by Mari Carr
“Why are you thinking?” Her tight question made him select his response carefully.
“They’d realize how much stuff you’ve let other guys buy you.” He shrugged as though it didn’t make bile climb his esophagus. Cindi wasn’t all that different from Belinda after all. Sure, she flared where his ex had frozen. In the end, both women used their bodies to separate men from their better sense, their jobs and their wallets. “Is that the agreement you alluded to with JD? He pays you a pittance since he knows you’re picking up business on the side?”
“Did you just imply that I’m a whore?” The set of her shoulders clued him in to what he’d see when she rounded on him. Furious eyes, a firm mouth and denial ready to spill from her swollen, well-fucked lips.
He ignored the feigned injury in her glare. Could she have expected him to be okay with how she used her fuck buddies? Stupid. Such a moronic romantic, he assumed she’d given herself with such abandon because it filled a void in her soul, not her pocketbook.
“Well, that’s a strong word. I suppose you’re more of a trader. It’s not every day a man finds someone willing to slake his unusual desires out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Her breasts rose and fell as she took one deep breath, then another.
Shit, he couldn’t insult her when he’d partaken of the spoils. But his heart cracked and he swore he wouldn’t show it. Not again.
“I don’t blame you for making a life for yourself.” Sam scratched his chin. “Makes more sense now, really. I never saw you as a good fit for that dusty office in the barn. Now I know why you hang out there. Advertising. Flaunting yourself has to be good for—”
He barely ducked the vase she hurled in his direction. It landed on the sleek couch with austere lines that spoke of high-quality design. Good thing too. The vessel looked like the swirled Venetian glass of an original Dale Chihuly. Pricey.
“Sam Compton, get the hell out of my house.” She charged toward him, brandishing a solid silver candelabra.
“Whoa.” He backpedaled, hands raised, palms facing out. “No need for violence.”
“There is. If you don’t leave in the next ten seconds I swear I’ll…I’ll call your dad.”
Hardball. “Jesus. Don’t wake JD. I’m leaving. Too bad. I was looking forward to spending the night showing you how good it can be in private.”
“With a woman you think is no better than a flesh peddler?” She sneered. “What does that make you, Sam?”
“A moron, obviously.” He couldn’t argue with her. After suffering the burn of embarrassment once, why would he leave himself open to being shafted again?
With his fingers on the doorknob, he paused at the sound of her raspy whisper. “No, that’s me. I thought I might have finally found someone who wouldn’t judge. Someone I could have adventures with and keep to myself when I felt the need for some alone time. When the hell will I learn it’s not possible? That man does not exist.”
“Cindi—”
“Ten…. Nine…”
“Fuck.” He couldn’t restrain the anger, pain, misery and loss—so much loss—from lashing out at her. “I’ll stop by the barn tomorrow with that bottle of L’heure Bleue. Probably owe you a lifetime supply, but it’ll have to do for now.”
He slammed the door to her chic cottage to shut out the mutilation he’d inflicted and keep himself from running back inside to kiss away the tears streaming down her cheeks.
Sam angled his head to glare at the coffee pot when the auto-brew feature kicked in. Wake up calls came dark and fucking early at four-thirty in the morning on the ranch. He’d sat at the dining room table for hours, unable to consider sleep with so much bitterness churning in his guts.
He picked at the edge of the placemat before him when JD stumbled into the kitchen. He rushed to his father’s side and helped him situate himself at the table. “When are you going to start using that walker Lucy brought you?”
“I’d rather crack my head open walking under my own steam, thanks.”
“Impossible to dent that thick skull of yours, I bet.” Sam shook his head, grabbed the first cup of coffee and fixed it with a spoonful of sugar for JD, then plopped down once more.
“One of the many ways you and I are alike, son.” JD put his hand on Sam’s wrist, stilling his incessant tapping. His dad’s fingers were gnarled and the joints looked huge in proportion to the rest of him, which seemed to shrink day by day. “Gonna tell me what’s had you huffing and puffing out here like an old lady all night?”
“Heard that, did you?”
“Hard not to. So, let me guess. Woman trouble?” JD frowned.
“Cindi,” Sam confirmed.
“Ah, yeah.” JD smiled. “I heard you storm out to the barn earlier. I suppose you finally figured out how much you really have in common?”
“What would you know about—” Sam stopped himself short. JD knew everything.
“What I can’t understand is why you’re here, instead of snug in the cottage.” JD grimaced. “I expected the two of you to be as over the top as Seth and Jody or Si and his pair. What’s the damn hold up now?”
“I can’t believe you’d want me to end up with her, knowing…”
JD’s white eyebrows climbed. “That she’s passionate? Loyal? Fierce yet delicate?”
“A hooker.”
“What!” JD clenched his middle and bellowed with laughter. Until he realized Sam didn’t join him. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
“You must know.” Sam scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “When’s the last time you were inside Aunt Meade’s cottage?”
“Cindi’s cottage.” JD leaned forward. “Two days ago I stopped by to check on her. She hasn’t been the same since that bitch followed you from the East Coast. Something has her skittish.”
“So you’ve seen what she’s done to the place.” Sam tilted his head. Frustration bubbled to the surface. “How do you explain that luxury on the pathetic salary you pay her?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Fucking oh is right.” Sam uncurled his fingers from the fork in front of him when the tines began to bend.
“Enough is enough already.” JD thumped his fist on the table. “You two are screwing everything up. Look, Sam, your girl has been all over the world, she knows about your fancy shit and can afford anything she damn well pleases. If she had her way, she’d work for free. I had to fight and threaten to turn myself in to the authorities if she wouldn’t at least accept minimum wage and a place to stay. She’s loaded. Her family, the assholes who abandoned her like just another thing they owned… Her full name is Cindi Renolt Middleton.”
“Renolt?” He racked his brain. It couldn’t be the same family he’d run across in his plans for the growth fund. “As in the oil magnate?”
“One and the same.”
“If that’s true, she’s…”
“I did say loaded, didn’t I, son?”
“Oh, fuck.” Sam replayed the horror on her face and wished he could lash himself a hundred times for each of the heartbreakingly beautiful tears that had graced her cheeks last night. “Oh, holy fuck.”
“Now you’re catching on.” JD grinned. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll make it right. If she’ll let me.” Panic sent chills down his spine. “She has to, right?”
“You’d better be damn convincing. Take your time. Do this right. It’s important and I think you’re running out of chances.” JD sighed. “She’s coming up to the house for the shindig this morning.”
“You’re not supposed to know about that.” Sam bowed his head and rubbed the tension from his neck. “Act surprised.”
“Always do.” He chuckled.
“I gotta go. Think.” Sam started to rise.
“Sam.” JD stopped him with light pressure on his shoulder.
“Dad?” He glanced over, then away again, afraid he might give in to the prickling behind his eyes if he didn’t escape soon.
“Bring in
that piece of shit walker. After the announcements this morning, I’ll use it. Just not with everyone watching. You’ll be there, right? By my side?”
“Yeah. I won’t let you fall. I promise.” He hugged JD, then ambled toward the storage shed, letting his chores distract him as he stewed over the right way to win Cindi back.
He couldn’t afford to lose her.
An hour or two later, most everything was in place. Sam prepared to take a shower and raid Vicky’s garden for a bouquet of flowers when his phone buzzed insistently. He was surprised to see Sawyer’s face appear on his phone’s screen. He figured his twin would still be fucking following weeks of abstinence.
After wishing for this call, he considered stuffing the device back in his pocket. How much more could one man take in a day?
Sawyer required his full attention. Sam drew an enormous breath, then answered the call. “Hey, bro.”
“Sam.” Sawyer’s coldness caught him unaware. His brother rarely lost his temper and this tone was a far cry from last night’s friendlier one.
“What’s up, man? Didn’t expect to hear from you this early. Not since you were so busy.”
“Yeah, that’s me. The brother too fucking busy to come back to Wyoming.”
Shit. Sawyer knew where Sam was. Weeks of guilt over keeping the secret of JD’s illness from his brother crashed in on his head. “Sawyer, I can explain—”
“Tell you what,” Sawyer interrupted. “Why don’t you start with the part where you tell me what the fuck is going on with JD?”
Sam took a deep breath. “Sounds like you already know.”
What Sam couldn’t figure out was how.
“I want to hear it from you. The person who should’ve told me to begin with.”
“JD forbade us to say anything to you.” Nice, Sam. Take the goddamn coward’s way out.
“And being the good little son, you did exactly what your daddy told you to do. Say the fucking words, Sam.”
“It’s cancer. JD’s dying.” Time to man up and pay the piper. He’d known all along Sawyer would be angry as hell when he realized they’d kept the truth from him. Sam, of all people, knew how much their silence would hurt his brother. “I’m sorry, Sawyer.”
“I’m coming home. Tonight if I can swing it. If not, on the first available flight.”
Sam swallowed the lump lodged in his throat. “I’ll pick you up at the airport.”
“No. I have a ride. I don’t need any favors from you.”
“God dammit, Sawyer, you’ve got to let me explain—”
Sawyer’s anger cut through the line. “When I get there, I’m kicking your ass. Explain it to my knuckles. Might take a piece out of Silas’s and Seth’s hides for good measure. Share that message with them, will you?”
The phone disconnected before Sam could reply.
Sam hovered outside Cindi’s office in the barn. She’d ducked out of the retirement party for JD the moment she’d finished delivering a heartfelt speech about home and family that had pummeled the bruises on Sam’s heart. He’d fulfilled his promise to JD, staying by his side despite his father hissing at him to run after the gorgeous woman. Now that the crowd had dispersed, Tupperware containers full of leftovers in tow, Sam found himself pacing outside the office in the barn.
He substituted his opening line at least a dozen times before realizing nothing he said would make up for the destruction he’d wreaked last night. Maybe he should forget it. Walk away before either of them could get hurt.
Or hurt more.
From hand to hand, he tossed the screwdriver he’d snagged from one of the toolboxes in the shed when he’d read Colby’s note on the fridge: File cabinet jammed in Cindi’s office. Needs it opened to finish ordering this afternoon. Take care of it? Thx, C.
As if the universe could sense the one place he’d least like to step foot in. Fuck.
Before he could devise the greatest bunch of bullshit excuse of all time to wrap around himself like an asbestos suit against the flames of her mighty wrath, he caught a melody drifting from the office. He recognized it instantly.
Sam grabbed the broom leaning against the wall beside him and went with his instincts. If nothing else, making a fool of himself might lure her into a smile he definitely didn’t deserve and could hardly find the balls to hope for. He got a running start, then trusted the hay-dust on hardwood to do the rest.
He skidded across the threshold into Cindi’s office, Risky Business style. With the broom-turned-microphone poised in front of his face, he performed a duet along with Sara Bareilles to “King of Anything”.
Sophisticated? Nope.
Humble? Yep.
He kept going with his off-key rendition until Cindi yanked at the lavender tresses swirling around her perfect oval face. She opened her mouth and he covered her lips with his palm before she could order him out.
“Cin.” He perched on her desk, afraid if he didn’t he’d invade her space and scoop her into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I acted like a total ass last night. It’s just that I had a shitty time of things before I left NY and with JD, well, I never really came to terms with all that happened, you know? That’s no reason for me to assume you were like her. I just…”
“I want to throw your ass out. I’ve never been as angry at a man as I was at you last night.” She sighed. “As I still am. How dare you accuse me? If you saw what you did and still thought what you did, I can’t believe you’ll ever really understand me.”
Damn. He’d fucking blown it before it had really started.
“But…you make it impossible to stay mad.” She gave him a wry grin. “That was ridiculous and adorable and, you’re right, no man is the king of me. So if it’s a crown you’re looking for—”
“No, Cindi, it’s not at all.” He reached slowly for her shoulder, giving her time to shut him down.
She didn’t.
Christ, her skin was so soft beneath the flutter sleeve of her delicate silk top. The pure, light material spoke of understated quality. Focus, Sam!
“In fact, that’s sort of what I came here to say. I’ve gone over the books and studied up on the changes you’ve made since you came onboard.”
She jumped in, her eyes glittering. “And now you think you can waltz in here with your flashy Columbia degree and do better? I’d like to see you try. I know my shit.”
“Exactly.” He refused to allow her to brush his fingers from her arm. He couldn’t give up the warmth flowing through her and up his arm.
“What?”
“No matter what happens between us, I need you to know that I respect what you’ve done here. Your negotiations with the suppliers, the seasonal budgeting and aggressive process improvements have made a huge impact on the operation of the ranch. So, thank you. I hope you won’t penalize my family because I acted like an asshole.”
She stared at him with her mouth open. It made him remember the sinful things she’d done with those pretty lips and skilled pink tongue. No. Not yet. He had to finish what he’d started or he’d regret it later.
“JD told me about your…circumstances. I should have put it together. With Belinda. She recognized you, didn’t she? Maybe from Sotheby’s. She haunts the auctions, always looking to have something no one else can, and you had tons of artwork in the cottage. The sculptures and vases. She would know the movers and shakers. It’s how she works.”
This time there was no restraining her.
“What?” She shoved back from the desk and bolted to her feet. “JD had no right to do that. So all of this—your sudden faith, the apology, all of it—is because your dad told you I’m rich? Would you have kept on thinking I was a fucking whore if he hadn’t opened his big mouth?”
Sam should have denied it, but he didn’t care to lie to her.
Her adorable face crumpled before she turned away.
His arms ached. He craved holding her so badly. Still, he realized his touch would do anything but alleviate the agony he’d inflicted. “Cindi.�
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“Enough, Sam. I thought I’d finally found someone who would chose me over money. Someone who knows the value of family and friends. A partner who shared my kinks, my need to be a part of something bigger than myself. Someone who could identify and enjoy and…damn it.” She kicked the jammed filing cabinet that’d drawn him into her realm in the first place.
“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I’d like to be those things. If you’ll let me try again. I can’t unlearn what JD shared. What do you want me to do?”
“Fix this fucking drawer and get the hell out,” she screeched at him, then clapped a hand over her mouth.
He lunged for her, unable to keep from soothing her a moment longer.
“Ow, fuck.” He’d forgotten about the screwdriver jammed in his pocket and stood too fast, jabbing his leg. Probably warranted it too.
Cindi had retreated out of arm’s reach. He sighed, then decided it might be best to do as she’d asked. He’d take care of the issue, then regroup. Staying here, pissing her off, would only do more damage.
Sam knelt by the side of the cabinet and tugged on the drawer handle. The edge near the lock bent in. Another solid yank yielded similar results. So he placed the tip of the flathead screwdriver near the seam and tried to realign the lock latch.
A tiny sniffle from Cindi’s direction distracted him just as he shoved the tool into the gap between the frame and the door.
The sharp metal slipped, gouging the base of his thumb. “Son of a bitch!”
He shook his hand until he realized the motion flung droplets of blood.
“Sam!” Cindi rushed over, giving him hope. She wasn’t immune to his injury, not that the sting in his thumb held a candle to the wrenching of his heart.
“If you’d asked a real cowboy instead of a pansy MBA, you’d have a man in your drawers by now.” Silas hobbled over to where they crouched on the floor.
Sam didn’t say anything. He allowed Cindi to wrap a tissue around his hand and keep pressure on the wound. Well worth the discomfort.
Silas inspected the fixture for a moment or two, then thumped the side hard with his fist.