Rodeo Sweetheart

“Don’t worry about it.” Ethan shoved aside the bruised portion of his pride and shot Sam a sideways glance. “Samantha.”

Her eyes, greenish now that anger sparked inside, narrowed. “You’re impossible.” She clomped back down the porch steps and Ethan watched her leave, an unexplainable joy rising in his chest at having gotten to her once again.

“See you on the trail, partner.” Ethan grinned as he braced his arms on the porch railing and watched her stalk to the main house. He had a feeling this working vacation was just getting started in more ways than one.

Chapter Three

Sam was up at dawn the next morning, partially because of her growling stomach and the full schedule for the day and partially because Ethan’s face had teased her dreams all night. There was nothing worse than tossing and turning in the midst of a dream you didn’t want to have—make that a nightmare. Who did Ethan Ames think he was, riding into her life as if he belonged there? So what if he was handsome? There wasn’t enough room in all of Texas for the size of his ego. Teasing her about her name, as if he should automatically be granted special privileges, was the last straw in Sam’s hay bale of tolerance. If money meant instant ego, Sam was glad she hovered on the poor side of the spectrum.

But poor wasn’t going to bring back her father’s legacy.

Sam dressed quickly in jeans and a button-down, then grabbed her cowboy hat off her dresser. Her eye caught the photo of her dad, taken nearly twenty years ago at the height of his rodeo fame, and she gently touched the worn wooden frame. She often wondered what their lives would be like if her father hadn’t quit the circuit when she turned seven. Would she and her mom still be following him around in that beat-up RV, touring city after city, winning prize after prize? Maybe if her dad hadn’t quit and taken over his grandfather’s breeding farm to provide a safe life for his family, he’d still be alive.

The irony was what ate at Sam for years, and still occasionally nibbled on her thoughts. Wade Jenson gave up his dreams and his talent to avoid danger and be there for his family—yet the tragic accident happened during his first tribute appearance years after quitting. Angie had told him not to ride, that he hadn’t in too long and it’d be dangerous. But Wade Jenson was never one to displease a begging crowd of fans, so he took on the infamous bull Black Thunder. It was the last time he ever rode anything. The injuries from being trampled lingered, and Sam and Angie spent the next several weeks at the hospital until Wade’s body gave out—along with their family savings.

What if Wade had recovered, and the breeding farm could have continued as planned? What if Sam didn’t have to help her mother carry the burden of providing for their livelihood, and could have moved out? Gone to college? Felt free to date and marry?

She turned away from the picture before the familiar sting of tears could burn her eyes, and shoved her cowboy hat on her head. She was through with the what-ifs. All that mattered were the what-nows. And right now, she had a trail ride to lead, an annoying man to ignore and a farm to save.

Sam pressed her knee into Piper’s side, waiting for him to exhale before tightening the girth of the saddle. The paint gelding was known for holding his breath during the tacking process, leaving a loose, comfortable girth and a rider hanging on for dear life. “I know your game, boy. Give it up.”

Piper exhaled in defeat and Sam quickly cinched the girth strap. She rubbed briskly under Piper’s mane, her fingers immediately coated with sweat and little white and brown hairs. “Just a short trip, boy. I know it’s hot out here.” Even though it was only nine-thirty on a Friday morning, the summer sun inched along its path in the sky, blazing the ranch with heat. Only a handful of tourists had shown up for the ride—unfortunately, Vickie and Ethan Ames included.

Sam gathered the reins and clicked her tongue at Piper. He followed her to the edge of the paddock, where she looped the reins around the hitching post. After last night’s drama with Ethan on the porch and her round of bad dreams, she’d hoped he’d sleep in and mercifully spare her his presence at the morning ride. He’d skipped breakfast, so Sam figured there was a good chance. But no, there he stood beside Vickie, dressed in designer jeans and a short-sleeved polo shirt that revealed the tanned lines of muscle in his arms.

Sam adjusted the blanket under Piper’s saddle with a sharp tug. Where did a city boy like Ethan get a tan? Must be all that driving with the convertible top down. She would imagine he hadn’t earned it with sweat and honest work.

Same with the muscles.

“Is that my horse for today?” Vickie Ames gestured to Piper.

Sam nodded and introduced the painted gelding to Vickie. “He’s a sweetie, sort of like a big puppy. Just don’t spook him with any sudden noises.” All the working ranch horses were docile and well-trained, but they still had spunk. Piper hated loud noises, a fact he reminded them of every time it thundered. Sam had fixed more than her share of stall doors and fences after one of Piper’s episodes.

“Of course I won’t.” Vickie patted Piper’s nose, then winced at her hair-covered hand. “I forgot my handkerchief.”

“Use your jeans, Mom.” Ethan sidled up to the paddock fence beside Sam. He winked. “Good morning, Sam.”

Sam gritted her teeth, remembering how her mother had specifically asked her to be nice. Her mother was right across the corral, so Sam better fake it for a while. She drew a deep breath. “Mornin’.”

“Where’s my horse?”

Sam pointed to a chestnut mare that Cole Jackson, one of the longtime stable hands, was saddling a few feet away. “You’ll be riding Miss Priss.”

“Miss Priss?” Ethan smiled. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Sam shrugged, not wanting to admit he was right. The mare’s name was girlie, but the older horse was stubborn. Sam had a feeling if anyone could put Ethan in his place, it would be Miss Priss.

“Well, I’m sure me and the little lady will get along great.” Ethan brushed his hands on his jeans with a pointed look at his mom, who was still picking horse hair off her palm.

“Mrs. Ames, would you like help mounting?” Sam turned her back to Ethan.

Vickie looked up with a relieved smile. “That would be great. I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m not used to being around horses much.”

No kidding. Sam worked to keep her smile natural as she boosted the woman into the saddle, glad Vickie was at least wearing jeans and riding boots, even if they did look so new she’d surely have a blister by the end of the ride. Angie made a point of stating on the ranch’s Web site to bring comfortable, worn-in clothing for riding, but ninety percent of their guests ignored the suggestion and were usually miserable by the end of the week. Sam had never understood the fashion-over-function mindset.

Beside her, Cole shook back his dark hair in frustration as if he’d noticed the same thing. “Greenhorns,” he mumbled as he handed the reins to another tourist.

“Can I get a leg up, too?”

Sam ignored Ethan’s taunting call from two horses away, focusing on adjusting the stirrup length for Vickie instead. He was apparently determined to get to her again today, and Sam was just as determined not to let him.

“You know, since I’m not a real cowboy.” His teasing continued.

Sam moved to work on the second stirrup, keeping her eyes averted from Ethan’s position beside Miss Priss. Ignore him, ignore him. Cole could help him mount. Not that Ethan actually needed help mounting, he just wanted to rub in Sam’s face her verbal mistake from last night.

“Please, Samantha?”

Sam dropped the stirrup abruptly, jostling Vickie’s leg, and glared across the fence at Ethan. “You know, I thought they said mules were stubborn. Not—”

Angie bumped into Sam as she appeared next to her, effectively cutting off Sam’s sentence. “Lovely day, isn’t it, Mrs. Ames? Hot, but beautiful. That’s Texas for you.” Angie finished adjusting the stirrup and shot Sam a warning look. “Go help him,” she whispered. She smiled back up at Mrs. Ames. “I love that blouse.”

Sam rubbed her face with both hands before slowly walking to Ethan’s side, leaving her mother and Vickie chatting about clothing labels in her wake. She hated that her mother had arrived to hear her comment. God, I’m losing it. Please cool my temper. I don’t know why this guy gets to me so badly. Sam sucked in a fresh breath of air and forced a smile at Ethan. “Need a leg up, you said?”

“Nah, I got it now.” He swung into the saddle and reached down to adjust his heel in the stirrup.

Sam fought to keep the shock off her face and nodded stiffly. “Fine.” She knew he’d been faking asking for assistance. Sam felt Ethan’s eyes on her back as she quickly moved to finish saddling Diego, and stifled a groan. This was going to be the world’s longest trail ride.

Would this trail ride never end? Ethan shifted in the saddle and his thigh muscles screamed in discomfort. How did Sam do it? She rode like she’d been born in a saddle, leading their small group through the shaded woods, pausing occasionally to gesture to a particular grouping of trees or a historical marker. Her back stayed straight, her hips relaxed, moving like she and that red horse were one being.

He and Miss Priss, however, were getting along more like a bull and a rodeo clown. He nudged her forward, she stopped. He pulled on the reins, she picked up her pace. He said “whoa,” she tossed her head and insisted on moving forward.

Apparently real horses were nothing like that carousel his mother made him ride as a boy in Central Park—a fact Vickie must be realizing herself right about now. Ethan twisted around to catch a glimpse of his mom aboard Piper, one hand clutching the reins, the other in a white-knuckled grip on the saddle horn as the paint horse ambled along. At least Jeffrey had stayed at the cabin, determining that “appearances” could only be taken so far. No telling what Daniel had found to occupy his time. For all Ethan knew, the two could be plotting together a new scheme for making money. Jeffrey had always preferred Daniel’s input on such concepts to Ethan’s.

“We’ll stop at the clearing ahead for a snack and to stretch our legs.” Sam’s voice rang from the front of the line, and Ethan could barely contain his relief.

As soon as the horses came to a stop in a flowered field, he slipped from the saddle, hoping Sam didn’t notice the way his knees almost buckled when his shoes hit the grass. After the way he’d teased her earlier, he more than deserved any return insults.

There was also something intriguing about the fact that she hadn’t shown any interest in Daniel. Usually women sensed him and his cousin’s money a mile away. A cash radar, Daniel joked. He never seemed to mind, but Ethan wanted more. Was it possible he’d finally found someone oblivious to their financial charms?

Ethan pressed his hands into his lower back and stretched as the other riders were doing, then bent down and tried to touch his toes. Pain shot through his hamstrings, and he quickly straightened.

“Having trouble?” Sam appeared beside him, cheeks flushed with the summer heat, a water bottle dripping with condensation in one hand. She offered it to him.

He took the water with a tight smile and twisted off the cap. “Not at all.” His right thigh suddenly cramped as if insisting otherwise. But he couldn’t let Sam see his weakness, not after all the grief he’d given her. Apparently running on the treadmill required different muscles than horseback riding. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Good for you. So you’ll have no trouble making it back? A lot of first time riders get pretty sore their first day on the trail.” She took off her cowboy hat and shook her hair off her forehead. The feminine motion almost made Ethan forget her question.

He downed a quick sip of water to clear his head. “It’ll be a piece of cake.” More like a piece of prickly cactus.