The Sticky Cowgirl (Lone Star Sweets, Book 2) (5 page)

He was involved. Personally. Professionally. And if he were honest with himself, which he didn’t want to be, he’d admit he was emotionally involved, too.

“Who’s the girl with the blue hair?” he asked Shane. He didn’t remember there being an espresso machine any of the other times he’d been in the shop before, but the woman was working it like a pro.

“Not sure about her name, but she works on The Cupcake Cowboy truck. I’ve seen her there every time. I think the other guy who works on the truck has been helping out to0, but I haven’t seen him.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Samuel stood back quietly while the line inched forward toward the counter. The young woman making coffee had a gorgeous smile and the tattoos covering her arms and chest, visible outside the tank top she wore.

The two women, side by side, didn’t seem as though they’d mesh well, but they worked with an ease and comfort that said they were familiar with one another.

Samantha had help. That pride in her came rushing in as it always did whenever he was confronted by or thought of the ways she was fighting for what she wanted.

“Shane? You’re back again?” Samantha inquired brightly.

“Seems so. It’s a good cause.”

“I appreciate that and you for saying so. How many for you this time?”

“Three dozen.”

“There’s a wait for even a one sticky bun, three dozen will be a while.”

“I don’t mind. It’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

“Don’t let Miranda hear you say that. She’ll think you’ve got a thing for older women.”

“Nah. She knows I’m hers, but if I wasn’t…” Shane waggled his brows and grinned widely.

Samuel couldn’t help smiling at the exchange between the young man in front of him and the owner of The Sticky Cowgirl. They had an easy camaraderie that bordered on friendship.

Samantha seemed to have that with everyone though; something friendly, not merely business owner and customer. It was still something of a foreign concept to him. Everyone he did business with wanted something, as did he. It was nothing more than a transaction. Pleasantries were exchanged for the face value, not because anyone really gave a shit about anyone else.

What a cold world he inhabited.

The business of The Sticky Cowgirl however, was run by a completely different code of conduct. It was warm and inviting, casual and comfortable. Everyone was welcome.

Shane shifted his stance and for the first time, Samantha caught sight of Samuel. Her eyes dimmed some and her smile faltered. It was likely no one else caught the shift, but Samuel did and suddenly there was a ten pound weight inside his gut.

Her gaze centered on Shane again. “We’re going to be delivering the bigger orders as soon as they’re ready, kind of like pizza. We can deliver yours, if you don’t want to wait here.”

“Yeah? That’s cool. I’ll wait though, for a bit.”

“All right. Just let me know if you leave before they’re ready. If not, I’ll bring them out to you when they’re ready.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

Shane stepped to the side and when he was far enough out of earshot, Samantha turned her less than friendly smile on Samuel. “What are you doing here? We’re a little busy.”

“I see that. Maybe I should be asking you what you’re doing.”

“I’m working.”

“Shane over there said you’re having a fundraiser? Really, Ms. Dawson?”

“What about it? It’s legal. Like a bake sale, only it’s in my store and not on a sidewalk in front of a church or school.”

Samuel leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You can’t beat this with fundraisers and neighborhood bake sales.”

Samantha mimicked his stance. “I can try,” she hissed. “You’re holding up my customers.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“I’m a little too busy for that. Besides, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Tough. I’ll wait.”

She looked as though she wanted to say something else, or spit nails at him. Probably both, but all she said was, “Fine.”

“And I’ll buy a sticky bun.”

“Isn’t that a little conflicting?”

“One sticky bun isn’t going to help you or hurt me. Raspberry lemon, please. That was my favorite of the ones you brought to the office. It’s a little sweet, a little tart.” Samuel winked. “Like you.”

Samantha’s eyes widened and her mouth opened wide, surprise lighting her features. After a few seconds, she finally snapped it shut. “I’ll have your order brought to you as soon as it’s ready, Mr. Stevenson.”

“You told Shane you’d bring his to him.”

“I like him. And anyway, how do you know his name?”

“He introduced himself to me as we were waiting in line. We had a nice little chat.”

“Did you tell him that you’re the big, bad wolf?”

Samuel kept his face blank. “No.”

“A shame. That might have been very entertaining. Sticky buns and a show,” she quipped. The fake grin that crossed Samantha’s face was scarier than she probably intended. Samuel laughed and blew the ensuing pout on her a lips a kiss.

“Hey,” Shane said softly from behind Samuel when he stepped to the side. “She didn’t seem to like you too much.”

Samuel shook his head. “No, she didn’t.”

“Why not, man? She usually likes everyone.”

Should he, or shouldn’t he?
“Yes, but I’m the man trying to buy this place.”

Chapter Five

Samantha’s head snapped up as she heard the words leave Samuel’s lips. Oh. God. He said them out loud. He said them in a room full of people, loyal-to-her people. He said he’d wanted to talk to her, but this way?

Shane glared and took a small step back from Samuel and several other customers also drew away. Samantha wasn’t sure what to do, how to diffuse the situation brewing just over the counter.

“Well, that’s one way to get attention,” Peg muttered from her place in front of the espresso machine. She was one of Jackson’s cupcake decorators. Beautiful, with tattoos along nearly every visible inch of her body, and brilliant teal colored hair.

“Yep. Not a good one though.” Samantha backed up to the swinging door between the front end of the shop and the kitchen. “Jackson?” she called.

“Yeah?” came the immediate reply.

“Can you come watch the front for a bit? I need to take care of something.”

“Sure.” He was at her side in no time. “What’s up? Need a break?”

“Nope. Need to avoid a riot.” She walked around the counter and grabbed hold of Samuel’s shirt. “You should probably come with me before someone beats the hell out of you,” she murmured. She tugged him back around the counter, ignoring her brother’s bemused expression. “I bet you’d have enjoyed some part of a beating so you could sue me. You’d get my shop for sure then.” She led him through the kitchen and out the back door. The sun was bright and it took a few seconds of closing her eyes tight and opening them again for her to be able to keep them trained on him.

Samuel shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about that, but it’s not a bad idea. Let me go back inside,” he teased. “Shane would likely oblige me.”

Samantha wasn’t in a teasing mood and sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve got my attention, what do you want to talk to me about that hasn’t already been said?” She wouldn’t ask what she really wanted to ask. Did he miss her? Did he still want her? She wouldn’t ask because if the answers were no, she didn’t want to hear them.

It ticked her off that she wondered about those things. It ticked her off even more that
she
missed him, that
she
still wanted him. Not a day had gone by that she hadn’t relived those moments in his office. She’d never had sex quite like that. Tender and soft, frenzied and hard. It was the best sex of her life with the worst possible man.

And he wanted her place of business, had made a spectacle out of himself and her. Pissed off and hurting didn’t begin to cover it.

“What’s the scowl for? You look ready to attack me. Or cry.”

“Don’t change the subject. What do you want?”

“Who was that man?”

Samantha’s brows dipped down. “What man?”

“The man you called out to take over for you. Who was he?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“It’s possible.”

That answer gave her an enormous amount of pleasure. “My brother, Jackson. He owns The Cupcake Cowboy truck.”

“Great operation,” he praised. The scowl on Samantha’s face deepened. He could praise her brother’s business, but not hers?
Of course not, you nitwit. He wants to relocate yours.

“Yes, it is. Anyway, he and his girlfriend —”

“The one from the cooking school?” he interrupted.

“Yes. She and his two employees are helping me out here and they’re doing a bit of fundraising from his cupcake truck too.”

“The girl with the blue-green hair,” he confirmed. “I’ve seen a few people in your kitchen here before and one guy I didn’t. Big guy with tattoos and a goatee? Does he work for your brother or is he some sort of bodyguard?”

Samantha laughed. She couldn’t help it. Bodyguard?” No bodyguard. That’s Jerome. He’s ah… Yes, he works for Jackson.”

“So, there’s only a few of you doing all this? Samantha, that’s not enough. That’s never going to be enough to accomplish what you’re hoping to do.”

“But it’s a start.”

Samuel nodded. “Right. It’s a start. Seems you’ve thought of nearly everything.”

“I’ve tried. Now,” she started, impatiently, arms crossed over her chest, “what do you want?” He didn’t answer right away and for a minute she thought he wasn’t going to answer at all. He stared at her, his face unreadable, his body language casual, his lips unsmiling. The silence lengthened and was on the verge of being uncomfortable. And then… “Wait, what do you mean nearly?”

“You didn’t think of what having an affair with the enemy would do to your credibility.”

Samantha was stunned. Of all the cocky things for him to say. “You wouldn’t use that against me.” But even the tone of her voice said she wasn’t sure.

“No?”

She forged ahead with bravado, false though it may be. “No. I don’t think you would.”

Hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “And you’re willing to bet your business on that?”

“I’ve already bet my heart on it.”

“We can’t get involved, Samantha.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

“One night is… It can be forgotten. We can move on from it.”

“Forgotten? And have you? Forgotten? Cause I sure as hell haven’t.”

“It’ll only complicate things further.”

“Funny. I’ve never seen any complications. Your company wants to buy mine, or at least the physical building of it. My answer is, was, and will continue to be no. Nothing complicated there.”

“Are you always so obtuse?”

“Obtuse? Are you serious? For your damn information, no. I’m bull-headed. But nowhere near obtuse. Now, if you want the definition of the word –” she poked him in the chest hard enough that he stumbled back, but quickly righted himself – “take a look in the mirror.”

“There’s no bend in you is there?”

“Not about this.”

“It’s a goddamn building, Samantha.” Samuel raked a hand through his hair, mussing it and making her yearn to do the same exact thing. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Why did he have to be her every temptation?

“Yes, but it’s
my
goddamn building, Samuel.” Samantha and Samuel. It was first names and very personal between them. It was a far cry from the business-like conversations they’d had not that long ago.

“Then if you weren’t interested in negotiation, why did you come to see me?”

“We’ve been through this.”

“So it wasn’t to sleep with me?”

Samantha was speechless. “Of course not,” she defended hotly. “That’s what ended up happening, but...” She was at a loss. When did it become so difficult to argue and fight with him?
Here’s a clue. Check your topic of conversation
.

“Just a bonus, then?” His voice dropped low, and his smile was dark and knowing. “Getting into my pants?”

“I can’t…” Samantha shook her head. Hands on her hips, she heaved a deep sigh. “Getting into your pants wasn’t the plan. And it’s not a regret. Knowing you might be, but not the sex. I told you why I’d come to see you. I just wanted y’all to see some bit of reason, see how good I am at my job, see me as a person. Your company puts up buildings. Mine builds people up.”

“With that kind of thinking, no wonder there’s a weight crisis,” he threw out.

“Really?” Her voice held a healthy dose of incredulity. “You're gonna go there? You’re batting a hundred today.”

“No,” he said immediately. Then, “Yes. I… I don’t know.” He shoved his hand through his hair again, then dragged his palm down in face and groaned. “God, you drive me crazy. This isn’t as simple as us sampling your product.”

“It could be simple if you let it.”

“That’s not my job.”

“No your job is to take a thing that means something and destroy it.”

“And what about what I do? I provide the space for people to live and work so they can create a thing that means something.”

“But you destroy others in the process.”

“Jesus. You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

Samantha laughed. “For you? What the hell about this is easy for me?” She shook her head. “No, I’m not going to make a damn thing easy for you.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to want you. I wasn’t supposed to give in. I didn’t plan this attraction between us to go anywhere. I know you didn’t either. Trust me, I know, but it can’t go anywhere. Not until this deal between my company and you is settled.”

“And you think it’ll go somewhere then?” Oh, how she wanted it to go somewhere. To the nearest bed. To the nearest Justice of the Peace. To the nearest house forever and ever. “Not a chance. According to you the only way to settle it is for me to get out of the way and sell you my building.”

“What do you want, Sam? Name your price. Anything. Anything you want. What will it take to convince you to sell?”

She eyed him closely, suspiciously. “Anything?”

“Yes.” Confidence floated off him. “Anything at all. You have thirty-seconds.”

“Not a lot of time.”

“You shouldn’t need it.” There was no smile, no hint of teasing in the look he leveled at her. She didn’t know how to take what he was offering. She trusted him, yet she knew she couldn’t. He wanted her building and that he was opening up the treasure chest to have it.

“And you can give me anything I want?”

“I can.”

“Hmm…” She’d expected him to hesitate, to think, to give her limits and some speech about anything within reason, but he didn’t. He only stared her in the eyes and didn’t blink. “Okay. Way to tempt me.”

He glanced at his watch, a black leather band wrapped around his very tan wrist with a silver face. “Your thirty-seconds starts… Now.”

Samantha nodded and turned away. Thirty seconds. Anything she wanted. Could she sell? Should she sell? She paced, thinking about his proposition.

“Twenty seconds,” he said.

“Not helpful.” If she sold, wasn’t that giving in? Of course it was giving in. And she loved the building. It was her building. The location was perfect. She had an established customer base. She’d be crazy to sell.
But you could have him.

That was definitely something worth considering.

“Ten seconds.”

She wanted him, there was no denying that. But did she want him more than the building, more than the business? She could still have her business, just somewhere else. She didn’t want to give in. She wanted to stand her ground. No man was worth that –

“Time’s up.”

Samantha whirled to face him. Was he?

He took a step, then two, three and four, until he was standing in front of her. “What’s your answer, Samantha?” He lifted his hand and brushed the strands of sweat soaked hair from her face. The thought of him made her want him. His nearness made her ache.

His touch made her burn.

He lowered his head and her breath caught. If his lips kissed hers before she could get any words out… But she needed that kiss, in the most desperate way.

“Samantha,” he whispered.

“Nothing.” The word slipped out before she could stop it. He halted, his mouth millimeters from hers. If she puckered, she could kiss him, but she didn’t. She waited, breath held. “I…” She didn’t know what to say, but she couldn’t have said anything at all because his lips met hers. To her surprise, she gasped and he slipped his tongue against hers. She gripped his t-shirt and held on for dear life.

The kiss was hotter than the sun and humidity around them. Lips, tongue, teeth converged and melded, parted, then converged again. He pulled her up against his body, dishelved her already messy ponytail, and ravaged her mouth.

He was hard behind the zipper of his jeans and she stood on her toes to rub herself against him. Her desire and lust for Samuel Stevenson was unmistakable and undeniable. She craved him and if he allowed it, she’d have him against the back wall of her bakery.