Читать книгу Truths I Learned From Sam 2-Book Bundle - Kristin Butcher - Страница 10

On the way back to Sam’s place, I pump him for information about Micah. Subtly, of course. I don’t want him thinking I’m interested in the guy. I start by asking about the ranch.

According to Sam, Greener Pastures is one of the largest spreads in British Columbia and has been in the Tooby family for several generations. Though well-known for cattle, the ranch’s real claim to fame is breeding horses. As a sideline, it offers day-trip trail rides and — for hardier types — overnight wilderness adventures. Sort of like African safaris, I guess, but Cariboo style.

The oldest Tooby son, Mark, works at the ranch full-time. Micah and son #2, Steve, are both at university, so they only help out in the summer. The youngest son, Randy, is still in elementary school, so aside from weekend chores of mucking out stalls and pitching hay, he isn’t too involved yet.

I ask all the sons’ ages, though it’s really only Micah I care about. He’s nineteen. Perfect. Now all I need to know is if he has a girlfriend, but there’s no way I’m asking Sam that. I’ll just have to find out on my own.

As it turns out, Micah is the one who brings up the subject — the very next day. He asks me if I have a boyfriend. I am so shocked I miss the stirrup as I go to mount and almost do a face-plant in the dirt.

“Not at the moment,” I tell him as I once again grab the horn of the saddle. And then — because this is the perfect opening — I nonchalantly add, “What about you?”

He shakes his head. “No. No boyfriend. I prefer girls.”

For a split second, I forget the guy is a god. All I’m thinking is that he zinged me, and I need to get him back. A retort jumps onto my tongue and is out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Really?” I reply. “I would’ve sworn you were gay.”

To say that I catch Micah by surprise is the understatement of the year, and right before my eyes, he goes from cool to crushed. He couldn’t look more deflated if I’d punched him in the stomach.

I gaze down from my seat on Sweetpea and pretend to shoot him with a gun. “Gotcha!” I grin and waggle my eyebrows.

His face relaxes. Then he shakes his head and grins back at me. “And here I thought you were a nice girl.”

I shrug. “Hey, you started it.”

That’s all it takes. The ice between us is broken, and we spend the rest of the lesson exchanging shots and laughing.

———

Sam and I make lunch together. It’s supposed to be his day to cook, but I don’t mind helping. Actually, I kind of like it. Sam knows his way around a kitchen, but he’s really relaxed about it, so there’s something restful about working with him.

We take our quesadillas and coleslaw outside into the sunshine. Sam hauls a couple of lawn chairs out from under the trailer and sets them on the grass.

I sigh and turn my face to the sky. “Listen.”

After a few seconds, Sam says, “To what? I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly!” I inhale deeply like I’m refuelling my soul. “That’s the point. It’s peaceful here. No traffic noise. No rest-of-the-world sounds at all. It’s like this place is all there is. Birds singing, grass waving, sunshine, wildflowers — that’s it.” I turn to him. “It’s like you have your own little Garden of Eden.”

Sam cocks his head thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering. Then his eyes become dark slits that look right inside me. “You might physically resemble your mother,” he says, “and you might have the same sharp tongue that she has, but in some ways you’re very different. Your mom wouldn’t last more than an hour out here. She’d think it’s pretty, but she’d be happier just looking at a picture of it. A picnic is about all the outdoors she’s interested in — and even then, she’d want it without the bugs.”

I bite into my quesadilla and nod. “Yeah, Mom is definitely a city girl. She likes the hustle and bustle, the nightlife — the shopping! She really likes the shopping. She’d go into withdrawal here for sure.”

Sam wags a thumb toward the shed. “I could give her a good deal on some horse manure.”

I laugh.

“What about you?” Sam asks. “I thought seventeen-year-old girls lived to shop.”

“Yeah, I like to shop. Of course, I do,” I say. “But I like other stuff too. The stores will still be in Vancouver when I get back. In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy what Webb’s River has to offer.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam says. But something about the way he says it and the way his face is threatening to smile make me suspicious.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His forehead buckles in feigned confusion. “Not a thing.”

He’s a good actor, but I’m not buying his performance. I know he’s making fun of me. I reach out and smack his arm.

“Ow!” He rubs it as if he’s actually hurt. “You’re violent.”

I roll my eyes. “As if. I did not hit you hard. And anyway, you had it coming. It’s not nice to tease.”

“Who’s teasing? You said you were going to enjoy what Webb’s River has to offer. I was just agreeing with you.”

I feel myself starting to blush, but at the same time a smile is tugging at my mouth, and I have to tense my cheek muscles to keep a straight face. I slug Sam again and shake my finger at him. “I know what you’re hinting at,” I say, “and you’re wrong. I really like learning to ride — and that’s it!”

He shrugs innocently. “That’s what I thought you meant. Golly. There’s no getting along with some people.” Then he stands up and puts his hand out for my empty plate. “Want some lemonade?”

“Sure,” I say, grateful for the change of subject. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be right back.”

When he returns, Sam is juggling two glasses of lemonade and a big plastic bag. He hands me one of the glasses and then the bag.

“What’s this?” I say.

“Since you can’t get to the shops, I thought I’d bring the shops to you.”

“Really?” I beam. “You got me a present?” I set the glass of lemonade down on the grass and open the bag. Then I gasp in surprise. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but it isn’t this. I look from the bag to Sam. “Boots! You got me boots.”

“Well, we can’t have you wearing running shoes when you ride,” he says. “It just isn’t right.”

I pull the boots out of the bag and admire them from every angle. Not that I know anything about cowboy boots, but they’re certainly beautiful to look at. The foot is tan while the top is a darker brown with designs tooled into the leather. The toe is pointed, and there’s even a bit of a heel.

“They’re gorgeous!” I tell Sam.

“Try ’em on,” he says.

I kick off my runners, grab the tabs on the boot top, slide my foot inside, and pull. Then I do the same for the other foot.

“They fit!” I exclaim with surprise as I stand up and take a stroll around the grass. “How did you know my size?”

“I checked your running shoes when you weren’t in them. You know you have pretty big feet for a girl.”

I make a face and nudge his boot with the toe of mine. “Look who’s talking. I wouldn’t exactly call these puppies petite.”

He glances down and frowns. “I’m a man. I’m supposed to have big feet. It makes me look —” He pauses as if he’s searching for the right word and finally settles for “manly.”

“Yeah, right!” I hoot. “Whatever you say. Anyway, thanks for the boots. I feel like a real western girl now. All I’m missing is the hat.” Then I smile and add, “And the belt buckle. And the bandana. And the —”

“Uh-oh,” he mutters into his moustache. “On second thought, maybe you’re not so different from your mother after all.”

I laugh.

That’s when my cellphone rings. First time since I’ve left Vancouver. I dig it out of my pocket and look at the screen.

“Speak of the devil,” I say. “It’s Mom.”