Montana Hearts (5 page)

But instead of letting her touch him the way he'd touched her, Luke set his cane to the side, leaned against the wall, and used one hand to hold the hose and his other to scrub.

Sammy Jo's spirits plummeted. “You don't want my help?”

He chuckled as if she'd said something funny.
“
No.
”

Fine. Be that way. Sammy Jo retrieved her phone and was about to call Bree to bring her a towel when Luke gave a sharp whistle.

She turned toward the door to see who he'd been signaling, and caught a glimpse of the Walford twins as they were about to enter one of the other cabins.

“Hey,” he called to Nora and Nadine. “Bring those towels over here.”

The girls came running, then stopped in their tracks, their mouths falling open when they caught sight of them.

“You can't use these towels,” Nora exclaimed, her arm protective around the stack of clean white folded terry cloths she carried.

“No, absolutely not,” Nadine agreed. “You'll turn them green and Bree will—­”

“Make us do the laundry,” Nora wailed, cutting her sister off. “And the last time we did laundry, the washer overflowed!”

“I'll take full responsibility,” Luke assured them. “Now give us the towels.
Now.
”

Sammy Jo watched Nora and Nadine exchange glances, then the sixteen-­year-­old twins threw the towels toward them and scurried away, chattering like chipmunks.

“Guess you'll be leaving now, too?” Luke asked once they'd dried off. “You'll want to go home and get a real shower and change of clothes.”

Was he trying to get rid of her? “Yeah,” Sammy Jo said, trying to swallow her disappointment. “I guess so.”

An awkward silence followed and as he picked up his cane, she added, “But I could come back later to tell you more about the rehabilitation horse they have at the kids' camp where I work.”

“Not interested,” he said, slinging his green-­tinted towel around his neck. Then he took her towel from her hands and dabbed at her cheek.

She assumed she still had a green smudge he was trying to wipe off, but she didn't care about that. All she knew was that Luke's face was incredibly close to her own, and he had the most amazing long-­lashed hazel eyes, a small endearing crook in the bridge of his nose, and enticingly firm lips, which parted slightly and—­

“Don't look at me like that,” he warned.

Heat rushed over her face and she felt too guilty to play innocent so she remained silent.

“Enough is enough,” he continued, his voice turning edgy. “Bree told me about the guy your father brought home for dinner and I know you'll do whatever you think you must to get your father off your back.”

“Yes, I will, but—­”

Luke gave her a stern look. “You won't use me to get back at your father.”

“Of course not,” she said, and placed a hand on his arm to keep him from leaving. “But let's talk about this.”

Shaking her hand off, Luke gave her one last glance as he walked out the door. “I said
no
.”

W
HEN THE DOORS
opened the following morning, Luke's father accompanied him into the Department of Planning and Community Development set on making sure their new permits were filed.

Luke would have preferred to have made the trip on his own, but his father had argued that he couldn't drive a street-­legal automobile with a bum leg. Luke disagreed. He could maneuver their all-­terrain utility cart around the ranch just fine. Even if he did have to use his left foot instead of his right to step on the gator's gas pedal. He was certain if allowed to drive the pickup he could do the same.

His father cast him a sidelong glance as they waited for the elevator to take them to the second floor. “You've got the blueprints?”

“Right here,” Luke said, patting his backpack.

“And the new permit application?”

“Every detail is filled out and ready to go.” Luke wished he could have taken the stairs, but once again, it was his injury that kept them together.

“Can't have anything holding us up,” his father continued.

“Yeah, I hear you. Loud and clear.”

His father hesitated, and a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. “I'm not sayin' I don't trust you, it's just that—­”

“Yeah, what?” Luke demanded.

“We need to be ready.”

He
was
ready. Even if the planning department was not. When they entered the permit office, Luke scanned the empty room and pushed the bell on the front counter. “Hello?”

Other than the rhythmic drum of a copier spitting out paper and the aroma of fresh brewed coffee, it didn't seem like anyone else was there. Seconds later, a tall, thin man with gray hair, white sideburns, and a peppered mustache came out of a corner office and stiffened as they recognized one another.

“Can I help you?” Andrew Macpherson asked, his tone sharp.

Both Luke and his father hesitated, but it was his father who spoke first. “We need to speak to Ted Gurgens.”

“Ted isn't in,” Andy replied.

“When will he be back?” Luke asked.

Their neighbor tapped the wall calendar beside them with the tip of his pen. “He's on vacation for the next three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” Luke's father exclaimed, his voice thunderous. “We can't wait three weeks. Who's in charge of filing permits while he's away?”

Andy leaned over the counter, his face smug. “
I
am.”

The hostility between the two rivals raised the hairs on the back of Luke's neck and he knew he'd have to act as the go-­between. He laid the rolled blueprints and accompanying paperwork on the counter. “We need to file new permits for our building projects. Will you help us?”

“Of course.” But as Andy took their check for the application fee, the smile Luke and his father received wasn't reassuring.

Two days later, when Luke called to inquire on the status of the permit, their neighbor informed him that because the office had been closed the previous Monday for the Fourth of July, the planning department was behind. They hadn't even looked at it. Another three days passed and when Luke followed up he was told the engineer had misplaced the plans. A third call promised Luke and his family they might have to wait up to two full months before being issued a new permit.

Two months would be too late. If Collins Country Cabins couldn't provide the two extra guest lodgings required for the August 6 wedding, the Hamiltons would drop their many thousands of dollars into another venue.

Luke thought of the numbers Bree had calculated their family would need to keep Collins Country Cabins afloat. And there was no doubt about it. They
needed
that money.

He'd asked his mother if she'd talk to their neighbor, thinking if Andrew Macpherson still harbored feelings for her, he might give them a break. But his mother refused and warned Luke never to bring up the subject again.

Luke had promised his family he'd get those cabins built no matter what, and the churning in his gut kept him awake two more nights before he decided to enact a plan that would at least give them a chance.

Sometimes, if the enemy got the upper hand, one had no choice but to call for reinforcements. And in this particular case, Luke could think of only one person with the influence, persistence, and stubborn willpower to convince Andrew Macpherson to cut the red tape and push their permits through the appropriate hoops.

If only she'd agree to help.

S
AMMY
J
O CLAP
PED
her hands together and cheered as the ten-­year-­old girls she'd been teaching to ride rounded the dusty arena. “Great job! Now give your horses a pat and bring them down to a walk to cool off.”

She'd loved every minute of teaching the various age groups at the kids' camp how to ride over the last few months. Their jubilant laughter, excitement, and eagerness to learn reminded her of her youth when she, Luke, Bree, and Delaney would go on trail rides and participate in the western games at the fairgrounds together. Here, she was surrounded by ­people, a part of a team, while riding on the rodeo circuit often had her competing
alone
.

“You're a great teacher,” the thirty-­six-­year-­old owner of the camp said, eyeing the girls' progress with appreciation.

“Thanks, Jess.” Sammy Jo helped her collect the bright orange cones they'd set out in the arena for the girls to circle. “I wish I could stay and work here all summer.”

“So do I,” Jesse Rinehart said, her tone wistful. “I have a favor to ask. I know you'll be away at rodeos on the weekends, but do you think you can still help me out during the week?”

Sammy Jo picked up the last cone and hesitated. “I'm already helping out at the Collins ranch a ­couple days a week. I wouldn't have any days off.”

Jesse bit her lip. “You'd still have your evenings free.”

“I don't know,” Sammy Jo said, shaking her head. If she worked seven days a week she'd make a lot of money doing what she enjoyed, but . . . she wouldn't have much time to spend with friends . . . or to make Luke fall in love with her.

“Think about it?” Jesse asked, her expression hopeful.

Sammy Jo nodded, although she knew if she were to accept this job, she'd have to sacrifice something else.

Something important.

K
EEPING A FIRM
grip on his cane, Luke walked into the Happy Trails Horse Camp looking for Sammy Jo. But the place looked overrun with children of all ages and their various western mounts. How would he find her?

He passed five girls who looked to be about ten or eleven wearing the green Happy Trails camp T-­shirt with white lettering and matching silhouetted horse head logo.

“Have you seen Sammy Jo Macpherson?” he asked, searching each of their faces for some kind of lead.

“She's still in the arena working with Jesse,” one of the girls volunteered.

Who was Jesse? A child, a horse, another trainer? He gave the girl a nod and continued toward the white fenced enclosure, hoping if Jesse
was
a trainer, the person in question would be female. When he asked Sammy Jo to help, he sure as heck didn't want to have to do it in front of another man. Especially if the dark-­haired vixen demanded he seal the deal with a kiss.

Sammy Jo's familiar tinkling laugh caught his attention and he spotted her inside the fenced enclosure wearing the same green Happy Trails camp T-­shirt as the kids. She
was
with another male cowboy—­except the young partner's height only came up to her waist. A dark-­ chestnut quarter horse stood beside them and Sammy Jo was passionately giving the boy instructions on how to ride in simple, easy-­to-­understand terms.

Luke stood transfixed, unable to pull his gaze off her. Sammy Jo's face positively glowed every time she laughed or smiled. And her exuberance was not only captivating, but contagious. A crowd of other children had gathered around to watch and Luke found himself drawn forward as well. There was no mistaking the fact she cared for these kids. So how was it he had trouble deciphering how she felt about him?

He thought back to the day the bucket of green paint had spilled over top of them. She wasn't glowing with enthusiasm that day, but the memory brought a smile to
his
lips. He was still smiling as he made his way into the arena, then stopped short when the horse suddenly kneeled down in front of them, and let the young cowboy climb onto the soft, saddle pad strapped to its back.

“Is that—­” Luke stared as the horse shifted its weight, and stood up to full height.

“The rehabilitation horse I was telling you about,” Sammy Jo said with a nod. “Impressive?”

Luke didn't answer. His body had stiffened so much he couldn't tell his good leg from his bad. Yes, the feat was impressive and he was sure the horse helped numerous ­people with disabilities. But he didn't come here to watch her work or to rehash their argument over using the rehab horse.

Tipping his hat toward her in greeting, he glanced around at all the kids and wondered how to best explain the reason he
was
here. “I . . . uh . . . came over to see what you do on the days you aren't helping us.”

He figured he should ease into it since Sammy Jo had already shot down both Bree and Delaney when they asked her to help the night before. Sammy Jo had told them she didn't feel comfortable getting in the middle of their parents' feud, but Bree thought her friend might be holding out until
he
asked her.

Sammy Jo's mouth curved into a saucy grin. “You came all the way out here just to see me?”

“I did.”

She gave him a puzzled look, then glanced around as if expecting someone to be with him. “How did you get out here?”

“Ryan was on his way home and offered me a ride.”

“I finish work in about five minutes,” she told him. “You could have waited until I got back home and used the gator to drive next door to see me. Why are you really here?”

“I couldn't wait,” he choked out, his voice hoarse, but sincerely honest. “Sammy Jo, we need your help.”

“
We?
” Motioning for an older woman with a brown ponytail to come take her place, Sammy Jo left the boy, the horse, and other children behind to follow Luke out the gate.

“Look,” she said, hooking her thumbs through the belt loops on either side of her patched denim cutoff shorts. “You know I feel like I'm a part of your family. I love you all, I really do. But I won't get between you and my father. Remember, I'm the one who has to live with him, not you.”

“That's why you're the best one to persuade him to issue us the building permits.”

“He's not the only one who works at the building department,” Sammy Jo argued. “You act like the decision is solely up to him, but it isn't.”