Читать книгу The Last Real Cowboy - DONNA ALWARD, Donna Alward - Страница 9

SHE’D been kidding herself.

Exhausted, Angela sank down on the lopsided front step and put her head in her hands. For ten days she’d worked her tail off, and there was still so much to do her head was spinning. Having to do the renovations herself meant no time for working on the embellishments, the little special touches she’d had in mind. The basement was littered with used paint cans and rollers, and she’d missed a stud trying to install a curtain rod and ended up having to do a substantial drywall repair in the yellow room. Yards of material gathered dust waiting to be sewn into curtains and duvet covers. Boxes of supplies were still taped up, needing to be unpacked. The carpet was torn up in the living room but the local flooring business had postponed installation of the new hardwood until tomorrow. The place was a mess.

The open house was only four days away. She needed Molly’s help. Molly had been on board to look after feeding the crew from the youth center on Saturday. She was also supposed to be a spokesperson to the media so Angela could stay in the background, where she liked it. Angela had been so annoyed by Sam’s attitude that she’d squared her shoulders and determined she’d show him and do it all herself.

But she’d been wrong. She needed help. And she needed his help if Molly wasn’t able. It wasn’t just about a pair of spare hands. The press release had gone out before that horrible board meeting and the local angle had been playing up Diamond involvement. To go ahead with the day and have the Diamonds conspicuously absent … to stand in front of a camera and have her picture taken, her words put into print …

Her stomach tied up in knots just thinking about it. This wasn’t about her, it was about them—the women the foundation would help. The last thing she needed was anyone digging around in her past. She closed her eyes. It was truly a bad state if she was relying on the likes of Sam Diamond to be her ally!

She wiped her hands on her overalls, resigned. It came back to the same thing every time, no matter how much she didn’t want to admit it.

She needed Sam Diamond’s help.

She found him coming down a beaten track on horseback, sitting a trot effortlessly while a golden retriever loped along behind. Growing up in the city she hadn’t really believed that cowboys and ranchers, like those in storybooks and movies, really existed. But they did. The Diamondback Ranch sprawled over the foothills, dotted with red-and-white cattle. The house was a huge log-type mansion that reeked of money and Western tradition at once. Just beyond a gigantic barn was a paddock where half a dozen gleaming horses snoozed in the warmth of the summer sun. And Sam Diamond was getting closer by the second, all six foot plus of him in his own über-masculine element.

She’d never felt so out of place in her life, and she’d been in some pretty uncomfortable spots over the years.

“Well, well. Must be important to tear yourself away from Butterfly House on such a gorgeous day.”

She had to squint against the sun to look up at him. “You manage to compliment the weather and antagonize me all in the same sentence,” she said. She forced a small smile. “And I might get mad, except for the fact that you’re right. It is important.”

He’d slowed to a walk but she still had to hustle to keep up with him.

“And it has to do with me … why?”

With a slight shift of the reins, horse and rider came to a stop. The dog, sensing home, bounded off in the direction of the house. Angela held her breath as Sam turned in the saddle and looked directly at her. On horseback he was an imposing figure, and he had a direct way of looking at a person that was intimidating. She wasn’t comfortable being one hundred percent of his focus, but she made herself meet his gaze. He looked far too good for comfort in his jeans, boots and dark Stetson, and she took her sunglasses out of her hair and put them on, shading her eyes.

The horse Sam rode was big and black, and the way he tossed his head made his bridle hardware jingle. He was exactly the kind of mount she’d expect Sam Diamond to ride—big and bossy and used to having his way. But Angela refused to be intimidated.

When she didn’t answer, he grinned. “Let’s try that again, shall we? Good mornin’, Ms. Beck. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

There was a mocking note to his words and Angela felt his gaze drop over her clothing and back up again. She’d considered changing out of her paint-streaked overalls and sneakers but decided not to. She felt safer in the shapeless garment rather than her work clothes that skimmed her figure more closely. Besides, the scale of work that had to be done was enormous. Fixing herself up would have taken valuable time she couldn’t afford to lose.

“I need your help.”

There, she’d said it, and it only hurt a little. Mostly in her pride.

“My help? My, my. That must have been hard to say.”

“Yes. I mean no. You see … I had counted on your mother’s help and without it I’ve fallen behind. I know it couldn’t be helped,” she rushed to add. “I don’t blame Molly. She belongs with your father, of course. I’ve tried for the last week and a half to keep pace on my own, but we’ve got a press opportunity happening this Saturday and I’m not ready.”

“As you can see, I’ve got my hands full here.”

“Surely you can spare some time? I’ve been doing the renovations myself but there are some things I’m just not equipped to do. The front step is a hazard and the furniture needs to be moved into the living room before Saturday and somehow I have to have refreshments on hand for a dozen teenagers who will be at the house. Not to mention the press.”

She was quite breathless at the end and felt a blush infuse her cheeks as Sam merely raised one eyebrow until it disappeared from view beneath his hat.

“Come to the house. I’ll write you a check and you can hire some help for a few days.”

Her blood began to simmer. For most people she would have said put your money where your mouth is. But for Sam, writing a check was an easy way to rid himself of the inconvenience of her and of Butterfly House. Her annoyance temporarily overrode her personal discomfort.

“You don’t understand. This isn’t just about slapping on some paint. It’s about perception.”

“Perception?”

“Yes, perception.” She sighed. “It’s not even so much the renovations. When you replaced Molly on the board, the press releases had already been sent and the arrangements made. You’re the foundation’s biggest sponsor, Sam. And everyone expects to see a Diamond presence this weekend. If there’s no one there …”

“If it’s perception you’re worried about, I’m not sure I’m the image you want to present to the public. You’ll do fine without me.”

He laughed, but Angela wasn’t amused. This project was about more than helping women reclaim their lives. It was about changing attitudes. And Sam Diamond, with his money and swagger, was the perfect test case. If she could bring him around, she figured she could accomplish just about anything.

“I won’t say no to the check because the foundation needs it. But we need more than that, too. We need a showing of support. We need the backing of the community. I don’t like it any more than you do. I wish I didn’t need your help. But I sat on the step this morning trying to figure out how I was going to manage it all and I kept coming up blank.”

“Maybe I can spare a man for a day or two, but that’s all. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

But that wasn’t all. How easy was it for Sam to solve a problem by scrawling a dollar amount and washing his hands of it? “All I’m asking for is one day. One day for you to show up, be charming, give a visible show of support. As much as it pains me to admit it, the people of Cadence Creek follow your lead.”

He rolled his eyes. “Here we go again. You don’t give up, do you? Do you ever take no for an answer?”

She gritted her teeth. If he only knew how much she hated confrontation! She lifted her chin. “Do you?”

A magpie chattered, breaking the angry silence. “From the look of the house, it needs more than a slap of paint. It needs a demolition order. You’ll never get it fixed by Saturday.” Sam adjusted the reins as his horse danced, impatient at being forced to stand.

Angela got close enough that she had to tilt her head to look up at Sam. She wanted him to see what was at stake. It wasn’t enough for him to sit atop his ivory tower of privilege—or his trusty steed—and bestow his beneficence. It was too easy. And the women she wanted to help hadn’t had it easy. Their lives couldn’t be fixed by a blank check.

“I have to. The house has been neglected, that’s all. It just needs some TLC.”

“Ms. Beck.” He sighed, looking down at her from beneath his hat. “Do you want me to do everything for you?”

She felt her cheeks heat. “Of course not. But, for example, I was going to look after the painting and minor renovations while your mother lent a hand with some of the aesthetic needs—like window fashions, linens. On Saturday she was not only going to represent your family to the community and press, but she was in charge of all the refreshments. That’s all fallen to me now. I do need to sleep sometime, Sam. And then there’s the issue of what to say to people on Saturday when they ask about our biggest sponsor and their conspicuous absence.”

“You tell them we’re busy running a ranch. You tell them we’re occupied with adding a new green facility to our operation. Or that we’re busy employing a number of the town residents. All true, by the way.”

“Have you heard of volunteering, Mr. Diamond?”

His dark eyes widened as his brows went up. “I beg your pardon?”

“Volunteering—offering one’s time with no expectation of reimbursement.”

“I know what volunteering is,” he replied, impatience saturating each word.

“Millions of people volunteer every day and still manage to work their day jobs. Most of them also have families of their own—and you don’t have a wife or children that I can see. You can spare Butterfly House the cash, but can you spare it the time?”

Angela swallowed, took a breath, and stepped forward, grabbing the reins of his horse with far more confidence than she felt. She stood in front of the stallion’s withers, her body only inches away from Sam’s denim-clad leg as it lengthened into the stirrup. “What are you so afraid of, Sam?”

He slid out of the saddle and snatched the reins from her hands, his movements impatient. “You can save the holier-than-thou routine. I’ve made up my mind.”

She could sense success slipping away from her and frustration bubbled. “You go to great lengths to avoid personal involvement. Why is that? Maybe it’s true what they say about you.”

“And what’s that?” He stood before her, all long legs and broad chest. She felt incredibly small and awkward next to his physicality, dumpy in her overalls next to his worn jeans and cotton shirt that seemed to hug his shoulders and chest. She felt a little bit awed, too, and it irritated her that she should be so susceptible to that because, despite the fact he was a pain in the behind, Sam Diamond was also drop-dead sexy. The sad thing was she was nearly thirty years old and had no idea what to do with these feelings. She’d gotten very good at presenting a certain image, but inside she knew the truth. She had no idea how to be close to anyone.

“Never mind.” She turned away, hating that he was able to provoke her without even trying.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Not so fast. I think you’d better tell me.”

Her heart seemed to freeze as her breath caught for one horrible, chilling moment. Then, very carefully and deliberately, she reached down and removed his fingers from her wrist and stepped back. She wasn’t sure which emotion was taking over at the moment—anger or fear. But either one was enough to make the words that had been sitting on her tongue come out in a rush.

“That you’re a cold-hearted …” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word. She kept her gaze glued to his face for several seconds.

Finally the hard angle of his jaw bone softened a touch and he said quietly, “Where’d you hear that? Let me guess, Amy Wilson?”

She had, and her lack of response confirmed it.

“You shouldn’t judge someone by what you hear.”

“I don’t.” At his skeptical expression, she sniffed. “I don’t,” she insisted. “I form my own opinions. I deal with people all the time, you know. And I judge people by what I see them do.” And right now he wasn’t scoring many points. Her wrist still smarted from the strength of his fingers circling the soft flesh. She touched the spot with her fingers.

His gaze caught the movement and then lifted to meet hers. There was contrition there, she realized. He hadn’t really hurt her; he’d merely reached out to keep her from running away. It was her reaction that was out of proportion and she suspected they both knew it. Awkward silence stretched out as heat rose once again in her cheeks.

“And so you’ve judged me.” The horse got tired of standing and jerked his head, pulling on the reins. Sam tightened his grip, uttered a few soothing words as he gave the glistening neck a pat. “I suppose you won’t believe me if I say I’m sorry about that.” He nodded at her clasped hands.

It was a backward apology, and did nothing to change the situation. That was what she had to remember. “Sam, you give from your pocketbook if it means you don’t have to get involved. I just haven’t figured out why. Is the ugliness of real life too much for you?” She kissed her last hope of success goodbye, knowing she was crossing a line but needing to say it anyway. How many times over the years had people turned a blind eye to someone in trouble? How many people had avoided the nasty side of life because it made them uncomfortable? How many people had known what was happening in front of their faces and hadn’t had the courage to make the call? Angela’s life might have been very different. It was the only thing that kept her moving forward in spite of her own fears.

“That’s ridiculous.” He turned his back and started leading his horse across the barnyard.

“Then prove it. Try giving of yourself.” She went after him, desperately wanting to get through. “These women have been through it all, Sam. They’ve been beaten, degraded, raped …” She swallowed. “By the men who professed to love them. Despite it all, they got out. They sought help, often leaving everything they owned behind. This house will help bridge the gap between overcoming an old life and building a new, shiny one. What in your life is more important than that?”

He didn’t answer. But she sensed he was weakening, and she softened her voice. “All I’m asking for is a few hours here and there. You have a gorgeous house, food on the table, a purpose. I just want to give these women the same chance. If you show the people of Cadence Creek that you support these women, doors will open. They’ll have a chance to be a part of something. People look to you to lead. Lead now, Sam. For something really important.”

She took a step back, uncomfortable with how impassioned her voice had become. For a few seconds there was nothing but the sounds of the wind in the grass and the songbirds in the bushes.

“You realize how busy this ranch is, right? And that I’m going it alone now that Dad’s sick?”

“But you have a foreman, and hands. Surely they can spare you for a few hours?”

“You’re forgetting one important detail.”

“I am?”

“If I help you, we’re going to be seeing more of each other.” He made it sound like a prison sentence. “And I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re kind of like oil and water.”

She felt her vanity take a hit before locking it away. Her personal feelings weren’t important here. It shouldn’t matter if Sam liked her or not. She only needed his support.

“Don’t worry. There’s lots of house to go around. We hardly have to see each other. I can stand it if you can.” Besides, there were lines she didn’t cross, ever, and it was a big leap from noticing the fit of a man’s jeans to personal involvement. They rubbed each other the wrong way. Then she remembered how he’d brushed by her the other night and how her body had suddenly become attuned to his. The real trouble was in the few moments where they had rubbed each other exactly the right way. At least on Saturday there would be tons of other people around and she’d be too busy keeping the kids busy and the food on the go to worry about Sam.

They were at the fence gate now and there wasn’t much left to say. He threw the reins up over the saddle horn and mounted, settling into the saddle with a creak of leather. “I’m not afraid,” he said. “Two hours. I’ll give you two hours Saturday afternoon to talk to whatever press you’ve lined up. Just keep your social-worker analysis to yourself, okay? I’m not interested. Save it for your clients.”

“Scouts’ honor,” she replied, lifting two fingers to her brow. She couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips. It wasn’t all she’d asked for, but more than she’d dare hoped and she counted it as a significant victory. Perhaps she’d be spared the public face after all.

He shook his head and gave the horse a nudge. As they were walking away he twisted in the saddle, looking back at her. “I’ll send over a check. I’d advise you to cash it before I change my mind and stop payment on it. Maybe you can cater your food for Saturday with it.”

He showed her his back again and they took off at a trot, stirring up dust.

Sam looked up from his desk and realized it was nearly dark outside. That meant … He checked his watch. It was going on ten o’clock. He’d been at it longer than he realized. But he wanted to start the construction on the new project before the end of summer, marking a new era for Diamondback. As he got older the more he realized he was caretaker not only of the Diamondback name but the land. The environmentally friendly initiatives were exciting, and he loved the idea of reducing Diamondback’s footprint. But his father’s stubborn refusal to sign off on the contracts was stressing him out.

He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. It grated on his nerves, having the responsibility of the ranch without also having the authority to make the changes he wanted. And with Virgil’s health so precarious, he was doing some fancy footwork these days trying to get his way without upsetting the proverbial apple cart. Between his father and the everyday running of the ranch, he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Angela that he didn’t have a moment to spare.

But then she’d had to go and challenge him and he’d been suckered in. It rankled that she knew how to push his buttons without really knowing him at all. He didn’t think he was usually so transparent.

She’d looked exhausted. There was the annoying realization that she’d been right in just about everything. A Diamond family member had promised to appear and her assertion that Butterfly House would need community support was valid.

But for Sam it had been more than that. It had been the look in her eyes, the way all the color had leached from her cheeks in the split second he’d grasped her wrist within his fingers. The expression had been enough to give even his jaded heart a wrench. There was more to Angela than the prim and proper businesswoman he’d met at the board meeting. This was personal for her and he wanted to know why.

He scowled. It was none of his business. The last thing he needed was to get sucked into someone else’s problems. If only his mother would agree to a hired nurse, she could go back to being Angela’s right hand and cheerleader. He worried about Molly, taking on all of his father’s care herself and refusing any help. With a sigh he closed his eyes. He was trying to hold everything together and not doing a great job of it.

A light knock sounded at the door and he turned in his chair. “Mom. You’re still up?”

Molly Diamond came in, and Sam thought she looked older than she had a few short weeks ago. There were new lines around her eyes and mouth, and she’d lost weight. The light sweater she wore seemed to hang from her shoulders.

“I just got your father settled. You’re up late.”

“Just going over the latest information on the biogas facility. I’m close to finally having the details nailed down. The sooner the better, we’ve had enough delays. I’m excited about it.”

“Sam …” Molly’s brow furrowed. “Right now those plans are more like building castles in the sand.”

“Then help me convince him,” he replied easily. “He won’t listen to me. This will take Diamondback into the future.”

“What sort of future? Who for, Sam?”

There it was again. The constant tone that said when are you going to start a family? Surely she realized it wasn’t a simple snap of the fingers to find the right woman. There had to be love. Whoever he married was taking on not only him but Diamondback as well. He gritted his teeth. “Two different subjects, Mom. And right now this facility is the right thing.”

Molly sighed. “It’s a big undertaking. And your father sacrificed a lot to make Diamondback what it is. He’s just … cautious. Please don’t trouble him about it. Not now.”

“It’s the way of the future. And I’ve spent a lot of hours putting this together.” Disappointment was clear in his voice.

“And it’s taking its toll,” she said, coming to the desk and pulling up a chair. The desk lamp cast a circle of cozy light and despite the recent troubles, Sam thought how lucky he was to have grown up here. It hadn’t always been easy, and there’d been a good many arguments and slammed doors, especially in younger years.

But he’d never once questioned their love, never once felt insecure. He thought of Angela, standing in the farmyard in paint-smeared, shapeless overalls and dark glasses. He wondered what her upbringing had been like, thought about the women who would benefit from Butterfly House. Not everyone had had the advantages that he’d had.

“What’s really on your mind, Sam?”

“Nothing, really. Just trying to keep up.”

“You met Angela Beck,” Molly said, leaning back against the cushion of the chair and crossing her legs. “She’s a worker.”

“A dog with a bone, more like it,” he muttered. Molly laughed and it was good to hear the sound. Ever since she’d found his father on the floor of their bedroom after his stroke, there hadn’t been much to laugh about.

“She’s doing a good thing, Sam.”

“I know. But you’re much better at this kind of thing than I am. I belong out there.” He lifted his chin, looking out the window. In the darkness, only the reflection from the lamp looked back at him. “We totally rub each other the wrong way. We can’t occupy the same space without arguing. I have intentions of being nice, and I end up being an idiot.”

To his surprise Molly laughed. “At least you acknowledge when you’re an idiot,” she answered, “which puts you a step ahead of most of the population.”

“Mom, why don’t you let me hire some help for you?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Then you can still work on this project. It’ll be good for you.” Plus it would mean he wouldn’t be pulled away from the farm, and he wouldn’t have to come face-to-face with Angela’s acute observations—never mind her smoky eyes and delicious curves. She’d tried to hide them in the overalls, but they were still there. He didn’t like that he kept noticing. Didn’t like that she seemed to be on his mind more often than not.

“Because I want to be with your father.” Molly looked tired, but Sam noticed how her eyes warmed. “You’ll understand someday, when you’re married and you’ve been in love with that person for most of your life.”

Sam sighed. “Mom, I’m thirty-seven. Don’t count on it, okay? At this rate, Ty’s your best chance for a grandkid.”

Ty. Sam’s cousin by blood but also his adoptive brother. Any child of his would be considered a grandchild. But Ty was barely on speaking terms with the family. Neither said it but they knew it was true. He hadn’t even come home for Virgil’s seventieth birthday.

“I’m not saying that, don’t panic. I’m just saying that I need to do this for Virgil. And that leaves Butterfly House up to you. It’s not a long commitment. Once it’s fixed up, the management of it will be in Angela’s fine hands. A board meeting here and there is not too much to ask.”