“Are you okay, Samantha?”
She turned to look up at him. “This is a bad idea.”
“Are you sure?” Jack smiled down at her. “It feels pretty good to me.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He sighed. “I know.” Pulling her in closer, he kissed the top of her head. “It’s hard to let you go, but I understand.” He stepped backward and the air of the bedroom felt suddenly cool without his warmth coiled around her.
“Good night, Jack.” Samantha moved farther away, trying to end this before she went running back into his arms for more.
“Thanks again for coming here tonight. I know I’ll sleep better than I would’ve up on that rock.”
She wouldn’t sleep better. She’d be tossing and turning, trying to figure out her hopeless, mixed-up feelings for him. “Just being neighborly.” She threw the words he’d used so often back at him.
Jack smiled. “If this is neighborly, I sure do like having you in the neighborhood. Good night, Samantha.” He shut the door behind him and she stood, staring at the wooden surface, wishing she’d had the courage to ask him to stay.
* * *
ROB MORGAN SHOWED UP early. Jack had called him during the week and asked him to come by. He’d been dreading it, but he’d promised Betty he’d try to talk to the guy face-to-face. The problem was, Jack hadn’t expected Samantha to stay the night. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate this little meeting he was having if she found out about it. He glanced up at the window of the guest bedroom but the shade was still down. Hopefully she’d sleep in today.
Rob emerged from his Porsche and walked over to the barn where Jack was loading feed into the truck. He had mirrored sunglasses on and a coffee cup in his hand.
“You wanted to talk to me, Jack?”
He’d have to make this quick. “Rob, I appreciate you coming by. I’ll just take a few minutes of your time.”
“That would be great,” Rob answered flatly. “I can’t imagine we have much to talk about.”
Jack took a deep breath. He’d need it for this exercise in futility. “I want to talk to you about the Rylant place. I want to ask you to withdraw your offer. Or at least modify your plans. Everyone in Benson is concerned about the negative impact your development project will have on the mountains.”
“Geez, Jack,” Rob drawled, taking a sip of his coffee. “It’s sweet that you speak for the mountains. But this is business.”
Jack bit back at least a hundred heated retorts and instead said, “There are a million real estate investment opportunities out there. Why don’t you just sink your money into one of those?”
Rob leaned forward, looking at him intently. “You don’t get it. You’ve made your money. But I haven’t made mine. And I intend to.”
“I do get that, Rob,” Jack replied mildly. “And I think you should make your money. But there are other ways to do that, other projects that don’t destroy what nature took millions of years to create.”
Rob gave a derisive laugh. “You’re a wealthy guy, aren’t you? You’re out here playing horse whisperer on your little ranch and you want to make sure you still have your pretty views to look at. You don’t care if other people get their fair share or not. What about the jobs we’ll be providing?”
“Our community doesn’t want those jobs or your money, Rob.”
“You’d be surprised, Jack. People think they don’t want change, but once they’ve got money in their pockets, a new car in the driveway, home repairs done or a mortgage paid off, they’re pretty darn happy.”
“And you’re doing all this for them due to your altruistic nature? Is that it, Rob?”
Rob actually looked earnest for once. “I think I’m on the right path, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’m also in a bind, Jack. You know it, and you know why.”
“I’m sorry you lost money, Rob. That was never my purpose or aim with that lawsuit. We just wanted to protect the land around here.”
“You ruined me.” Rob’s knuckles were white where he was gripping his coffee cup.
Something in Rob’s voice was different. Jack looked at him more carefully. There were new lines around his mouth, and his skin was drawn. He looked exhausted. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut and he had to ask, “Rob, do you know anything about the vandalism that’s been happening at Samantha’s?”
“Vandalism? What vandalism? Of course I don’t know anything. Are you accusing me?”
“Not accusing, just asking the question.”
“I don’t know what...”
Samantha’s voice cut through Rob’s. “Stop it. Right now. Both of you.” Samantha stood next to them in the driveway, a vision in long jeans, high heels and a whole lot of anger. “What are you doing here?” she asked Rob.
“Jack asked me to come. Didn’t he mention it to you? He was hoping to talk me into withdrawing my offer on the ranch.”
If she was angry before, she was furious now. Her eyes glittered like hard emeralds as she turned on Jack. “That is enough! I want you to stay out of my business!”
“Rob’s not being honest with you, Samantha. He’ll turn your grandparents’ ranch into Disneyland by the time he’s done with it.”
“Jack, you know that’s not true.” Rob’s voice was smooth and reassuring. It was eerie coming right after the strained desperation Jack had just seen. “Samantha and I have been through the details of the proposal a little already. She knows that’s not the case.”
“Samantha, I think Rob might know something about the vandalism.”
“Jack Baron—out to destroy my reputation, once again.” Rob looked bored and fiddled with his sunglasses.
“Rob? A vandal? Jack, he’s my lawyer. He’s not the one harming my house!”
“Samantha, I need you to trust me on this.” The more Jack thought about it, the more he feared the intense resentment he’d heard in Rob’s voice earlier.
“How do I know if I can believe you, Jack?” Samantha’s delicate hands were clenched into fists. “You haven’t been honest with me. If you were honest with me, you wouldn’t be standing out here at the crack of dawn, pressuring Rob to withdraw his offer!”
Jack could see the disappointment and the hurt he’d put back in her eyes. He hated himself for it. He wished he could start this day all over again and do things very differently.
“I’m losing faith in you, Jack Baron.” There was a coldness in Samantha’s voice he hadn’t heard before. “Are you sure you didn’t write that graffiti and throw that rock? Because at this point I don’t know what to believe.” She took a few steps back, then looked at both of them sternly. “In case you’d forgotten, it’s my ranch, and it’s my decision what happens with it—and I’ll let you both know when I make it. Until then, I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
She turned on her heel and stormed across the gravel to the trail between the ranches and was gone.
Rob was clapping. Slowly, appreciatively. Jack shoved his right hand, the one he usually hit with first, into his jacket pocket so he didn’t punch the smirk off Rob’s face. “Well done,” Rob said, as he turned toward his car. “I am so glad you wanted to talk. I think you just did more to convince Samantha to accept my offer than I ever could.”
He got into his Porsche and revved the engine, spraying gravel as he took off down the driveway in triumph.
Jack sat down on the tailgate of his truck. He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. He had no idea what to do next. He’d been apologizing to Samantha a lot lately, but he needed to find a way to do it again, and make it mean something, or he was pretty sure he’d be saying goodbye to his beloved ranch in the near future.
He loaded the rest of the hay into the truck and called Zeke and Hector to ride with him, hoping inspiration would strike during
his morning chores.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THANK GOODNESS that when men failed you there was always work. Samantha had her laptop open and her iPod on. The pure notes of opera always soothed her and she needed soothing right now.
She was so tired of men thinking they knew better than her. She was so tired of men lying. And she was bone weary of Jack, pretending to want her, kissing her senseless for half the night, when all his actions pointed to one indubitable fact. He’d do almost anything to get his hands on her land.
She was thankful now for the voice of reason that had told her to stop kissing Jack last night. It was one thing to kiss a man you didn’t trust. It was quite another to sleep with him, and thank goodness she’d been smart enough to kick him out of the guest room before it had come to that.
One thing was for certain—she was not going to let Jack, or any other man, ruin another one of her precious days at the ranch.
She was furious, but at least now she knew where she stood with Jack. His kisses meant nothing. And if they were addictive, if they made her crazy with wanting more of them, well, that was a problem she was just going to have to get over. The last thing she needed was to get involved with one more guy she couldn’t count on.
Samantha glanced at the clock. It was four o’clock on Sunday afternoon—time to get back to the city. And honestly, she was ready to go. She’d had enough unpredictability and excitement for one weekend. It would be nice to get back into her comfortable weekly routine of work, work and more work.
Then a commotion from the front of the house jolted her out of her thoughts. Samantha jogged down the stairs and then halted briefly, momentarily cautious. Whoever was vandalizing her property still hadn’t been caught. But then she recognized the sounds and flung the front door open in shock.
Goats filled her driveway. There had to be at least three dozen of them, and they were bleating and shoving and eating the grass on what used to be the lawn as Jack’s dogs barked excitedly and raced to keep the herd together.
Jack slammed the door of the big livestock trailer shut and turned toward her. He pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair adding to his disheveled appearance. He was sweaty and dusty, rugged and handsome, and for the millionth time she wished he was different. Honest. Trustworthy. Less interested in land acquisition. He took a few steps toward her, hat in hand.
“I told you that if you stayed over last night, I’d apologize all weekend. I didn’t know then how much I’d have to apologize for.”
“Jack, I don’t really want to hear it.” She was so tired of empty words. A goat came up on the porch and started nibbling her pant leg. She bent down and gently moved it away. “And what’s with all the goats?”
“An apology gift—I should have told you I’d arranged to meet with Rob. I know it looked bad. It must have made you feel lousy.”
Why did he have to be nice? It would be much easier to keep her distance from him if he would say more horrible things. She looked out over the swirling mass of goats around her porch. “An apology of goats,” she mused. “Original, to be sure.”
“Is there any way you’ll forgive me?”
“I can try.” She steeled herself to tell him the truth. He deserved that, if she was asking the same from him. “I don’t trust you anymore, Jack. I’m tired of trying to figure out which of your words I can believe.”
He was quiet, turning his hat in his hands. “I get it. I blew it. I’d like to try to earn your trust back.”
“Look, the best way to have my trust? Be honest with me. You want my ranch and that’s been your motivation for spending time with me all along. I get that. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“It’s not. It wasn’t.” He stepped around a few goats to come closer, to the foot of the stairs. “It’s never been my motivation. I promise you. Give me time to prove it.”
Samantha had no idea what to say to that. She looked out over the goats. “What in the world do I do with these creatures?”
“This is how we help keep you safe. They’re going in the front pasture and their mission is to eat down all that brush that makes a great hiding place for whoever’s been giving you a hard time.”
Unless the vandal is you, Samantha thought. You wouldn’t come through the front pasture.
She walked down the steps to meet the herd. There’d been goats in a lot of the villages she’d lived in with her parents. And Grandpa had often kept them out front, calling them nature’s lawn mowers. But she’d forgotten how cute and comical they looked. Most of them were pretty big, with long silky ears, but a couple of them were tiny. She looked at Jack and pointed to the little ones. “Are they babies? Can I pet them?”
“They’re miniatures. Small but tough. But this isn’t a petting zoo. These guys have to get to work!”
Nevertheless she knelt down to the smallest white goat and scratched it behind the ear. It reached up and nibbled at her hair. “I don’t know what to do about you, Jack,” she told him. “But I’ll keep the goats.” Jack was watching her when she looked up at him.
“Samantha, will you just do me a favor?”
She turned to face him, marveling at the way the afternoon sun turned his skin and hair golden. It would be a lot easier to hate him if he wasn’t so gorgeous “What?”
“Be careful around Rob? Something about him doesn’t feel right.”
Disappointment flared. So all of this, the goats, the apology, was really about his feud with Rob? She stood up and forced the emotion out of her voice. “Of course, Jack. I will. And now I have to go pack.”
“Samantha...wait.”
“If you’re thinking of making an offer on the ranch, you should probably do it soon,” she told him. “As much as I love it here, I’m going to have to do something with it, sooner rather than later.”
She turned on her heel and went back into the house, leaving him to wrangle the goats through the pasture gate on his own.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WATERY LIGHT FILTERED IN through the distorted glass of the ancient windowpane. This room had been hers as a child and Samantha had loved it. It was one of four bedrooms up on the third floor of the farmhouse. Through the window she could see over the back pastures and the old vegetable beds. Beyond that, the granite cliffs looked like the towers of a fortress. As a child they’d been the ramparts of an imaginary castle, complete with a dragon’s cave and wicked witch. Samantha knew, from many summer nights’ experience, that at night she’d be able to lean out this window and see a sky full of stars.
Samantha looked around the room and let the good memories drift over her for a moment. It was so nice to be back on the ranch again. It was strange, but all week she’d really missed it. She’d found herself thinking about this house and its graceful old lines. And the way the light hit the peaks around it at sunrise.
She’d even bought a copy of Country Home magazine, and sent Tess and Jenna into hysterical laughter when they’d found it in her bag during one of their lunch dates. Tess said she now lived in fear that Samantha would take up needlepoint and give them pillows stitched with verses on them for Christmas.
Samantha didn’t think needlepoint was in her future, but she did find it odd that she was enjoying her magazine so much. And searching the internet with keywords like “eastern sierras” and “sierra ranches” when she was supposed to be writing slogans for one of her clients.
Though she was mainly here to clean, Samantha was happy. She knew she had to get the house ready to sell it, the tax bill that arrived this week was an unwelcome reminder of that. But as a reward for her hard work, she’d promised herself a couple of hikes around the property. She was looking forward to seeing the aspen trees, which were nearing their full fall color.
Grabbing a rag, Samantha started wiping the shelves. Surfaces began to gleam as she
scrubbed at them, rinsing the dust out of the rag again and again. On the windowsill, behind the curtain, she found an old cardboard box. Flowers were drawn on it in a childish hand and it took a moment to realize that those were her drawings.
She’d given this box to Grandma Ruth years ago, when she was probably about eight or nine...for what? She paused, trying to remember. A birthday gift? No, it had been a thank-you gift, she was sure of that...with some kind of treasure within. She lifted the box as if it were porcelain, holding it underneath so the aging cardboard wouldn’t crumble in her hands. The lid came off easily and Samantha set it aside.
She carefully lifted out the contents one by one and set them on the lid. There were rocks that she’d probably collected, though she couldn’t see from their nondescript appearance what had made them so special. She took out a small pinecone that was losing its bristles, brittle and lacy. A pink ribbon was tied to a small model of a horse that she remembered begging her grandpa for at the local gift store.
Next was a pile of papers. There were childish drawings, a flyer for a local art fair, and postcards from local attractions: Reno, Carson City, Mono Lake and the old ghost town of Bodie. They had taken day trips to these places. She removed each item, studying it carefully, until she came to a fat packet of envelopes. Letters!
She lifted the paper, crisp with age, and looked at the shaky lettering on the front. Her letters to Grandma Ruth, sent diligently each month that she was away from the ranch as a child. The postmarks told their own story as she thumbed through Madagascar, Hungary, East Germany, Morocco, Turkey. There were a bunch from London, all the stamps as exotic as butterflies stuck forever onto the yellowing envelopes.
She took the top letter and gingerly opened it, sliding out the single sheet of paper inside. Her own adolescent writing, bold and flowery, crisscrossed the page. Going by the date at the top of the page, she’d been fifteen then, stuck at a boarding school in London while her parents were in Ethiopia. Samantha scanned the page. Most of it was news of school and her studies, deliberately cheerful and chatty. But the last paragraphs brought tears.
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