Rodeo Sweetheart (7 page)

S
prawled on packed dirt, staring up at the stars dotting the inky black sky, Sam wondered if this whole brilliant plan of hers was worth it. Divine providence, or just a really stupid mistake? She pushed herself into a sitting position and brushed at her dusty sleeves, ignoring Cole’s amused grin, Ethan’s furrowed brow and the throbbing of her right shoulder. At least Kate’s expression was one of sympathy and respect.

“Need a hand?” Cole called from the chute. He grabbed the rope around Lucy’s girth and began freeing the steer.

“No.” Sam stood on her own, despite the soreness. What she really needed was a stun gun, one to point first at Lucy, and then at Ethan. If he didn’t knock off that parental worry he wore on his face like a permanent mask, she’d clobber him. It was bad enough having Cole treat her like she was made of china, another for Ethan to watch and cringe as if she would break. Why did he care so much? Ethan barely knew her, and yet his tenderness earlier in the day on the trail ride tugged at Sam’s heart. It’d been a vulnerable moment on her part, moments that grew rarer and rarer the busier Sam stayed, and she
could have kicked herself for crying in front of Ethan. The stress of the past few weeks—make that years—had gotten to her. It figured her weakness would bloom in front of a guest—one with chocolate-brown eyes and a smile that beckoned, despite the warnings screaming in Sam’s mind.

Avoiding Ethan’s gaze, Sam turned to Cole. “How long that time?”

Cole checked the stopwatch he held between calloused fingers. “Four seconds. And that’s giving you a tenth.”

Kate clapped her hands. “Not bad!”

“More like awful.” Sam groaned. “This isn’t working. Lucy isn’t even a real bull, and I can’t manage.”

Cole pocketed the watch. “You can’t expect to be a pro after a few days of practice, kid.”

Kate shook her red curls back from her face. “Yeah, Sam. It takes time. But you’ve made amazing progress.”

“I don’t
have
time.” Sam pressed her fingers against her forehead. No time, no money, no patience. Nothing but a big balloon of stress pressing against her temples. “I might as well be a rodeo clown. I’m a joke.”

Ethan straightened from his slumped position against the fence beside Kate. “No, you’re not. That’s ridiculous.”

She briefly squeezed her eyes shut. “What’s ridiculous is me riding Lucy.” Sam had gotten in over her head—and now was sinking faster than a baby calf in quicksand. Good intentions didn’t hold nearly as much merit when she was on the ground staring up at the horned beast. At least her father wasn’t here to see her failure. Tears burned the back of Sam’s throat.

“Nothing is ridiculous. You just expect too much of yourself.” Cole tossed the rope over the fence and slapped Lucy’s rump. The steer ambled out of the chute and began nibbling at the grass growing through the rail.

They really should hedge around the posts, the weeds were practically inside the paddock. Though if the grass kept growing inside the fence, it’d just be extra padding to land on when flying off Lucy. Sam swallowed back a rush of overwhelming emotion. Would the to-do list around the ranch ever be caught up? Not without money. Not without Noble Star. She groaned. If only Kate’s father could lower the price of the stallion. But even if he would, could she accept charity like that? She and her mom had made it on their own this long, even if they were a little worse for the wear because of it. She couldn’t let someone else pave the way now, even if that meant she had to take the bull by the horns—literally.

Ethan climbed on the top of the fence and hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to jump to the ground on the other side or not. “Look, I’m sure there’s a better way for you to get money than this whole bull-riding thing.” He wobbled, and grabbed the rail with both hands.

“And I’m sure in
your
world, there’s plenty of ways.” Sam glared. “But welcome to reality.”

Cole cocked his head to one side and crossed his arms. “Why is this guy still here, anyway? You want me to get rid of him?” He directed the question to Sam but stared at Ethan. Ethan shifted again on the fence and nearly toppled off. Kate shot out her arm to steady him and grinned at Ethan’s responding scowl.

“It’s a long story.”
Too long.
Sam tucked her hair behind both ears and sighed.

Cole shook his head as he began coiling the rope. “Seems to me your list of debtors is getting longer every day, kid.”

“Sam, seriously, you can find other ways to earn money.” Ethan landed awkwardly on his feet inside the pen. “This is crazy. Let me help you.”

“This is not crazy. My dad did it.” A rapidly fraying thread inside Sam snapped and fresh tears added to the pressure pounding in her head. She jerked away from Ethan’s outstretched hand. “And I don’t take charity.”

“I’m not talking about charity.” Ethan looked at Cole, as if for help.

The cowboy’s features tightened, and Sam welcomed the rush of warmth that Cole’s protection offered. At least someone was looking out for her. Her surrogate big brother believed in Sam’s riding ability, so who cared if a near-stranger did not? The flippant thought tugged at Sam’s stomach. She did care what Ethan thought, more than she had the strength to acknowledge.

Kate quickly climbed the fence—much smoother than Ethan had—and looped her arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Maybe Ethan has a point. We should try to come up with another plan. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Flashbacks of hooves, horns and hospital beds filled Sam’s mind and she blinked against the torrent. She didn’t want to get hurt, either. But if a simple bake sale or car wash could solve the farm’s problems, Sam would have been whipping up cupcakes and lathering trucks long ago. It wasn’t as if she had a long list of options. She sank against the fence. “It’s not that easy.”

“It can be if you get creative.” Ethan stepped beside her.

A frown crinkled Kate’s eyebrows. “Sam, do you really want to do this? Is it that important to you? If it is, we’ll support you. Or at least I will.” She shot a wary look at Ethan.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not a matter of being supportive. I just don’t want Sam to end up under some bull’s hooves.”

The audible blow landed like a sledgehammer to Sam’s heart. She gasped in pain and Cole’s face darkened. “Drop it,
Ames. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Without waiting for a reply, Cole grabbed Lucy’s rope and led her toward the barn, his boots clomping loudly on the packed dirt. The shadows swallowed them whole as they disappeared inside the stable.

“Was it something I said?” Ethan winced.

Kate’s eyes bugged. “You mean, you don’t know?”

Sam quickly interrupted. “Kate, it’s okay.” Ethan didn’t know the details of her father’s death, or else he’d probably have used better terms. But she wasn’t ready to tell him—not now, maybe not ever. Sam drew a shuddery breath. If that look on Cole’s face had been any indication, he’d felt the sting of Ethan’s unintentional barb, too. Sometimes Sam forgot she wasn’t the only one hurt when Wade Jenson died. He’d been like an uncle to Cole.

Kate’s lips pressed together and she nodded in understanding. “I’m gonna take off, then. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She glanced at Ethan, shook her head and made her way silently toward her pickup parked across the field.

“So is Cole just your spokesman?” Ethan leaned his elbow against the rail beside Sam. A strand of dark hair, long ago having lost its gel, sagged against his forehead. “Or something more?”

Sam turned to face the same direction, lodging one booted foot against the bottom rail. “He’s more like a big brother than anything else. He watched me grow up.”

“Stable hand by day, protector by night.”

“Something like that.” Sam tossed back her hair. “But I speak for myself.” She always had, after her father died. If she didn’t, no one would.

The breeze stirred Ethan’s hair and puffed the sleeves of his polo shirt. At least he hadn’t resorted to wearing those de
signer shirts with the pearl buttons that Daniel wore. He must have thirty of those things and changed them twice a day. Sam wasn’t sure what was more annoying—that Daniel was trying too hard to fit into the ranch world, making a mockery of it in the process—or that Ethan fit in without seemingly trying at all. He simply did the work like any other stable hand, minus the traditional attire. Hard as she tried, Sam couldn’t picture Ethan in anything other than his signature jeans, khakis or polo.

Although a black felt cowboy hat would really bring out his mysterious dark eyes.

Sam jerked, stung by the errant thought, and slid away from the fence. “I’ve got to go. It’s late.”

“If I said something to hurt you, I’m sorry.” Ethan’s quiet voice broke the silence of the night.

“It’s not your fault.” In a way she wished it was. Then she could channel the anger and frustration toward someone, toward something tangible. But she had no one to blame for her and her mother’s current situation. It wasn’t her father’s fault, and Sam knew better than to blame God—completely, anyway. His grace had been the only thing to get them through the blindingly dark days after Wade’s death. Maybe riding that bull would be the therapy she needed. Not only would it accomplish her goal for the farm, but it could release the years of buried tension. Is that why her dad rode all those years?

Too much to think about on sore muscles and no sleep.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She lifted her hand in a wave to Ethan and quickly slipped away toward the main house, toward the solace of her bedroom, toward precious sleep that could numb the emotion for another night.

Toward the pillow she’d already sobbed into enough for one lifetime.

Ethan watched Sam walk away from him, and not for the first time. He thought he’d found the perfect opportunity to talk Sam out of this crazy bull-riding idea and into something tamer. But she seemed determined to do this, and for reasons he hadn’t yet grasped. How many more secrets were hovering over the Jenson ranch?

Ethan gripped the paddock fence with both hands and winced at a splinter that worked its way under his skin. Sort of like a certain cowgirl. He’d known Sam for, what, a week or less? And he was already overly concerned about her well-being—his heart pounding every time the steer bucked, his stomach tightening every time Sam fell. This was foolish. It was a crush, at best. Sam was different from the women he was used to dating, so she seemed appealing. That was all, right? Opposites might attract, but they rarely meshed. It’d be stupid of him to think otherwise.

He shoved away from the fence and headed toward his cabin, the lie stinging worse than the splinter in his palm. He didn’t need this. He was here to make a sale, gain financial independence and hit the road. Figuratively and literally. Sam was a distraction—a beautiful one, but still a distraction. He had to find a way to get this whole business scheme of his father’s over with before he did something stupid.

Like fall in love.

There was a note scribbled on Ethan’s nightstand informing him that Daniel couldn’t sleep and had gone to play pool in the lodge. He wanted Ethan to come meet him when he got back from his date. Ethan’s lip curled as he tossed the letter in the trash. Watching Sam get trounced by a beast wasn’t a date, and definitely not with that Cole guy watching his every move.

Ethan stood in the middle of the room, halfway between
his bed and the door. He could go put up with Daniel and his competitive streak, or he could go to bed.

And dream about Sam all night.

With a scowl, Ethan yanked the door open and shouldered through the cool night air toward the lodge. At least he could be certain Sam went to her home to sleep and not to the big game room off the main house.

Daniel waved from the back corner of the room and tossed him a stick. “Glad you made it. Now I can beat someone instead of playing by myself.” He broke and the balls scattered across the green felt. “Stripes.” He missed the next one.

“Nice try. You’re going down.” Ethan leaned over the table and lined up his shot, eager to vent his frustration. The cue ball ricocheted off a solid orange and slid easily into a corner pocket.

Daniel grunted his approval. “So where were you tonight? And don’t give me that meeting junk again.”

“It was a meeting.”

“Right. And I’m Annie Oakley.”

Ethan aimed for the solid green and overshot. “Your turn.”

“You didn’t answer me.” Daniel sunk a striped ball in the left corner. “You were with Sam.”

“It was work-related.”

“I’d like to work with her.” Daniel winked as he studied the table for an opening.

Ethan gripped the cue stick with both hands. He knew Daniel would try to weasel into his relationship with Sam, had seen it coming a mile away. Ethan blinked. Wait a minute. What relationship? He shook his head. This entire process was getting too confusing. One thing he knew for sure, he didn’t want his womanizing cousin anywhere near Sam.

Daniel powered another ball into the hole. “Is she seeing anyone?”

“I don’t think so.” He’d never asked, but there was no way Sam had time for dating. It was obvious her focus remained solidly on the ranch and her goals. Ethan cleared his throat. “But she’s not your type.”

“I like all types.”

“Just leave her alone.” Ethan’s voice rose and he quickly bit his lip. But it was too late. The truth glimmered in Daniel’s eyes and he grinned.

“No problem, man. You can have her. I won’t give you any competition, even if your dad did ask me to.”

Disbelief clouded Ethan’s vision. His father had just said the other night that he didn’t want Ethan getting close to Sam romantically. In fact, Jeffrey’s exact words were
Don’t be ridiculous, if I wanted someone to date Sam, I’d ask Daniel.

Reality struck hard and Ethan’s heart stammered. His dad was manipulating them all. It was so obvious now. If Jeffrey could ask Ethan to lie, then he wouldn’t have any problem lying in return—even to his family.

Daniel leaned over, aimed and sunk the eight ball into the corner. “That’s the game.”

Ethan swallowed the mixture of anger, embarrassment and denial rising in his throat as he returned the cue stick to its stand by the wall.