Rodeo Sweetheart

Sam shook his offered hand. “I’m sorry for the delay in coming out. I had business to tend to in the barn.” She started to add they were short-handed, but thought better of it. Her mother had warned her not to say anything that would make these guests think the Jenson ranch was less than top-notch—although it wouldn’t take more than a cursory glance to determine that particular truth.

“Not a problem.” He gestured for Sam to lead the way. She hefted a bag on her shoulder and turned toward the two adjoining VIP suites. They were really nothing more than two small wooden cabins joined with a narrow porch, but these particular cabins had full kitchens, unlike the partials in the other guesthouses. Good thing her mother had added those big garden tubs in the bathrooms last summer, or the Ameses might make a dash for civilization. Why was such a wealthy family on vacation in the nowhere town of Appleback, anyway? If Sam had money, she’d vacation in Europe. Or some deserted island in the middle of the ocean where she could ride bareback in the sand and sip fruity drinks with umbrellas.

“Dad!” The sharp voice sounded seconds before the duffel bag was tugged from Sam’s grasp. She turned to find the young sports car driver holding the luggage and scowling at Mr. Ames. “She doesn’t need to carry our luggage.”

“We can get it.” The passenger from the convertible winked at Sam and she quickly looked away from the leer in his eyes.

“Nonsense. It’s her job.” Mr. Ames turned back to Sam. “I’ll make sure you’re compensated for it.” He motioned her along with a wave of his hand.

Sam’s stomach clenched at the flippant dismissal. She’d never been talked to like the hired help before, although with the Jensons’ new business venture into the tourist world, that’s exactly what she was. Her father’s image flashed in her mind, and Sam forced tidbits of pride down her throat. Without money, she’d never get the ranch back the way it was, and the Ames had it to spare. Time to work. She picked up another suitcase, this one heavier than the first.

“Here, let me.” The son’s warm voice and sudden nearness filled Sam’s senses. “I’m Ethan Ames. And this is my cousin, Daniel.”

“Sam Jenson.” She set the bag down and shook Ethan’s hand, noting its smoothness. The men in Appleback all had work-worn hands, calloused from hard work. This guy must not be used to handling anything other than a leather steering wheel or computer keyboard.

“You don’t look like a Sam to me.” Ethan’s dark hair, short and spiky, heightened the deep brown of his eyes. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was a dreaded tourist, she might actually find him attractive. He was taller than Daniel, and didn’t seem to have an agenda in his eyes like Daniel did, either. More maturity lurked in Ethan’s gaze, along with a heaviness that suggested secrets. Maybe there was something substantial to this greenhorn after all.

“It’s really Samantha.” She allowed Ethan to take the suitcase handle from her. “But I go by Sam.” No one but her father had called her Samantha, and if she had her way, no one ever would again. Some rights were reserved for the dead.

“Samantha.” Ethan’s smile turned slightly flirty, heightening Sam’s first impression when he’d arrived in his convertible. “I think I’ll call you that instead. You don’t mind, right?”

The respect he’d earned by helping her with the bags faded into oblivion, and Sam flashed her own smile as she hoisted another duffel bag in her arms. “Only if you like boot prints on your back.”

Sam strode past the men toward the cabins, ignoring Daniel’s burst of laughter. She kept her head high and refused to give them the dignity of a backward glance.

“You really said that?” Sam’s best friend Kate Stephens laughed, leaning forward to momentarily rest her head on the top rail of the fence. Her curly red hair gleamed in the setting July sun. “Only you, Sam.”

“He had it coming.” Sam stuck a strand of hay in her mouth and chewed as she looked out over the pasture, unable to hide her smile. “I wish I could have seen his face.”

“Priceless, I’m sure.” Kate cupped her hands and motioned as if reading a headline. “Preppy City Boy Told Off by Overworked Cowgirl.”

Sam shoved Kate’s arm down. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.” Though Ethan had yet to emerge from his cabin, and the incident happened hours ago.

“I better get back home. It’s feeding time.” Kate dug her booted foot off the lowest rung of the fence and stretched. “For me and the horses.”

“I hear that.” Sam tossed the piece of hay on the ground. “I’m glad Mom finally found another cook for the guests. Mom can make breakfast food all right, but dinner is another story.” Sam and her father used to joke about cornbread that could be used as horseshoes and chili that would keep a body in the restroom for a month of Sundays. She squinted against the memories, determined not to cry. Not again, not today. She swallowed.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Kate clapped her hand on the fence. “I came over here to tell you something important, and you distracted me with your story of charming guest hospitality.” Her green eyes sparkled with amusement. “Guess which horse my father is selling now?”

“Viper?” The mustang gelding was the oldest horse still living at the Stephenses’ busy racing stables down the road from the Jensons’. Kate’s father, Andrew Stephens, was known for his champion racehorses in southern Texas. Last year, Kate had bought a few acres and a small farmhouse not too far from her family and Sam’s, where she ran a successful boarding and grooming service for animals. Despite her own proverbial plate staying so full, she still occasionally helped out with the inner workings of her family’s business.

Kate shook her head at Sam’s guess. “Think black stallion.”

Sam’s breath caught in her throat. “No way. Noble Star?”

Kate’s red curls bounced as she nodded. “He called me this morning to tell me he’s decided to retire him. Dad said he’d rather sell Noble and obtain the cash upfront then try to breed for money later. He and Mom don’t have the time for new ventures right now.” Kate grinned. “I know you’ve been waiting for something like this.”

More like praying for it every night. If Sam could buy the sought-after ex-racehorse, he would be just the ticket to bring back the Jenson breeding farm. Mares for miles around would be brought in to get a shot at those champion bloodlines. Their business would soar and things could finally go back to the way they used to be—as normal as they could be without Wade Jenson, anyway.

Sam’s mind raced in a blur of tallying numbers, and the end result brought a sharp jolt of reality. Her shoulders tensed. She could empty her meager savings and still not have enough to buy the blanket off Noble Star’s back.

Kate pulled her keys from her jeans pocket. “I just wanted you to know before Dad started advertising. He’s going to spread the word this week.”

“Price?” Sam closed her eyes for the verbal assault.

The number Kate named was pretty reasonable, considering Noble Star’s champion bloodlines and success on the track—but still many thousands more than Sam could dream of obtaining in years, much less the next few weeks. She let out her breath in a slow sigh. “Thanks for the info.”

“No problem.” Kate sent Sam a sympathetic smile. “I could talk to my dad for you. Maybe he could shave a bit off the price for you and your mom.”

“Unless he shaved off half, it wouldn’t really matter.” Sam forced a laugh. “But thanks for the thought.”

“Call me tomorrow.” Kate started walking backward to the parking lot. “And watch out for greenhorns!” She grinned before slipping inside the cab of her pickup.

Sam waved, then grimaced as the door to Suite A opened and Ethan stepped onto the porch. She probably should apologize to him. Her mouth was always getting her in trouble, and her mom had a point—the Ames family had the potential to be big tippers. The last thing the farm needed was their sudden departure—especially over something Sam said.

She sighed and trudged toward the cabin. Time to cowboy up.

Ethan let the cabin door slam behind him as he stepped outside onto the porch. The term suite had to be a joke—or else the Jensons had never been in a real city before. A suite meant space. Not semi-new bathtubs and adjoining porches. He’d also have to share the bathroom with Daniel. At least he was far enough away from the adjoining cabin not to hear his parents fight. Unless they were making money, they were fighting—and with Jeffrey remaining unconvinced this venture would turn a profit, the arguments were already starting. They had to secure this property as quickly and as cheaply as they could in order to ensure a profit large enough to make it worthwhile in Jeffrey’s eyes. But his mother would win. She always did.

Ethan gripped the wooden railing, staring out across the green meadow. Horses grazed, their tails swishing at flies, while a fiery July sun set behind the farthest hill. The longer Ethan watched, the looser his grip became, until finally his shoulders relaxed and he breathed deeply. Maybe there was something to this country air thing after all. Ethan would never admit it in front of Daniel—or his parents—but sometimes, he wished for something other than the late nights in his office, pushing paperwork to further pad his father’s bank account. There had to be more to life than money. The church he’d once attended as a child with his grandmother confirmed that suspicion, but once Ethan hit the work world after graduating, time for God seemed to be crowded out as deadlines and marketing the business took first priority.

A paint horse whinnied from the pen, and Ethan studied the brown-and-white animal through narrowed eyes. If Ethan stretched low, really low to the depths of all his childhood memories, he’d admit to having cowboy dreams once upon a time. What little boy didn’t? He used to squirrel away books on horses, Jessie James and the Old West, tucking them inside textbook covers so his father would think he was reading “productively.” When Ethan reached high school, girls and cars became top priority until his gun-slingin’, lassoing, bareback riding dreams were all but forgotten.

Until he pulled up on the ranch and breathed the air laden with horse sweat, leather and dust. Now those dreams were slowly resurrecting, a fact that would have Daniel doubled over with laughter and his dad smirking beneath that thick mustache. What would it be like to have the freedom to chase his dreams, rather than follow his father’s plans? Ethan didn’t want to take over Ames Real Estate and Development.

He didn’t know yet that he wanted to ride a horse for a living, either, but surely there was something in between.

Footsteps thudded on the porch stairs and Ethan turned with a start. Samantha—no, Sam—joined him on the porch, her hands shoved in the back pockets of her jeans.

“Back for more insults?” Ethan shifted to face her, resting his weight against the railing and crossing his arms over his chest. His heart thudded louder than her boots on the wood floor—real working boots, not the useless designer ones Daniel brought.

Ethan fought to keep his expression neutral, his mind reliving Sam’s snappy comment from earlier in the day. No woman had ever spoken to him with such an attitude before, and to be honest, he was impressed. Sam was different from other women he knew—that was certain—and it had nothing to do with her cowboy hat or plaid Western button-down.

Sam’s chin lifted a fraction as she stopped a few feet away. “I came to apologize. You’re our guest, and I was rude.” Her lips twitched. “I just really don’t like being called Samantha.”

“I gathered that.” Ethan tapped his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. “Why not a compromise—Sammy?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Just stick with Sam and we won’t have any problems, okay?”

“Deal.” Ethan studied her guarded pose, then held out his hand, for some reason anxious to make her smile. “Don’t real cowboys shake on truces?”

Her brows rose. “I don’t see a real cowboy here.”

Ethan’s hand fell to his side and Sam’s eyes widened to giant blue orbs. “I’m so sorry, there I go again.” She slapped her hand over her mouth and groaned. “I don’t mean to—I just—”

“Have a lot of pent-up frustration?”

Her arm lowered. “You have no idea.”