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“Yeah. Same temperament, too. Kinda has a way of weaseling her way into your heart.”
“Like Sam does?”
Grant grinned and his eyes glinted. “Why would you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Well, speak of the devil,” Grant said at the sound of a truck roaring down the lane. A plume of dust followed the old Dodge as it rumbled to a stop near the house. “I think I’d better see how she’s gettin’ along with Joker.”
“The devil horse? Not too well, if yesterday’s exhibition was any indication.”
“You want to try a hand with him?”
“Hell no. The farther I am from that mean bastard, the better I’ll like it. If Kate hadn’t seen fit to let you have him, I would have probably sold him to the glue factory,” Kyle said, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Sure.” Grant finished his coffee, but his eyes never left the window and Sam’s truck.
“Look, I have to live here for the next six months, but I don’t think there was anything in my legacy about risking life and limb trying to train some self-important stud how to follow on a lead rope.”
“I assume you’re talking about the horse and not about me.” Grant was still staring out the window, and Kyle let his own gaze follow as Samantha hopped to the ground and blew her bangs from her eyes.
“Take it any way you want,” Kyle said. “You know, she looks mad enough to spit nails. I think I’ll go check on my horse.”
“Chicken.”
Grant reached for his hat. “You bet. I made a promise to myself years ago that I would never sit around and be chewed out by a woman before ten in the morning. It starts the day off on the wrong foot.” His eyes narrowed as he rammed the hat on his head. “You know the saying about someone getting a bee in her bonnet? This may just be a guess, but from the looks of her, I’d say Samantha has a hornet’s nest in hers.”
Samantha slammed the door of her pickup. Her jeans were tight and black, her shirt faded denim with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, as if she were ready for a fight. Her lips were compressed into a firm, determined line. Before Grant could walk out the back door, she stormed in, the screen door slapping shut behind her.
Kyle felt a smile stretch across his face, though he wished he could hide his amusement, because if looks could kill, he’d have dropped dead the second she swung her furious green gaze in his direction.
“Mornin’, Sam,” Grant drawled.
“Mornin’,” she offered.
“I was just leavin’.”
“Wait. I was gonna call you,” she said, laying a hand on Grant’s arm—so friendly and intimate it made Kyle’s teeth grate. “What do you want to do about Joker now that Kyle’s back?”
“I’ll move him in the next week or so. No hurry. By that time I assume he’ll walk docilely up the ramp into the trailer.”
Sam couldn’t help but grin, and Kyle felt an unwanted kick in his gut. How many times had she, a tomboy of seventeen, trained that smile on him?
“I guess that’s up to Kyle. He’s in charge now.” Her smile faded and was replaced by her original expression, the one plastered on her face as she’d marched grimly to the porch. Tiny white lines pinched the corners of her mouth, a deep furrow was wedged between her eyebrows and the skin over her cheekbones was stretched as taut as a hide ready for tanning as her gaze landed full force on Kyle again. Some of the starch seemed to leave her for a second before she said, “I just came by to pick up some of my things. Now that Kyle’s here, it doesn’t make much sense for me to hang around.”
She breezed past Grant.
“Samantha? Wait a minute. You’re not giving up on Joker, are you?”
“Maybe Kyle can handle him.”
“In his dreams,” Grant replied.
“No way.” Kyle lifted his hands. “I want nothing to do with that beast.”
She muttered something under her breath that had to do with spoiled brats and silver spoons.
“We had a deal,” Grant reminded her.
“Cancelled when Kate left the place to your brother.”
“Hey—this isn’t my fight,” Kyle proclaimed, and Sam pinned him with a look that all but called him a citified, useless, low-life coward.
“For the love of…” She clawed stiff fingers through hair that was pulled tightly away from her face. A few strands fell into her eyes. “Okay, okay,” she said to Grant. “I’ll handle Joker. It’ll take a couple of days, but then I’m outta here.”
“What’s wrong?” Grant glanced from Kyle to Sam. “Lovers’ spat?”
The color drained from her face. “I just have enough to do over at my place.”
“Fair enough.” Grant didn’t look like he completely bought her story, but he didn’t seem anxious to press the issue. “As long as I can pick up Joker before Clem James’s mare goes into heat.”
“No promises. I’ll do the best I can.”
“All I can ask.” Grant squared his hat on his head. “I’ve got to run into town for a part for my damned tractor. I’ll see ya around.” He slapped the side of the doorframe with a tanned hand as he sauntered out, then hesitated on the porch, the screen door propped open by one shoulder. “Oh, I meant to tell you, Kyle, Mom called this morning. Rebecca’s gone off on some toot about hiring a private investigator to look into the cause of Kate’s plane crash.”
“I thought it was all just an accident, faulty equipment or something.”
“Yeah, that was what everyone assumed, but you know our aunt. She doesn’t believe in letting sleeping dogs lie.”
Kyle felt a sensation akin to dread. Rebecca was the youngest daughter of Ben and Kate, and though she was technically his aunt, she was only a few years older than he. A mystery writer, Rebecca had earned her reputation of having a vivid, sometimes wild imagination. “So what does she think?”
“Who knows? If you ask me, she should quit working herself up over everything and settle down.”
“Oh, like you?”
Grant shot him an unreadable look. “Just don’t be surprised if she gives you a call. See ya around, Kyle. Sam.”
Samantha watched him leave and felt a moment’s hesitation. She was alone with Kyle. Again. Which was what she wanted. Or was it? As Grant drove away, she was suddenly aware that the air in the house seemed thicker, dense with silent emotions, and she had trouble drawing a breath. Being this close to a man who had once had the ability to break her heart was just plain stupid.
“For the life of me I can’t figure out why Kate left this place to you,” she said, untying the knots that suddenly took hold of her tongue. “Grant or Rocky—”
“I know, I know. You’ve already pointed out that nearly anyone in the family would have been a better choice.”
She angled her chin upward and met his eyes. “I think so, yes.”
“Even Allison?”
Her lips twitched at the mention of Kyle’s beautiful and sophisticated cousin, Rocky’s twin, a woman who was meant for the glitter and fast pace of the city.
“Even Kristina.”
“Not Kris!” he teased.
“Absolutely! Your sister might be spoiled, but at least she knows what she wants in life!” Sam had never been one to keep her opinions to herself, especially not with Kyle. “I think your grandmother was out of her mind when she left this place to you.”
“I couldn’t have guessed.”
Damn his sexy drawl and drop-dead grin. “You know what else?” she asked.
“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me whether I want to know or not, so let’s hear it.” His crooked smile stretched across his jaw and she had the urge to slap him. He was goading her, whether he knew it or not. Well, he’d asked for it. She would gladly give it to him with both barrels.
“You’re not gonna make it six months, Kyle. You’re gonna turn tail and run before your stint here is through. You’ve never suffered through a winter here, have you? Sometimes the electricity gives out, and if you can’t get the generator going you have to rely on firewood for warmth. You have to break a trail through hip-deep snow to the stables, melt water for the stock and live on oatmeal, canned beans, potatoes and apples that you’ve hopefully had the brains to keep in a fruit cellar. There’s no TV, no radio except for a transistor if your batteries aren’t low and no four-wheel drive big enough to get through to you. It’s just you and your wits, tryin’ to survive against Mother Nature, and in your case I’ll bet she’d win hands down!”
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much are you willing to bet?” he asked, his eyes suddenly dangerous. He crossed the short distance between them and glared at her with an expression as stormy as a winter thundercloud. Hot breath fanned her face.
“I don’t need to put up a wager, because you’re already gonna lose. You’re not going to inherit this place because you, Kyle Fortune, never could stick with anything long enough to see it through. That’s why Kate attached strings to her bequest, and it’s a good thing she’s dead because you would disappoint that old lady the day the going got rough and you decided to take off.” She glared up at him, challenging him, and he saw it then—a shadow crossing her eyes, a tremble in the pinched corners of her mouth, an emotion she was trying desperately to hide.
“Is that what you came over here to tell me?”
“I just came for my things.” She started for the den, but he grabbed her arm, his fingers tightening over the crook of her elbow.
“I don’t think so.”
“Let go of me, Kyle.”
“There’s something more, Sam. Something that’s bothering you. Big-time.” No one had ever been able to get to him like Samantha Rawlings. One sultry look from her and he melted; a quick lash of her tongue and his temper rocketed into the stratosphere; pain showing in her green eyes and he wanted to kill the bastard who’d hurt her.
One side of her full mouth lifted in a sarcastic smile. “Gee, Kyle, how perceptive of you. Could it be—let me see—the fact that you took off from here ten years ago, left me without so much as a goodbye, didn’t call or write, just sent a formal invitation to my family to your wedding?”
His breath whistled through his teeth. “God, Sam.”
“You asked.” She yanked her arm from his fingers and stormed through the kitchen to the hallway. He caught up to her just as she was leaving, a jacket under one arm, an address book and coffee mug in her hand.
“I think we should talk.”
“Too late.” But again that shadow flickered in her gaze and her steps faltered for a second.
“It’s never too late.”
She let out a soft grunt of defeat. “Oh, Kyle, if you only knew.”
“Knew what?”
Whirling to face him, she dropped her mug. It crashed to the floor and splintered into a thousand pieces. “Oh, for the love of—”
“Forget it.” His fingers once again tightened on her arm.
“What?”
“I’ll sweep up the mess later.” He felt a second’s premonition, as if he were on the edge of a bottomless emotional abyss and the gravel he was standing upon was slowly crumbling beneath his boots. “You were about to confide in me.”
She swallowed. “This—this isn’t the time. There’s a lot to say. Most of it won’t mean a thing, but…well, some things are important.”
“What things?”
Oh, God, could she bring herself to say it? To tell him that he was a father? Come on, Sam, now’s the time. Quit being such a coward!
He was staring at her, waiting, icy blue eyes narrowed on her face. Her heart thundered in her ears. How many times had she envisioned just this moment, dreamed of telling him the truth, even gone so far as picking up the telephone or starting a letter, only to drop the receiver in disgust or wad the unfinished page in her trembling fingers?
“I know I left abruptly,” he said, prodding her.
She let out a sarcastic sound.
“You probably thought we had a future, and we should have, but—”
“Don’t!” She shied away from the truth again and ducked past him to the door.
“Sam—”
“Another time, okay? We can rehash the past some other time, but right now I don’t have a minute to spare. I’ve got to pick up Caitlyn and—and I’ll come back later to work with the horse.”
“I met Caitlyn this morning.”
“You what?” Whirling, she felt her face drain of all color. He’d met Caitlyn? Oh, dear God.
“She stopped by on her way to—to…”
“Tommy Wilkins’s house?”
“That’s right. Seems like a nice enough kid. You did a good job with her.”
“Oh, uh, thanks.” She could hardly speak. Licking her lips, she silently called herself a coward, but couldn’t find the nerve to tell him the truth. “Look, I’ve got to run.” She headed for the door again.
“You know, Samantha, I never meant to hurt you.” His words stalked her, trod across her soul. Her own footsteps faltered and her heart felt scraped bare. A huge lump formed in her throat. “Don’t worry about it,” she said over her shoulder. “You didn’t.”
She heard his boots ringing on the floor behind her. She dashed out the back door, ran across the porch and hurtled down the two dusty steps before he caught up with her. A huge hand clamped over her shoulder. “Samantha.”
Heaven preserve me.
“Help me out here.”
“I can’t.” She was dying inside, wanting to tell him, to wound him, to hurt him, and yet she couldn’t, not this way, not until she knew that both she and Caitlyn were ready. Oh, God, what a mess!
“You keep running from me.”
