The Princess of Coldwater Flats (24 page)

It had been a beastly day. Kicked by one of the cattle, wounded by a rusty strand of barbed wire that had forced him to get a tetanus-booster shot, losing his hat in Cotton Creek when he’d gone to inspect the remains of the beaver dam, and then finally, faced with Lettie’s peach cobbler as the Babbitts had loaded up their belongings because he’d asked them several weeks ago if they would mind finding a place of their own he, Cooper Ryan felt like a miserable, lowdown, dirty dog.

Never mind that in the eleventh hour he’d done his damnedest to reverse that ultimatum. Not that Lettie and Jack seemed to care. They’d been planning to leave, even had a little place at the edge of town just right for the two of them. The ease with which they’d taken their dismissal made him feel all the worse.

But it was too late now.

The peach cobbler mocked him. Lettie had insisted he keep it. “Maybe it’ll make you stop growlin’ like a grumpy old bear,” she said.

“I don’t want you to leave. To be honest, I’m pretty damn sick and tired of my own company.”

“I know.” Lettie winked. “That’s why we have to go.”

He was still puzzling over that comment as he prowled around the ranch house. He stopped at the archway to the living room. Someone had turned down the lights to aid in the yellow glow. Softly romantic, the illumination underscored the basic country style of the ranch house, highlighting the living room’s chintz curtains and circular coffee table with its wagon-wheel base—old man Riggs’s pride and joy.

He’d asked Lettie what she meant by that remark. “Oh, now, you know,” she said, patting his arm as if they shared some mysterious secret. “We were gonna have to move out sooner or later. Don’t worry yourself none. I’ll keep cookin’ your meals.”

She’d chuckled as she’d met Jack at the truck, and they’d both waved and grinned as they departed. Cooper had stood at the door, wishing he’d handled things differently. Not only with Lettie and Jack, but with Sammy Jo, too. Hell, these were the people who mattered in his life now and all he’d done was trample their feelings and hurt them, all in the name of self–preservation.

A white card sat on the table. Cooper picked it up, frowning.

You won’t have to wait too long.

He flipped the card over. Nothing on the back. Lettie and her cryptic comments made him feel as if he were missing something very important. But for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine what.

Roaming around the room, Cooper found he wasn’t comfortable with his own thoughts. A part of him couldn’t help revisiting that last scene with Sammy Jo. He wanted to be with her now, regardless of how deep-down angry he was with her.

He stopped at the front window and reviewed their argument, but his thoughts kept slipping into dangerous territory. He could recall the satin softness of her skin. The sharp, passionate flare in her green eyes. Those dimples…‌

Groaning, he ran his fingers through his hair, then froze as headlights made their way down his driveway. Sammy Jo!

But the car that drove up to his front door wasn’t a blue pickup. It was a small white compact that jogged Cooper’s memory.

“Bev,” he said with a sigh, turning on the light and watching as she shifted her sleek legs from the car, grinned and waved at him, then pulled a foil-wrapped package from the backseat.

Is this what Lettie had been winking about?

“Hi, there. Hope you don’t mind.” Bev lifted her shoulders sheepishly. “I made dinner. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“No.”

“I heard Lettie saying she and Jack were moving out. Although it sounded kind of like you expected other company?”

Cooper shook his head. He realized suddenly, humorously, that Lettie had been expecting him to get with
Sammy Jo.

“It’s kind of a picnic,” Bev babbled, clearly feeling a little presumptuous. “We could eat in the kitchen or dining room or…‌?”

“Here.” He took the tray from her and led her into the family room. Placing the food on the roundtable, he sat in a chair and Bev perched herself on the couch.

Looking at her well-manicured profile, Cooper told himself that this was what he needed to expunge Sammy Jo from his system. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Bev. On the contrary, she was beautiful, intelligent and clearly interested in him.

She removed the foil and revealed cold sandwiches and cucumber salad. “It’s so hot,” she murmured.

“It’s great.”

Cooper found himself a beer. There was no wine for Bev, so after a long, hard look at his beverages, she accepted a longneck herself. One sip and she was through, however. Cooper had to at least congratulate her on being a good sport.

As soon as they were finished eating, Bev settled deeper into the couch, her eyes silently inviting him to join her. With a heavy reluctance that made him irritated with himself, he sank onto the couch beside her, but he made no move to touch her.

What in God’s name is wrong with me?
he asked himself, scowling.

Bev read his expression. “Something wrong?”

“No. I was just…‌thinking.”

“About what?” She smiled encouragingly.

Sammy Jo.
“The ranch.”

“You said you were going to change the name, but it’s still Serenity, isn’t it?”

Cooper grimaced. “I’d thought about trying to combine it with the Triple R. I even kind of made that suggestion to Sammy Jo.”

Bev straightened abruptly. “You mean, buy it from her?”

“In a manner of speaking. Except she could still run the place. Then the name of the whole spread could be the Triple R.”

“By your tone, I take it she turned you down.”

“She wasn’t too keen on the idea,” he sidestepped, mouth working at the memory of Sammy Jo’s raging fury.

“Well, I’m glad.” Bev snuggled closer.

“Glad?”

“Sammy Jo is so one-way. You’d be fighting with her all the time and nothing you’d do would be good enough. Now, if she sold it to you outright, that would be different. But take it from me. I’ve known Sammy Jo Whalen most of my life and she’s…‌well, she’s tough and stubborn.”

Cooper heard the words but all he remembered was the way she’d moved in his arms, and the way she’d tasted like warm honey, the sadness that had wrapped around his soul over the waste of the oak tree, her friend.

“She’s going to marry Brent to save that ranch, but it won’t last.”

“The marriage?” The words tasted like ashes in Cooper’s mouth.

“And the ranch. Brent will sell that place just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s what he
does
. And though he may like Sammy Jo—I mean, he’s always been infatuated with her—he’ll still dump the Triple R soon as he can. He hates ranching.”

“Sammy Jo will never give it up.”

“She may be smart, but if he’s putting up the money, she won’t have much of a choice. I know her. She’ll feel too guilty. And then when it becomes available, all you have to do is grab it. Trust me on this.”

He did. He sensed that every word she spoke was the unvarnished truth, and Sammy Jo would come out the loser no matter what she did. But she couldn’t marry Rollins. She couldn’t.

“Did you see this afternoon’s
Corral?
”

“The local rag?” Cooper smiled at her mock outrage. “No.”

“Their engagement was announced.”

“Whose?” he asked automatically, though dread filled up every spare space inside him as he waited for the expected answer.

“Brent and Sammy Jo. That’s who we’re talking about, isn’t it? The wedding’s early this fall. Cooper, you could have the Triple R in your hands by the end of the year.”

Her eyes shone. She not only wanted him, he realized, she wanted a healthy bank balance. And she was a quick study when it came to cold hard cash.

Pamela had been, too.

She snuggled closer to him, clearly waiting to be kissed. Conversation had dwindled to nothing. A clock ticked gently. It could have been romantic, seductive and private, a perfect place for lovemaking, the perfect woman to erase the memory of Sammy Jo. But it wasn’t. Something was wrong. And Cooper worried that what was wrong, wasn’t going to be easily fixed.

“Bev…”

She placed the manicured fingers on his lips. “Don’t say anything.”

With that, she kissed him lightly, invitingly. Detached, Cooper checked his own reactions and was both relieved and mildly alarmed to learn she had no effect on him whatsoever.

She drew back expectantly. He couldn’t even fake an interest, and his feelings must have shown for she suddenly pulled back. “You don’t want me here, do you?”

“I’m not sure what I want,” he said honestly.

“Well, aren’t I the fool,” she muttered, hurt.

“No.”

Bev didn’t listen. In a nyloned-whisper of righteous indignation, she got to her feet and quickly put some space between herself and Cooper. He stood up more slowly.

“You know, they told me I was wasting my time. Told me to go back to Roy, as if he’d have me,” she added on a bitter laugh. “But I didn’t listen. I just wouldn’t listen.”

“Who told you?” Cooper asked as Bev snatched her purse and headed for the door.

“Everybody. Half the town thinks you’re trying to steal Sammy Jo Whalen’s ranch from her, the other half thinks you’re in love with her.”

“I’m not in love with her,” Cooper denied quickly.

“In lust, then. We’re not blind, you know. Not really.” At the door, Bev hesitated, seemingly at a loss. Finally, she shrugged and added, “But she’ll marry Brent Rollins to save that damn ranch before she’d even look at a man. That’s the kind of woman she is. She’s already married to the Triple R, and she doesn’t want any other lover. Keep that in mind when you’re in bed alone, Mr. Ryan, and remember what you threw away.”

* * *

Once Sammy Jo reached the barn, she threw a bridle over Goldie’s tossing head and led the quarter horse into the corral, then proceeded to yank off her boots and socks. Mounting the bareback animal, she clucked to her with her tongue until Goldie was moving around the ring in a slow, rhythmic gallop.

Heart slamming against her ribs, Sammy Jo pulled her feet to the mare’s withers, gathering her courage. Carefully, she transferred her weight to her feet until she was riding Goldie in a tense squat. She tied the reins and let them fall over the horse’s neck.

“Keep going,” she whispered. “Keep going.”

Goldie’s ears flicked back and forth. She tried to quicken her pace but Sammy Jo shushed her back to her gentle gallop. With painstaking care, Sammy Jo straightened her legs, then unbent until she was standing, arms straight, knees slightly bent, the wind provided by the running horse fanning through her hair.

What the hell are you trying to prove?

The pain inside her chest was a hard ball. She fought it even as she concentrated on Goldie’s rhythmic movements.

I love him. I love Cooper.

Sammy Jo’s foot moved. Her arms circled wildly. With a cry, she struggled to slide down but she was too late. Suddenly, she was flying through the air, the ground rushing up to meet her. Her cheek smashed down as she landed face-first in the hard dust.

She was out cold before Goldie had run another ten hoofbeats.

THE PRINCESS OF COLDWATER FLATS — NANCY BUSH

Chapter Ten

Cooper pounded his fist against Sammy Jo’s front door. The noise echoed across the fields, but there was no answer from inside the house apart from Trigger’s frantic barking.

Frowning, Cooper walked to where Sammy Jo’s pickup stood. He touched the hood. Cold. Was she with Rollins? It was entirely possible. Probable, even. He just didn’t want to believe it, yet they’d announced their wedding plans in the paper this afternoon, so clearly Sammy Jo had done nothing to call the marriage off.

“Damn.” He kicked dust with his boot. Hearing the snort of a horse, he walked around the side of the house, feeling like a trespasser. The bay with a white blaze down its nose that she’d ridden to the beaver dam stared at him over the top rail of the fence.

“Hi there,” Cooper greeted the horse. It shook its head and snorted, and he walked toward it, his mind elsewhere.

A jean-clad leg showed through the rails.

“Sammy Jo!”

Cooper ran the last few yards. She lay completely still, her cheek buried in dirt, her arms and legs flung wide. He vaulted the rail and was at her side in two ragged breaths, feeling for a pulse.

Her heart beat pure and strong. The wash of relief that engulfed him left him shaking. Groaning, Sammy Jo winced as her eyelids dragged open.

“Sammy Jo,” Cooper said. “Are you all right? Please tell me you’re all right.”

She slowly turned over. Another groan, louder. Cooper tried to stop her from moving, his hands on her shoulders.

“Oh, my head,” she moaned, squeezing her eyes closed.

“Did you fall? What happened?”

“I was riding Goldie and I…” She sucked in a breath. “Screwed up.”

Cooper wanted to shout with laughter and drag her close to his chest at the same time. “This might ruin your reputation as an accomplished horsewoman.”

“No more trick-riding,” she murmured as she struggled upward.