The Princess of Coldwater Flats (26 page)

* * *

They made love again. He wouldn’t leave, and she stopped asking. The second time was more deliberate, and Sammy Jo learned things about herself that had her blushing and Cooper grinning like an idiot.

He stayed until dawn, and when Sammy Jo’s stomach growled, he got up and dressed and made her some toast, which was burned and smothered in butter and which Sammy Jo ate as if it were the most delicious meal she’d ever had.

Wiping crumbs from the corner of her mouth, she dragged the afghan closer to her chest, vulnerable now that he was dressed and she was still nude. “Thanks. I should hire you to cook for me.”

“That’s the extent of my culinary skills, I’m afraid,” he said in his familiar drawl. She loved the sound of his voice.

Pulling the blanket up to her collarbone, she gripped it tightly. “And thanks for finding me yesterday. I was feeling…‌kind of low…‌.”

“My pleasure.”

The husky throb of amusement in his voice bothered her. Was he laughing at her? “Well, I should get dressed.”

“Go ahead.”

She flushed. “I don’t want you to watch me.”

“You watched me,” he said.

It was true. When he’d gotten up from the couch, she’d feasted on the sight of his muscular back and legs and been almost sorry when he’d slipped into his jeans. Except his jeans rode low on his hips and were damn sexy-looking.

“I don’t want you to watch me. So, go in the kitchen, or something. Carl will be here soon and I want to have some clothes on, if you don’t mind.”

He rubbed his unshaven jaw. Sammy Jo followed the slow action, shocked at the feeling even his simplest movement seemed to stir up inside her. “Actually, Carl won’t be here today.”

“Why?”

“He got offered a construction job and decided to take it.”

“Oh. He wanted to be paid,” she said, an attempt at humor that fell flat. She could hear her bitterness.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get somebody else.”

We
. That’s right. Last night they’d agreed on a partnership in which she was his mistress. Her heart sank. She’d forgotten. She’d made herself forget last night in the heat of passion. She’d wanted him too much, and she’d sacrificed her pride. Sick. She felt physically sick.

“I need to pay Carl,” she murmured dully.

“Taken care of.”

His proprietary tone scraped her nerves. He was so miserably sure of himself. “You paid him?”

“He’s stopping by my place today for the entire amount.”

“You told him about our…‌arrangement?”

Cooper’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Could he hear the throb of rebellion and anger in her voice? Undoubtedly. She made no attempt to hide it.

“I told him we were business partners.”

“Kind of makes it sound legitimate, doesn’t it?”

“What the hell’s eating you?”

Sammy Jo ground her teeth together, dragging her gaze from the dark chest hairs and lean-hipped male in front of her. She wanted to scream. She hated herself for wanting him so much. What was she, crazy?

The answer came again, with the speed and force and unexpectancy of a bullet: she loved him.
Loved him!
She, Sammy Jo Whalen, the cold, the proud, the princess…‌had fallen in love. Fallen in love with a man who could hurt her. No. Worse. Fallen in love with a man to whom she’d
handed over
the power to hurt her.

A vision of her rising beneath him, begging him to make love to her, consumed her with visceral disgust and horror. She couldn’t hold on to the thought; it was too terrible. She shied away, seeking some other explanation, but it was plain in its horror and simplicity. Love had reduced her to this. The type of woman she most abhorred.

He made a move toward her, a bare shift in her direction, and she jumped back, arms clamped around the blanket as if expecting him to yank it off her. Cooper frowned.

“What’s going through your head?” Cooper demanded.

“I have to talk to Brent,” she babbled. “Right away. I’ve got to be clear on this. You understand.”

“No, I don’t,” he said tersely. “What do you mean?”

“I just…‌I need to be alone. Please. I just need to be alone.”

“You’re acting like I’m going to…‌I don’t know…‌attack you, or something.”

If he came too close to her, she didn’t know what she’d do. She didn’t trust herself anymore. She’d never been in love before, and she didn’t like it one bit. She felt vulnerable, anxious, totally unlike herself.

“I’ve got some things I’ve got to do, too,” Cooper said, staring at her thoughtfully. “I’ll be back later. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” With an effort, she pasted on a crooked smile.

“I don’t see a dimple,” Cooper stated flatly, confusing Sammy Jo, but he snatched up his shirt and hat, and she didn’t ask any further questions.

He stopped, looked at her hard, then shook his head. “We’ll hammer out the details later. You won’t be sorry, Sammy Jo. This is going to work out for both of us.”

The rumble of his truck’s engine filled the room and reached into Sammy Jo’s bones. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. She was completely immersed in inner turmoil that made her feel weak, breathless and soul-sick.

“I’ve sold out,” she said in a small voice to the empty room, and tears burned so hot in her eyes that she bit hard into her lip until it bled.

THE PRINCESS OF COLDWATER FLATS — NANCY BUSH

Chapter Eleven

“He’s out selling the Granger place,” Connie revealed when Sammy Jo walked into the real estate office and inquired about her soon-to-be-ex-fiancé. “You know the Grangers. Ever since they built that shopping center, ranching hasn’t been on their mind at all.”

Granger Ranch was a small one on the opposite end of town from the Triple R. Sammy Jo had never been too impressed with it, but that was due more to a function of the owners’ upkeep and interest than the parcel of land itself.

“I’ll catch up with him there,” Sammy Jo told her.

“Hopefully your face will heal before the wedding. He’s real excited about it!” Connie grinned.

“Oh?”

“He’s been cheerful as a canary.”

Sammy Jo shook off her bad feelings as she strode to her pickup. Kicking the door hard several times, she yanked it open and vowed to herself one more time to get it fixed.

She drove straight to Granger Ranch, practicing in her mind all the things she would say to Brent. But her head felt stuffed with cotton and by the time she was walking up the concrete stairs to the front stoop, a nagging headache had developed.

“Hello, there, Sammy Jo,” Mrs. Granger greeted her. She was a heavyset woman with iron-gray hair and a sweet smile. “You looking for Brent?”

“Is he here?”

“Sure is.”

She held open the door, and Sammy Jo stepped inside. The whole place seemed sort of forlorn and forgotten. With a sinking feeling, Sammy Jo realized the Triple R wasn’t far behind in that.

Brent was outside, talking to “Eagle-Eye” Granger, as Tommy Weatherwood and friends had dubbed him after Granger had caught him sneaking beer from the grocery store’s back loading ramp when they were still underage. Spying Sammy Jo, Brent waved and broke away.

“Hi, there,” he said, his smile of greeting fading when he saw Sammy Jo’s sober expression and bruises.

“Can we talk?”

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked reaching for her face.

Sammy Jo flinched away. “I took a tumble off Goldie, it’s not too bad.”

“You look serious,” he said.

“I am,” Sammy Jo admitted.

Brent extricated himself with speed and walked Sammy Jo out the front of the house where sunlight glinted blindingly off his red sports car. “It’s over, isn’t it?” he said before Sammy Jo could even begin. She was too taken aback to answer immediately, but her silence was answer enough. Brent’s expression darkened. “It’s really over.”

Sammy Jo lifted her shoulders, feeling terrible. “I wanted it to work. I really did.”

“But you changed your mind.”

“I got cold feet. I—”

“Sure it wasn’t Cooper Ryan?”

Sammy Jo stared into Brent’s eyes, knowing he could see way too much on her face. “I’m not selling him the ranch. And no matter what you may hear, I’m not in partnership with him.”

“So it’s just me, huh?” Brent looked away, upset. She could tell he was fighting for control.

“Actually, I think it’s me. I’ve always been a pain in the ass, you know that.” She laughed shortly. “And lately I’ve been making some mistakes that are doozies. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

“Well, Sammy Jo, I wish I could say good luck and all that, but it’s not in me.”

“I’m sorry, Brent.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

He climbed into his car and drove away, carefully, probably to keep the dust from ruining the sports car’s bright-red finish. Or maybe just to keep his temper in check.

Rubbing her temple, Sammy Jo grimaced as she yanked on the pickup’s door handle. She drove straight to the bank, deciding to take all her bitter pills at once.

“Matt’s with a customer,” Donna told her quickly, eyeing her bruised face. She half rose from her chair as if expecting Sammy Jo to charge past her again. Truth to tell, Sammy Jo just didn’t have the energy today.

“I’ll wait.” Sinking into a chair, she snatched up the latest edition of the
Corral
. No headlines about her today. A nice surprise, she thought ironically.

It took the better part of an hour, but for once Sammy Jo wasn’t squirming with anxiety and annoyance. She just wanted to be left alone.

Tess signaled at Sammy Jo to come over to tellers’ row. Sammy Jo shook her head and mouthed, “Later”.

Finally, Matt strode out with his client, a tiny, white-haired woman with a silver cane and a bulldog expression. Matt looked slightly worse for wear, as if the woman had come out the victor instead of Valley Federal.

Not good
, Sammy Jo thought grimly. He wasn’t going to be in any mood for her news.

Spying her, he said, “Sammy Jo,” with absolutely zero enthusiasm. Did he already know? She didn’t think Brent had had time to tell him, but maybe he’d beelined to the bank to cut her out of his life.

“Hi, Matt. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”

He sighted and gestured for her to follow him to his desk. She sank into one of the chairs, holding on to the last shreds of her composure.

“You look terrible, Sammy Jo,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Who gave you that bruise?”

Sammy Jo’s hand flew to her cheek. For the first time that day, she actually smiled. “Goldie. My horse. No, that’s not fair. I gave this little trophy to myself.”

“And the wrist, too?” At Sammy Jo’s nod, he asked, “So what’s the bad news?”

“I guess you haven’t seen Brent yet, then. He and I called off our engagement. Looks like the Triple R’s not going to be rescued.”

Matt looked nonplussed. He smoothed back his hair. “I thought you were in partnership with Cooper Ryan.”

“What?” Sammy Jo froze.

“He stopped by here today and said you and he are in business together. Naturally, I asked him about Brent, but he said this deal was between him and you.”

Sammy Jo stared at him, her hands balled into fists. “Cooper Ryan came by to tell you that he and I made a deal?”

The words sounded far away. The voice wasn’t her own. Sammy Jo couldn’t believe what a fool she’d been. He hadn’t even waited before he’d barreled over her. And she’d let him. No.
Begged
him. She could hear the little sounds of pleasure and begging moans she’d uttered in the name of passion and love and wanted to clap her hands over her ears.

“Sammy Jo, are you okay?” Matt asked anxiously.

“Perfect.”

The coldness of her tone didn’t invite further conversation. She got to her feet, head pounding, and twisted on her heel. Then she turned back. “Cooper Ryan and I have no deal, you understand?
No deal.
As far as I’m concerned, Valley Federal owns the Triple R now. I’ll start packing.”

Matt Durning’s executive mouth dropped open as Sammy Jo stormed out of the bank, the sound of her determined voice still ringing throughout the room.

Cooper whistled as he went about his chores. He was going to have to hire more help. With his place and the Triple R as one working ranch, it was going to be a whole lot more than either he or Sammy Jo could handle.