Rodeo Sweetheart (6 page)

S
am shut the dishwasher with a clank and turned it on. She straightened, pressing her hands into the small of her back. Nothing worse than completing a day of outside chores just to come in and work equally hard in the kitchen. But she’d taken one look at Clara buried under a mountain of dishes, and couldn’t let the older woman handle it by herself. Besides, Angie was paying bills in the computer nook off the den, and the kitchen was the farthest room away from the bitter mutterings and frustrated pen clicks.

Clara tossed a sponge in the sink and untied her apron from around her ample waist. “I think that does it. Thank you for helping me with the dishes.”

“No problem. After that meal, how could I let you do them alone?” Sam patted her stomach with a smile. “Good thing I work so hard, huh? I think I had three helpings of mashed potatoes.”

Clara tsked as she hung her apron on a peg by the industrial-sized refrigerator. “You could stand a few more pounds, if you asked me. I’ve never seen such skinny women like you and your mother.”

“We burn a lot of calories.”

“Ain’t right for a woman to be skin and bones.” Clara winked as she shouldered her purse and draped her navy sweater over one arm. “I’ll fatten you both up yet.”

“I have no problem letting you try.” Sam patted Clara on the arm as she walked with her to the door. “Thanks again for the pot roast.”

“Just doing my job. You all have a good night.” Clara shut the door behind her and once again, the Jenson household was silent.

Sam turned off the kitchen light and released a heavy sigh. She needed a hot bath—would maybe even throw some bubbles, a book and a soda into the mix. Working so hard every day did have at least one silver lining—Sam had basically become immune to caffeine. She could drink coffee in bed if she wanted and still sleep soundly.

She wiped her tired eyes with the back of her hand. On second thought, maybe she’d skip the bath and the drink and head straight to her room. She could use a solid eight hours of sleep—too bad she’d only get three at best before having to sneak out for her midnight ride with Cole and Lucy. Maybe this time Ethan wouldn’t crash the practice session. Even with Ethan shadowing her around the stable all day, Sam had still successfully avoided telling him why she was determined to ride the steer in the first place. That was one more complication she just didn’t need.

Sam tiptoed past the computer nook. Hopefully her mom wouldn’t hear her on that squeaky bottom step—

“Sam? Is that you?” Angie’s voice sounded more exhausted than Sam felt.

Sam hesitated on the staircase. Then guilt took precedence over exhaustion and she shuffled into the den. “How’s it going?”

“Same as always.” Angie pushed her short, sandy-colored hair back from her face. The light from the desk lamp shone on her tanned skin and she rested her elbows on the tabletop.

Sam swallowed the pride lingering in her throat and forced the words she’d hoped to never utter from her mouth. “Do you need me to get a second job again?” She held her breath.

Angie sighed. “That’s thoughtful, but we’d be worse off losing the work you do around here.”

Relief crowded Sam’s already full stomach. She couldn’t handle an outside job, not among her other daily chores on the ranch and her new hours of training for the upcoming competition.

Sam studied her mother’s scribbled notes in the margins of the ledger book. If only she could tell her mom her plan to save the ranch she would, but the timing was more than a little off. As soon as Angie heard the words
bull
and
rodeo,
she’d go berserk—even under the best of circumstances. Bill paying was probably the worst timing of all. Until Sam was positive her mom would understand that the end result was well worth the risk, she’d have to stick to her original plan of keeping the secret. Sam peered over her mom’s shoulder to better read the bottom line. “Are we going to be okay?”

“We’ll make it.” Angie shoved up the sleeves of her shirt and bent over the pile of envelopes and the ledger book, shielding it from Sam’s view. “We always do, somehow. But if we considered selling…”

“Things will get better soon.” The promise rolled off Sam’s tongue before she could stop it, desperate to ease the stress lines tainting Angie’s once-young face. Sam hoped she’d be able to make the assurance true and keep the farm where it belonged—with the Jensons.

“I know. God always provides, doesn’t He? Your optimism
is contagious.” Angie’s smile appeared slightly more sincere this time and she squeezed Sam’s hand. “Go to bed. You’ve done enough for tonight.”

Sam squeezed back before turning and heading silently up the stairs to her room. She hadn’t done anything yet, not anything that mattered, at least—but she was about to, starting with round two on Lucy.

Would it be enough?

Ethan’s muscles ached, his head throbbed, and his eyes felt sticky from lack of sleep—yet he’d never felt so good in his life. Who knew hard manual labor carried even more endorphins than his logged treadmill miles?

He glanced at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. Only fifteen minutes until Sam would be at the north paddock with Cole and that crazy bull—no, steer. The scariest part of the whole experience was that he hadn’t minded the chores nearly as much as he’d expected. Mucking out the stables wasn’t exactly fun—especially after the sparks with Sam when they touched hands—but grooming the horses, learning how to saddle them for trail rides, and helping distribute fresh hay to all the stalls hadn’t been bad. Pleasant, even, once he and Sam kept to their no-more-arguing truce.

Now if only his emotions could stick to the pact he made with himself.

Ethan tapped his watch with his finger. Ten minutes until practice time. He hadn’t told Sam he was coming, but it should be assumed. They were in it together. He just still didn’t know what this “it” was. Sam had yet to tell him why she was on that steer last night—a fact Ethan planned to remedy in a few short minutes.

He eased out of bed and slipped into his running shoes,
careful not to disturb Daniel. His cousin had returned to the cabin earlier in the evening, griping about how the girls he’d been flirting with earlier in the week had already gone back home, their vacation over. Daniel had crashed in his bed and immediately started snoring.

Ethan shook his head at Daniel’s sleeping form and crept out the front door, wincing at the loud click. He waited, but Daniel didn’t make a sound from inside. With a relieved sigh, he turned—and bumped straight into Jeffrey’s broad chest.

“Dad!” Ethan gulped, hoping his surprise didn’t show on his face. To Jeffrey Ames, being unprepared was an indicator of weakness. No matter that his dad was skulking around the cabin porch in the dark—it’d still be Ethan’s fault for being startled. He straightened his shoulders and lowered his voice. “What are you doing?”

“Coming to wake you up to talk.” Jeffrey gripped Ethan’s elbow and led him down the stairs and around the corner of the cabin. The grass squished under their shoes. “What progress have you made with the Jenson girl?”

“Sam?” Ethan’s heart raced and again, he hoped his dad wouldn’t notice. He’d definitely have to work on his poker face when it came to Sam—at least until logic overtook his emotions.

“Sam, Pam, whatever. I haven’t seen you all day. What do you know? What have you been doing?” Jeffrey crossed his arms.

Ethan recognized the pose—the businesslike, get-it-done posture that Jeffrey took on regardless of the cost. His dad wanted answers, and he wanted them now. “I’ve been with Sam all day. Like you wanted me to be.”

“Has she mentioned anything that could be useful for our cause?”

Ethan winced, remembering the ignited handshake in the barn, Sam’s melodic laugh and the way his eyes stayed drawn
to her all day as if they’d been taken over by a magnetic force. “Not yet.”

“Well, you need to step it up. We’re running out of time.”

“Already? We’ve only been here three days.”

Jeffrey shook his head impatiently. “Business waits for no man, you know that. Your mother is afraid Ms. Jenson will hear about that highway relocation before we can make our offer. If she does, she’s more likely to discover our intentions of building the strip mall—and then she’d never sell to us. We’re having enough trouble convincing her to sell under the pretense of keeping the property exactly as it is. We have to move fast—before Sam realizes why we’re here, and before Ms. Jenson decides not to take an offer. She’s wavering because of her daughter.” Jeffrey scoffed. “Something about so many memories here.”

“What do you want me to do? I can’t make up reasons to offer less money.” Ethan quickly replayed the events of the past two days for his father, omitting the details of Sam’s secret riding plans. No use in sharing private, personal matters with Jeffrey. The man didn’t have a personal bone in his body. “Maybe we should just offer them a fair price. We’d still make money off the deal when the highway comes.”

“Are you crazy? After spending time on this ramshackle place, the last thing I’m going to do is offer more money.” Jeffrey brushed at his forehead and the moonlight caught in the reflective face of his watch. “We’re going to have to go a step further.”

“What now? You want me to date Sam instead of just trying to be her friend?” Some tiny, twisted part of Ethan’s psyche hoped his father would say yes. Not that Sam would ever agree. She probably only fell for real cowboys—men who smelled like sweat and earth instead of expensive cologne.
Ethan brushed away the pinch of rejection at the idea. This was business. He didn’t need romance.

Especially with a woman with eyes like periwinkle wildflowers.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jeffrey’s harsh laugh jerked Ethan back to the conversation. “If I wanted someone to romance the girl, I’d ask Daniel.” He scoffed and Ethan tried to ignore the way the barb pierced the same, worn dent in his emotional armor. “Maybe you can find proof that the ranch is failing, specific proof. If she has to sell, she won’t worry as much about her daughter’s feelings.”

“What if there isn’t any?” Ethan adjusted his stance to mirror his dad’s.

“Then make some.”

Ethan flinched.

“Keep on befriending the girl. She needs to trust you.” Jeffrey looked over his shoulder and lowered his gruff voice to a near whisper. “But in the meantime, look for ways to sabotage the property. Cut fences. Destroy feed. Poison it, for all I care. We need Angie to accept our offer, and we need her to do it now.”

Ethan’s stomach twisted. He could never purposefully hurt any of the horses, or Sam. Besides, Ethan
wanted
to be near her—and not just because he was ordered to for his job. He opened his mouth to object.

Jeffrey caught Ethan’s shoulder in one large hand and bent down to his level. “Do it, or I’ll get your cousin to handle things for you.” He straightened, lowering his hand to his side, but the weight of it continued to rest on Ethan’s shoulders. “It’s your choice.”

Jeffrey turned and strode back to his cabin, his back ramrod straight in the lengthening shadows. Ethan trudged in the op
posite direction toward the north paddock, the excitement of seeing Sam suddenly ruined. He spun his father’s words over and over in his mind, the meaning striking with new clarity at each rotation.
It’s your choice.

None of this was Ethan’s choice. That was the whole problem in the first place. Ethan didn’t get to choose his career. He didn’t get to choose how he did his job, or which bank to use or even which college to attend. He had no choices at all. But there was no way he’d allow his father or Daniel to sabotage Sam’s ranch.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed at Jeffrey’s retreating form, growing smaller the more distance he put between them. He’d show his father about choices, all right.

Starting with Sam.

T
he next morning, Sam jerked the cinch strap and adjusted the saddle pad on Diego’s back. Then she looped the reins over the fence post, grabbed Piper’s blanket from the top paddock rail and moved toward the gelding waiting on the other side of Diego. At least the chestnut’s ankle had finally completely healed.

She blew an annoying strand of hair out of her eyes as she slid the checkered blanket over Piper’s sweaty back. It seemed like every guest on the ranch had showed up for the Tuesday morning ride and was waiting impatiently for a horse—even the honeymoon couple. She and Cole had their hands full trying to get the animals ready, and the sun already shone hot on Sam’s head. A fly buzzed by Piper’s mane and she swatted it. Thankfully, the wind was blowing, a welcome respite from the July heat.

“Miss Priss is ready.” Cole patted the mare’s cheek as he ducked under her neck. “I’ll start helping the riders mount.”

“Thanks, Cole.” Sam yawned and noted the matching fatigue shadowing Cole’s face. She pushed aside a wave of guilt. She might owe Cole for helping her practice in the mid
dle of the night, but the end result would benefit the generous stable hand, too. They’d both be free from the guests, the endless questions, and the commercialization of the only home they’d known—although at this point, they were also both in danger of falling asleep in the saddle.

“Mornin’, partner.” Ethan’s exaggerated cowboy drawl sounded over Sam’s shoulder and she couldn’t help but smile. Ethan had watched her practice session last night on the steer, and she didn’t know what was more amusing—her own efforts to stay on Lucy’s back or the look on Ethan’s face every time Sam fell off. If panic had a tangible form, Ethan would have been wearing it.

Sam handed Piper’s reins to Cole so he could lead the gelding to a guest. She turned to Ethan, the wind whipping her hair in front of her eyes. “Is the rest of your family joining you for the ride?”

“My mom probably will, as long as she’s nowhere near Piper again.” Ethan laughed. “Do you have a deaf horse?”

“Very funny.” Sam glanced over her shoulder as Vickie Ames strode into the mounting area in a stark white button-down and jeans. That shirt probably wouldn’t stay pristine for long, but if the Ames family were as wealthy as Sam’s mother kept hinting, Vickie could easily get another ensemble. She could probably fully outfit every rider on the ranch for their entire vacation and never even notice the expense. What did the Ames family do that they were so successful with? She should ask Ethan about his career. Not that it really mattered—the knowledge wouldn’t change the dwindling dollars in the Jensons’ checking account.

Sam’s mood darkened as she took Miss Priss’s reins and strode toward the start of the trail where the others waited. What would it be like to have that kind of money? Ethan and his family had never wanted for a thing, while Sam and her
mother struggled just to pay the electric bill and the gas bill in the same month.

“Are you okay?” Ethan caught up to Sam and touched her shoulder. “You walked off pretty fast.”

She eased away from the innocent contact, too upset to care how the touch held just as much spark as it had yesterday in the barn. Fireworks were dangerous, and so was Ethan Ames. She forced a smile. “Fine. Just busy.”

“Can I help? Partner?” Ethan smiled.

Sam winced at the teamwork reference. She should have never made a bargain with Ethan, though she supposed it was better than the alternative of him blabbing her secret to her mom. It wasn’t his fault that he had money and a successful family business. There was no reason to take her anger out on him.

She blew out her breath and fought for control of her exhausted emotions. “I think Cole and I have it under control. Looks like you’re riding Miss Priss again.” She handed Ethan the reins, careful to avoid brushing his fingers in the process, and strode toward Diego. Ethan’s gaze burned into her back the entire way.

Sam and Ethan might be forced together for the time being, but she didn’t have to like it—didn’t have to like him. He was on vacation, and while it was nice having the extra help for the chores yesterday, Ethan was bound to get bored soon. And once he did, the workload would fall once again on Sam’s weary shoulders, along with everything else that had taken permanent residence there.

She gripped the saddle horn in one hand and easily swung onto Diego’s back, automatically dropping her heels and squeezing with her lower legs to urge him toward the rest of the group.

It was a wonder the poor gelding didn’t collapse from the weight of all the problems Sam bore.

Ethan couldn’t stop staring at the back of Sam’s head. At least this time on the trail, he felt somewhat more comfortable in the saddle, and could afford the time spent thinking now that he wasn’t worrying about falling off. His upper body swayed in rhythm to Miss Priss’s smooth steps as the sun warmed the tops of his shoulders. What was Sam’s problem? She’d smiled like she was happy to see him, then turned distant so fast he’d almost gotten whiplash.

He adjusted his hands on the reins, ducking along with the rest of the string of riders as they cleared a low-hanging branch.
Women.
Changing their moods more often than Daniel changed his socks. But Sam didn’t seem the type to play the same mind games that the women he was accustomed to often did. Something specific must have happened to douse her spirits during those few minutes in the paddock.

Only one way to find out what. Ethan clucked to his horse as he’d seen Sam do and sidled the mare up to the front of the line, next to Sam. Her eyes widened beneath her cowboy hat and she slowed Diego’s pace to match Miss Priss’s. “Is something wrong? Is it your mom?”

“No, she’s fine. I just wanted to talk.” Ethan glanced at the trail ahead of them. Plenty of room for two horses to walk side by side, so she’d have no reason to avoid talking to him. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine.” Sam faced forward again, her expression stony.

“Are you mad that I wasn’t at the stable this morning? I meant to be, but I forgot to set the alarm after the late night.”

“It’s okay. You’re on vacation. You shouldn’t be working in the first place.” Sam’s shoulders tensed and Diego tossed his head, pulling against the reins.

“We have a deal, remember? I don’t mind working. I asked
to.” His father’s manipulative plan pressed on Ethan’s conscience, and he shifted in the saddle. He should tell Sam the truth about why his family was there. But then she’d never talk to him again. Plus, if he backed out of his father’s schemes now, he’d be outside the loop and would have no idea what his family was plotting against Sam and her mom. How could he protect her if he was cut off from the information?

Ethan cleared his throat. “Really, I don’t mind the chores. I like learning about the ranch.”

“Why?” Sam turned toward him so fast Ethan wondered how she didn’t fall off Diego’s back. “Why do you care so much?”

Ethan’s mouth opened, then closed. “I guess if you get to keep your secret about why you’re riding a steer, then I get to keep mine.” He smiled, and Sam’s lips turned up at the corners before she schooled her features back into stone.

“Fine. Be stubborn.” She nudged Diego with her knees and pulled ahead.

Ethan tapped Miss Priss’s sides with his heels and caught up. “About your riding that steer—” His voice broke off as Sam edged ahead once again. He pressed forward. “Listen, I’m serious. You don’t have to tell me why if you don’t want to, but whatever the reason, isn’t there a better way? It seems dangerous. You fell a lot, and those horns—”

Diego stopped suddenly and Sam’s eyes flashed with fire. Ethan reeled backward at the burn. “Don’t you dare pretend to understand me.” An almost tangible tension filtered through her tight-lipped words.

“I don’t.” Ethan shook his head to clear the shock residue. Of all the women in the entire world, Sam was probably the least predictable and easy to understand—and he’d been to a lot of places.

“There isn’t another way. Trust me.” Sam urged Diego into a walk. “You wouldn’t get it.”

Ethan followed. “You’re trusting me with your secret in general—so why not the details of it?”

Sam’s jaw clenched and she looked away.

Ethan waited, but didn’t push. He was already threatening their delicate truce, but Sam didn’t realize Ethan was doing her a favor by not following his dad’s orders to sabotage the ranch. She had no idea what was at stake, and the more Ethan knew, the better he could protect Sam from his father’s manipulation—and try to reach his own goals without picking wildflowers along the way.

Sam avoided his eyes. “It’s not a matter of trust, Ethan. You forced this deal.”

Guilt pricked Ethan’s heart like a tailor’s pin. “For good reason.”

“A reason you’re going to share?” The silence between them pulsed heavy with expectation.

“I just wanted to spend time with yo—just wanted to learn about working a ranch, and I knew you’d never agree without some kind of extra motivation.” Ethan shook his head at the near slip. He
had
wanted to spend time with Sam, and not just because his dad insisted—but because Ethan wanted to be around her, wanted to soak in her presence like a much needed rain shower.

“I find it hard to believe you’re actually interested in cleaning stalls and grooming horses.” Sam’s eyebrows rose and her face shadowed under the brim of her hat.

“But I am.” Again, it was the truth. There was something rewarding about rising early and working with his hands, not just pushing papers around on a mahogany desk while staring at the view from his twentieth-floor, high-rise condo. “Sam, please. Just tell me what’s going on.”

She tossed her hair, the sun highlighting the honey strands brushing across her back, and inhaled deeply. “I need money, and there’s a bull-riding rodeo competition in a little over a week.”

“Why do you need money?” What could be so important that she’d risk her life? Was the ranch struggling that badly? At that point, Ethan and his family had less “work” to do than they’d thought, but right now he only cared about finding a way to make Sam smile again.

Sam looked over her shoulder, and Ethan’s head automatically swiveled with hers. The rest of the riders in their group were several paces back, talking and gesturing at the meadow view to their left. Sam turned back to Ethan, apparently satisfied no one was listening. “My best friend’s father is selling a stallion. Noble Star could help my family resurrect our old breeding business.”

Ethan’s lips pressed together. Sam was entering the rodeo to win a horse. How could one stallion make or break an entire business? He still didn’t get why Sam felt compelled to ride a steer—a bull—when there were more conventional options of obtaining money. “What about a loan?”

“Not possible.”

The firm set of Sam’s jaw convinced Ethan not to force that route. Sam was a smart woman—if there was a way to get money from a bank, she’d have done it by now. There were probably credit issues involved, and logically so considering the state of the ranch and his own family’s presence. “Why not sell the stallions in that fence by the guest cabins? They’re not being used anymore, are they?”

“Not for guests. Cole and I still work them regularly to keep them exercised. But if we sold them and were able to start the breeding farm again, then we’d have nothing to start
with. They could still earn us some money, but it’d be too time-consuming to get off the ground without a head start like Noble Star.” Sam shrugged. “Not to mention we have zero free time right now running the dude ranch business.”

“Is the dude ranch not bringing in enough income?”

“It pays the bills. Barely.” Sam shifted her weight in the saddle, the brushed leather creaking beneath her. “But this isn’t what it should be. This isn’t home anymore.” Sam leaned forward to pat Diego’s neck, but not before Ethan saw a single tear track her cheek.

He let the silence protect her misery, and waited until she wiped her face and cleared her throat. Then he smiled. “I’m sure if anyone can meet their goals, Sam, it’s you.”

He’d always been a sucker for wildflowers.