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

Authors: Rachael Anderson

Tags: #contemporary romance, #clean romance, #inspirational romance, #love, #humor, #sweet romance, #romance, #rachael anderson

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

BOOK: Stick in the Mud Meets Spontaneity (Meet Your Match, book 3)
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A cloud of dust followed Sunshine II as Sam navigated the winding dirt road to the McCoy ranch. The property was a hardy mixture of earth, shrubs, pines, grasses, aspens, and the occasional maple or oak. A lovely little stream babbled not too far from the road, and clusters of pink and white columbine bloomed here and there. Through a grouping of trees up ahead sat a happily situated rambler adjacent to a large barn and some other outbuildings. With clusters of horses grazing in the surrounding pastures, everything about the scene felt like Sam had taken a step back in time. It was hard to believe they were so close to The Springs instead of in the middle of Nowhere, USA.

“I can see why you like coming here,” Sam said as they neared the house. “It’s beautiful.”

“Wait until you meet Maverick,” gushed Kajsa. “He’s the most amazing horse in the world.”

Sam cast a sideways glance at her former little charge who wasn’t so little anymore, though she still looked adorable in the brown felt cowboy hat she wore with matching brown boots. “Is Maverick the horse you usually ride?”

“No. I ride Whisper.” She frowned. “He whinnies a lot.”

“And his name is Whisper?” Sam had to laugh at that.

“Colton says he’s proof that reverse psychology doesn’t work on horses. What does that mean, anyway?”

“That the horse has a mind of its own.” Sam nudged Kajsa with her elbow. “You two probably get along great, don’t you?”

Kajsa nodded. “I like Whisper, but he’s not Maverick. Someday I want to ride a horse the way Colton rides Maverick.”

“You will. Just give it time. From what I hear you’re a natural-born horsewoman.” They pulled up to the house, and Sam stopped the car, looking around. “Is there a place I should park? Where do we go from here?”

“You don’t have to come inside. I know where to go and what to do.”

“Oh, okay. Well, have a fun day.”

“I will.” A gleam lit Kajsa’s eyes as she slammed the door and jogged toward the house, leaving Sam alone in the car and feeling like she’d been rudely awakened from a happy dream in which she was the center of Adi and Kajsa’s world. Last summer, Sam had taken an internship with a company called Vinyasa in South Carolina, so she’d only spent the sum total of a week with the girls. But those seven days had been crammed full of fun and adventures—from treasure hunts to a pie eating contest to building the world’s most awesome sprinkler out of PVC pipe.

When Sam had first learned that Jason Brecken Design wouldn’t need her to start until the fall, she’d anticipated an entire summer of those same fun-filled days. But now Adi had dance and Kajsa had the ranch, leaving Sam in the back seat of their lives—or, in this instance, the driver’s seat.

Kajsa disappeared inside the house, and a loneliness took her place on the passenger side. Sam relaxed against the headrest and drummed her fingers on the lime, fuzzy steering wheel cover she’d gotten as a goodbye gift from a roommate. Soft, bright, and happy, it sent a very loud message:
Find something to do that will make YOU happy.

Yes, that’s exactly what she needed. This temporary “back seat” was Sam’s last summer of freedom, her final hurrah before she had to settle down and become a responsible adult. She wasn’t going to sit around like a pathetic lapdog, watching and waiting, hoping for some attention from the girls. With or without Adi and Kajsa, Sam was going to turn this summer into one that she could always look back on with bright, lime-green, happy memories.

In order to do that, she needed a list.

Sam rummaged through her glove compartment until she found a notepad and pen. In big, bolded letters, she spelled out “Summer Bucket List” then tapped the top of the pen against her lower lip as she looked around for inspiration. Her gaze landed on a horse grazing in a nearby pasture and a smile lifted the corners of her lips. She began writing.

 

Learn to ride a horse
(Maybe Kajsa could help her with that?)

Ride a bull in a rodeo
(You didn’t have to be a professional to do that, right?)

Learn to country dance

Have a summer fling with a cowboy

 

Sam glanced around again but didn’t see a cowboy anywhere on the premises. Okay, so maybe the ranch was providing too much inspiration. She quickly crossed out “with a cowboy.” A summer fling with any cute guy would work.

The pen tapped against her lip again as she pushed her thoughts beyond the borders of the ranch—toward food, ice, airplanes, and purple dye. Her positive summer outlook had just been restored when a beefed-up engine rumbled up the drive behind her. Loud banging accompanied the sound, and Sam glanced in her rearview mirror to see a large, red Chevy hauling a beat-up white horse trailer that shook with every bang. Whatever animal was inside that trailer didn’t like being confined. Was it a bull?

Another loud bang sounded, and the trailer shook again, making the Chevy shake as well.

Huh. Perhaps riding a bull wasn’t such a great idea.

Sam was about to scratch it off her list when a good-looking man wearing a brown cowboy hat jumped from the cab of the truck. He took a few steps back and rested his hands on his hips, surveying the volatile trailer. Well-defined arms and shoulders stretched the fabric of his t-shirt, drawing her attention. He looked to be about her age. Maybe a little older. Since he didn’t appear too anxious to free the animal, Sam thought it safe to get out and see what was going on.

Behind her, the front door to the house opened, and two more cowboy hats appeared, along with Kajsa and a woman with shoulder-length, dusty-brown hair. Sam felt like she’d just walked onto the set of an old western movie. She half expected John Wayne to come riding up on a horse and say, “Don’t say it’s a fine morning or I’ll shoot ya.”

The owner of a black hat jogged down the steps, barely flicking Sam a glance as he walked past. He had graying sideburns and frown wrinkles on the side of his mouth. “Colton McCoy, what have you done now?”

Sam eyed the driver of the truck with new interest. So that was the notorious rider of Maverick that Kajsa couldn’t stop talking about. He turned his head to talk to the man wearing the black hat, who Sam assumed was his father, and she caught a glimpse of a handsome profile.

“I entered the wild mustang makeover contest,” Colton said.

“You did
what
?” his father bellowed. His deep voice echoed off the mountain wall to the west of them.

Colton didn’t seem too intimidated. “Wait until you see her. She’s a beaut. Feisty as all get-out, but runs like the wind. I have one hundred days to train her. Think I can do it?”

“I’ll tell you what I think you can do.” His father jabbed a finger at the Chevy. “Get in the truck and take that animal back where it came from.”

“Can’t. It’s all signed, sealed, and delivered,” said Colton. “I was thinking we could keep her in the small corral next to the barn until she settles down.”

“Son, how do you propose we pay for another horse? We can barely afford the ones we’ve got. And where are you going to find the time to train it? We’ve got the boarders to care for, the two quarter horses to train by July, and several riding lessons you’re committed to teaching—not to mention all the upkeep of the ranch.”

When Colton didn’t reply, his father massaged his upper nose between his eyes and sighed. “What were you thinking, son?”

Colton shoved his hands into his pockets and considered the trailer. “I was thinking that horse can either sit in a federal holding facility the rest of its life, or I can find it a better home.” He glanced at his father. “I’ll make it work. I promise.”

Another long sigh sounded, and the black hat shook, as though accepting the inevitable. “I suppose your brothers and I could help with the training of the quarter horses and some of the riding lessons.”

“Speak for yourself, Dad,” said a younger version of Colton, who still stood on the front porch. “Colt made his bed. I say we let him lay in it for a while.”

His father’s frown lines deepened. “And I say you’ve wasted enough time this morning as it is. Go get your brother, will ya? We have a wild horse to secure.”

“Can I help?” piped up Kajsa, her eyes glowing with excitement.

Colton’s father’s expression softened as he looked down at her. “I’m going to have to say no to that one, darlin’. But you can watch from a distance.”

“Is he like Maverick?” Kajsa breathed, watching the trailer with a mixture of awe and reverence.

Colton chuckled. “It’s a
she
. And not yet, that’s for sure. Though they do look alike.”

“Can I see her?”

“In a few minutes,” promised Colton. “I think we’d better let her calm down a little first.”

Head still shaking, Colton’s father patted Kajsa on the shoulder before grumbling to his wife, “He’s your son.”

“No. He’s
our
son. And right now, I’m pretty proud of him.”

Colton flicked a glance over his shoulder, and an attractive cleft formed in his chin as he smiled. His dark brown eyes held a tenderness that Sam immediately liked. “Thanks, Ma.”

“Proud?” His father’s voice boomed again. “Keeping every stray cat or puppy that finds its way onto our property is one thing. Adoptin’ wild horses another.” He pointed a finger at his son as he strode toward the barn. “This had better not become a habit.”

Colton nodded, and his eyes finally landed on Sam. He gave her a quick once-over before approaching. “I’m sorry. Can I help you with something?”

Sam leaned her hip against her car and shook her head. “Just enjoying the family drama.”
And the man who is causing said drama
.

Colton’s mother laughed. “If drama’s what you’re after, feel free to drop by anytime. I have a feeling there will be plenty of that around here this summer.” She sent her son a speaking glance before holding her hand out to Sam. “Forgive our rudeness, my dear. I’m Jane McCoy. This is our oldest son, Colton, and our favorite helper, Kajsa. The man with zero manners who just walked into the barn is my husband, Mike.”

Sam took her hand and gave it a quick shake. “It’s good to meet you. I’m—”

“She already knows me, Aunt Jane.” Kajsa giggled. “That’s Sam.”

Recognition dawned on Mrs. McCoy’s face. “Oh. I should have known. Kajsa talks about you so much that we feel like we already know you around here.”

“You don’t look much like a Sam,” Colton said, moving to stand next to her. “I always pictured you burlier with facial hair and, uh… glasses.” His close proximity made Sam’s heart kick up a notch. Next to her short frame, he was tall and had a nice, earthy scent about him. A day or two of growth covered his face.

“Glasses?” Sam asked. How, exactly, had Kajsa described her?

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Kajsa said you were smart.”

Sam met his direct gaze with one of her own. “Well, I’m smart enough to know that just because people shorten your name to Colt doesn’t mean you have four legs, a long neck, or a tail.”

He grinned. “Touché.”

Mr. McCoy emerged from the barn, carrying a rope. At the same time, two slightly younger versions of Colton appeared from around the side of the house, looking like they’d just entered an arena to witness their first bull fight.

“Is it true, Colt?” called out the shorter one wearing a black cowboy hat. He still had that teenaged-lanky awkwardness about him, but his grin was almost as wide as his head was tall. “Did you really bring home a wild mustang?”

A loud whinny sounded from the trailer, followed by more banging. That horse definitely wanted out.

The two boys jogged up to the trailer and peered through the slats, laughing when they confirmed that there was, indeed, a wild animal inside.

“How do we get it out of there?” asked the taller of the two—the one who’d gone to fetch his brother earlier.

“By using you as bait,” quipped Colton.

“Why me?” The taller elbowed the shorter. “Spence is the better choice. He used Mom’s shampoo last night and still smells sweeter than—”

Spencer whacked him on the arm. “I wouldn’t need to borrow hers if you’d stop using mine to wash the horses.”

“But Mom’s stuff smells so good on you.” That earned the older brother another whack, which he quickly reciprocated.

“Stop it, you two,” said Mr. McCoy. “What we’re going to do is back the trailer up to the corral next to the barn and let the horse come out on its own.”

Kajsa took a few quick steps in that direction before Colton caught hold of the back of her shirt. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re going to stay right here with…” He cast Sam an appreciative glance and winked. “Samantha.”

It had been a long time since anyone had called her Samantha. The last time had been a professor on the first day of class, and Sam had quickly corrected her. She’d always preferred the short and sweet version of her name. It fit better, the way her yellow Bug fit her better than a Cadillac. But the way Samantha rolled off Colton’s tongue had Sam reconsidering. Instead of sounding like a mouthful, her name became classy and feminine, like a classic-red Thunderbird convertible.

Maybe she’d been a little hasty to cross off “with a cowboy.”

Sam took Kajsa’s hand and waited next to Mrs. McCoy as the boys maneuvered the trailer around to the corral, secured the gates, and opened the back doors. A beautiful black horse burst into the corral, and the gate was quickly closed. The horse whinnied and slid into one fence after another, attempting to escape. She wore a dark green halter with a lead rope wrapped around her neck.

Kajsa pulled on Sam’s hand, dragging her toward the corral. Sam’s sandal scuffed against the dirt, and a prickly sticker wedged between two of her toes.

“One sec.” Sam bent to remove it, and Kajsa ran to the men clustered around the corral, wedging herself between Colton and Mr. McCoy. Sam followed with Mrs. McCoy at a more sedate pace.

“I hope it’s okay if I stay and watch for a little while,” said Sam. “This is a lot more interesting than running errands.”

Mrs. McCoy laughed. “You’re welcome here anytime. The Mackies are family, which means you’re family, so make yourself at home. If you’d like one of the boys to show you around, I have some boots you can borrow.”

BOOK: Stick in the Mud Meets Spontaneity (Meet Your Match, book 3)
12.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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