The Sticky Cowgirl (Lone Star Sweets, Book 2) (9 page)

“Oh. Oh whoa. This is an interesting turn of things. How long has this been going on?”

Samantha laid her forehead against Samuel for a moment before turning to face her brother. “Hi, Jacks.”

“Hi yourself, Sam.”

“Well, I should probably go,” Samuel said into the awkward silence that had taken up residence in the small front room of The Sticky Cowgirl. Samantha couldn’t blame him. She would like to leave as well, rather than face Jackson and have to explain what was going on.“Nah. Don’t leave on my account. I’m Jackson, by the way. Samantha’s brother.”

“The Cupcake Cowboy. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Samuel Stevenson.”

Samantha watched from the loose shelter of Samuel’s arms as the men shook hands. The tension could be cut with a knife. Testosterone filled the immediate area.

“I’ve seen your name on business cards and letters around the house. I would say nice to meet you, but under the circumstances…

“I understand. It was nice to meet you, Jackson, Samantha’s brother. I need to get back to…somewhere.” Samuel set her away from him and would barely meet her eyes. “Ms. Dawson? I’ll be in touch.”

She could be all business too, as if she hadn’t been about to slide her tongue down his throat before Jackson interrupted them. “I’m sure you will.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Jackson asked once the door was closed and locked behind Samuel.

“Nope.” Samantha’s answer was honest and to the point.

“I know you said you liked him Sam, but I don’t know that it’s a good idea to like him in that way.”

“Don’t start, Jacks.”

“Just sayin’.”

“Well, don’t. It’s complicated enough. His boss wanted to marry Mama.” Throwing that little tidbit in made it easier to get the focus off her. At this point she’d use anything she had to use until she could figure out what to do about Samuel.

“What?”

“I know, right? When Daddy told you Mama had another man she could’ve married? It was Samuel’s boss, Brandt Worthington.”

“So, is this…?”

“Personal?” she finished for him. “I don’t know. Doesn’t concern me.” She wanted to believe that.

“Don’t be naïve. How can it not?”

“What more can I do than I’m already doing? How could I prove one way or another if it is or isn’t?”

“I don’t know. We'll figure something out. We always do.”

“He lost his job because of me, Jacks.”

“How?”

“Tried to defend my position, I think.”

Well, at least he had the decency to stand up for you. He seems to kinda like you.”

“I know,” she said miserably.

“And I overheard him say he may need a place to stay, too, didn’t I?”

“No,” she quickly denied. “That’s not at all what you heard.”

Jackson laughed. “That’s exactly what I heard. He can stay in my room.”

“Jacks…”

“C’mon, Sam. Why not? You were right about me and Cass and the next step. Your boyfriend needs a roof over his head, so why not share —”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare say it. He can’t live with me. I barely know him.”
Liar.

“You know enough to know that he’d stick up for you even if it jeopardized his job. Yeah, you do know him. Besides, it’s the least you could do for the poor man.”

“Poor man? Do you hear yourself? A couple of days ago you were ready  to beat him up. Now you’re inviting him to shack up with me.”

“Just tryin’ to help and by the look on your face, I can see my work is done here.”

“Yeah, well… You might want to get out of my shop before I beat
you
with a rolling pin.”

“Love you, sis.”

“Right. I feel the love like a smack upside the head.”

Chapter Nine

The knock on the back door of the bakery startled her and Samantha looked up. Crap, it was late. And who would be knocking? More importantly, how did anyone know she’d be there? She should’ve left the store hours ago. Right after Jackson had left, but she’d stayed to take advantage of the quiet and aloneness to think and do what she did best. Bake.

She took a peep through the hole in the door and flipped the lock. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey.” Samuel smiled a little sheepishly and glanced around. “Is it safe?”

“Safe?” The question confused her for a moment, but cleared soon enough. “Oh, you mean Jacks? He’s long gone.”

Samuel looked at his watch. When was the last time she’d seen anyone looking at a watch instead of a phone for the time? It was sweet, endearing and she was losing her mind. “Shouldn’t you be gone?” he asked.

Samantha shut the door behind him and leaned back against it. “If you thought that, why are you here?”

He blushed. “Touché.”

“I’m just working on some ideas and some recipes. The last few weeks have been exhausting and everything seems to have me on edge. This kind of relaxes me.”

“Work relaxes you?”

“Actually, yes it does. It’s what centers me and focuses me when things are unclear or stressful. I’ve always been like this. It’s how I dealt with my mother’s death and my grandmother’s too. Broken hearts…”

“Is your heart broken now?”

She studied his handsome face. There were a few extra lines that hadn’t been there when they first met. His eyes were tired and stress was etched on his features. “No. Not yet.”

“But you anticipate it being broken?”

How should she answer that? Was he looking for whether she trusted him not to hurt her or was he just asking in general? For argument’s sake, she’d play it safe. “If I end up losing my store? Yes.”

Samuel nodded. “I get that.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I want to help.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I’ve listened to all you’ve said over these weeks and while I do understand your position, I also understand the position of someone like Brandt. You both provide something that’s needed, but in different ways.”

“That’s not helping. Don’t get me wrong. I know how you feel about it and I know you want me to be able to keep my shop and I know everyone thinks I can just take the money and move my business to another location. It would be relatively easy with the right funds, but I don’t want to do that. I’m established here. I want this place.”

“Your father’s idea was to have Brandt build around you, to incorporate this building somehow into part of the plans for the new building.”

“Daddy said that? Told you that?”

“He did. Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I just am, but then, I didn’t expect him to go see you either. I’m so sorry if he put you in a difficult position.”

“Don’t apologize. He cares about you. I’ve never seen someone fight so fiercely for someone they love like that.”

“Really? That’s sad. My daddy was always there for me like that. So was Jacks. And my grandma would take anyone to task if they hurt me in any way.”

“That must have been nice.”

The wistful tone of his voice did break her heart. She wanted to ask, but didn’t. It was apparent from the day she gave him his first sticky bun that he hadn’t had the same sort of upbringing that she’d had. She didn’t know anything really about his family and she wanted to comfort him. She wasn’t sure he ever had been. “It was nice.”

“I was ah…” He cleared his throat and shoved his hand in his pants pockets. “My mother has asked that I come out to dinner on Sunday and I wondered if you’d like to go with me.”

There was her chance to find out about his family. “Really? You want me to meet your mother?”

“I do. I think it would do her some good to know I’m not letting my social obligations of finding a woman fall by the wayside by working too much.”

Samantha laughed. “Social obligations? Working too much? I was your work.”

“
Were
being the operative word there. You’re not my work anymore.”

“What would you like me to be? An obligation?”

“No. Not even close.”

“Then what?”

“I would like you to be closer. A lot less clothed. And under me… For starters.”

Oh. Wow. She hadn’t expected that at all. “I can’t leave right now. I need about thirty minutes.” Was that her? That breathless, husky voice coming from between her lips?

Samuel slid his suit jacket off his shoulders and laid it across a stool by the door. “What happens in thirty minutes?” He followed that by loosening his tie and removing it. Three buttons on his very expensive looking shirt were next.

Samantha had a hard time concentrating on the question he’d asked, but answered quickly enough. “The dough will be done rising in ten minutes and I’ll need to punch it down, knead it, roll it out and add the filling for the rolls.”

“All that has to be done tonight?”

“Yes. I have enough rolls prepped that all we have to do is bake them off in the morning. But I do need to finish this one so it isn’t ruined.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to make do until I can get you to a bed.” He reached for the tie on her apron and tugged.

“Are you sure you want to get involved?”

His head descended to her neck and his lips left a trail of heat in their wake. “As you said earlier, it’s a little late for that.”

“T-true.”

“I wanted to get involved with you from the first moment I set eyes on you, Sam. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I wanted you. Everything about you is different than the women I grew up around. Everything about you calls to a part of me I didn’t even know I possessed.”

As he talked, Samantha melted with each word. His lips continued to drift across her exposed shoulders, and collarbone while his hands fit the dip in her waist and cupped the curve of her hips. Cool air met her heated thighs as he raised the skirt of her sundress. “Samuel,” she breathed.

“I want you. Every beautiful inch of you.” He knelt on the floor in his equally expensive suit pants, the same floor that was covered in cinnamon and sugar and flour and baking soda and baking powder. She wanted to warn him, to slow him down, but then he breathed hotly against her damp panties and she forgot everything. “Lean back, brace your hands against the table, and let me, Sam. Please,” he whispered. “Let me taste you.”

How could she deny him?

Chapter Ten

Samuel parked in the circular drive of the Worthington home. Sprawling, audacious, intimidating, and everything he was learning that he wasn’t.

Had he ever been that way, really? Had he ever wanted any of that? Or was it only since coming face to face with Samantha Dawson that he’d begun to question what he thought he knew about himself?

“Are you sure I should be here?”

Samuel glanced at the woman in question seated in the passenger seat. “Where else should you be?” She wouldn’t stop fidgeting and the fact that the normally unflappable exterior was now flapping nervously… He was completely taken with her.

She was staring out the window up at the glass and stone façade of the house and fiddling with the hem of her yellow sundress. When she stood it fell around her knees and the boots she wore gave her the definitive cowgirl air. “I don’t know. It’s just… I’ve never been to a formal Sunday meal. In a mansion, no less.”

“It’s not formal.”

She slanted him a look over her shoulder, her gaze traveling from his head down. “And that’s why you’re wearing a suit?”

“Sans tie, therefore, casual. Not formal.”

“Did they know you were bringing me?”

Now it was Samuel’s turn to fidget. “I might have neglected to mention it.”

Samantha groaned. “Great. Just great. Meeting your mother for the first time and you’re springing me on her. Looking to be entertained, are ya?”

“Oh, it’ll be entertaining. Without a doubt.”

“Why?” Her tone was full of wariness and he couldn’t blame her. He’d have been wary of his intentions too. The impulse to ask Samantha to come with him had been too strong an impulse to ignore. He’d tried. For all of two days, but had given in without too much of a fuss from his conscience.

He was interested and involved with The Sticky Cowgirl and he wasn’t going to hide it. He no longer worked for Brandt Worthington or Turner Acquisitions. He wouldn’t divulge company secrets or plans, but as there was not a conflict of interest anymore, he didn’t see the harm in inviting her along for lunch.

“Samuel? What’s going on? You’re blushing.”

“I am not blushing. It’s warm in the car without the air on.”

“Uh huh. I’m walking into a trap, aren’t I?”

“A trap? No. Into something? Yes.”

“What?”

Even more wariness entered her tone and Samuel was man enough to allow himself to feel chagrin. He propped open the driver’s side door and stuck one foot outside, sitting half in and half out of the car. He’d at least have a quick escape for a few seconds before Samantha chased him down.

He glanced at her. “At this very moment, there is a woman inside that house that my mother has invited over with the express purpose of trying to marry me off.”

Silence filled the space between them for several heartbeats. Then, Samantha burst out laughing. Samuel couldn’t help but stare at her. He wanted to ask what she found so humorous, but didn’t. He was content to wait. Hell, he was content to stay outside in the car for as long as possible.

After a few moments, Samantha calmed down. She wiped her eyes with her fingertips and took a couple of deep breaths.

“Better?” he asked. “Got it all out now?”

Her lips quirked in a bit of a smile. “I think so. Let me get this straight. Your mother is trying to find you a wife?”

“Yes.”

“Any particular type of woman she’s looking for?”

“High society. Pure bred debutante. Wealthy. From a political family, if possible.”

“Uh huh.”

It was his turn to be wary now. “What?”

“Nothing. I…” Samantha didn’t look at him, but pulled down the visor and checked herself in the mirror. “And how many women have you passed on?”

“All of them.”

“Which is how many?”

Samuel leveled a look at her. “Why does it matter?” She shrugged, but didn’t drop her gaze from his.

“I don’t know. I’m curious.”

“Half a dozen, maybe.”

“I’m not going to fit her criteria,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Nope.”

“Is that why I’m here? To show her who you do want?” Samantha was never one to mince words with him. It was one of the traits he admired about her. It was one of the things that drew him toward her rather than away from her.

“Yes.”

She nodded and opened her own door. “Let’s go then.”

“Just like that?”

“Yep. No use letting my sticky buns melt out here in the sun more than they already have. And if there’s a high society babe inside the house, I want to meet her. See how I measure up.”

Samuel shook his head. “Oh lord. I get the feeling this was a bad idea, after all.”

Samantha’s laughter followed him out of the car and around the hood. They hadn’t taken two steps before the door to the house opened and his mother stepped into view.

“Samuel! You’re here. And… You’ve brought someone.” Her smile had been bright, almost to the point of warm and welcoming, but as she took in Samantha at his side, her smile faltered slightly.

“Of course, I’m here.” There’d never been any doubt that he would be. Brandt had issued the warning.

“Wow. She’s beautiful,” Samantha whispered. “That’s your mom?”

“Yes.”

Samuel tried to see her as Samantha did. Bitsy Worthington was as beautiful as ever. He had to admire the work the doctors had done to keep her looking half her age and maybe even a little bit younger than him.

Bitsy stood her ground on the stone steps above them and watched unblinking as Samuel escorted Samantha up to meet her.

“You should have let us know you’d be bringing a…friend.”

Samuel smiled smoothly. “It would’ve ruined the surprise, Mother.”

“Perhaps so.”

Samuel leaned forward and kissed the smooth as silk cheek she offered. “Mother, allow me to introduce Samantha Dawson.”

Bitsy offered her best smile, even if it looked a little brittle around the edges and didn’t reach her eyes. “Lovely to meet you, dear.”

“Likewise, Mrs. Worthington. Thank you for having me.”

Samuel bit back a grin. As if he’d given his mother a choice in the matter. Throwing her off guard was usually the only way to get true and real reactions out of her. It was also one of the only ways to get her off the path of meddling in his love life.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet Samuel’s friends and acquaintances. I don’t see enough of my son as it is, so if he must bring someone along, who am I to argue?”

Samantha did little more than nod. She was also likely planning his demise following their afternoon with his family. He didn’t exactly warn her what was in store either.

He took her hand in his and ushered her inside the house behind his mother, who took up residence on his other side, possessively linking her arm through his. He cast a sideways glance at her, but she didn’t return the gaze. Just as well. She was probably plotting his demise right along with Samantha.

He’d stepped in so much shit recently professionally and personally that he probably deserved whatever was coming to him. He hoped they made it quick though and didn’t make him suffer too much.

“Your home is gorgeous,” Samantha said into the silence. Her voice was full of awe and once again, Samuel tried to see things as she would.

The two-story foyer was intimidating in its own right. Marble floors, dark wood furniture, crystal light fixtures. The walls were lined with art he knew nothing about instead of with pictures of family and friends.

An ornate, double staircase was a focal point until you walked beneath the landing and the back of the house opened up to a wall of windows and French doors overlooking a formal garden and pool.

Samantha gasped and Samuel glanced down at her. Wide eyes peered up at him in disbelief, then looked away. With each step further into the house, her fingers tightened in his hand. “You have an incredible home, Mrs. Worthington.”

“Thank you, dear. It is rather impressive, isn’t it?”

“I was thinking intimidating.”

Samuel bit back another grin as his mother’s lips tightened into a thin line. Bitsy Worthington had met her match in the rough and tumble, ranch raised woman he couldn’t get enough of.

Samantha wouldn’t stand on ceremony and she wouldn’t bite her tongue once she became more comfortable. She was down to earth, hard working, and wouldn’t allow herself to be manipulated, bullied, or cowed in any way.

He had to admit that those were the things he admired about her. She was strong, fierce in her beliefs and her loyalty.

“I suppose to someone not used to such surroundings it would be intimidating,” his mother said evenly.

“I grew up here and it intimidates me,” Samuel added.

“Oh, Samuel.”

“It’s true. When you grow up with it and then go away from it, coming back is overwhelming from time to time. I still remember what it was like before we —”

“We don’t need to bring that up, darlin’,” Bitsy interrupted quickly.

“Before what?”

Samuel chuckled. He should’ve known Samantha wouldn’t let it go, that she’d be curious.

“It’s nothing to discuss in polite company, my dear. So, what is that you’ve brought, Samantha? It’s such an interesting bag.”

Samuel looked down at the red and white striped bag Samantha carried. What was interesting about it? It matched the color and paint scheme of her bakery. Of course, his mother hadn’t been to The Sticky Cowgirl.

Still, it was fairly simple.

“Thank you,” Samantha said graciously. “I’ve brought some of my new sticky buns.”

“Sticky buns? I don’t think —”

“Dessert, Mother.”

“Oh. That was so sweet, but we already have dessert planned.”

“I’m sure it will keep,” Samuel interjected. “These are special. Made just for today.” That last part wasn’t exactly true, but a little white lie wouldn’t hurt under the circumstances. There were bigger fish to fry with his little stunt of bringing Samantha to dinner.

“Samuel…”

“A favor, Mother.” There was no arguing with him and the pursed lips and exaggerated sigh told Samuel she knew it.

“I’ll be sure they’re taken to the kitchen.” Bitsy pulled them to a halt outside the parlor doors and turned to Samuel. “I wish you’d worn a tie. These are important people you’re meeting today. And this facial hair? You know I don’t like it.” She fussed over him. Smoothing his shirt and jacket, his hair. If Samantha hadn’t been there, his mother would’ve likely licked her thumb in that motherly way and smoothed out his eyebrows and erased any imaginary smudges of dirt.

“I think the scruff makes him look a little rugged. I’m sure your guests will forgive a little informality,” Samantha remarked.

“I’m sure I want him to make a very good impression.” Bitsy’s response was quick and pointed, meant to stop any further contradictions. Samuel had to smile because Samantha wasn’t good at taking hints.

“Does he not usually?”

Bitsy cut a look at Samantha. Samuel swallowed a chuckle. Oh, this was going to be so entertaining. “He’s never embarrassed me before.”

“Are you implying there’s a first time for everything, mother?”

“You know better than that, darlin’.”

“Who are you meeting today, Samuel?” Samantha asked, glancing up at him while attempting to extricate her hand from his. He only tightened his fingers around hers.

“I haven’t got a clue.”

“A beautiful young woman who’d be perfect for him. Her parents are here too, of course.”

Samantha nudged him lightly in the ribs. “A perfect woman for you, huh?”

“Just what is your relationship to my son, Ms. Dawson?” Bitsy asked in a tone that said trouble would follow if the correct answer wasn’t given. Samantha smiled innocently. It wasn’t the first time since pulling up in the circular drive of the Worthington mansion that he wanted to kick his own ass for such a boneheaded idea.