Stick in the Mud Meets Spontaneity (Meet Your Match, book 3)

by Rachael Anderson

  “I don’t need a reminder. I know I’d rather be a blonde. But I’m stuck with this color for five more days, so until then, I’ll be wearing straw-colored hats and yellow bandanas.”

  He fingered some of her curls, and her shoulder tingled where he brushed it with his hand. “Your hair looks more gray than purple today.”

  Sam sighed. “I know.”

  He gave her a quick once-over and raised a brow at her cut-off denim shorts, old U of C t-shirt, and sneakers. “You’re not exactly dressed for riding lessons.”

  “Yeah. My body could use one more recovery day, if that’s okay. And I have something better in mind for today.” Sam lifted the trunk of her car and gestured inside. “Take a look at some of the most powerful and effective cleaning supplies ever made.”

  “Some?” Colton’s eyes widened at the two boxes filled with everything from cleaning rags, baking soda, and glass cleaner to bleach, bug killer, and air freshener. “What do you plan to do with all that stuff?”

  Sam pushed her trunk closed. “Clean The Shack, of course. I wasn’t kidding about helping out. It’ll be my way of paying you back for my lessons. But I do need you to come down there with me and use those strong muscles of yours”—she tapped his upper arm—“to get me in. My shoulders aren’t quite up to bashing in doors just yet.”

  Colton was already shaking his head. “I don’t expect you to pay for riding lessons with hard labor.”

  “Cleaning isn’t hard.”

  “You haven’t tried scrubbing that bathtub yet.”

  Sam didn’t understand why he was arguing. Didn’t he say only yesterday that he’d love her help? She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head at him. “I thought cowboys were supposed to be trustworthy. Yesterday, you said I could help and now I can’t?”

  “I said you could help, not do it all for me. I’m not about to ‘bash in the door’ and leave you to it. But—”

  “Of course you are,” she said. “You have a wild and temperamental mustang to train and I’m sure a bunch of other ranching stuff to do. I wouldn’t have told you I’m here to clean, but I really do need your shoulder to get me inside.”

  Colton shifted his weight and stared down the lane, looking like he wasn’t quite sure if he should accept her offer or not.

  “Pretty please?” Sam said. “Otherwise I can’t, in good conscience, let you give me any more lessons.”

  “I thought you weren’t a fan of my teaching methods.”

  “I have faith in you that they’ll go a little better next time.”

  He snickered. “They can’t be much worse, can they?”

  “Nope. Now about The Shack. Think of the satisfaction I’ll get from making it shine.”

  He let out a breath and scratched the back of his neck, still not looking overly happy about it.

  “Oh, and if there are any dead mice lying around, I’m also going to need you to get rid of them,” she added.

  “I bet you’re going to want the water turned on too.”

  Her eyes widened, and she laughed. “Yes, I’m definitely going to want water. And power, if that’s not asking too much.”

  His lips pulled into a smile. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “I drive a yellow Bug too. Want a ride? I promise that Sunshine is very well behaved and won’t jump any fences or throw you out.”

  “I would only expect that from white Bugs named Herbie.”

  They both got in the car, and she started the engine. As they drove down the lane, Colton said, “Dare I ask if there’s a Sunshine, the first?”

  “Yes. It was an old, rust-colored Datsun that used to belong to Emma Grantham before she married Kevin. I loved the name so much that I decided to name my car the same thing even though they’re nothing alike.”

  “Except good for nothing,” Colton said under his breath.

  Sam pulled to a stop in front of the small cabin and leveled him a look. “I’m sorry. Did you just say my car was good for nothing?”

  “No, of course not.” He let himself out of the car, and Sam had to jog to catch up to him.

  “You did too,” she accused.

  He shouldered open the door then leaned against the door frame. “I would never say that about a Volkswagen Beetle. I mean, think of all the worthwhile things that car can do. Like look pretty… ish on the road or brighten up the road or… um…”

  “Get great gas mileage, turn corners on a dime, be reliable, safe, the perfect size, lovely interior, and just plain fun to drive? That’s what you were going to add, right?”

  “Right.” His lips curved into a smile as he left to carry in her boxes.

  While Sam unpacked and figured out where to start, Colton did away with all the dead mice and turned on the water. The power was already on. After making sure the faucets worked and there were no major leaks, he left Sam to do her thing.

  From the front window, she watched him walk away. Colton had a casual way about him that made her wonder if he’d ever lost it at a horse. She doubted it. From what Kajsa had said, his workload was heavy, and yet he never seemed stressed. He also made time for Kajsa, a wild mustang, and now Sam.

  He disappeared around the corner, and Sam rummaged through the boxes until she found a small speaker. She stuck it in the outlet, plugged her phone into it, and let Fall Out Boy breathe some energy into the tired and dry, creaky space. Then she tugged on some latex gloves and got to work.

  Sam bleached the tub, sink, toilet, and grout in the bathroom. She washed windows, stripped the bed, and put the linens in a garbage bag for Colton to either wash or toss out. Inside a small closet, she found an old broom and swept the uneven floor as best she could, wishing she’d thought to bring a vacuum instead. Then she scrubbed the floor and baseboards, wiped down walls, and removed all the cobwebs with a feather duster that would be put to rest outside with the dead mice. So gross.

  “Secrets” by OneRepublic came on, and Sam belted out the lyrics while peeling the cover off one of the couch cushions. Something scurried over her feet, and she squealed and leapt onto the arm of the couch, seeing a very-much-alive mouse run across the room and disappear under a TV cabinet in the corner.

  With all the traps still scattered around, how was it still alive? The broom leaned against the wall not far away, so she grabbed it, ready to smack the rodent if it showed its fuzzy body again.

  The front door burst open with a loud bang, and Sam shrieked again, wielding the wooden broom like a weapon as “Secrets” continued to play on in the background.

  Colton eyed her from under the rim of his cowboy hat, not saying anything. He didn’t really have to say anything. His what-on-earth-are-you-doing expression said it all.

  Sam pointed the broom toward the far corner of the room and squeaked, “Mouse.” Not only did she sound like the rodent, but with her purple hair frizzing from underneath the bandana, she probably looked a lot like one too.

  Sam really needed to forget the bucket list and dye her hair back to blonde.

  Colton approached her the way he might approach a scared or rabid animal and pried the broom from her fingers. Then he strode to the corner, jiggled the TV stand, and whacked the mouse when it came running out. He scooped it up with a dustpan and walked back out, leaving Sam standing on the arm of the couch.

  She hopped down and quickly smoothed her hair and retied the bandana. Then she grabbed another couch cushion and was in the process of peeling off the cover when Colton returned.

  “Oh, hey,” she said, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. “Long time, no see.”

  His lips twitched at the corners. “I came to invite you to a late lunch. Unless you’d rather I fry up that mouse for you instead.”

  Sickened at the thought, Sam shook her head. “I’ll take lunch with your family, thanks.”

  He walked around the small space, examining all of her hard work. When he finished, he took the cushion from her hands, set it down, and pulled her into a warm and sn
uggly bear hug that felt better than a soft throw and a mug of rich hot chocolate on a blizzardy day.

  “I’m sorry about the mouse,” he said quietly in her ear.

  Wow, this man knew how to hug. Sam could stay right here forever. “Thanks for getting rid of it.”

  He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “The house looks incredible. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She liked the way his hand caught hers; the way it felt strong and callused and really, really good.

  “Let’s go get some grub.”

  “Let me clean up first, and I’ll meet you over there.”

  Colton nodded toward the front of the house. “I brought the four-wheeler, so I could give you a ride. I’ll be on the front porch when you’re ready.”

  He disappeared out the front door, and Sam’s heart felt like dozens of tiny butterflies fluttered inside. Every time he glanced her way, touched her, spoke to her, teased her, or laughed, one more butterfly was added to the mix. There was something about Colton McCoy that made it want to fly.

  Sam smiled at her computer monitor, clicked Print, then arched her back and stretched her arms high overhead. Moments later, the printer spit out a black and white graphic of a small cabin surrounded by scattered trees. Below it, the bolded words “THE SHACK” were spelled out using a western font that Sam had spent hours tweaking. A simple border completed the rest of the design.

  Sam smiled, knowing she’d finally gotten it right. She’d spent a week of late-night hours looking for the perfect font, drawing the cabin into illustrator, and adding some trees. The simple lines were rough and imperfect, like it had been rendered using quick swipes of a magnetic doodle pad, but that was the effect Sam had wanted. On the McCoy ranch, there were no clean, straight lines. Everything was a just little rough, muddied, and disorganized. Real.

  A few of the carpeted stairs squeaked as she trotted down them. She found her mom and Emma on the back patio, sipping freshly squeezed lemonade and chatting while the twins crawled around on the grass, Maxwell in little khaki shorts and a blue t-shirt and Georgia in a happy, floral sundress. Sam’s heart tugged at the thought of leaving in a few months.

  She set the recently printed paper on the patio table before capturing Maxwell around the waist and hefting him up to give him a raspberry on his exposed, chubby tummy. All of his shirts fit a little too tight and rode up every time he moved. Maxwell giggled, and Georgia wrapped her tiny arms around Sam’s calves.

  “Feeling neglected, are we?” Sam dropped down on the grass, let Maxwell escape, and pulled Georgia on her lap. The sweet baby gave Sam’s face a hard pat before curling some of her fingers over Sam’s lower lip.

  “Ow,” said Sam, prying them loose. Then she gave Georgia a raspberry on her neck, making her giggle as well.

  “I found Georgia trying to suck the lid off a purple marker the other day,” said Emma. “I think she was planning to color her hair with it.”

  Sam sat Georgia back down and rose, brushing blades of grass off her denim skirt. “You guys need to lay off the purple jokes. My hair hasn’t been that color for days and will never be again.”

  “Hallelujah,” said her mom, holding up Sam’s printout of The Shack graphic. “What’s this?”

  “It’s for Colton.” Sam took a seat next to her mother. “To say thanks for the riding lessons. I’m going to have it engraved into a Bamboo plaque. What do you think?”

  “I think it looks awesome.” Her mother handed the picture to Emma. “But haven’t you been helping him fix up the place to say thanks for the lessons?”

  Sam shrugged. “This is a bonus. I think it’ll look great next to his front door.”

  Emma examined the picture. “This does look amazing. Did you draw the landscape yourself?”

  “It’s not as good as you could have done,” said Sam. Emma was an amazing artist who could pick up a pencil or paintbrush and bring anything to life. Sam, on the other hand, used her mouse and computer. There was a definite art to graphic design, but she would always consider herself more of a cheat and Emma the real thing.

  “I disagree. It’s beautiful. I love the simplicity of it.” Emma handed it back. “I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time over at the ranch. And what’s this about getting chased by a wild horse and nearly killing yourself?”

  Sam laughed. “Don’t worry. Maj doesn’t chase me anymore. She just ignores me.”

  “Unlike his trainer,” said her mother with a sly look.

  “Oh please, Mom.”

  “I’ve met Colton a few times,” said Emma. “He’s very nice.”

  “He is.” Sam mentally added funny and clever and gives the best hugs ever—though she wasn’t about to say that out loud. Her mother and Emma would pick that up and run a marathon with it.

  Not that her mother needed any encouragement. “Oh, she thinks he’s a little more than nice,” said her mom. “Reading between the lines, I’d say she also thinks he’s handsome, great with horses and kids, and hilarious. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

  Sam chose to plead the fifth, sipping her lemonade instead.

  Emma glanced at her babies. “Sounds like a fun summer diversion to me.”

  “Exactly.” Sam shot her mother a pointed look. “He’s a diversion—not someone who is going to keep me from going to New York.” Normally, Sam talked to her mother about pretty much everything, but when it came to Colton, she treaded more lightly. The last thing she wanted was for her mother to get her hopes up that something—or someone—could keep Sam in Colorado. New York was the next step in her life—not the McCoy ranch.

  Her mother shrugged. “You can’t blame a mother for trying.”

  “Do you really want me to settle down already?” Sam asked. “I’m only twenty-three.”

  “No. I just don’t want you to move to the other side of the country where the crime rate is over three times as high, there are more people than square feet, and studio apartments in a decent section of town cost the same as a big, beautiful home here. How are you going to afford to have any fun with such high rent?” Sam’s mother refused to let her get a more affordable apartment in a not-so-decent section of town.

  “You know me. I’ll make do. Maybe I’ll find a roommate.”

  “And where would she sleep?” said her mom. “On the floor? Or will you invest in bunk beds?”

  “Maybe he’ll sleep in my bed with me,” Sam quipped.

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Not funny, daughter. Not funny.”

  Emma laughed. “Sam will be just fine. She’s going to prove her worth and be offered a raise in no time.”

  “It’s nice to know somebody has a little faith in me,” said Sam.

  “I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry.”

  “Just like it’s my job to cause you to worry.” Sam took a sip of her lemonade, ready to steer the conversation away from anything involving New York or the McCoy ranch or a certain cowboy who was on his way to becoming more than a distraction, though she’d never admit that to her mother. “Speaking of causing you worry, do you happen to know of any reputable pilots around who wouldn’t mind letting me jump out of a plane at three or four thousand feet?”

  “What?” squeaked her mother.

  “Skydiving,” said Sam. “It’s on my bucket list.”

  The fence creaked under Sam’s weight as she swung her legs over the top rail and sat down, hooking her boots around a lower rail to keep her balance. The sun hid behind fluffy cumulus clouds that offered some pleasant shade to the ranch. With no breezes to stir the air, it would be a warm day. Colton glanced up from tightening the saddle around Your Majesty’s stomach while Kajsa stroked the horse’s jaw.

  “Hey there, Cowgirl,” Colton said to Sam with a smile that made her heart flutter. “When I saw you drop off Kajsa earlier and leave, I figured you had other things going on today.”

  “I needed to grab something at a store that didn’t open until ten. So I ran a few errands, waited for the store to open
, and now I’m back. Lucky you.” Sam had planned to do other things today, like sculpt some ice or find the perfect mascara, but after picking up a prescription for her father, her thoughts veered in Colton’s direction, and she found herself steering her car this way. He’d become a bit of an addiction, and she couldn’t find the willpower to stay away. Crossing items off her bucket list didn’t sound nearly as fun as riding with Colton or chatting with Colton or fixing up the cabin with Colton or admiring his nice lines as he worked with Your Majesty. Besides, who knew how things would change after today.

  In only a few hours, Cassie and Adi would be boarding a flight home, and Sam felt torn. Only fourteen days ago, Sam had yearned for the day when Adi returned so the summer could get back to normal. But now everything would change, and Sam wasn’t sure she’d have a reason to drop by the ranch anymore. It wasn’t like she could keep asking Colton to give her riding lessons indefinitely.

  “I wish I’d known you were coming back,” said Colton. “I wouldn’t have saddled Maj just yet. We could have gone riding first.”

  “No worries,” said Sam. “I’d rather watch you ride.”

  “Will you be staying for lunch today, Sam?” Mrs. McCoy’s voice came from behind.

  Sam swiveled around to find her standing on the front porch. “Hi, Mrs. McCoy. I’d love to stay for lunch, but only if you’ll let me help.”

  “I can always use an extra pair of hands,” she answered. “In an hour, come on in, and I’ll put you to work.”

  “Will do.”

  “Hey, Colt,” she called to her son. “Have you seen Spence and Dusty anywhere?”

  “Last I saw, they were mucking out the stalls in the boarding stable. I’m assuming they’re now helping Dad work with Phoenix. We promised we’d have him ready to go by this weekend.”

  She nodded. “Just making sure they are up to some good.”

  “They’re never up to any good. You know them.”

  “Just like their older brother.” She gestured toward the mustang. “I take it you’re planning to ride her today?”