by Jane Porter
“Yes. We’re celebrating Scotch, and you, and all the wonderful things that will be happening in the new year.”
“You think wonderful things will happen?”
“You said you wanted to get your own place.”
“Yes, but that’s going to take some time. I’m not in a good place financially, but I’m getting better.”
“You have debt?”
“Yes.”
“A lot?”
“More than I ever wanted.”
“How? Where?”
The Santa mug was hot and she lifted it by the handle. “To all the credit card companies, I guess.”
“You were never a big spender.”
“I know. But there are my truck repairs and vet bills for Scotch, plus other stuff.”
“What other stuff?”
She struggled to find the words. “Wes put a lot on my credit cards. I didn’t know it at first. But he filled up the cards so I couldn’t.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I think it was yet another way he forced me to be dependent on him.”
“Ivy.”
He sounded so disappointed that it made her chest squeeze. “Don’t be mad.” She set her mug down and went to him, standing close enough that she could hook her fingers over his belt. “I messed up and I was too ashamed—”
“No more of that,” he interrupted, wrapping an arm around her and bringing her up against him, thigh to thigh, chest to breast. She could feel his warmth and smell that scent that was only Sam. His hand stroked the length of her back, comforting her, and yet she felt more than comfort, she felt hunger. “Sam?” she whispered, tipping her head back.
She knew an instant before their lips met that he intended to kiss her and she was glad. Ever since yesterday, she’d craved another kiss, a real kiss this time, like the ones he used to give her, the ones that said she was his and only his.
His mouth slowly, very slowly covered hers, his lips cool but firm. He drew her even closer against him, the hard plane of his chest pressing against her breasts, his thigh shifting between her knees. She felt sensation everywhere, from the roughness of his jaw, to the tingling in her lips, to the clasp of his hands low on her hips. She’d forgotten how big he was, how muscular, and as his lips traveled across hers, drawing a hungry response, she felt almost desperate.
She sighed with pleasure as the kiss deepened, welcoming the heat and flick of his tongue against her lips, and then stroking the inside of her bottom lip.
Nerve endings danced, and she shuddered with pleasure as he cupped her butt, holding her firmly against the ridge in his Wranglers.
There had been so much passion between them, so much love. She wanted that passion back. She wanted everything she’d lost. Ivy gave herself up to the kiss, heat coiling in her middle, heat and urgency and a physical craving that left her breathless. Her hands slid up from his belt to his chest, savoring the feel of him. Hers, she thought, giving herself over to him, her man. Her heart. Always.
Suddenly the tap of a cane could be heard and the overhead kitchen light snapped on.
Sam and Ivy stepped apart but not before Summer Wyatt stood in the doorway, not looking happy at all. “We don’t do this here,” she said. “You know the rules.”
Sam sighed. “I’m not a teenager, Mom, and it was just a kiss.”
“One kiss leads to another, and I’m not comfortable with any of my sons having sex under my roof—”
“Mom.”
“Not until you’re married. Once you’re married, it’s a different story.” Summer looked over to Ivy. “Sex leads to babies, and I don’t think either of you are ready for that. Good night.”
She slowly used her cane to walk out of the kitchen for the stairs.
Ivy reached for her cocoa, now not so hot, and took a gulp. That was horrible. She felt all of fifteen again.
“Where was she?” Ivy said, as an upstairs bedroom door closed. “I didn’t hear her approach.”
“She must have been in the family room, waiting up. She and Grandad have a tendency to do that.”
“You guys are adults.”
“Yeah, but she’s pretty old-fashioned when it comes to sex and marriage.”
“But we did—”
“She doesn’t know that,” Sam answered, voice pitched low.
Ivy rolled her eyes even as she sipped her cocoa. “Oh, come on! She doesn’t think her very sexy, very alpha sons have sex?”
“For her, the worst thing that could happen is for one of us to get a girl pregnant without being married.”
“Doesn’t she want to be a grandmother?”
“Not that way.”
*
Ivy did not sleep well, despite Joe’s very comfortable bed. She dreamed about Sam, and kissing Sam, and in the dream she was his girlfriend again and she was so happy. And when she woke from that dream and discovered it was almost five in the morning, and just a dream, Ivy felt as if a lead weight had dropped on her chest.
The dream had been so good… she’d hoped it was real.
She turned over, burying her face in her pillow and wrestled with all the emotions rushing through her.
She wanted her old life back, the one that included Sam and her mother. She wanted just one more Christmas with Mom. She wanted just one more chance to tell her how much she loved her. She wanted just one day of being happy, and realizing how lucky she was, and how much she had to be grateful for. A great boyfriend. An amazing mom. A wonderful life.
But she wasn’t going to get her mom back, and she wasn’t going to have her old life back. The only thing she could do was keep moving forward and do her best to learn from her mistakes.
Ivy left bed, dressed, and downstairs in the kitchen, discovered there was already a pot of coffee made, even though it wasn’t even five fifteen. She had a feeling Grandad was up, and so she poured herself some coffee in an old mug and quietly left the house, to walk across the crunchy snow toward the barn, her breath clouding in the air. The moon was still up, and the temperature was freezing, but she had her gloves on and a cup of coffee and soon she’d be in the stable and all would be well.
The dogs came flying from the barn, enthusiastically greeting her. She snapped her fingers sharply, uttering a quiet No. They stopped barking and padded along beside her as she crossed the rest of the yard. Opening the stable door, Ivy felt the immediate temperature change. The stables were heated to keep the horses comfortable. Scotch wasn’t very awake when Ivy reached his stall. He gave her a look that seemed almost indignant, and sipping her coffee, she gave him a pat. “Don’t be so grouchy,” she said, turning away to explore the barn.
There were twelve stalls, and eight were filled. Ivy peeked into the tack room again, wanting to become more familiar with how everything was stored, and then the feed room, the hay room, and finally she pushed open the big sliding door to the arena. The arena wasn’t as warm as the stables, but it wasn’t as frigid as outside, either. Scotch would enjoy getting a workout in here.
She returned to Scotch’s stall and fed him and refilled his water bucket. He nudged her with his nose while she cleaned his stall, replacing his bedding and removing his blanket as he’d get a clean blanket tonight.
The barn and stables had been built years ago, constructed by Melvin, not for his grandsons but his two sons, JC and Samuel, as they’d competed together in rodeos since teenagers, and both went pro the same year. Melvin’s sons didn’t just compete together; they had died together, too.
JC, Summer’s husband, and his younger brother, Samuel, had been on the way to a rodeo in Cheyenne, when a huge rig took them out. JC had died at the scene. Samuel died two days later in the hospital. Ivy couldn’t imagine how awful it must have been for Melvin, losing his only children like that, or for Summer, being widowed with four young boys.
Scotch huffed in her ear, impatient to be out of the stall, and Ivy laughed, giving him a nudge with her shoulder to make him move so she could step around him. “You
are so demanding,” she said, exiting the stall. “I’ll be back soon to take you out. Don’t cause any trouble.”
She set to work cleaning Scotch’s tack, trying hard not to look at Belle’s which she’d kept. Just seeing Belle’s tack made her feel wistful. She missed her girl, but Ivy was also proud that she’d done something to help Ashley when others couldn’t. Her mom would be proud, too. She had always done a lot to help others, especially in the Custer community.
“So many heavy sighs,” Melvin Wyatt said, appearing at her side.
She pushed back her long braid and gave him a crooked smile. “Sorry. Didn’t think anyone else was in here.”
“I’m not bothered. But it sounds like you are.” He folded his arms over his thick coat. “Feel like talking?”
“Just thinking about my mom. Wishing she were around. I still miss her a lot.”
“She hasn’t been gone that long.”
“Two years.”
“Took me a long time to accept that Nellie, my wife, was gone, and then my boys. Nellie was sick, so I knew her death was coming. But the boys, that happened so fast. Didn’t see it coming. Couldn’t wrap my head around it. Didn’t want to.”
“Sam’s named for your Samuel.”
Melvin nodded. “JC and Samuel were best friends. Not at all surprised that JC named one of his boys after his brother.”
“Are they much alike, Samuel and Sam?”
“No. Tommy reminds me a lot of Samuel. Samuel was full of fun, maybe too much fun. Laid back, easygoing, he loved to laugh and have a good time.”
“That definitely doesn’t sound like Sam.”
“Sam’s a man of his word. You can rely on him. Even if he isn’t as social as his brothers, he’s loyal and responsible. A solid family man.”
Ivy liked Sam’s grandfather. She liked him a whole lot. “Was he hurt when I broke up with him?”
“He’s a private person, but we all knew it was a difficult time for him.”
“I didn’t think that would be it. I thought he’d come after me.”
“Sam’s blunt and straightforward. He probably thought you were serious and wanted out of the relationship.”
A lump filled her throat and she looked away. “I don’t even remember all the details anymore. So many things have happened since then.”
“That’s why it’s good just to go forward. Looking to the past, wanting what’s gone, it doesn’t change anything, just makes it harder to accept the facts.”
There were a dozen things she wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, she looked at the older man, remembering how she’d hoped he’d become her grandfather. She’d never had a grandfather. “Thank you for letting me come here,” she said huskily. “I really do appreciate it.”
“I know you do.” He paused and gave her a faint smile, blue gaze warm. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Ivy. That also accomplishes nothing.”
Chapter Six
Sam endured a brief, but tense, conversation with his mom before leaving the house to go find Ivy. His mom could be ridiculous sometimes, and now was one of those times, but he wasn’t about to argue with her and upset the whole family, just before Christmas, never mind Mom’s birthday in three days.
Sam found Ivy in the ring with Scotch, taking Scotch through his paces. Scotch had an abundance of energy and attitude this morning. His ears were forward, his tail was up, and he wanted to go hard, but Ivy was holding back.
She needed to let him run, though. Scotch was full of vim and vinegar, as Grandad would say, and the best way to handle his excessive enthusiasm was to work him out. Exhaust him a bit. But for some reason Ivy didn’t look as comfortable in the saddle as she normally did. He wondered just how long it had been since she’d ridden him.
Sam grabbed a folding chair and turned it around, sitting on it backward. Ivy had always been slim, but she looked downright thin from a distance. He knew she watched her weight so that she could remain competitive, but he suspected her thinness was due to stress rather than dieting.
Thinking of her being stressed made him think of Wes and thinking of Wes made Sam’s temper spike. He seethed now, watching Ivy go round the ring, remembering her terrible little room at Joan’s, as well as her hours at the bar. Sam hated her working at the Wolf Den, and not just because of Wes. She took the late shift and closed too many nights on her own. It just wasn’t safe, and he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. No one in his family approved, but that wouldn’t make a good argument. Ivy, he knew from experience, didn’t like being told what to do.
Ivy must have finally spotted him, because she turned Scotch his way, and cantered over.
“How long have you been sitting there?” she asked, breathing quickly, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
“Not that long.” Sam rose and closed the distance between them to scratch Scotch’s forehead and then his cheek. When Sam stopped, Scotch shoved his muzzle into Sam’s hand, demanding more.
“Scotch is greedy for attention today,” Ivy said, shaking her head. “He’s being a bit of a brat.”
“He’s glad to have you back,” Sam answered. “He was practically two-stepping around the ring.”
Ivy unzipped her chocolate-colored vest to cool down. “Oh yeah, he thinks he’s the boss.” She leaned forward to pat Scotch’s neck. “But we’re going to break you of that, big boy, aren’t we?”
“Good luck,” Sam answered. “It’s a guy thing.”
Ivy looked at Sam, lips curving, dark eyebrow arching. “Don’t I know?”
Heat surged through Sam, heat and desire, along with a whole host of complicated emotions. At one point, Ivy had brought out the best in him, and then the breakup had brought out the worst, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted back on that roller coaster. Feelings were fine. Heartbreak wasn’t. “Did you ever hear back from Ashley’s parents?”
“I haven’t checked my email this morning, but I can.”
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked.
“No, just coffee.”
“I was going to make some scrambled eggs. Want some?”
“Making bacon?”
“Are you making bacon?” he retorted.
She laughed. “I guess I am.”
“What time do you work tonight?”
“I need to be there by five, but I wanted to stop by the garage before they close so they can get the repair started.”
Sam knew if there ever was a time to press the issue about working at the Wolf Den, it was now. “You don’t have to work at the bar, you know. We can find you work somewhere else.”
“I owe George, though. He was good about giving me yesterday off.”
“You don’t owe George anything. And you don’t owe Wes. And you don’t owe me. You owe yourself, Ivy. It’s time you put yourself first and took care of you. Working at the Wolf Den isn’t good for you.”
“It’s not bad—”
“Answer me this, then. How would your mom feel about you working there?”
Ivy averted her face, chin lifting a fraction.
“Come on,” he persisted. “The truth. How would she feel?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ivy said lowly. “She’s gone.”
“She’s with you still. She poured herself into you. Honor her by doing what’s best for you.”
Ivy swung her leg over Scotch’s back and jumped down. “I have to work today. I won’t leave George in the lurch.”
“Can you give him notice today then? He can find others to work—” Sam saw she was about to interrupt and he continued firmly, “Even if he says he can’t. He’s owned that bar for twenty-some years. He knows how to find, and train, a new bartender, trust me.” He held his hand out to her. “But first, how about those eggs?”
Ivy took a quick shower and headed back downstairs to a kitchen smelling of bacon and toast. “I thought I was going to help,” she said, seeing that the eggs were scrambled and heaped in the skillet, bacon draining on a paper towel, and a stack of buttered toast on a plate.
“You didn’t have to do it all. You could have waited.” Ivy reached for plates on the counter and handed him one. “Unless you’re trying to rush off some place?”
“Not rush anywhere,” Sam said, scooping eggs onto her plate and then his. “But there is something Mom talked to me about, and is hoping we’ll do.”
She’d just snagged a strip of bacon and munched on it. “What?”
He carefully added toast and bacon to his own plate before heading to the table. He set his plate down and then held a chair out for her.
She put her plate on the table and sat down. “What does she want us to do, Sam?”
“Move you down to Joe and Sophie’s place.”
Ivy frowned and lowered the next bite of bacon back to her plate. “This is about last night, isn’t it?”
“She thinks we’ll have less temptation if you’re there.”
“I’m not sleeping with you, Sam. Did you tell her that?”
“You don’t say something like that to Mom. You just respect her rules and not make things more uncomfortable.”
“So she hates me.”
Sam laughed. “She doesn’t hate you. She blames me. That’s why she’s moving you away from me.”
“Maybe I should just move back to town.”
“No.” He wasn’t even smiling anymore. “That’s not an option.”
“I feel so awkward.”
“Don’t. It’s not a big deal, and Sophie’s super excited you’ll be staying at the house with them. She said you’re their first guest.”
*
After breakfast Sam moved all of Ivy’s things from Joe’s room down to Sophie and Joe’s new house, while Sophie showed Ivy around the stylish log cabin she and Joe had built over the summer. It was a handsome two story with soaring beam ceilings and an open floor plan on the main level, the big kitchen opening to the great room with a long dining table in between. There were windows everywhere on all four sides and sunlight streamed in, the lovely winter light pooling on the wide plank floor.