Rodeo Sweetheart

Apparently, they just bought out their land.

Ethan brushed aside the sudden burst of conscience. It wasn’t his plan, it was his dad’s—not like Ethan had much of a choice. He never had, and at this rate, never would.

Daniel shook his head. “Send me a postcard from your vacation in denial, dude. I’m going to breakfast.”

The front door had just shut behind him when a knock sounded. Ethan finished buckling his belt and opened the door. Jeffrey Ames waited with a frown on the other side. “Morning.” Ethan fought back a sigh and moved aside for his father to enter.

Jeffrey strode inside the cabin with his usual air of dignified expectation. “What’s wrong with you, boy?”

Ethan shut the door. “What do you mean?”

“You’re moving like a robot.”

“Sore muscles from the ride yesterday.” Ethan eased onto the bed and reached for his loafers under the nightstand.

Jeffrey’s frown deepened. “Your mother is fine.”

“Mom does Pilates and yoga three times a week.” Ethan slipped his feet inside the leather shoes, hoping his lowered head hid the shock he felt claiming his expression. His mom had always been a fitness guru, but he’d figured she’d be at least a little sore like he was. Was he that much of a Wild West sissy? He quickly stood, hoping to put an end to the conversation. “I was just heading to the main house to eat.”

“I’ll join you. But first, we need to talk.” Jeffrey shoved his hands in his pockets of his slacks and jingled the loose change. The corners of his lips tightened beneath his mustache—the closest Ethan had ever seen his dad come to a real smile. “There’s been a new development.”

Ethan bit back a groan at the overused pun. “What’s that?” Better not to encourage him with a forced laugh. Humor and Jeffrey Ames went together about as well as fast cars and speed limits.

Jeffrey’s eyebrows furrowed. “I had a brief conversation with Angie Jenson yesterday. It seems like we’re going to need more ammunition than we thought in order to convince that Jenson woman it’s in her best interest to sell.” His lips quirked. “To us.”

“I don’t get it. Why are you smiling? How is that good news?” Other than the fact they could possibly give up now and go back to New York. But for some reason, the thought of leaving so soon seemed more disappointing than alluring. Ethan frowned. Must be that country air getting to him. He needed Starbucks, a massage and a good couple miles on his treadmill. That’d get him back to thinking more like a businessman and less like John Wayne.

“It’s good news because her daughter is the reason she’s hesitating, and I now know who is going to help fix that.” The twinkle was back in Jeffrey’s eyes, and worry churned in Ethan’s stomach.

“Who?” He didn’t want to ask, but he and his father had played the cat-and-canary game for so long now, Ethan just automatically fluffed his feathers.

Jeffrey clamped his large hand on Ethan’s shoulder, his diamond-and-gold ring digging into his collarbone. “You are.”

Chapter Five

Sam still hadn’t gotten used to eating her breakfast at a table full of strangers, but it beat sitting alone in her room. She scooped a spoonful of eggs on her plate and tried to ignore Daniel, who sat to her left, Ethan, who sat to her right, and Jeffrey, who chugged coffee directly across from her. Talk about a bad way to start her Sunday—sandwiched between two preppy, clueless tourists. Daniel had been trying to get her attention ever since he sat down, and Sam could have sworn she even saw him flexing beneath that striped Western shirt. Strangely enough, Ethan hadn’t spoken a single word to her yet—just kept darting glances at his dad across the table. Jeffrey in turn would cough and send pointed glares right back.

Men could be so weird.

Sam peppered her eggs and focused her attention on the other end of the large table. Her mom nibbled delicately at a piece of bacon while the same flirtatious man from yesterday—Mike—chatted her up. His troublemaking, ball-kicking son, Davy, sat ignored to his left, building a waffle sculpture on a plate covered in syrup. The sculpture wobbled on its liquid foundation, and if Sam’s predictions were accurate, it would go sloshing into Mike’s lap any minute now. It would serve him right.

She blew out her breath in an impatient huff. At least the group of vacationing, giggly college-aged girls were absent from breakfast this morning—the ones she’d seen Daniel eye more than once. It also appeared that their resident honeymoon couple was sleeping in. Sam really missed the mornings when Sunday breakfast consisted of just her and her parents—not a host of strangers and hired help. Sure, the food was better now than the cold cereal or lumpy oatmeal they used to have before rushing off to church, but it had been family. Familiar. It had been home.

A concept that apparently died along with her dad.

Sam gave a tired smile to Clara, the newly hired cook, who hovered over Sam’s shoulder with a fresh pot of coffee.

“Refill?”

“Yes, thanks.” Sam inched her cup closer. She needed the caffeine after last night’s 3:00 a.m. stroll down memory lane. If her family went to church anymore, she’d probably have yawned through the entire service. But the work—and the animals—couldn’t wait, and with the addition of a busy new dude ranch came the loss of a church home for Sam, at least until they could afford to hire more help. But despite the fact she couldn’t quit yawning, the emotional journey last night had been worth it. She knew how to get the money to buy Noble Star. She just needed a fresh supply of courage—and someone to help her.

Clara stretched over with the coffeepot. “Not a problem, Ms. Sam.” The hot liquid bubbled into the mug.

“You can just call me Sam.” She lowered her head and breathed in the hearty aroma of the brew. One sip of that strong concoction and she’d wake up for sure.

“Okay.” Clara moved to refill Daniel’s cup. Her tight black curls and ebony skin heightened her youthful appearance, but Sam knew Clara had to be closer to a grandma’s age herself. She nodded at Daniel. “Coffee?”

Daniel shook his head, his mouth full of toast. “I’ve reached my limit.” Crumbs sprayed on his nearly empty plate and Sam winced. And he wondered why his charms weren’t working on her.

“I’ll take a refill.” Ethan twisted in his seat to offer his mug. His eyes caught Sam’s and he smiled.

Sam decided to blame the accompanying jitters in her stomach on the greasy bacon, and forced a tight-lipped smile in return before focusing once again on her food. The eggs were suddenly tasteless in her mouth despite the salt and pepper she’d heaped on them. She was probably too nervous too eat. She really needed to talk to Cole about her plan before the day got fully started. If he refused to help her, she’d be right back to square one.

The fact that Ethan’s presence radiated on Sam’s right side like a portable heater had nothing to do with her lack of appetite. Nothing at all.

“Samantha?” Ethan’s quiet voice sounded in her ear.

She dropped her fork with a clatter. “It’s Sam. Why is that so hard for you? I don’t call you Evan, or Eric. My name is Sam. You want me to start calling you Elvira?”

Ethan held up both hands in defense, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

“I bet.” Sam tossed her napkin on her plate. She needed to find Cole, now—before she lost her opportunity to talk to him alone and before she completely snapped and threw a piece of bacon in Ethan’s face. Never in her life had anyone so adamantly insisted on calling her Samantha. That was her father’s right, and no loafer-wearin’ city boy was going to take that away.

“It really was a slipup. Look, I was going to ask if you wanted to take a walk. Show me around the ranch or whatever.”

Sam studied Ethan. His cheeks pinked the longer she stared, and the expression in his eyes didn’t quite match his tone. He looked guarded—almost annoyed. She glanced across the table at Jeffrey, who beamed and nodded at his son.

Something was up. Sam shoved her chair away from the table. “Sorry, I’ve got things to do.”

“Sam!” Angie looked up from the other end of the table in surprise. “Don’t be rude.” Mike smirked and Sam wished she could shove her mother’s glittering diamond ring in his face.

“Duty calls, Mom.” Sam gulped a mouthful of coffee, then wished she’d let it cool just a moment longer. Refusing to water down her dramatic exit with a wince, she stoned her features, bumped her chair under the table with a scrape and stalked toward the back door.

The satisfying slosh of waffles and syrup, followed by Mike’s squeal, sounded just before the door slammed shut behind her.

Rejected. Ethan excused himself from the breakfast table and hustled—well, limped was probably more accurate—outside before his dad could finish his breakfast and come after him. Ethan refused to stick around for a lecture on failure from his father. Before breakfast, his dad had directed Ethan to strike up a friendship with Sam in order to make Sam’s mom see her having a good time. One of the reasons Angie was considering selling the ranch over Sam’s objections was because she wanted her daughter to have a chance to live her life and not be burdened by a failing business. It was also his chance to get inside information about the ranch. Any pitfalls, any problems, any information that could be useful for their securing a low offer on the property was now Ethan’s job to report.

Ahead of him, Sam blazed a trail to the barn as if her boots were on fire. It was surprising the grass at her feet didn’t puff up in smoke as she passed. Ethan hesitated. He’d never been the type to pursue a woman scorned—Shakespeare definitely had that one right—and that’s exactly what he’d done to Sam with his incessant teasing.

But Shakespeare hadn’t met Jeffrey Ames, and any minute now, his father would be about five steps behind Ethan, demanding to know why he wasn’t trying harder to weasel into a friendship with Sam.

Ethan kicked at a rock in the dirt with his loafer. Take a walk? Pretty lame. Not really surprising Sam turned him down after that ridiculous attempt. He really hadn’t meant to say her full name, it just slipped out while he was mentally rehearsing his next line.

A rehearsal that led to a less than successful opening curtain. Why was she so picky about her name, anyway? Samantha was a beautiful name. He understood she was a tomboy, a cowgirl, but that shouldn’t be enough to make her hate her full name. It didn’t make sense.

Sort of like how what happened at breakfast wouldn’t make sense to his dad. Ethan could just hear his response now. Daniel wouldn’t have that kind of problem with a woman. Daniel could get any girl he wanted. You should learn from your cousin. Yeah, right. One day Daniel and Jeffrey both would wake up and realize there were more important things in the world than money and manipulative games. One day they’d come to the same conclusion Ethan eventually had come to—that they wanted something more from life than just a trust fund, a successful if borderline shady business and empty relationships.

If you could even call them relationships. Ethan lifted his face to the morning sun and let the warm summer breeze dry the sweat on his forehead. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe his parents lived in marital bliss. He purposefully tuned out the details he didn’t want to know.