The Princess of Coldwater Flats (4 page)

“Damn,” Cooper murmured, but his one slight imprecation couldn’t match the stream of profanity that suddenly issued from Sammy Jo’s lips. Cooper leaped over the fence with nearly as much grace as the cow. Unfortunately, he landed knee-high in the stream, and his one tiny, “Damn,” changed to language almost as ear-singeing as Sammy Jo’s.

“You!” Sammy Jo yelled, recognizing him as she stalked furiously toward the fence.

“I’ll get the cow,” Cooper said as he staved her off.

“Yeah? How? It took off like a jackrabbit, and if history repeats itself, the damn thing’ll send my cattle frantically in all directions. Is that Bambi-wannabe your piece of livestock, Mr. Ryan?”

“Look, I’m selling off the Limousins as soon as—”

“So,
you’re
Serenity’s new owner?”

“That’s right, and I’ll make sure I make it up to you. I just need a little time and—”

“Just get that thing off my property,” Sammy Jo snapped, hands on her hips. “And then do the same yourself!”

Cooper stared. He hadn’t expected her to be out-and-out rude. “That’s the thanks I get for helping you today?”

“Helping me?” The tone of her voice warned of danger.

“At the bank.”

“The bank?”
Her lashes narrowed. “All I saw was interference.”

“Fine,” Cooper said, sorry he’d brought it up. “I’ll get Jack, and we’ll chase down the cow.”

“I’ll get the pickup. I know where they all are.”

“I don’t want your help,” Cooper said, annoyed.

“Too bad.”

She stomped off toward the house. Cooper waded back through the stream, climbed the fence and stalked toward his own house, full of growing fury. Okay, so the cow had leaped the fence again. Big deal. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t going to take care of it, for God’s sake.

He slammed through the back door. “Limousin’s jumped the fence,” he growled to Jack who was standing by the stove, examining the stew his wife was stirring.

“Lemme get my hat,” Jack said, following after Cooper. “Does Sammy Jo know?”

He couldn’t quite hide his anxiety, and that annoyed Cooper even more. “She knows,” he muttered through his teeth.

“Bad luck,” Jack said, and that was really all there was to say about that.

An hour and a half later, Jack had the pesky cow by a halter and lead rope and was trying to lead her into the back of one of Serenity Ranch’s trucks. The stubborn beast was having none of it, so grumbling all the way, Jack led the cow down the Triple R’s long driveway and then back up the adjoining driveway to Serenity Ranch.

That left Cooper standing in Sammy Jo’s front yard with the Triple R’s blonde owner beside him.

“Sorry for all the trouble,” he told her.

They’d barely spoken three words to each other during the search. Still, he’d given her his first name and she hadn’t seemed to mind that he called her Sammy Jo.

“So, you bought the Riggs place, huh?” She brushed blond strands away from her face. Several strands clung to her lips, drawing Cooper’s unwilling gaze to a pink mouth set in stubborn lines.

She was too damn pretty for someone so prickly, he thought. “Yup.”

She gave him the once-over, from the top of his dirt-spattered cowboy hat to the tips of his worn boots. When her green eyes met his, they were cloudy and full of mistrust.

“Lettie says you hail from California.”

Her tone suggested he was probably an ax murderer. “That’s right.”

“And you’ve…‌retired…‌to Serenity Ranch?”

“Not retired. I plan to expand the current operation.”

“But you’re a corporate farmer.”

Mistrust wasn’t a strong enough word. The lady’s voice dripped sarcasm and disgust. “Why do I get the feeling that’s a dirty word?”

She was frank. “Because it is.”

“Ahh…”

“Look, Cooper,” she said coolly. “I’ve got things to do. As you’ve heard, I’m in a bit of a money bind. I can’t waste time talking to the neighbors. Good luck to you, and I’m sure by the next time we meet, you’ll have built a taller fence…”

“Have you had dinner?” he asked quickly, before he thought.

Sammy Jo slid him and assessing look. “No. Why?”

“Thought I might take you out. Try to pay you back for all the trouble.”

“What are you really after, Mr. Ryan?”

“It was Cooper a minute ago,” he reminded her. “And all I want is to even the scales.”

“They’re even.”

She was one stubborn piece of work, Cooper concluded, wondering why in the world he was trying so hard. There was no chance for friendship. He didn’t want it anyway. He just wanted the ranch.

“I’ve had a hell of a day,” she said. “I had a piece of broken fence that I’ve just finished jerry-rigging together. I’ve got a lot of other chores, and I’m tired. Why don’t you just…‌go away?”

For reasons he couldn’t explain, he wanted her to just give in. “If you won’t accept my invitation tonight, then we’ll do it later. I mean to have my way,” he told her.

That comment earned him her full attention. She walked right up to him, and if she’d been six inches taller, they would have been standing nose to nose.

“That’s the first thing you’ve said tonight that I totally believe. I bet you mean to
always
have your way.”

“What did I do to get you so riled up?”

“I just got a feeling about you, and I trust my feelings. Good night, Mr. Ryan…‌Cooper,” she corrected herself. Then, to Cooper’s intense surprise, a dimple suddenly peeked out beneath her stern countenance, cute and sweet and entirely at odds with Sammy Jo Whalen’s rigid manner.

Before he could respond, she’d walked up to her door and shut it behind her, and he was left alone in her front yard, surrounded by summer heat, the lusty song of the crickets and a powerful need to know a lot more about the owner of the Triple R.

A lot more…‌

THE PRINCESS OF COLDWATER FLATS — NANCY BUSH

Chapter Two

A second trip to the bank proved as fruitless as the first. Sammy Jo waited impatiently in one of Matt Durning’s client chairs while he spoke on the phone to another of the bank’s VIP customers, or at least that’s what it sounded like based on Matt’s wheedling tones.

“I’ll have Glenda express those forms to you today, and never mind about the appraisal fees.” Matt smiled as if the VIP were sitting in front of him. “We’ll take care of everything…‌.”

He hung up and stared blankly over Sammy Jo’s head, a million miles away. She said distinctly, “I believe we were having a conversation before you were interrupted by that phone call.”

He jumped visibly. “Sorry, Sammy Jo. Where were we?”

“If you can’t remember, I think we’re already done.” She got to her feet. Today she was dressed in a white peasant blouse, skirt, and cowboy boots an attempt at showing Matt Durning she could be a lady when she felt like it. But it had been wasted effort. Matt had barely glanced her way except to frown at her beloved cowboy boots as they’d clattered across the plankwood floor.

“If I could help, Sammy Jo, I would,” he said sincerely.

“Thanks.”

Passing Glenda’s desk, she gave the secretary a faint shake of her head. Glenda was tapping a lighter against her desk as she waved Sammy Jo over.

“Test was negative.” Glenda revealed. “I’m so relieved.”

Sammy Jo managed a smile. “Smoking’s still going to kill you.”

“So far, nothing’s forced me to stop yet, but it’s coming. Oh, and honey, Carl will be there tomorrow if you still need him.”

“I most certainly do.”

“Good luck,” Glenda said, meaning it.

Tess waved Sammy Jo over to her teller’s window. “Have you met your new neighbor yet?” she asked.

“Yes.” Sammy Jo’s voice was dry.

“And?”

“And nothing,” she told her sternly.

“Handsome as the devil and twice as rich.” Tess waggled her eyebrows, and Sammy Jo couldn’t help laughing.

“Give it up, Tess. I’ve got a heap of trouble already. But you’re welcome to him. As I understand it, he’s available.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, he asked me to dinner, and I didn’t get the impression it was to meet his wife.”

“He asked you to dinner?” Her brown eyes sparked with anticipation.

“Don’t make more of this than there is,” Sammy Jo warned, mentally kicking herself for giving Tess more ammunition. “His cattle jumped the fence, and we had a heck of a time separating mine from his. The invitation was offered as a thank-you.”

“Sammy Jo, this is perfect. If he thinks he owes you something, maybe you can get him to invest in the Triple R. I mean, the man’s a philanthropist, for Pete’s sake. I heard Matt talking. Mr. Cooper’s got lots of money and he plans to invest it all right here in Coldwater Flats.”

“Mr. Ryan,” Sammy Jo corrected.

“Ask him for a loan. If he feels guilty enough, maybe he’ll help you.”

“Dream on.”

“Hey, it’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

“No one in their right mind is going to lend a virtual stranger two hundred thousand dollars just because they need it.”

“Then
get
to know him. He doesn’t have to be a stranger forever.”

“Forget it, Tess. There’s got to be another way.”

“When you think of it, let me know.”

Sammy Jo walked into the hot afternoon, wishing for a breeze. The air was chokingly hot and still as death. Drawing a breath, she climbed into the pickup, then stared through the windshield, completely at a loss. What should she do? What
could
she do?

Praying for divine intervention, she drove home slowly, passing all the familiar landmarks of Coldwater Flats: the split-rail fence that surrounded the shopping center; the ancient clock tower, which was annually adorned with a six-foot high cowboy hat over the Fourth of July; the walk along the creek, which edged the little town with its metal, inlaid stars, denoting the names of rodeo queens all the way back to 1968. Yup. It was a great place to live.

What am I going to do?

Passing the lane to the Riggs place—she could hardly stand to call it Serenity Ranch, and it sure didn’t feel like Cooper Ryan’s spread yet—Sammy Jo slowed to a stop, letting the engine idle. As she recalled that last conversation with Cooper, she actually shuddered, still acutely embarrassed. Why had she smiled? She knew why. She’d found him attractive in an untamed, hard sort of way.

“Blast it,” she cursed softly, remembering how she’d kicked herself for not accepting his dinner invitation, how she’d lain awake all night, tossing and turning and worrying and thinking about her new neighbor. He’d looked so taken aback and kind of cute when she’d flat-out refused him, as if he’d never been turned down by a woman before.

And what if she had gone out with him? He’d said it was just a thank-you. Why hadn’t she agreed to go? Hell, she could use a free meal, if nothing else.

Because he’s trouble. I feel it already.

Sammy Jo threw the pickup in gear and bumped onto her own lane. She wasn’t superstitious or particularly religious, but she trusted her instincts implicitly. And man trouble she didn’t need.

Halfway down the lane, she yanked the wheel and screeched to a stop beside the gnarled oak tree. Climbing out, she closed her eyes and took several long breaths. She had spent half her childhood, it seemed, high up in the sky, safely concealed within the oak’s spreading branches. When other girls’ mothers helped out at school and crowded together, chatting and familiar with one another, giving Sammy Jo a glimpse into the kind of dream family she constantly wished for, she ran from the school bus for the oak tree. When she heard the girls whisper about her tomboyish ways and laugh and giggle and point, she learned to answer with flying fists instead of tears, and as soon as she was alone, she beelined for the oak tree.

Sammy Jo had spent hours in the tree, working through some of her loneliest, most miserable moments. Silly though it might seem to others, this therapy still worked, and now and again she simply sat down on the root-bumped ground and leaned against the trunk, content to let her friend, the oak, comfort her.

Today, however, she stood to one side, just looking at the tree. There were too many problems at the ranch to waste time soothing her tired emotions. After several minutes, she climbed into the pickup and headed for the house.