Montana Hearts (13 page)

Ryan had called and offered to lend them some of the Tanners' cows for the weekend roundups, but Luke's father had said no, worried they might be stolen, too. For now, they'd preserve the dozen Black Angus they had, and once the rustlers were caught, they'd buy some more.

His cell phone buzzed, and when he checked his messages, he saw he'd missed a few. Five to be exact. All from Sammy Jo.

For a moment he just stared at her name on the caller ID.

Nothing about the night before had gone as planned. He'd never intended for the rustlers to come from the opposite direction. He'd never planned to mount a horse and ride out to face them alone. And he certainly hadn't planned on kissing Sammy Jo.

He thought of the way her soft lips had felt against his own and he grinned. One thing was for sure. He'd never think of Sammy Jo Macpherson as just “the girl next door” ever again. He'd never again eat a strawberry without thinking of her either. She must have had on some sort of girlie strawberry lip gloss, but whatever it was, it had only made kissing her even more pleasant.

Spontaneous, but definitely . . . pleasant. He grinned again, thinking of the first fiery kiss they'd shared. And the slower, shy second, and then the timeless third.

Afterward Delaney had taken the horses back to the fenced pasture and Bree had brought the gator out to the field so he wouldn't have to walk all the way back to the main house. He'd been thrilled to ride, but once he got off, his legs were so sore he couldn't get back on. Not then. But maybe later this day or the next, he'd give it another go.

Because riding again had been a lot like kissing Sammy Jo. Now that he'd done it, he never wanted to stop.

 

Chapter Ten

“
W
HAT DID HE
say after he kissed you?” Jesse asked, her eyes wide. “Did he tell you he loved you?”

“No, not exactly,” Sammy Jo said, dropping her voice into a whisper when a few of the girls from camp walked past and giggled.

“But you could see it in his eyes, right?” the camp owner pressed, her face rapt with attention.

“If you must know,” she confided, her face flooding with warmth at the memory, “it was the way he held my hand afterward, and refused to let go.”

“That's a good sign,” Jesse agreed. “When are you going to see him again?”

“I don't know,” she confessed. “Maybe tonight after I finish up here.”

Sammy Jo didn't normally gush about her romantic encounters when working with Jesse, but she needed to tell someone. She couldn't possibly keep all the emotions bubbling up inside her to herself. And Bree and Delaney had not been as enthusiastic as her employer to hear their brother was a good kisser.

“Oh, Jesse, if only you could have seen him ride in to save me!” Sammy Jo crooned. “It was so intense! And none of it would have been possible without the rehab horse.”

Jesse's smile waned. “How's the training with Luke's
own
horse coming along?”

“Okay, but it's going to take a while.”

“Yes, it usually does.” Jesse glanced away and when she faced her again it looked like the woman had bit into a sour grape. Except they hadn't been eating; they'd been cleaning tack, with no food in sight.

Sammy Jo frowned. “What's the matter? Did a bug fly into your mouth?”

Jesse laughed and shook her head, then pressed her lips together, and winced again. “I hate to tell you this, but I need you to bring Prince back here to the camp.”

“What?
”
Sammy Jo couldn't breathe.
Oh, no, not now.
“You—­you said you didn't need him another whole week.”

“I know, I'm so sorry, but I got a call from a disabled woman who's coming out to see Prince later today.”

“Today?”
Sammy Jo repeated.

Jesse nodded. “Do you think you could take the trailer over to the Collinses' and have Prince back here by five?”

“How long will she need him?”

“She may buy him,” Jesse informed her.

Sammy Jo gasped. “For how much?”

“For more than either you or Luke can afford,” Jesse assured her. “I'm sorry, Sammy Jo. I know how long it's taken you to convince Luke to mount up, and now that he's made such tremendous progress—­”

“It was never about just the ride,” Sammy Jo protested, her stomach turning.

Jesse gave her a sympathetic look. “It never is.”

Sammy Jo knew she couldn't argue any further; after all, the horse wasn't hers. She should be thankful Jesse had let her borrow the rehab horse in the first place.
But Luke had finally got on and ridden!

Her thoughts returned to the previous night when Luke had come galloping in with his hair flying back, his eyes on fire. He'd been bold and confident and filled with
passion
! She'd hoped the horse would enable him to realize it wasn't his injury holding him back, but his own crippling beliefs.

But what would happen now if she took the horse away? The back of her throat closed tight and her heart skipped a beat. Would she ever see that wonderful, larger-­than-­life, vibrant side of the man she loved again?

L
UKE DIDN
'
T LIKE
using cell phones and cared for them even less once he finally had time to read the series of text messages Sammy Jo had sent warning him his friend couldn't be trusted.

He eyed the new teenage boy his sister had hired and narrowed his gaze. Trust had to be earned and he couldn't trust this newcomer any more than he could trust Sammy Jo's father, Winona Lane, Harley Bennett, or even his longtime rodeo pal, A.J. Malloy. Any one of them could have had access to the key that opened the Macphersons' gate.

“Where did you say you were from?” Luke asked, staring up at the eighteen-­year-­old on top of the unfinished cabin.

“Butte.”

“And where did you learn construction?”

Devin hammered another beam in place, then reached into his tool belt and pulled out a few more nails. “I told you—­from my father.”

“What is his name, and why aren't you working for him now?” Luke demanded.

“His name was Mike Williams and I'm not working for him now because he's dead.”

Luke blew out his breath, hoping it would release some of the frustration building within. “Sorry.”

“Look, I'd rather you judge me on my work than who I belong to or where I come from,” Devin said, narrowing his gaze in return. “Is that too much to ask?”

The young cowboy had attitude. Too much attitude, thinking he could fly up the ladder and start working without consulting him on how the trusses should be laid out. The boy was a hothead and would end up in a heap of trouble if he didn't look out. You couldn't just ride into a situation without knowing what lay ahead.

“Before you go making a mistake that costs us money, let me tell you how I think it should be done,” Luke warned. Then he jumped back, startled, realizing he sounded exactly like his own father.

“I can do this without you,” Devin retorted. “I don't need your help.”

Luke stared at him a moment . . . then grinned, realizing the boy was just like
him
. And because Luke had resented his father for the way he spoke to him, he'd failed to see the man actually cared. He didn't want this young cowboy to suffer the same fate without just cause.

After all, he could be innocent. And if he was one of the rustlers, he wasn't the one he fought. His face was unmarked, and the rustler Luke had punched would be sure to have a bruise along his right cheekbone.

“No, I reckon you don't need my help,” Luke admitted, lightening his tone. “If you've got that handled, then I guess . . . I'll get back to finishing things down here.”

Devin tossed him a puzzled look as if he were crazy, then went back to hammering.

Luke picked up a piece of trim and was about to nail it alongside the cabin door when he turned and noticed a group of teenage girls coming toward them in one of those confounded girl huddles. The loud bangs must have drawn their attention, but no doubt the young cowboy on the roof was what held it.

They glanced up at him, glanced at one another, and giggled, the same way Sammy Jo and his sisters used to do . . . whenever they were interested in someone. It used to annoy him to no end.

“Can I help you ladies?” Luke asked, careful not to annoy their new guests into leaving like their last set.

One of the girls stepped forward. “We're part of Travel Light Adventures,” she told him. “Our group is having a bonfire tonight in the pit outside our cabins and we were wondering if your partner up there on the roof would like to join us.”

Luke realized the hammering had stopped, and when he glanced up, he saw Devin wave to the girls and grin. “I would love—­”

“Sorry, he's not allowed to socialize with the guests,” Luke said, drowning out the rest of the boy's reply.

The girls let out a series of disappointed groans, Devin shot him an indignant look, and seemingly out of nowhere the Walford twins raced toward him and latched on to each of Luke's arms.

“Thank goodness, you took care of them, Mr. Luke,” Nora exclaimed. “They've been following poor Devin around all day and—­”

“Won't leave him alone!” Nadine wailed, her eyes wide.

“I'm sure Devin isn't too bothered,” Luke assured them.

“We're just looking out for him,” Nora continued.

“Yeah,” Nadine agreed. “Looking out for his best interests.”

“Which would be?” Luke asked, following their dreamy-­eyed gaze up to the rooftop.

“Devin told us that he can't be bringing any girls home or his cousin A.J. wouldn't like it,” Nora explained. “And we don't want his cousin to get mad at him and—­”

“Kick him out,” Nadine said, her face full of worry, “or then he'd have to move back to Butte and we wouldn't be able to see—­”

“Wait a minute,” Luke said, holding up his hand. “Are you telling me that kid is the cousin of A.J. Malloy?”

Both the girls nodded and Nora gasped. “You know him?”

Luke ground his teeth together.
Oh, yes, he knew him.

Dropping the trim board on the floor of the porch, he took out the cell phone he dreaded more with each use and punched in his old rodeo pal's number. The kid could be a plant, a way for the rustlers to get information without arousing suspicion. Which would make perfect sense . . . if his old rodeo pal was one of them.

“The Legend,” A.J.'s voice greeted, using the same nickname as the men who had threatened Sammy Jo. “What's up?”

Luke glanced toward the top of the cabin. “Your cousin. He's roofing.”

“Yeah, he told me about that. He's doing a good job, I hope?”

“Not bad. I was just surprised when I found out you were related,” Luke continued. “You never mentioned a cousin.”

“What's to mention? We all have cousins. I'm sure almost everyone in this state is cousin to somebody,” his friend joked.

“Never knew you two were related to Winona Lane, either,” Luke said, trying to keep any trace of hostility out of his voice.

“Oh, that's just me,” his friend corrected. “Winona's
my
aunt, not Devin's. He's my cousin from my mother's side.”

“Guess that would explain the different last names,” Luke said, wondering if A.J. had a bruise along
his
right cheekbone. “Hey, when are you and the other guys meeting up next at the café?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” A.J. answered, his voice as calm and easygoing as ever. “Want to come?”

“Yeah,” Luke ground out. “I think I will.”

“Good.” A.J. laughed. “I told the others ‘The Legend' was back in town, but they said they wouldn't believe me until they'd seen you with their own eyes.”

“It will be good to see all of you, too,” Luke assured him.

And he'd find out once and for all if the rustlers were his old rodeo pals or if they knew who else it could be.

A
FTER WORK,
S
AMM
Y
Jo rehearsed what she'd say in her head as she made her way over to the Collinses'. But every variation of the lines she came up with was sure to take the smile off Luke's face—­not something she relished seeing. Especially since they hadn't seen each other alone since they'd kissed.

Maybe if she worked with Luke's horse some more, it would help. Phantom needed all the training he could get. Besides, Luke was still busy working on the cabins. He hadn't even known she'd come by earlier with the trailer.

Sammy Jo and Bree worked with Phantom for almost an hour. Coaxing him to drop his front knees down into the bow position was easy. Convincing the horse not to roll over and scratch his back, as was the natural tendency, was a lot harder.

“Sammy Jo! Bree!” Luke called, running toward them as fast as his cane would allow with Delaney by his side. “I think the rustlers are back.”

Sammy Jo's gaze shot toward their property line. Had the men driven through her gate again? Used her land as a way to enter or exit?

Beside her, Bree let out a gasp. “Did you call the sheriff?”

“Not yet,” Delaney said, her voice breathless. “We wanted to check with you first, but we've searched everywhere and can't find him.”

“Who?” Bree demanded, her face now as distressed as theirs.

With a jolt, Sammy Jo understood what was going on and her stomach clenched. “The rehab horse.”

Luke's brows shot up in surprise. “You know where he is?”

Sammy Jo nodded.

“Oh, thank God,” Delaney exclaimed. “We thought he'd been stolen and poor Luke had no idea how he was going to break the news to you.”

He'd been concerned how to tell
her
? Sammy Jo looked straight at Luke, her rehearsed lines forgotten, and said simply, “I had to take him back to camp.”

Luke held her gaze a moment, then gave her a nod as if no further explanation was necessary.

“You should have left a note on the dry-­erase board or something,” Delaney insisted. “When Luke went into the barn and saw the empty stall—­”

“It's fine,” Luke said, cutting her off. “At least we know the horse is safe.”

“Luke, I'm so sorry,” Sammy Jo said, stepping toward him. “I—­”

“Oh, my, look at the time,” Bree interrupted. “Delaney, shouldn't we go feed the horses their dinner?”

Del cast Sammy Jo a quick smile. “Yes, we should.”

“Need help?” Luke asked.

Bree took Delaney's arm and pulled her away. “Nope. We've got it. We'll see you two later.”

The Adam's apple in Luke's throat bobbed up and down, and the anxious expression he'd worn when he and Del first arrived returned to his face.

Slowly, his head turned . . . and Sammy Jo stared at him, not daring to breathe or say anything until Luke made the first move. And for a moment, all they did was look at each other.

Then Luke reached out, took her hand, and grinned. “Want to go on a trail ride?”

L
UKE LED
P
HANTO
M
toward the barn to gather his tack.

“But how will you get on?” Sammy Jo insisted, following behind. “Phantom doesn't always bow. What if he tries to roll? We haven't trained him with the saddle on yet. What if he rolls over on your leg?”

“He won't roll,” Luke assured her.