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Sam shook his offered hand. “I’m sorry for the delay in coming out. I had business to tend to in the barn.” She started to add they were short-handed, but thought better of it. Her mother had warned her not to say anything that would make these guests think the Jenson ranch was less than top-notch—although it wouldn’t take more than a cursory glance to determine that particular truth.
“Not a problem.” He gestured for Sam to lead the way. She hefted a bag on her shoulder and turned toward the two adjoining VIP suites. They were really nothing more than two small wooden cabins joined with a narrow porch, but these particular cabins had full kitchens, unlike the partials in the other guesthouses. Good thing her mother had added those big garden tubs in the bathrooms last summer, or the Ameses might make a dash for civilization. Why was such a wealthy family on vacation in the nowhere town of Appleback, anyway? If Sam had money, she’d vacation in Europe. Or some deserted island in the middle of the ocean where she could ride bareback in the sand and sip fruity drinks with umbrellas.
“Dad!” The sharp voice sounded seconds before the duffel bag was tugged from Sam’s grasp. She turned to find the young sports car driver holding the luggage and scowling at Mr. Ames. “She doesn’t need to carry our luggage.”
“We can get it.” The passenger from the convertible winked at Sam and she quickly looked away from the leer in his eyes.
“Nonsense. It’s her job.” Mr. Ames turned back to Sam. “I’ll make sure you’re compensated for it.” He motioned her along with a wave of his hand.
Sam’s stomach clenched at the flippant dismissal. She’d never been talked to like the hired help before, although with the Jensons’ new business venture into the tourist world, that’s exactly what she was. Her father’s image flashed in her mind, and Sam forced tidbits of pride down her throat. Without money, she’d never get the ranch back the way it was, and the Ames had it to spare. Time to work. She picked up another suitcase, this one heavier than the first.
“Here, let me.” The son’s warm voice and sudden nearness filled Sam’s senses. “I’m Ethan Ames. And this is my cousin, Daniel.”
“Sam Jenson.” She set the bag down and shook Ethan’s hand, noting its smoothness. The men in Appleback all had work-worn hands, calloused from hard work. This guy must not be used to handling anything other than a leather steering wheel or computer keyboard.
“You don’t look like a Sam to me.” Ethan’s dark hair, short and spiky, heightened the deep brown of his eyes. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was a dreaded tourist, she might actually find him attractive. He was taller than Daniel, and didn’t seem to have an agenda in his eyes like Daniel did, either. More maturity lurked in Ethan’s gaze, along with a heaviness that suggested secrets. Maybe there was something substantial to this greenhorn after all.
“It’s really Samantha.” She allowed Ethan to take the suitcase handle from her. “But I go by Sam.” No one but her father had called her Samantha, and if she had her way, no one ever would again. Some rights were reserved for the dead.
“Samantha.” Ethan’s smile turned slightly flirty, heightening Sam’s first impression when he’d arrived in his convertible. “I think I’ll call you that instead. You don’t mind, right?”
The respect he’d earned by helping her with the bags faded into oblivion, and Sam flashed her own smile as she hoisted another duffel bag in her arms. “Only if you like boot prints on your back.”
Sam strode past the men toward the cabins, ignoring Daniel’s burst of laughter. She kept her head high and refused to give them the dignity of a backward glance.
“You really said that?” Sam’s best friend Kate Stephens laughed, leaning forward to momentarily rest her head on the top rail of the fence. Her curly red hair gleamed in the setting July sun. “Only you, Sam.”
“He had it coming.” Sam stuck a strand of hay in her mouth and chewed as she looked out over the pasture, unable to hide her smile. “I wish I could have seen his face.”
“Priceless, I’m sure.” Kate cupped her hands and motioned as if reading a headline. “Preppy City Boy Told Off by Overworked Cowgirl.”
Sam shoved Kate’s arm down. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.” Though Ethan had yet to emerge from his cabin, and the incident happened hours ago.
“I better get back home. It’s feeding time.” Kate dug her booted foot off the lowest rung of the fence and stretched. “For me and the horses.”
“I hear that.” Sam tossed the piece of hay on the ground. “I’m glad Mom finally found another cook for the guests. Mom can make breakfast food all right, but dinner is another story.” Sam and her father used to joke about cornbread that could be used as horseshoes and chili that would keep a body in the restroom for a month of Sundays. She squinted against the memories, determined not to cry. Not again, not today. She swallowed.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Kate clapped her hand on the fence. “I came over here to tell you something important, and you distracted me with your story of charming guest hospitality.” Her green eyes sparkled with amusement. “Guess which horse my father is selling now?”
“Viper?” The mustang gelding was the oldest horse still living at the Stephenses’ busy racing stables down the road from the Jensons’. Kate’s father, Andrew Stephens, was known for his champion racehorses in southern Texas. Last year, Kate had bought a few acres and a small farmhouse not too far from her family and Sam’s, where she ran a successful boarding and grooming service for animals. Despite her own proverbial plate staying so full, she still occasionally helped out with the inner workings of her family’s business.
Kate shook her head at Sam’s guess. “Think black stallion.”
Sam’s breath caught in her throat. “No way. Noble Star?”
Kate’s red curls bounced as she nodded. “He called me this morning to tell me he’s decided to retire him. Dad said he’d rather sell Noble and obtain the cash upfront then try to breed for money later. He and Mom don’t have the time for new ventures right now.” Kate grinned. “I know you’ve been waiting for something like this.”
More like praying for it every night. If Sam could buy the sought-after ex-racehorse, he would be just the ticket to bring back the Jenson breeding farm. Mares for miles around would be brought in to get a shot at those champion bloodlines. Their business would soar and things could finally go back to the way they used to be—as normal as they could be without Wade Jenson, anyway.
Sam’s mind raced in a blur of tallying numbers, and the end result brought a sharp jolt of reality. Her shoulders tensed. She could empty her meager savings and still not have enough to buy the blanket off Noble Star’s back.
Kate pulled her keys from her jeans pocket. “I just wanted you to know before Dad started advertising. He’s going to spread the word this week.”
“Price?” Sam closed her eyes for the verbal assault.
The number Kate named was pretty reasonable, considering Noble Star’s champion bloodlines and success on the track—but still many thousands more than Sam could dream of obtaining in years, much less the next few weeks. She let out her breath in a slow sigh. “Thanks for the info.”
“No problem.” Kate sent Sam a sympathetic smile. “I could talk to my dad for you. Maybe he could shave a bit off the price for you and your mom.”
“Unless he shaved off half, it wouldn’t really matter.” Sam forced a laugh. “But thanks for the thought.”
“Call me tomorrow.” Kate started walking backward to the parking lot. “And watch out for greenhorns!” She grinned before slipping inside the cab of her pickup.
Sam waved, then grimaced as the door to Suite A opened and Ethan stepped onto the porch. She probably should apologize to him. Her mouth was always getting her in trouble, and her mom had a point—the Ames family had the potential to be big tippers. The last thing the farm needed was their sudden departure—especially over something Sam said.
She sighed and trudged toward the cabin. Time to cowboy up.
Ethan let the cabin door slam behind him as he stepped outside onto the porch. The term suite had to be a joke—or else the Jensons had never been in a real city before. A suite meant space. Not semi-new bathtubs and adjoining porches. He’d also have to share the bathroom with Daniel. At least he was far enough away from the adjoining cabin not to hear his parents fight. Unless they were making money, they were fighting—and with Jeffrey remaining unconvinced this venture would turn a profit, the arguments were already starting. They had to secure this property as quickly and as cheaply as they could in order to ensure a profit large enough to make it worthwhile in Jeffrey’s eyes. But his mother would win. She always did.
Ethan gripped the wooden railing, staring out across the green meadow. Horses grazed, their tails swishing at flies, while a fiery July sun set behind the farthest hill. The longer Ethan watched, the looser his grip became, until finally his shoulders relaxed and he breathed deeply. Maybe there was something to this country air thing after all. Ethan would never admit it in front of Daniel—or his parents—but sometimes, he wished for something other than the late nights in his office, pushing paperwork to further pad his father’s bank account. There had to be more to life than money. The church he’d once attended as a child with his grandmother confirmed that suspicion, but once Ethan hit the work world after graduating, time for God seemed to be crowded out as deadlines and marketing the business took first priority.
A paint horse whinnied from the pen, and Ethan studied the brown-and-white animal through narrowed eyes. If Ethan stretched low, really low to the depths of all his childhood memories, he’d admit to having cowboy dreams once upon a time. What little boy didn’t? He used to squirrel away books on horses, Jessie James and the Old West, tucking them inside textbook covers so his father would think he was reading “productively.” When Ethan reached high school, girls and cars became top priority until his gun-slingin’, lassoing, bareback riding dreams were all but forgotten.
Until he pulled up on the ranch and breathed the air laden with horse sweat, leather and dust. Now those dreams were slowly resurrecting, a fact that would have Daniel doubled over with laughter and his dad smirking beneath that thick mustache. What would it be like to have the freedom to chase his dreams, rather than follow his father’s plans? Ethan didn’t want to take over Ames Real Estate and Development.
He didn’t know yet that he wanted to ride a horse for a living, either, but surely there was something in between.
Footsteps thudded on the porch stairs and Ethan turned with a start. Samantha—no, Sam—joined him on the porch, her hands shoved in the back pockets of her jeans.
“Back for more insults?” Ethan shifted to face her, resting his weight against the railing and crossing his arms over his chest. His heart thudded louder than her boots on the wood floor—real working boots, not the useless designer ones Daniel brought.
Ethan fought to keep his expression neutral, his mind reliving Sam’s snappy comment from earlier in the day. No woman had ever spoken to him with such an attitude before, and to be honest, he was impressed. Sam was different from other women he knew—that was certain—and it had nothing to do with her cowboy hat or plaid Western button-down.
Sam’s chin lifted a fraction as she stopped a few feet away. “I came to apologize. You’re our guest, and I was rude.” Her lips twitched. “I just really don’t like being called Samantha.”
“I gathered that.” Ethan tapped his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. “Why not a compromise—Sammy?”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Just stick with Sam and we won’t have any problems, okay?”
“Deal.” Ethan studied her guarded pose, then held out his hand, for some reason anxious to make her smile. “Don’t real cowboys shake on truces?”
Her brows rose. “I don’t see a real cowboy here.”
Ethan’s hand fell to his side and Sam’s eyes widened to giant blue orbs. “I’m so sorry, there I go again.” She slapped her hand over her mouth and groaned. “I don’t mean to—I just—”
“Have a lot of pent-up frustration?”
Her arm lowered. “You have no idea.”
“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.
