The Princess of Coldwater Flats (25 page)

“Whoa. Stay down a minute let me do some checking.”

Sammy Jo’s eyes flew open again and she inhaled sharply as Cooper’s hands ran down her arms, chest, hips and legs. “What kind of trick-riding were you doing?” he asked, his hands lingering lightly on her shins.

“How am I?”

“No broken bones.”

Cooper slid an arm around Sammy Jo’s shoulders. She waited a moment, gathering strength, before climbing to her feet. Her knees wobbled, and she hung onto Cooper as if he were a lifeline.

“Maybe I should take you to a doctor.”

“Oh, please. I just need to get into the house.” Sammy Jo stepped forward, grabbed hard for Cooper and winced. Looking down at her hand, she muttered, “My wrist.”

“It’s starting to swell. You must’ve sprained it.” He eyed her closely. “You’re as white as a sheet.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“We’ll let the doctor decide.”

Over her protests, he led her to his truck and drove her into the Coldwater Flats clinic. It was late, but the town’s doctor was still at work and willing to check Sammy Jo out. Cooper marveled at the continual surprises the small town offered.

“If we were in L.A., you’d have to check into the emergency room and hope the doctor would see you before Monday,” he told Sammy Jo as she headed for the clinic’s back rooms.

She smiled wanly.

An hour later, she returned to him, her wrist wrapped in an elastic bandage. Cooper liked it when the doctor told him the extent of Sammy Jo’s injuries—which amounted to bruises, scrapes and a sprained wrist—as if she somehow belonged to him. Sammy Jo, however, was clearly not as appreciative of the situation, if Cooper correctly interpreted the look she was giving both him and the doctor.

“She isn’t concussed,” the doctor finished. “But I think it would be a good idea to keep a watch on her.”

“I’m fine,” Sammy Jo insisted.

“I’ll stay with her,” Cooper told him.

Sammy Jo kept her silence as he drove her home, but when he tried to help her inside, she shook off his arm and walked to the couch on her own power. Once settled, she said clearly, “Thank you, Cooper, but I’m really okay. You don’t have to stay.”

“I want to stay.”

His concern touched a corner of her heart, but she fought to ignore it. “And they say I’m stubborn,” she mumbled.

“What kind of trick-riding?” he asked again, plumping a pillow behind her head. He was gratified to see color had returned to her face.

“Nothing.” She looked away, plucking at the tassel on a pillow, purposely avoiding his probing days.

“Don’t tell me you were
standing
on that horse. Or worse.”

“Was there a purpose to your visit? Besides your rescue, that is, which I’m grateful for.”

“Sammy Jo, for God’s sake.” Cooper prowled around the room in frustration. “What are you trying to do, kill yourself?”

Her lips parted. Sweet pink lips. He steeled himself for the spurt of fury bound to be forthcoming, but instead of answering, she went suddenly silent. Her jaw snapped shut.

“That
is
what you were doing, wasn’t it?”

“Of course not. I was just feeling reckless and out of sorts.”

“So you stood on the back of a running horse when no one was around? Perfect.”

“Well, it seemed like the last time I might be able to do it.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t marry Brent! And I’m going to lose the ranch. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about any of it.” Sammy Jo’s voice broke in spite of her resolve to control herself. Aching inside, she turned her face into the pillow, furious with herself and with Cooper for a whole passel of reasons.

The silence that followed stretched her nerves to breaking. “You and Brent have called it off?”

“I’ve been trying, believe me.” Her voice was muffled.

Cooper perched beside her. She inhaled his familiar scent and silently berated herself for being so susceptible. “What about the ranch?”

“The ranch,” she repeated bitterly. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“I don’t—” He cut himself off, gritting his teeth. “I don’t want to see you unhappy.”

“Too late.”

“What can I do to help?”

The words sounded torn from his soul. Sammy Jo risked a look into his blue eyes and saw only deep sincerity and concern. She licked her lips. “Is the offer still open?”

“Offer?”

“To be your mistress if you’d let me run the ranch. If your offer’s still on the table, I’d like to accept.”

“Sammy Jo…” Cooper automatically reached for her, but she fended him off.

“Answer me first. Please.” Her voice shook with determination and pain.

“Not a mistress. Jesus…”

“What, then?” she demanded.

“You don’t have to make that deal.” He felt slightly sick with himself, seeing it through her eyes.

“
What, then?
” she ground out. Cooper sought about for something to say, but when he couldn’t, she said intensely, “Didn’t you ask me what you could do to help? Well, I’m answering. Do we have a deal, or not?”

Cooper gazed down into her dirt-streaked, stubborn face. Her chin trembled, but she wouldn’t cry. He was caught off guard by an intense wave of emotion as Sammy Jo inched her chin higher, waiting for his reply.

He’d backed this brave, feisty woman into a corner and he hated himself for it. His offer, which he’d fooled himself into believing would be good for both of them, was cheap and dirty. It was a backroom deal, and she’d only agreed out of desperation.

Yet he was jubilant that she’d given up Rollins.

“Can we talk about this later?”

“I don’t have later, Mr. Ryan.” Her voice was stone.

Cooper mentally kicked himself for creating a situation he couldn’t get out of. If he tried to back out now, he’d destroy her pride entirely.

“Is it a deal?” she demanded again.

“It’s a deal,” he responded, and with that, Sammy Jo turned her back to him, falling into uneasy sleep after heaving one long, shuddering sigh that stabbed like a knife in Cooper’s chest.

A knock on the back door brought Cooper out of a self-induced daze. He’d been watching Sammy Jo’s breathing, determined to stay and make sure she was all right, no matter that she would undoubtedly chew his ear off for his concern as soon as she awakened.

Looking up, Cooper saw it was Carl, Sammy Jo’s hired hand. Quietly he got to his feet, walked across the room, slowly opened the squeaking screen door and joined Carl on the back porch.

“I’m done for the day,” the older man said, patting his pockets for the crumpled pack of cigarettes. Putting one to his lips, he mumbled, “But I think this might be my last day. Sammy Jo inside?”

“She’s asleep. She had a fall off a horse.”

“Don’t sound much like Sammy Jo. Is she all right?”

“I’m kind of keeping an eye on her.”

Frowning, Carl said, “Wish I’d been here. I was up untanglin’ one of the cows from some old barbed wire. A real mess. The animal bawlin’ and jumpin’. But she’s unhurt.” Carl hesitated, his frown lines deepening into dark crevices. “I got a job over in Prineville with a construction company. I know Sammy Jo’ll pay me when she can, but I gotta take this job now.”

“Sammy Jo and I have agreed to become business partners,” Cooper said slowly. “If you come over to my place tomorrow, I’ll bring your wages up-to-date.”

“You sure?” His expression lightened. “I mean, I don’t want to upset Sammy Jo. She don’t like charity.”

“It’s not charity, believe me,” Cooper said dryly.

“I sure could use the money.”

Cooper walked to the barn with him to where the man’s beat-up truck was parked next to an equally dilapidated tractor. As Carl climbed inside the truck, he seemed to develop second thoughts.

“I thought Sammy Jo was marryin’ Brent Rollins. How come you’re her business partner?”

“That marriage might not come off,” Cooper revealed, stepping back so Carl could reverse. The truck’s engine bumped and throbbed and missed. Carl had to give it some serious gas while throwing it into reverse. Cooper unlatched the gate, and the vehicle departed in a plume of dust.

He entered the house, looked down at his dust-covered boots and decided to take them off. In stocking feet, he returned to where Sammy Jo lay on the couch. The doctor didn’t think she had a concussion, but Cooper didn’t want to take chances.

Sighing, he sank onto the couch beside her. The cushions depressed beneath his weight. A part of him wanted to just pull her into his arms, but, knowing Sammy Jo, the struggle was bound to be an out-and-out battle, and he was uncertain she was up to it. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t fight like the devil, of course. The woman was too stubborn for her own good.

Checking her breathing, he thought about waking her up. Her color was still improving. A good sign. Stroking her hair away from her cheek, he murmured, “Sammy Jo?”

She heaved a deep sigh and pushed at him ineffectively to leave her alone. Cooper chuckled. An even better sign.

“I just want to make sure you’re all right,” he told her softly.

Long moments passed while he listened to her rhythmic breathing. He loved the sound of it. Glancing at her earlobe, he examined the way it lay against her neck. Pink and soft, it invited exploration, and Cooper, where Sammy Jo was concerned, had no resistance. He gently kissed her ear.

She swatted at him again. “Go ‘way.”

“Only if you open your eyes and let me look at you.”

Slowly Sammy Jo lifted her gold-tipped lashes and stared at him through those intense emerald eyes.

“Pupils aren’t dilated,” he commented.

She arched an eyebrow. “What is this?”

“You seem okay. I’m glad.”

Snorting, she glanced away. “You can go now.” Her color heightened and Cooper was transfixed by the way the rosy glow climbed up her neck and flamed her cheeks.

Without thinking about it, he leaned over and kissed her lips, lightly. “To seal our bargain,” he told her.

She wanted to be mad. Her lips pursed, and she turned away. But he heard her rapid breathing and knew her heart rate had increased. Fascinated, he kissed her again. This time, her lips parted, the tip of her tongue touching his.

“I think you should leave,” she said.

“Do you?”

“Immediately, if not sooner.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“I’m fine, Cooper. Really.” She moved her arms and legs to show him. “I’ve just got a sore wrist and a bump on my head.”

“Where?”

She pointed to the back of her head. His fingers delved into her luxurious mane, the strands silky smooth and slick. She sucked in a breath when he encountered a knot.

“Ouch,” he agreed.

“Damn right!”

“Kiss me, Sammy Jo.”

“Cooper, go away. I mean it.” She struggled upward, but he held her shoulders down with gentle yet firm pressure.

“Relax. You’ve got a bruise forming on her left cheek, too.” His thumb grazed the swelling, but instead of flinching, Sammy Jo looked down at his throat, as if unable to meet his gaze any longer. “What are we doing?” he asked huskily, then kissed her again, harder.

Her body tensed, then slowly, painstakingly, she lifted her arms, sliding her hands up his forearms and biceps, inviting his embrace.

It was sheer madness, the kind Sammy Jo couldn’t afford to indulge in, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Her mind was a jumble of impressions. His hair-roughened jaw, rock-hard muscles beneath a blue denim work shirt, surprisingly soft lips pressed against hers with driving pressure. She wanted him in a liquid, melting, demanding way that she couldn’t control. As of their own volition, her legs shifted, her body turned, forming an unspoken invitation he couldn’t help but understand.

And then he was lying atop her, balancing his weight on his forearms so that all she felt were his hips hot against hers and the lightest pressure as the tips of her breasts grazed his chest.

She groaned, low and needy. Cooper answered by gently rotating his hips in a slow-motion circle that had her throbbing and anxious so fast it was embarrassing.

“Cooper,” she breathed, pulse pounding.

He kissed her throat, her cheek, the lobe of her ear, his breath ragged and hot. Shifting position, he pulled her on top of him, his fingers digging at the buttons of her shirt.

She slowly shook her head, fighting in spite of her body’s raging need.

“Let me,” he whispered.

With a sigh, she gave in, collapsing on his chest as he pulled off her shirt and deftly unhooked her bra. Then she lay against him, bare-chested, and suddenly the tiny buttons on his shirt were too much to bear. With a kind of studied determination, she undid the row of buttons down the front of his shirt, her almost clinical detachment too much for Cooper. His mouth reached up to hers. She kissed him and he dragged her breasts against his bare chest, his hips thrusting upward.

There was no time after that. In moments they were both naked. Cooper tried to go slowly, but Sammy Jo wouldn’t let him.

“I have condoms,” he managed to gasp out this time, and she released him just long enough to let him grab one and put it on. She couldn’t keep playing with fire, and yet even being with him would get her scorched.

But for this moment she didn’t care. She demanded his possession. But when he pressed her down, she turned the tables and slid atop him. His hands dug into her buttocks, pulling her down on his shaft. She moved instinctively, feeling the sweet torture building, closing her eyes. When he suckled her breast a rush of feeling shot through her, so intense she was afraid she might be burned. Crying out, she collapsed against his chest, then was gratified moments later when his deep groan and shuddering release answered her passion.