Читать книгу Rodeo Sweetheart - Betsy Amant St. - Страница 13

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.

His parents were glued together only by money, and if that ever changed, they’d probably head to divorce court faster than a Ferrari off the line. Ethan wanted something more solid than that, something to really stand on. No wonder he’d never felt a true connection before with the girls in his past—as much as he loved his mother, they all seemed like carbon copies of her. Materialistic, superficial.

Every girl but Sam, that is.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and continued his slow trek to the barn. He could move out and avoid the drama, but his parents’ house was big enough for him to be out of the way, and it was rent-free. If he hoped to break away from the family business one day, he’d more than likely be cut off financially and would need a decent amount of cash saved—in a place his father couldn’t access. All the more reason to save money now.

A horse whinnied from the other side of a nearby fence, and Ethan squared his shoulders in determination. His plan A in reaching Sam might have been a bust, but that didn’t mean plan B couldn’t succeed. If he needed to amp up the flirty image, so be it. Ethan hated the pretense—it reeked of Daniel—but if it would get his father off his back, then it’d be worth it. Plus he’d like to see her smile more. No twenty-four-year-old should have to work so hard just to stay afloat.

He just needed to remember not to use her full name.

Ethan turned up the collar on his polo, cracked his neck and strode inside the barn with a slightly crooked smile.

“Crazy city slickers.” Sam ran the grooming brush over Wildfire’s back in short, firm strokes. Loose hair flurried in her face like miniature red snowflakes, but she didn’t care. Who did Ethan think he was, asking her to go for a walk while his father grinned from the sidelines? The invitation was probably a joke, some “let’s tease the cowgirl and make her think I’m interested” ploy so he and his dad could laugh behind her back later. Like she’d ever be interested in some New Yorker who didn’t know which end of the horse went first.

Sam brushed faster. The only bright spot on this cloudy morning was that Cole had agreed to help her out. The loyal stable hand had assured her he’d have a steer in the north paddock by eleven o’clock that night for her to practice riding, and that her secret was safe with him. Apparently Cole hated dealing with the downfalls of the new dude ranch business as much as Sam and was game for her plan—absurd as it must have sounded.

She looked up as a dark figure, silhouetted by the sun, strolled inside the barn. The cocky gait seemed familiar, and within moments Ethan’s features became distinguishable. Great. He was back for round two. She kept brushing and refused to acknowledge his presence.

Ethan stopped in front of Wildfire’s stall and hooked his arms over the closed gate. “Mornin’, again.” He smiled and Sam couldn’t help her eyes darting to meet his. She quickly ducked under Wildfire’s neck to groom his other side. It put her closer to Ethan but at least her back was to him.

“You missed one of the guests swimming in waffles.” Ethan’s voice sounded smooth and rich over Sam’s shoulder, much like the syrup that must be clinging to Mike’s pants right about now. Too bad those waffles couldn’t have fallen in Ethan’s lap, too.

She dropped the grooming brush in the bucket in the corner behind her. “Sounds like fun.” She bent and snatched a comb from the same tub, and began picking through Wildfire’s tangled mane. “Is that all you came to tell me?” She felt more than saw Ethan’s startled response, and couldn’t but grin.

“No, I, just—well…” Ethan’s voice trailed off and he coughed. “I thought maybe I could help out, if you were too busy to take a walk.”

Sam turned to face him, the blue comb dangling from her fingers. Even Wildfire snorted, as if shocked. “You want to do chores?”

“Sure.” Ethan straightened his slumped position on the gate and smiled. “Why not?”

“Why not?” Sam laughed as she turned back to Wildfire’s mane. “Because you have no clue what you’re doing. Because you could get hurt. Because this is your vacation and you shouldn’t be working. Because—”

“Okay, I get it.” Ethan held up both hands. “But I don’t mind. I can learn.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Sam tossed the comb in the bucket and clipped the lead rope that she’d draped over the stall door to Wildfire’s halter. “Excuse me.”

Ethan backed away from the gate as Sam and Wildfire walked through, giving Wildfire’s back legs a wide berth. “Then what about a walk later tonight? After dinner?” His tone held a hopeful edge.

Sam clucked to Wildfire and led him down the barn aisle. His shoed hooves clacked on the hard floor. “Again, thanks—but no thanks.” Sam refused to feel even slightly sympathetic or look back at Ethan standing alone in the barn aisle. She had zero interest in being a pawn for some rich boy’s family to manipulate with their weird games. She had chores to do, a ranch to save and a bull to ride.

Starting with a steer tonight at eleven o’clock.