time so that Sammy Jo rode him hard and fast, and a sweet rhythm that brought them to the brink so quickly they both cried out in ecstasy in one glorious shout.
Afterward, Sammy Jo lay panting on Cooper’s chest while she wound silken strands of her hair around his fingers, his own heart still pounding as if he’d been in a race.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Sammy Jo blurted out shakily.
That sent them both into fits of laughter. Time seemed suspended. She could have stayed this way forever, but slowly, steadily, embarrassment reached Sammy Jo and after long, loving movements cradled in his arms, she became conscious of her complete nakedness. Her ever-vigilant conscience came to screaming life once again, reviewing this wild escapade and warning her harshly again that she would pay for her indulgences.
“Did you mean it?” he asked huskily, his voice a satisfied purr.
“What?”
“How quickly they forget.” He pulled her mouth to his. She could feel the grin that stretched lips. “You said you love me.”
Sammy Jo went completely still. Shocked. Suffocated. “What?” she asked, mortified.
“You said, ‘I love you.’”
She leapt to her feet, grabbing her clothes, staring at him in dawning horror. Cooper leaned on one elbow, watching her, a frown darkening his expression. She couldn’t look at him. At his male beauty. She couldn’t stand his knowing.
Had she really said those terrible three little words aloud?
“Now what?” he asked, baffled.
“I’ll be your mistress,” she said quickly, biting off the words. “I want the ranch. I want it that badly. But I’m not in love with you.”
He swore a word that singed her years, sharply and violently. Trigger growled low in her throat. “Liar.”
Sammy Jo ground her teeth. “I’m ready to strike that deal.”
“Forget it. I bought the ranch,” he told her flatly, reaching for his pants. From the back pocket he withdrew a rolled-up a sheaf of papers. He tossed it at her feet.
“You bought it?” The blood drained from Sammy Jo’s face as she stared down at the role of papers. The edges ruffled in the breeze. With shaking fingers, Sammy Jo buttoned her blouse and zipped up her jeans. Her boots lay haphazard on the ground, forgotten in her haste and distress.
“I saw Matt Durning at Valley Federal today, and he told me some things I didn’t think—”
“You went to Matt today and bought my ranch?” Sammy Jo interrupted furiously.
“Would you let me finish?”
Snatching up the paper, she shook it in front of Cooper’s nose. “What is this? What does this say?”
He swore again, yanking on his clothes with restrained fury. “It says, you owe me two hundred thousand dollars. I bought out your loan. You can pay me back whenever you want.”
“What?”
“Your contract’s with me now. Not Valley Federal.”
Sammy Jo froze, uncertain whether she should be furious or relieved. But remembering his lazy amusement over hearing her speak her soul…I love you…. She opted for fury. “I don’t need any more of your help.”
His hand clasped her arm so quickly she gasped. “Now this is the end,” he snarled, equally as furious. “I bought your ranch to keep some eager investor named Peter Whalen from snatching it up for a song. As I understand it, he’s not your favorite uncle. Not by a long shot. Now, if you’d rather he owned the Triple R than me, I can rip this up now. Right here. And we’ll burn it right along with the oak tree!”
He was shaking her. Cooper was actually shaking her arm. Sammy Jo jerked it away from him.
“And I don’t want you for a mistress,” he declared furiously.
“Good. Because I just decided I don’t want you for my lord and master, either.”
She stomped off in the direction of the house, certain she was making another huge mistake, but burning with humiliation, nonetheless. She started running, oblivious to the fact that her feet were bare and the hard ground was giving away to gravel as she approached the house. She’d told him she loved him. What power she’d given him. Now she had to make him believe it wasn’t true, or…or…or…
Or what? she asked herself. She might get hurt? She might lose everything she possessed?
Hadn’t she already?
Gasping for air, Sammy Jo collapsed against the fence alongside the house. She staggered to the back paddock, leaning over the rail, hating herself. Cooper was beside her in an instant, his breath hot against the back of her neck.
She whipped around, ready for battle. He stared at her, chest heaving. “It’s because you admitted you love me,” he said quietly. “That’s what you’re running from: yourself.”
“What do you want from me?” Sammy Jo demanded, her voice catching. “You know, I just can’t have this kind of casual affair. It’s tearing me apart.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you keep showing up here? I’d be better off if you just left me alone.”
“You need me, Sammy Jo. And I need you.”
She backed away from him. She needed distance. Her fingers encountered the lock to the gate and she let herself inside the paddock. There were no horses anymore. No cattle. She left the gate open and Cooper followed her inside.
“Look, Cooper. I don’t want my uncle to have the Triple R. You bought it, it’s yours. I don’t want to owe you money.”
“You can pay me in installments.”
“I don’t own any livestock anymore.”
“We’ll make that thieving friend of yours, Tommy Weatherwood, sell them back to you.”
“Cooper…” Sammy Jo sighed.
“Sammy Jo,” he returned.
This time when he tried to drag her into his arms, she jumped back. No more of that. No more falling for his peculiar kind of magnetic seduction. She saw him grin again, that dazzling flash of white.
“I’m not going to fall into your trap,” s
he told him flatly. “I’m not.”
“I want to marry you, Sammy Jo,” he said. She stopped short, silent as death. “Did you hear me?” he demanded.
Her mind buzzed in wild circles. “For the ranch.”
“Oh, the love of God. For you. I want to marry you for you, Sammy Jo!”
He stepped forward and she shrank back, and that was Sammy Jo’s fatal mistake. Her heel slipped in mud, mud that had collected from a teeny pinprick hole in the water troughs at the corner of the fence. One moment Sammy Jo was flailing her arms, struggling for balance, the next she fell backward with a huge, cold splash, her rear end dropped to the bottom of the trough. Shrieking with surprise, Sammy Jo grabbed on to the sides of the trough. Her legs dangled over the edge.
For a moment, Cooper stared at her in shock, then he buckled over and started laughing so hard Sammy Jo was sure he might split a gut.
With an effort, she dragged herself from the trough. She was wet from her neck to her knees. Cooper was beside himself with hysteria. He howled with laughter, making absolutely no effort to hide his mirth.
Sammy Jo fought a smile. It really was funny. And for reasons she didn’t want to look at too closely, her heart was singing. She grinned at Cooper like an idiot, and he swooped her into his arms, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Okay, okay. It’s funny. I’m soaking wet.”
“You deserved it. You know how many times you’ve hit me and pushed me and nearly drowned me.”
“You’re exaggerating,” she said.
“Am I?” He held her away from him and studied her face. In the moonlight she saw his expression change. “I see those dimples,” he said softly. “You know, I don’t see them nearly enough.”
“I don’t smile a lot,” Sammy Jo admitted.
“Why are you smiling now?”
“Because I just made a raging fool of myself. What do you think?”
“You didn’t tell me what you thought of what I said. About marrying you,” he clarified when she automatically opened her mouth to question him.
“Oh. That.”