Samantha’s Cowboy (8 page)

“Oh, Wade. I’m sorry.”

“When she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and learned she had only a few months to live, we returned to Tulsa and she asked my uncle to raise me.”

“Where were your grandparents?”

“They’d passed away years earlier.”

“Was it difficult adjusting to a new family?”

“Yes.” His aunt and uncle had afforded Wade little time to mourn his mother before they’d demanded
nothing less than his best behavior and effort in school. “My uncle enrolled me and my cousin in a boys’ private school, and I worked hard to earn good grades.”

Samantha nudged his side with her elbow and smiled. “So the glasses are just for show? You aren’t a brainiac?”

“I inherited bad eyesight but not a high IQ.” Wade suspected his birth father had possessed more charm than intellect. “My son inherited the genius gene from Carmen’s side of the family.” Her brother was a physicist, the other a bio-medical engineer and her mother had been a concert pianist. Carmen was a smart woman but preferred shopping and socializing to using her brains. “Luke amazes me. He’s a walking encyclopedia with a photographic memory.”

They ate in silence for a minute, then Wade said, “To make a long story short, I studied and earned good grades because I wanted to make my mother proud of me.” At least Wade had begun with that mindset. As years passed, pleasing his deceased mother had shifted to earning his uncle’s respect and securing a foothold in Dawson Investments.

“How about your cousin. Is he an investor, too?” Samantha asked.

“Jarrod’s a dentist. He lives in California with his life partner, Richard.”

“I see.”

“Jarrod calls around the holidays but his relationship with my aunt and uncle is strained.”

“That’s too bad.”

Wade agreed. His mother’s death had driven home the point that life was too short to allow rifts to grow
between family members. His uncle had stopped short of disowning Jarrod when he learned his son was gay, but he’d asked Jarrod to leave Tulsa, fearing his son’s lifestyle would negatively impact Dawson Investments’ reputation.

A reputation that was at risk if Wade didn’t recover Samantha’s trust fund.

“So…” She waved a hand in the air. “What was the reason again you couldn’t climb a tree?”

“Guess I got sidetracked.” He grinned. “There weren’t any opportunities to climb trees at the boys’ private school. I did take a fencing class but my glasses slipped too often and I usually ended up on the losing side of a saber.”

“What about horseback riding?”

“Tried that, too, but couldn’t stay in the saddle.” The horse had bolted as soon as he’d put his foot in the stirrup. Wade had clung to the saddle horn for almost a mile, one foot dragging against the ground. When the animal finally slowed and he’d been able to free his foot, he’d twisted his ankle and had ended up on crutches for a month. From that day forward, Wade stuck to studying during his free time. “I don’t remember my uncle ever mentioning where you went to college.”

The fork hesitated midway to her mouth, then she shoveled the food inside, chewed and swallowed. As if she hadn’t heard his previous statement, she said, “I’m debating whether or not to build a storage barn in addition to a large horse barn on the property.”

Dollar signs flew around in Wade’s head. “How many barns do you need?”

“A smaller structure would be nice to store extra feed and farm equipment.”

“You mean tractors?”

“Plows and harvest machines. I intend to use half the land to plant hay and alfalfa.”

Farm equipment would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. “Why go to all the trouble to grow crops when you can buy the feed?” Samantha’s sanctuary ranch was turning into a huge financial commitment that would require her to hire hands to manage.

“Rescued horses need more than hay and grain. They need to graze grass to put on weight.” Her expression softened. “I want the horses that come to my ranch to have the very best.”

The conviction in her voice proved that Wade’s initial impression of Samantha had been off the mark. This wasn’t a pet project she’d tire of after a while. She genuinely cared about rehabilitating horses and providing a safe environment for the animals to recover from the neglect they’d suffered. “You’re a special woman.” His heart thumped hard inside his chest when her gaze dropped to his mouth.

Did she want to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her?

He inched forward, tilting his head. Then paused when her breath puffed against his face. He waited for a signal that he should proceed. When her dark lashes fluttered closed, he brushed his lips across hers. Gentle…slow…He tested the waters. Her mouth tasted of tangy barbecue and a heady…dark…erotic flavor. He pressed his lips harder against hers.

“Ouch!”

He jerked upright. “What happened?”

“Your glasses.” She rubbed her cheekbone below her left eye.

He brushed the pad of his thumb across the red mark marring her flawless skin. “Sorry.”

She removed his glasses. “That’s better.”

Says who? Samantha’s image blurred before his eyes.

Clasping his face between her hands, she whispered, “I’ll guide you.” Her lips drew a rumbling groan from his chest as she slid her tongue inside his mouth. Then Samantha shifted toward him and her plate tipped over on his lap.

“Oh!” She jumped off the swing and attempted to remove the pile of baked beans soaking the front of his jeans. Her fingers caused more damage than the spilled food and he brushed her hands away, hoping she hadn’t felt his arousal when she’d pressed the napkin to his crotch.

“I’m so sorry, Wade.” Her face glowed fire-hydrant red.

“That’s okay.” He brushed the beans onto his plate. “Where are my glasses?” She handed them over. “Thanks.” Now that he could see better…jeez. “Looks like I messed my pants.”

Samantha hooted. Not a laugh. Not a giggle. A
hoot
.

Wade smiled, pleased he’d tickled her funny bone. He glanced at his watch.
I want to stay.
“I’d better go.”
I want to kiss you again.
“I’ve got business briefs to work on at home.”

“Really?” She sounded disappointed.

He brushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear,
allowing his fingers to linger against her skin a moment before he forced himself to turn away and descend the porch steps. When he reached the car he waved. “See you tomorrow.”

The drive to his condo was the longest of Wade’s life. What had he been thinking—kissing Samantha? She was his client—reason enough to keep his hands off her. Never mind the fact that he hadn’t been truthful about her missing money. If he knew what was good for him he’d steer clear of the cowgirl.

Wade was avoiding Samantha.

When she’d arrived at the Peterson homestead earlier in the morning, he’d been helping the cowboys dig a trench that would carry a water pipe from the new well to the paddocks. She’d stopped at his side to say “Good morning” and Wade had uttered a brief “Hi” before moving farther down the line to dig—not the greeting she’d expected after the kiss they’d shared yesterday.

Miffed, Sam had spent the remainder of the morning sulking and contemplating their porch kiss—the one that obviously hadn’t made much of an impact on Wade. He had kissed the boots off her feet—not the kind of smooch she’d expected from Mr. Financial Adviser. Sam believed that buried deep beneath his Wall Street facade Wade yearned to cut loose and score. So why the cold shoulder? Maybe she’d read too much into a kiss she’d been aching for since they’d first met.

What did the kiss mean to you, Sam?

Nothing,
her conscience protested.

Everything,
her heart confessed.

When was the last time she’d felt the press of a man’s mouth against hers? Two years ago with Bo.

She’d lived on a ranch all her life surrounded by ranch hands and rodeo cowboys. She adored strong, brooding men. Then she’d discovered not all cowboys walked the walk or talked the talk. Bo had taught her that she was only lovable when she didn’t forget or mess up.

Wade’s different.

Of course, he wasn’t a cowboy. The more she hung around him the less she worried about her memory lapses. Wade was special—no one would convince her otherwise.

Yesterday when Matt’s friends had poked fun at his skills with a shovel, Wade had laughed at himself right along with the others. Undeterred by the ribbing, he’d done more than his fair share of grunt work, earning the men’s respect. From the beginning, Sam had believed digging a well by hand was a waste of time, but she found Wade’s willingness to risk ridicule in order to save her money sweet and endearing.

“Hi, Miss Samantha.” Luke had awoken from his nap beneath the hackberry tree and stood rubbing his sleep-swollen eyes. Her heart melted at the vulnerable picture he made—hair smashed down on one side of his head, shirt wrinkled and shoes untied. The boy looked anything but a genius.

“Mornin’, buster.” Then she added. “Why don’t you call me Miss Sam. It’s shorter.”

“Dad says I have to be polite.”

She resisted the urge to push his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Miss Sam is polite.”

“If you say so.” He shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare. “Where’s my dad?”

“Over there.” She pointed to the paddocks where the men were taking a break.

“I promised Dad I’d help.”

“You are helping,” Sam insisted.

“I am?”

“You’re keeping Millicent company.”

“But I was sleeping.”

“Watching you sleep makes her feel useful.” When he scrunched his nose, she added, “Millicent doesn’t have any family so she gets lonely.”

“What happened to her family?”

“Her husband died in World War II and her son left home years ago. She never remarried, so she’s been alone for a long time.”

Luke scuffed the toe of his shoe in the dirt. “My mom says Dad’s never gonna marry again.”

Oh, really?
“Why does she say that?” As soon as Sam asked, she wished she hadn’t. Yes, she was nosy but she doubted Wade would appreciate his son sharing personal information.

“Mom says Dad’s a dunce.” Luke squinted at Sam. “I don’t get it because my dad’s really smart.”

Sam suspected the chemistry had waned between the couple because Sam found nothing duncey about Wade or his kisses. “Your father is brilliant and you know what?”

“What?”

“He told me you were smarter than him. He’s proud of you.”

Luke’s shoulders straightened. “School’s easy.”

Sam wished she felt the same way about learning.

“I remember all the stuff I read. Do you?”

“My memory isn’t that good, but I make lots of notes so I won’t forget.”

“If you want, you can tell me stuff and I’ll remember for you.”

Tears burned Sam’s eyes as she hugged the boy. “That’s nice, Luke. Thank you.”

“Go ahead. I’m ready,” he said.

“Ready for what?”

“To remember stuff for you.”

Sam pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at the boy’s earnest expression. After a minute she said the first thing that popped into her mind. “I need to call the local veterinarian and ask him to stop by the ranch.”

“Why?”

“He’ll tell me what supplies to stock the barn with for the rescued horses.”

“You’re gonna rescue horses?”

“Yep.”

“What are you rescuing them from?”

Bad people.
“Unfortunate circumstances.”

“Huh?”

Even though Luke was smarter than most adults, he was a kid and hopefully ignorant of the sad fact that innocent animals occasionally suffered neglect at their owner’s hands. “When people lose their jobs or become ill and can no longer properly take care of their horses, the animals often starve or their injuries go untreated.”

“What happens to the horses?”

“The SPCA rescues the animals, then after nursing them back to health they find people willing to adopt
the horses or board them until permanent homes are found.”

“You’re gonna board them?”

“Yep.”

“Can I help take care of the horses?”

“You and your dad live a long way from here. Plus you’re busy with school.”

“We could come on the weekends. And once you build a new house, Dad and I can stay overnight.”

That sounded too much like being a family—and family was out of the question for Sam. “We’ll see. Right now I…” The rest of her sentence trailed off when she spotted her father’s Chevy Apache pickup parked next to the other ranch trucks.

Panic swelled inside her. She couldn’t recall the date her father had intended to return from his business trip—as if that mattered now. “Would you mind checking on Millicent?”

When Luke didn’t obey, Sam insisted, “Go on. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“He looks mean,” Luke whispered when Sam’s father got out of the truck.

Not mean…determined. “It’s the mustache.” Sam flashed a reassuring smile and Luke shuffled off.

The cowboys waved to her father as he called several by name. Wade had stopped digging in the trench and stared. “Welcome home, Daddy.” Sam met him at the truck.

“Don’t you ‘Daddy’ me, young lady. What’s going on here?”

Squaring her shoulders she said, “Matt’s friends are laying a water pipe from the new well they dug to the
paddocks.” She pointed to white fence posts that had been cemented into the ground.

“Stop stalling, Samantha.”

Here goes nothing.
“Welcome to the Last Chance Ranch, Daddy.”

After a strained pause, he said, “Start from the beginning.”

Sam refused to have this conversation in public. “I don’t have time to talk. We’ll discuss this over supper.”

Her father opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

Whew!
She’d won the first round. “Tell Juanita to expect me around six o’clock.”

“You’d better not be a minute late, daughter.”

“I’ll be on time. Promise.” As soon as her father climbed into his truck and drove off, Sam sighed in relief. She wasn’t looking forward to the grilling she’d receive later, but at least she had a few hours to build up her defenses. She had to convince her father that she was ready for this challenge or he’d find an excuse to rein her in, as was his habit when she strayed too far.

“Trouble?”

Sam jumped at the sound of Wade’s voice. “Maybe.”

“I guess your father wasn’t pleased you bought the Peterson homestead.”

“Nope.” Her gaze slid to his mouth.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Kiss me.
“As a matter of fact there is.”

“What’s that?”

“Daddy invited you and Luke to join us for dinner tonight.” Sam walked off, leaving Wade with his luscious mouth hanging open.

D
AMN
. W
HAT ROTTEN LUCK
.

Wade had planned to review the building’s security tape this coming Monday and ID the man who’d snuck into Dawson Investments on July fourth. He’d hoped the intruder’s identity would lead Wade to Samantha’s trust fund. Then he’d intended to schedule a meeting to apprise Samantha and Dominick of the situation. Now those plans had been threatened by an unexpected dinner invitation that would no doubt turn into an inquisition.

Samantha had left an hour ago with orders not to procrastinate. Wade had insisted on staying until the cowboys had cleaned up the day’s projects when in truth he’d needed time to prepare for meeting the oil baron.

“All done, Dad,” Luke said, shaking his freshly washed hands.

Wade glanced at his watch. They’d delayed long enough. As it was he’d have to push the speed limit to arrive at the Lazy River on time. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Luke tugged Wade’s shirtsleeve, then pointed to the water witch rocking beneath the tree. “Isn’t Millicent coming?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hey, Millicent,” Luke shouted. “You wanna come eat with us at Miss Sam’s?”

The old woman slapped at the air with her hand. “Got me vittles right here. Go on with ya.”

Once the BMW turned onto the county road, Luke said, “Millicent lied.”

“What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t have much food in her house. Miss
Sam brings her fruit and stuff but mostly she eats biscuits.”

“Old people don’t need a lot of food.”

“Dad?”

“What?”

“Millicent needs a family.”

His son had a soft heart—even after all the teasing he’d suffered before he’d transferred to the boys’ school. “Miss Samantha will be her family when she builds a new house at the ranch.”

“Millicent said Miss Sam—”

“It’s Miss Samantha.”

“She said I could call her Miss Sam.” Luke rolled his eyes. “Millicent said Miss Sam has lots of angels looking out for her.”

“Why’s that?”

Luke shrugged.

Wade tucked the tidbit of information away for middle-of-the-night insomnia, which he’d suffered from since meeting Samantha. Father and son drove the rest of the way in silence. As soon as the car passed beneath the tall black arches Luke asked, “Is this it?”

“Welcome to the Lazy River.”

“Where’s the river?” Luke pressed his face against the window.

“There is none.” Wade’s uncle had explained that at one time a river had flowed through the property but after the great Dust Bowl of the 1930s, the water had dried to a trickle. Wade suspected the name had to do with the river being too lazy to flow.

Wade parked in front of the main house, his eyes zeroing in on the porch swing. He forced the memory
of his and Samantha’s kiss to the back of his mind—he couldn’t afford any distractions tonight.

The housekeeper met them at the door. “Luke, this is Señora Juanita.”

“Hello, Luke.” Juanita opened the door. “Come. Sam and Señor Cartwright wait for you.” She ushered them into the dining room.

Wade paused in the doorway, placing his hand on Luke’s shoulder. His gaze sought out Samantha first.

“Welcome, Wade.” Her smile loosened the knot in his stomach. “Sit here, Luke.” She patted the seat next to her.

Wade’s forehead broke out in a sweat when Dominick stood at the head of the table. He moved forward and shook hands with the older man. “Wade Dawson. Pleasure meeting you again, sir.”

“Charlie’s nephew, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Wade sat across from Samantha. Before he introduced his son, Juanita entered the room and set a plate of fried chicken in the center of the table, then added a bowl of potato salad and fresh fruit. “Enjoy.”

“Luke, this is Mr. Cartwright, Miss Samantha’s father. Mr. Cartwright, I’d like you to meet my son, Luke.”

“Did you know that the year your truck was made the population of the United States was over a hundred and seventy-seven million. And life expectancy was almost seventy years old?” Luke directed the question to Dominick.

Wade swallowed a groan. When the boy became nervous he spouted off trivia.. Luke must want to make a good impression on Samantha’s father.

“You don’t say.” Dominick’s eyebrow rose in amusement. “Anything interesting happen in 1979?”

“Kylene Baker won the Miss America pageant. She was from Virginia.”

“Quite a bright mind you’ve got there, young man.”

“Yeah, I’m really smart. Dad says I’m a genius.” Luke helped himself to a chicken leg. “But I only memorize stuff when I get really bored.”

“How often are you bored?” Dominick asked.

“Not a lot because at my school all the kids are smart like me.”

“Glad to hear you’re keeping the teachers on their toes.” Dominick shifted his attention to Wade. “I wasn’t aware you’d married?”

Not surprising. Uncle Charles rarely spoke about Wade to his clients or friends. “I’ve been divorced for three years.”

“Why didn’t you talk my daughter out of purchasing the Peterson property?” Dominick’s gaze swung between Wade and Samantha.

Wade expected Samantha to head off the question but she remained silent and played with the potato salad on her plate. “The property had been purchased before she came to me to access her trust fund.”

Dominick tossed a glare his daughter’s way but she’d struck up a conversation with Luke, leaving Wade to bear the brunt of her father’s disapproval. “Samantha’s intent to open a horse sanctuary is a worthy cause,” Wade lied through his teeth. He didn’t understand his need to defend her, but he suspected it had to do with the kiss they’d shared yesterday.

That damned kiss had clung to his conscience like a
bad investment. He liked Samantha. A lot. Maybe more than a lot. But he had no right to allow their relationship to move in a personal direction until he told her the truth about the missing money.

Then tell her and be done with it.

Wade prided himself on being an honest, ethical investor but if he came clean before he located Samantha’s trust fund she’d view him as a screwup when in fact he’d earned the firm’s title of top investor three years running. Wade didn’t possess any impressive cowboy qualities—he couldn’t ride a horse or bust a bull or even dig a damned well. If he intended to pursue a relationship with Samantha all he had to wow her with was his financial acumen.