Rita nodded and stretched. “Where are you staying in Houston?”
“My dad has a penthouse on top of the Wyatt Petroleum building. I have a room there, though I barely use it,” Sam explained.
“Of course you do,” Rita drawled, rolling her eyes. “Cristo, what it must be like to be rich.”
“It’s not my money,” Sam reminded her, taking another scoop of ice cream.
“Sure it is, jaina,” Rita answered. “You just don’t like to admit it.”
Sam sent her a look. “What does that mean?”
Rita lifted the remote and pressed pause on the movie they weren’t really watching anyway. “Sammy, I give you shit about being a rich girl, but really, it doesn’t matter. Just like it doesn’t really matter that I come from a tenement on the south side of Chicago. You have money—so what? What’s the big deal?”
“I don’t want to be judged for it,” Sam pointed out.
“And I don’t want to be judged for being a poor Latina, but that’s what happens, chica. It’s just life. Eso que ni qué.29 But, mirar, you don’t see me denying who I am because of it.”
“The penthouse, the money—that’s not who I am, Rita.”
“No, but you need to stop worrying what everyone else thinks about it and start owning what you come from, Sammy,” Rita replied. “Having guap30 and a penthouse and a ranch and being the heir apparent to one of the biggest American oil companies is just a fact, jaina. It’s just a part of who you are. Anyone who judges you because of it—well,” Rita shrugged. “That’s their problem.”
Sam’s mouth compressed in a line. “I don’t want to be given special breaks.”
“Too late, jaina,” Rita chuckled. “The genie’s out of the bottle on that one.”
“And I don’t want my dad trying to control me with the money.”
Rita shook her head, laughing. “Have you met you? You just laid out a full-grown, specially trained killer today. I don’t think anyone has a chance of controlling you, with or without cash money, jaina.”
Sam was quiet a while, thinking about what Wes had said to her a week ago in this very room. “You think I dated Wes just to piss my father off?”
Rita glanced at her in surprise. “Did you?”
Sam drew a hand down her face, touched her swollen chin. “I’m not sure anymore. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I was attracted to him in the first place. But that’s not what I felt up until the moment he walked out.”
“Girl, you were attracted to that fine ass motherfucker because any straight woman in their right mind would be attracted to a guy who looks that good,” Rita answered with an amused look. “Let’s just call a spade a spade.”
“But he said I was using him as an axe to grind,” Sam continued. “Just to avoid ending up with a guy like Travis. Someone my dad clearly approves of.”
Rita shook her head. “I can’t think of a girl who needs her dad’s approval less than you, Sammy, but he may have a point.”
Sam looked at her friend in surprise. “How so?”
“You may not want your dad’s approval, Sam, but you’re like every little girl in the world when I say you do want your daddy’s love,” Rita told her gently. “There’s no amount of money that changes that fact. It’s the way it’s always been since Eve.”
And there it was. The unabashed, bald truth. The one thing Sam wanted all her life but was never really sure she had. Not from her father, anyway.
“As for whether Wes was right about you preferring him over a guy like Travis—why don’t you test the theory?” Rita suggested, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Go out with the guy while you’re in Houston and find out.”
“You’re a troublemaker,” Sam replied, though she wondered if Rita was right. And Travis had offered to take her out…
“Maybe,” Rita shrugged. “But you know what they say…the fastest way to get over a guy is to get under a new one.”
Sam tossed a pillow at her and Rita batted it away, laughing. And just then, the doorbell rang.
Rita grinned, hopping up. “Pizza’s here! Now enough of this boo-hoo, woe-is-me sad talk, jaina. Let’s do what all girls do in moments of distress.”
Sam lifted a questioning brow as she reached for the money to pay the pizza guy.
“Let’s eat our feelings,” Rita said with a broad grin before swinging open the door.
*
October—Same Night
Wyatt Ranch, Texas
R O B E R T W Y A T T
The phone rang in the study a couple times before Robert reached to pick it up. He was alone in the ranch house tonight. Grant and Hannah had taken the boys out to a local rodeo that some of the more adventurous hands were competing in, giving him a rare, quiet evening to read. He’d left the doors to the library open, enjoying the cool night air even as he had the fire going, relishing the luxury of the contrast and the scent of burning wood.
“Wyatt,” he answered, not bothering to look at the caller ID.
“And here I thought I’d get your voicemail,” David Sasser said at the other end of the line.
“No such luck,” Robert replied. “You get those SEALs I sent up?”
David laughed a little. “Don’t know how you pulled that off, but it was one hell of a spectacle.”
“Easy as pie,” Robert responded. “The trick is to get an admiral to owe you enough favors and some guys off deployment with a couple weeks’ worth of leave. Then anything’s possible.” And that’s exactly how he’d played it. Well, that and several thousand-dollar bonuses in cash and a cushy ride on the Wyatt jet. Forty-eight hours to teach a bunch of bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed cadets. In and out. Who would say no to that?
“You should have seen it,” David continued. “It was a thing of beauty. Your daughter would have done you proud today.”
Sam always makes me proud—she just doesn’t realize it.
“So Sam held her own?”
“More than,” David told him. “She even laid out one of the SEALs in three seconds.”
Atta girl. A broad smile stretched across Robert’s face.
“She and De Soto having any more problems?” he asked.
“Not from what I can tell,” David answered. “They’re getting along pretty good now that they don’t see any alternatives. She even choked him out during the training session, and he took it in stride. A month ago, I would have had to break those two up for trying to kill each other.”
“That’s good to hear. Sounds like they both learned their lessons.” He paused a beat. “You think she’s considering the Navy?”
“Can’t say,” David replied. “But I can tell you this—your little girl is going to do well wherever she lands.”
“She should land Navy or the very least—the Marines,” Robert drawled.
“And if she doesn’t?” David challenged.
Wouldn’t be the end of the world, Robert supposed. It wouldn’t break his heart, though he’d be admittedly disappointed. Possibly the end of a legacy, if Ry didn’t go in either. Which was a shame. Robert’s eyes tracked over to the antique display case holding his father’s Navy medals and his own.
“Rob, Sam’s a fine cadet, and she’ll make a fine soldier one day,” David told him. “I see the way the other cadets look up to her. And a girl like her—Sam will break barriers, prove what’s possible.”
And now Robert had given her all the options. It would be up to her to decide… And it was up to him to back her.
“Thanks for the updates, Dave,” Robert said. “I appreciate it.”
“I know you do,” David replied. “I have to admit, when you first approached me, I thought it was a little overbearing, but now I see what you’re trying to do.”
“I want Samantha to succeed, like any parent would want for their child.”
“No question,” David agreed. “Now you’ll just have to trust her to make the right call.”
Easier said than done. After Robert finished the call, he watched the fire
for a long time. He wondered what his wife would say, if she could see their children now.
He could imagine her consternation at how Sam had grown up—rough and tumble, raised by men. She had a razor-sharp mind and a tongue to match. His wife would have probably thought Sam was too serious, too unyielding. Just like Robert basically, though less cynical and prone to the Machiavellian. Not yet, anyway. Robert imagined life would teach her those lessons without his interference.
But his wife would have probably smiled at how Ry was turning out—gregarious and kind, a free spirit, adventurous. Much of that because Sam had given him the safety net she didn’t have when she was growing up. Ry was free to experiment and run wild, while she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Robert frowned. Reached for the phone again. He was surprised when the line picked up after just a couple rings.
“Hello?”
“Didn’t expect to hear you home on a Friday night,” Robert admitted.
“Then why did you call me, Dad?” Sam drawled. “You checking in on me?”
“No.” Yes. “I was going to leave a message,” he responded gruffly.
Her laugh sounded raspy across the line. “Well you can still leave me a message—I’ll just sit here and listen to it live, okay? Just pretend I’m out and up to no good instead of sitting at home with Rita, eating pizza and watching a movie.”
“How is Rita?”
“Ornery. As usual,” she replied. “Now you going to get around to why you’re checking up on me?”
Robert smiled in spite of himself. “I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch while you’re in Houston this week. I need to take a business trip to the Middle East shortly after you arrive, but I’d like to see you before I go.”
Silence.
“I’d like that,” Sam said finally. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you anyway.”
“You want to go out somewhere in particular?” Robert offered. “Sushi or something?”
“Can we just eat in the penthouse?” Sam asked. “I’d like to say a few things in private, if that’s all right.”
Robert’s ears perked up. “Everything okay?”
He listened to his daughter suck in a little breath. “Yeah. Or they will be anyway.”
“Okay. Well, that’s all I was going to say in my message.”
Robert waited a tick.
“I’m glad you called me, Dad.” Rare words. Hard-fought words.
Robert smiled. “Me too, Sammy. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Tell Ry I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Same time as usual.”
“He looks forward to it all week. That boy wouldn’t miss talking to you for the world.”
He almost heard her smiling down the line.
“G’night, Dad.”
“’Night, Sammy.”
Chapter 38
October—Wednesday
Professor Purcell’s Office, Texas A&M
W E S L E Y
“I’ve got some news. Come see me before you leave for break.”
That’s all the email from Professor Purcell said followed by a time to meet him at his office. Wes and Miranda converged at the same moment, coming from opposite ends of the hall toward Purcell’s office.
She was wearing tight jeans and some kind of silky sleeveless top, red hair a tumble on top of her head. She looked terrific, and Wes would have told her so if his stomach wasn’t in a knot over what Purcell had to tell them. Besides, he didn’t want to lead her on. Especially not after their last conversation. And especially not while he was still fighting the daily desire to track Samantha down and haul her into his arms so he could beg her to take him back.
“You ready for this?” Miranda asked him, a little breathless as they met up in front of Professor Purcell’s door.
“Not really,” Wes admitted, shifting his messenger bag on his shoulder. His ribs were still sore as hell, but at least his face had begun healing up nicely.
“Me neither,” Miranda agreed, taking a deep breath and raising her fist to rap on the door.
A burst of muffled laughter sounded before her hand could connect with the frosted glass. Miranda shot Wes an uncertain look.
“We’re right on time,” he told her. “Go ahead.”
Miranda blew out the breath she’d been holding and knocked swift and light.
“Come on in,” Purcell called out.
Their professor was sitting back in his seat, chatting with a fifty-something guy with salt-and-pepper hair and a face lined full of character. The guy was seated casually, and there was a familiarity between him and Purcell that spoke of some kind of friendship. As he stood and greeted Miranda and Wes, he introduced himself as the Richard Riley, Editor-in-Chief of The Statesman.
“I’m hoping you didn’t come here to tell us in person we didn’t get the internship,” Wes said as they shook hands.
Mr. Riley smiled. “Quite the opposite, in fact. When Max called to tell me about his two rising stars, I knew you had to be good. We used to work together years ago, and I know he’s got a good nose for talent.”
“So…we got it?” Miranda asked hopefully, her eyes bright with barely suppressed excitement.
“And then some,” Mr. Riley confirmed with a flash of a smile. “I floated the articles up the chain and USA Today would like to run an abbreviated version in their Sunday opinion section.”
Jesus Christ. Wes blinked in shock while Miranda’s mouth popped open in a perfect O.
“I’d like to make some small editorial changes, but we’ll be running the full series in The Statesman over the next week. We like your point of view, and I think your article and your photos will raise some great questions about the justice system that need asking,” Mr. Riley continued.
“Stunned speechless” was a term Wes was familiar with, but he’d never actually experienced the sensation. He and Miranda looked at each other like they’d both woken up in a mutually outlandish dream.
“They’re usually more talkative than this,” Purcell said from his chair, clearly amused. “Half the time, I can’t get either of them to shut up, all told, but I’d say your news has pretty much made their day, Richard.”
“Try year,” Wes croaked, swallowing.
“Oh my God,” Miranda whispered. “Is this seriously happening?”
“USA Today? This Sunday,” Wes repeated slowly, like he was learning a new language.
Mr. Riley nodded, his eyes glinting in amusement. “That’s actually why I’m here. I wanted to work with you two directly to get the article and the photos we’re recommending they use in working order for their editorial team. Figured you’d want to be hands-on in the process.”
Miranda and Wes glanced at each other. A beatific smile broke across Miranda’s face, and she squealed, jumping into Wes’s arms as he laughed and hugged her hard.
“Holy shit!” Miranda whispered fiercely in Wes’s ear. “We did it!!”
“Yeah, we did,” Wes murmured, smiling over her shoulder at Purcell. He nodded his thanks to his professor as Miranda let go of him to pump Mr. Riley’s hand vigorously.
“Thank you, sir!” she told him breathlessly. “This is a dream come true, Mr. Riley. You have no idea.”
“Oh, I might,” he said, returning her grin. “I know you two have break coming up, but would you both be willing to get rolling on the changes? I’d like to get all the USA Today work done by tonight and then start the day bright and early at our offices in Austin, to get The Statesman articles in order.” He glanced between the two of them. “We can discuss the terms of your internship with the paper at that point as well. That work for you?”
Hell, yes, that works!
“I’m from Austin, so that’s no problem, sir,” Wes told him readily. “This is really an honor. Thank you.”
“Pleased to have you two join,” Mr. Riley responded with a nod. “Your futures are bright if you keep this kind of work up. Not many college students can claim they got their first major artic
le into a local newspaper, much less a national one.”
“Told you they were good,” Purcell drawled as he smirked at his friend.
“That you did,” Riley agreed, leaning down to pick up his laptop case. “You two free to get started?”
“Absolutely,” Miranda answered. “We can work in the Viz Lab or here—really wherever you prefer.”
“Richard—why don’t y’all take my office. Gives you more privacy to work,” Purcell suggested. “When ya’ll are done, Shelly wants to have you over for dinner. It’s been a while.”
Mr. Riley nodded at his friend. “That works for me.”
Wes glanced at Miranda. “Let me just get my portfolio from the lab. It’s got all the shots I took at the prison. Gives Mr. Riley more to choose from.”
“Perfect,” Miranda agreed as Mr. Riley set up his laptop.
Purcell walked Wes out. Wes was a little jittery from the excitement and the adrenaline—and a little star-struck from the news. He looked at Purcell like a man who’d just been given a winning lottery ticket. A little bemused and a helluva lot amazed.
“Christ, is this really happening?” he murmured.
“Welcome to the news,” Purcell answered with a chuckle as they made their way down the hall toward the Viz Lab. “Fortunes turn at the flip of a coin, don’t they?”
“I’d say,” Wes answered. One minute Purcell was bailing him out of jail and the next he was handing him his dream on a national-sized platter.
Purcell stopped Wes just before they reached the lab. “Just as quickly as this happened, it could all go away. You understand that, don’t you, Wes?”
There was something in his professor’s expression, something in his eyes. Wes’s thought about Sam, about his future, about what Purcell had said to him the morning at the diner. The difference between all-stars and might-have-beens.
He would have to make some pretty major changes. He would have to decide what kind of man he was going to be. And Wes knew what he wanted, no question.
“I understand, Professor,” he told Purcell seriously. “I won’t let this slip through my fingers.”
His teacher smiled briefly. “I know you won’t, Wes. I know you won’t.”
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