The Princess of Coldwater Flats (28 page)

Sammy Jo walked along the stream path, eyeing the embedded stars with disdain. What a legacy. Rodeo princess eternal; queen for several years. And not a dime to her name.

Oh, sure. She’d sold the livestock and she’d made a point of being paid in cash and then dumping the bag of money on Matt Durning’s desk. Childish. Not really Matt’s fault. But it had felt good for the moment, and Sammy Jo needed to feel good about something, no matter how fleeting the sensation.

So, okay, she was done. Trigger awaited her at the house. And Goldie was still there, though Josh Johnson had purchased her and promised to take a good care of her. Josh had told Sammy Jo she could keep the quarter horse until she was really good and ready to leave town.

“Hate to see you leave,” he told her as they’d shaken hands to finalize their agreement. “What’s Coldwater Flats without Sammy Jo Whalen?”

“I can’t stay, Josh. You understand.”

His eyes were full of sympathy. “Yeah.”

Brent had stopped by, full of regret. “You should have made Durning toss you out by force.”

She almost laughed at that. Brent? Suggesting she defy authority? Maybe there was more to him than she’d originally thought.

“It didn’t have to come to this, Sammy Jo,” he told her sadly.

“Yes, it did, Brent.”

She hadn’t thought of Cooper once. Well, okay, she’d thought of him, but she’d driven those unworthy memories from her mind each time they popped in. It wasn’t really his fault any more than it was hers. She just hated making such serious mistakes. Hated admitting that she, Sammy Jo Whalen, was capable of mega-idiocy where men were concerned. She, who’d always been so in control.

Sighing, she kicked at one of the stars, scuffing it with her boot. She’d been living like a fairytale princess, believing in her own infallibility and innate ability to choose a prince when the time was right.

She groaned, ran her fingers through her loose hair, then drew a deep, cleansing breath. Okay. She’d made some major errors. But every ending was a beginning, right? Some sap had spouted that wisdom somewhere, and by God, she was going to make herself believe it if it killed her.

Checking her watch, she realized she was late in meeting Tess. Tess wanted to talk, and Sammy Jo had put her off and put her off. The conversation was bound to be about Cooper, and Sammy Jo wasn’t in the mood.

But now there was no reason not to see her friend. She needed to say goodbye, anyway, so she’d called and left a message that she would meet Tess for lunch.

The lobby of Valley Federal was a cool, blessed relief from the early-August heat. Sammy Jo strode inside, her booted footsteps echoing familiarly. For once, she didn’t pound over to Matt Durning’s desk but instead turned to tellers’ row. Tess waved, but she was helping a customer. Sammy Jo seated herself in a wooden chair and tried not to dwell on her predicament.

Cooper hadn’t called. She’d tossed him out and apparently he’d actually listen this time.

Swinging her jean-clad leg, she sighed, ran her hands through her hair and tried to fight that depressing thought.
Did you think he’d come back for more?
her nagging conscience demanded.
How many times can you tell someone to get lost before they finally do it?

“Hey!” Tess appeared, slightly breathless, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “Let’s head over to the High Noon.”

“It’s a little early for beer,” Sammy Jo said without much interest.

“They make a great burgers, though.”

The High Noon was filled with a rough-looking lunch crowd. Sam smiled at Sammy Jo and Tess as they grabbed a little table at the far end of the poolroom.

“I heard you sold everything just like that.” Tess snapped her fingers. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”

“I didn’t feel like answering the phone.”

“Are you all right? Sammy Jo, this isn’t like you.”

Sammy Jo laughed without humor. “Cooper was right. I was out of options. I just didn’t know it. Tess, I didn’t have a choice.”

“I saw Cooper come into the bank and afterward Matt said you and he were in partnership together. But then…‌?” Tess waited for Sammy Jo to fill in the blanks.

Sammy Jo looked at her friend. Why not tell her? What did she have to lose now? “You want the whole story.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tess said, settling back in her chair.

It took Sammy Jo the better part of Tess’s hour lunch break to explain the events that had led up to her decision. It wasn’t all that long a story, but Sammy Jo found it difficult to admit her feelings for Cooper. It was even harder to tell about their lovemaking, though she tried to gloss over it, Tess pounced on what Sammy Jo “didn’t” say.

“Oh. My. God. You two did it!”

“Shh!”

“No wonder you’re such a wreck.”

“What do you mean?” Sammy Jo demanded.

“You’re in love with him and you don’t even know it. Oh. My. God!” She gasped again. “This could be the answer.”

“You think I should have agreed to be his mistress to save the ranch?” Sammy Jo demanded.

Tess rolled her eyes. “Oh, for goodness sakes. Get over that. Have you thought about his feelings? Don’t you see what’s happening?”

“He wants the Triple R.”

Tess shook her head. “He’s trying to tie you up all over the place. Making you his partner instead of waiting until you went under. If all he wanted was the ranch, he’d just sit pretty until Matt foreclosed on you.”

There was a certain logic there, but Sammy Jo didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t. Trusting in people’s good natures had never worked in the past.

“There’s something else I want to talk to you about, though,” Tess added.

“I can hardly wait,” Sammy Jo murmured, responding to Tess’s serious tone.

“Matt got a call from Peter Whalen.”

“Uncle Peter?”
Sammy Jo’s blood ran cold. “When?”

“I wasn’t supposed to know, but when I heard your last name, well…” she made a face. “I think he’s hoping he can buy up the Triple R.”

“Good old Uncle Peter,” Sammy Jo said through her teeth, boiling inside.

“If you don’t want him to have it, you’d better go find Cooper Ryan.”

Sammy Jo didn’t remember the rest of the conversation. She paid the check by rote and walked Tess back to the bank.
I shouldn’t care
, she told herself.
It’s over
. But it wasn’t over. Not with Uncle Peter.

She drove to Serenity and barged through the front door without knocking. Lettie looked up in surprise. “Hello there, Sammy Jo. Did Mr. Ryan find you?”

“Was he looking for me?”

“He went over to the Triple R.”

Sammy Jo left without another word, wondering what Cooper could possibly have to say to her. But he wasn’t at the house when she arrived, and though she strode outside and hollered his name, he was nowhere on her property.

Think, think, think!

Drawing a deep breath, Sammy Jo whistled to Trigger, then the two of them walked up the lane to the remains of the oak tree. Her mind raced. How could she live with herself if Uncle Peter ended up with her beloved ranch? It was bad enough she’d lost it.
But to him?

“I’d rather let Cooper have the ranch,” she said aloud. He’d offered to let her run it. He’d blamed her for overreacting to the mistress bit. Sammy Jo bit into her bottom lip. Maybe she had overreacted. Or maybe she’d acted that way because deep down inside she hoped…‌prayed…‌
dreamed
there might be a marriage proposal lurking around somewhere.

“Pathetic,” she muttered. But if she were willing to swallow her pride, she could work with Cooper.

It was time for some heavy decision-making.

THE PRINCESS OF COLDWATER FLATS — NANCY BUSH

Chapter Twelve

Tracking Sammy Jo Whalen all day had been easy; everyone remembered seeing her and they were quick to tell Cooper what she’d been wearing, what time it was they’d seen her and how sorry they were about her losing that ranch of hers. With scarcely a wrong turn, Cooper had ended up at the bank and talked to Tess, who bent his ear for half an hour about Sammy Jo and the miserable state of her affairs and how he ought to pay attention to his heart and stop making so damn many mistakes.

And then Matt Durning had called him over for another enlightening conversation. Now, hours later, it was growing dark and he was standing at the rail that divided his property from Sammy Jo’s staring across at the soft yellow light beaming from the windows of her house.

Sammy Jo…‌

Turning back to his house, he strode quickly inside and snatched up the sheaf of papers awaiting him on the kitchen table. He rolled up the papers and shoved them into his back pocket. Halfway to his truck, his mouth quirked grimly as he realized she would likely kick his rear end back to Serenity, cursing him all the while, as soon as he started talking. She wouldn’t want to hear one more “deal.” He couldn’t blame her.

But this was the deal of a lifetime.

The hot night breeze fanned Sammy Jo’s flushed cheeks as she sat beside the charred oak. The scent of burned wood still permeated everything. Inhaling deeply, Sammy Jo tried not to mind too much.

“You would hate this,” she said aloud, shooting a glance toward the heavens and her misguided father, rest his soul.

Sammy Jo’s mouth twisted in self-deprecation. All these weeks and months doing her darndest to save the place from the likes of Cooper Ryan and
wham!
Her worst enemy had been waiting in the wings, ready to strike. Peter Whalen had just bided his time until Sammy Jo burned through her last option.

But she wasn’t out of the game yet.

Standing, Sammy Jo brushed off the back of her jeans. Trigger climbed to her feet and looked up at Sammy Jo expectantly.

“It’s time to face the music,” Sammy Jo murmured to the dog, whose tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth. Cooper had been looking for her earlier. Now it was her turn to look for him.

Before Sammy Jo had taken three steps toward the house, the rumble of a truck’s engine cut into the still night, stopping Sammy Jo in her tracks. Twin beams of headlights bounced down her lane. She braced herself, half expecting Peter Whalen to step out of the cab and grin like the devil, gloating in his triumph.

But it was Cooper’s black truck that headed toward her. Her heart leaped in spite of herself.

Spying her, he pulled to a stop beside the tree. Trigger barked and wagged her tail in greeting as Cooper climbed from the cab and came around the truck to where Sammy Jo stood.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, bending down to scratch the Border collie’s ears.

“Actually, I wanted to see you, too.”

He shot her a glance, difficult to read in the darkness. “As I recall, you told me you’d kill me if I ever stepped foot on your property again. Or words to that effect.”

Sammy Jo’s gaze swept over him. His shirt was white, glowing in the evening shadows. He was leaning negligently against the truck, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed at his chest. A faint strip of moonlight gleamed off his belt buckle. Tonight, his ubiquitous cowboy hat was missing, leaving his dark hair to ruffle in the faint, evening breeze.

“I went to L.A.,” he said. “To finalize some business. And I met with my ex-wife, Pamela.”

“Oh?” Sammy Jo scarcely dared breathe. What was this all about? Any previous reference to the notorious Pamela had been said with anger or disgust. Much as Gil had referred to Sammy Jo’s mother.

“It was the first time I could look at her without thinking what a bitch she was. Not that she isn’t a bitch,” he added, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness. “But I don’t know. It was different this time. I just didn’t care anymore.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I haven’t been fair to you. I’ve made a lot of remarks about women and marriage and things.” He sighed. “None of it really had anything to do with you.”

Sammy Jo wasn’t sure what to make of this confession. “Well, I’ve got something I want to say to you, too.”

“About?”

“My remarks on being your…‌mistress,” she struggled to get out.

“Oh, let’s not get into that. Please. I’m tired, and I don’t want to fight.”