by Lily Everett
The word “friend” might not be the best way to describe Sam and Andie’s situation, but he wasn’t about to explain the complicated layers of interest, attraction, suspicion, and deception that truly characterized the connection between them. Especially since Sam barely understood it himself.
Caitlin sighed, apparently not all that reassured. Seemed weird to Sam, but maybe they hadn’t spent much time together, or maybe that was normal. How would he know? His experiences of family life had been pretty sporadic and, for the most part, bad. At least that had been true of the family he’d been born into. It was funny how those earliest lessons stuck with a person.
From outside of the barn came the growl of an engine and the crunch of tires coming up the gravel driveway. Queenie went stiff, every sinew straining, her ears swiveling to take in any sound that might spell a threat.
They were out of time. Sam couldn’t take the chance that whoever it was would slam their door and send Queenie into a spinning, kicking frenzy. One blow of her flailing hooves, and Caitlin could be seriously injured.
“Time’s up,” he told her. “You gonna take my deal or not?”
“I guess.” Caitlin shrugged, more tense than he’d seen her yet. It was as if she felt that by agreeing to Sam’s terms, she’d given him some kind of power over her—and to minimize the danger, she was determined to pretend she didn’t care whether or not he came through.
Which told Sam that someone in Caitlin’s young life had made promises they couldn’t deliver on. More than once. And now Caitlin would literally rather get trampled by a wild animal than admit she’d gotten her hopes up.
Sam closed his eyes against the memories sucking at him like quicksand, but he didn’t struggle under their weight. Struggling would only sink him faster. Instead, he faced the images that surged to the front of his mind calmly, without fear, and let them pass away back into the darkness where they belonged.
He blinked his eyes open and held out his hand once more. “You’ve got no reason to trust me. I can’t force you to believe in my promise, and I know what it’s like to feel like you can’t trust anyone. Like you’re on your own. But if you want to learn to ride—if you want to ride this horse, you’re going to have to work with me. You’re going to have to trust me at least enough to do what I say. And here’s your first test.”
She stared at him steadily, giving nothing away, and Sam had to admire her poise. “What do I have to do?”
“Follow me out of this stall. Step where I step, don’t wave your arms around, and don’t dawdle. Got it?”
Caitlin gave a short nod, her reddish-orange brows furrowing in concentration. Sam turned back toward the stall door, moving smoothly and quickly, keeping his ears open for the sound of her light footsteps behind him.
There. Caitlin was following him. Sam felt a slow smile break across his face just as he looked up and saw Andie’s worried face. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, her lips almost colorless, and freckles standing out on her milky skin like flecks of cinnamon.
Andie mouthed “Thank you” at Sam, and his heart swelled. He guided Caitlin forward to squeeze between the horizontal bars of the stall barrier, keeping his body between her and the twitchy mare. In seconds, they were both out of the stall safely.
Turning back from making sure the bars were securely in place, Sam saw the awkward, aborted gesture Andie made toward hugging her niece, and the way Caitlin stepped aside. Andie caught him looking and her mouth twisted in bleak recognition. “So not only are you a horse whisperer—you’re a kid whisperer too?”
“Caitlin and I reached an understanding,” Sam told her. “She stays safe—which means, she stays out of Queenie’s stall, or any horse’s stall when there’s no adult around—and I’ll teach her to ride.”
“Oh!” Andie glanced swiftly back and forth between Sam and her niece. “I couldn’t ask you to take the time to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I’m offering. And anyway, this deal has nothing to do with you, it’s between me and my new student. Right, Caitlin?”
“Shake on it.” Caitlin stuck out her hand, all defiant and serious, as if she didn’t really believe Sam would.
When Sam gripped her cold, thin fingers and shook once, firmly, Caitlin’s eyes went wide. Sam grinned down at her, then used the hand he was holding to tow her across the hall to the tack room.
The smell of worn leather was thick in the air, and Caitlin stared openmouthed at the racks of saddles lining three walls. Sam tugged her past them and over to the back wall where a dusty full-length mirror leaned in the corner.
Standing her in front of the mirror, Sam twisted to heft a green plastic trunk over to Caitlin. He flipped the lid, releasing a puff of dirt, and showed her the pile of black velvet riding helmets inside.
“There oughta be one that fits you. Root around till you find it, I’m going to go talk to your aunt for a second.”
Caitlin shot him a suspicious glance out of the corner of her eyes, as if she knew very well he wanted a few minutes alone with Andie and she was ninety-nine percent sure he wouldn’t be coming back.
Figuring the only way to prove her wrong was to, well, prove her wrong, Sam shooed her toward the trunk of helmets and backed out of the tack room. He caught Andie just as she was about to stick her head into the office, probably to tell Jo and Taylor she wouldn’t be able to volunteer.
“Wait!” Sam called, jogging down the hall to pull her away from the office. His long fingers circled her wrist easily, her slender bones feeling somehow sturdy and capable against his palm.
Andie paused, glancing down at where they touched, but she didn’t pull away. Her shoulders were slumped and tired, the angle of her head exposing the vulnerable nape of her neck. “I’ve got to talk to Jo, then get down to the sheriff’s office. Is Caitlin okay in there?”
“There are no untamed animals in the tack room,” Sam assured her. “Although if she’s determined to get into trouble, I imagine she’ll find a way. Is she always so stubborn?”
To his surprise, red bloomed up Andie’s pale neck and into her cheeks. That creamy redhead’s complexion sure didn’t let her hide a thing. “I wouldn’t know. I met Caitlin for the first time last night. Before that, I didn’t even know she existed.”
A few things clicked into place for Sam. “That actually explains a lot.”
Andie bristled, challenge lifting her chin. “Like what?”
“Like the way neither of you seems to know what to do with the other,” Sam said bluntly.
The momentary defiance seeped out of Andie like helium from a balloon. “Oh, that,” she said glumly. “Yeah. I don’t know how common it is for kids to decide they hate you on first sight, but…”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Sam protested. When Andie only shook her head despairingly, he dropped her wrist to grab her by the shoulders and make her meet his serious stare.
“Caitlin does not hate you,” he insisted. “She just doesn’t trust you. Which makes sense—she’s in a strange situation and she doesn’t feel safe yet. It’ll take time, but she’ll come around. So long as you show her you care, and I know you do.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about it,” Andie muttered. “What makes you such an expert?”
Why did Caitlin immediately respond to you, and not to me?
Sam heard the question Andie truly wanted to ask, but he didn’t know how to answer it without giving away far too much about his own ugly past. Instead of admitting how much of himself he’d instantly recognized in Caitlin’s haunted eyes, he shrugged and let go of Andie’s shoulders to stick his hands in his pockets. “Sometimes it’s easier to see what’s going on from the outside. Anyway, the point is—just stick with her. She’ll come around. And in the meantime, I have a proposition for you.”
“What’s that?” Andie gave him a wary look.
Sam didn’t give himself time to weigh the pros and cons—the potential benefit of having the sheriff owe him one versus the dangers of getting
closer to her—because when he looked into her tired, worried, unhappy eyes, there was only one thing he could say.
“Here’s the deal. I’ll watch Caitlin for you while you’re at work, teach her to ride, make sure she doesn’t get kicked in the head by any horses—and in return, you come back this evening and volunteer with me.”
Chapter Seven
Andie blinked. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t this. “I can’t let you do that,” she repeated automatically. “It’s too much to ask.”
“Haven’t we been over this? I want to do it.” Sam rocked back on his heels, loose and easy in his big, muscular frame. When he gave her that half smile, white against the dark silk of his short beard, it was hard for Andie to remember all the reasons she’d had for wanting to stay away from this man.
But there were reasons. Good reasons, like the fact that the last time she fell for a smooth-talking man with an air of danger, he turned out to be truly dangerous—in more ways than one. Given that the pull she felt toward Sam was a hundred times stronger, Andie knew she had to keep her wits about her this time.
She shook her head with a smile that was hopefully cool and polite. “Thank you, really. But I’ll figure something else out.”
“Why can’t I stay here?” Caitlin’s high, angry voice demanded from behind her. Andie squeezed her eyes shut for a heartbeat. When she opened them, Sam had the decency to look apologetic.
Hating how helpless she felt, Andie turned to face Caitlin’s accusing expression. “It’s just … not a good idea. Mr. Brennan has a lot of work to do, I can’t expect him to look after you. Besides, don’t you want to come see where I work?”
“No,” Caitlin said, with the heartless honesty of the very young. “Let me stay here with the horses.”
With Sam, she didn’t say, but Andie could tell it was what Caitlin meant. Andie hadn’t known her niece for very long, granted, but she’d seen enough of the girl being silent and shut down to recognize how different she was with Sam. He had a way of getting through to her—something Andie had yet to figure out.
“It’s really no trouble,” Sam offered mildly. “In fact, I’ll put her to work. I could use the help mucking stalls and feeding the horses.”
“I don’t know.” Andie fisted her hands tight on her hips as she studied the sod floor of the barn like she’d find the answers she sought in the swirls of red clay dust and broken pieces of hay.
As if sensing her wavering, Caitlin marched over to stand next to Sam. A helmet covered in patchy, thinning black velvet trailed from her fingertips. “Please. I want to stay.”
Andie stared at her niece, who’d barely said two words to Andie since they met. All through breakfast and the drive to the barn, even while standing close as Andie helped brush her hair into a ponytail. Fiery wisps were escaping from the elastic band already. Andie’s fingers itched to smooth Caitlin’s hair, but the little girl would probably only pull away again. The way she’d done every time, in response to every question from “What were you studying in school back in New Jersey” to “Do you like pancakes better than waffles?”
Caitlin had sidestepped and refused to state a preference when asked, every single time—until now.
Forcing a smile, Andie said, “Okay. It’s fine with me, for today. As long as you promise not to wander off, pay close attention to everything Mr. Brennan tells you—and Sam, you call me if anything happens. I mean anything.”
Surprise registered in Sam’s dark brown eyes before a warm grin crinkled their corners. “Sure thing, Sheriff. Hey, Caitlin…”
Cautiously eager eyes peered up into Sam’s face. “Yes, Mr. Brennan?” Caitlin said primly, with a cautious sideways glance at Andie to make sure she was catching all this good behavior.
Andie bit back a real smile while Sam dug into the pocket of his worn Levi’s and produced a few plastic-wrapped peppermints. Handing the hard candy over to Caitlin, Sam pointed at a stall further down the hall. “That mare down there, third stall from the tack room, is Peony—and she loves peppermints. You’ll make yourself a friend for life if you step on over and feed her.”
The way Caitlin’s face opened up with eagerness stopped Andie from protesting about the dangers of being bitten. After Sam showed her the right way to present the candies to the horse—flat hand, thumb tucked in close so the horse didn’t mistake it for another edible treat—Caitlin raced away to Peony’s stall.
“She’s the gentlest horse on the property,” Sam told Andie, watching after Caitlin as if checking to make sure she followed his instructions. “Peony’s one of my personal favorites.”
“Is that why you always carry her preferred snack in your pocket?” The idea pleased Andie on some deep level, loosening the knot of instinctive wariness that clenched her guts whenever she was around Sam.
Kind to children and animals—wasn’t that most people’s definition of a good man?
But no pure, perfectly good man would be able to give such a sinfully tempting glance at her from beneath his lashes. Low and rough, his voice sent shivery shocks through Andie’s body. “You said yes. I didn’t really think you would.”
Andie cleared her throat. “It was the first time Caitlin ever told me what she wanted. In all of this mess, with everything she’s gone through—I can’t think of anything more important I can do for her than to show her that what she wants matters to me.”
Something soft and aching passed across his face, like the shadow of a cloud covering the sun for an instant. When it cleared, he said, “And then you told her to listen to everything I say. Aren’t you worried I’ll sow the seeds of anarchy in the kid, turn her into a rule-breaking rebel?”
Andie took a deep breath and plunged in. “I can’t believe you sent her away to give us a few seconds to talk in private and you aren’t using them to grill me about why I’ve never met my eight-year-old niece until now.”
Interest sparked in Sam’s eyes like a faceted piece of smoky dark topaz catching the light, but he shrugged his big shoulders as if he couldn’t care less. “If you think it’s important to me being able to keep an eye on her for a few hours, go ahead. Otherwise, it’s none of my business.”
Andie surprised herself by wanting to open up. The feeling was so startling that it was easy to repress. “Okay, then. Well, I need to get going—I can’t thank you enough for your offer, it’s very sweet of you.”
Sam smiled, slow like pouring molasses. “I’m a real sweet guy.”
Andie’s thighs tightened, a pulse of desire throbbing and expanding someplace deep inside her. “You have got to stop flirting with me.”
One dark brown eyebrow lifted into a perfect arch. “Why?”
Because if you don’t watch out, one of these days I’ll take you up on it.
Luckily, Andie had sufficient control of her tongue to avoid blurting out the truth. “Because I don’t date, so flirting is pointless.”
“Flirting is never pointless, as long as everyone involved is having fun,” Sam argued. “Wait, you don’t date—as in, you don’t date bad boys, or you don’t date nice guys who babysit free of charge?”
“As in, I don’t date at all. Ever.”
“Some men might take that as a challenge.”
Her heart jumped and started to race. “Men like that would do better to take me at my word. When I say I don’t date, I mean it. End of story.”
“Something tells me that’s only the beginning of the story,” Sam mused with a thoughtful expression that set off a thrill of nerves down Andie’s spine. “But it looks like we’re going to have to do story time later.”
Caitlin bounded back to them just as Andie’s gaze landed on the wall clock mounted above the tack room doorway. Shoot, was it already eight o’clock?
“And then she licked my hand because some of the mint melted and it was sticky but her tongue was really big and kind of rough and I thought it would be gross but I liked it,” Caitlin was telling an amused Sam.
When she paused to breathe, Andi
e broke in. “Hey, I’m going to run. My shift starts—well, now. I’ll be back this afternoon, Caitlin. If you need me for any reason, ask Miss Jo to let you use the phone in her office.”
“Okay,” Caitlin said, glancing at Andie briefly before turning back to Sam to demand more peppermints.
Andie’s heart sank, but the sympathy in Sam’s molten chocolate gaze helped to stiffen her spine. There was no call to go losing faith just yet. It was only their first full day together.
Before she could dwell on the fact that Caitlin would be spending “their first full day together” with someone else, Andie made herself nod good-bye to the two of them. She walked out to her black SUV, and all the duties and responsibilities that waited for her at the sheriff’s office, with the unfamiliar sound of her niece’s laughter ringing in her ears.
*
Caitlin turned out to be a good little helper. She mucked stalls, using the short-handled rake to scoop up the horse manure from the empty box stalls, without complaint. She decorated the chalkboard nameplates next to each stall with colorful chalk flowers and not-half-bad drawings of horses. She swept the hall and polished the brass tags on the bridles and did basically whatever chores Sam could come up with that didn’t involve letting her near the horses. Until Andie bought the kid a pair of steel-toed paddock boots, Caitlin wasn’t setting herself up for a broken foot on Sam’s watch.
Not that Sam had to watch her that closely. The kid followed at his heels like a duckling who’d imprinted on a mountain lion by mistake. She never gave him a moment’s trouble—except when he introduced her to Taylor and Jo Ellen.
Eyes down, sullen twist to her mouth, silence instead of chatter. Jo and Taylor exchanged glances then tactfully left Sam to his babysitting duties. And boy, if he’d thought Caitlin was sticking close to his side before, it was nothing to the way she superglued herself to him whenever Taylor or Jo were in view.
An ugly idea began to tickle at the back of Sam’s mind, but for the most part, he managed to ignore anything that didn’t have to do with earning Queenie’s keep by taking care of Jo’s barn duties for the day. If he let himself think about anything else, he might have to confront the fact that he was one single day into this adventure, and he’d already completely failed at steering clear of Sheriff Andie Shepard.