The Color of Forever: Book Two: Forever Cowboys Series (7 page)

Somehow, that reminder made her feel sad.

Ben walked along next to Samantha as they went to the house for coffee. He made a conscious effort to slow down and adjust his gait to fit hers as best as could be managed. He had gotten used to taking long strides and eating up the ground as fast as possible because he was often in a hurry with his game warden work as well as around his ranch.

But, he didn’t want her to have to run to keep up with him, so he deliberately shifted down into a lower gear.

Ben had dated some very pretty, even beautiful, girls. But he thought again how no female he had previously known could hold a candle to Samantha. It wasn’t just her physical beauty that attracted him and set her apart from the rest, although he appreciated her raven hair, big violet-blue eyes and knockout figure. No, as he had noticed before in the time spent around her, much of Samantha’s allure was her zest for life and her vivacity.

To him, she sparkled with an enthusiasm and enjoyment for the whole experience of living, making him feel more alive whenever he was in her company. He could tell she wasn’t exactly gung-ho for the nature and wildlife scene. But, she had seemed genuinely thrilled by the eagle’s nest and passionate in her condemnation of anyone who would kill these birds or rob their nests.

He had also sensed her fear and uncertainty about riding a horse. But she had been glowing with pleasure as she learned to groom Taffy and seemed enthused … if still a trifle afraid … of learning to ride. Ben had seen the look in her eyes as she ran her small hands across the big gelding’s neck and back. She had enjoyed it. He took this as a good sign because although the idea wasn’t firmly entrenched in his consciousness, Ben’s game plan was to make Samantha O’Brien want to stay in Wyoming permanently … with him.

He sat in the kitchen of the little ranch house, watching Samantha take coffee beans from the freezer and put some into a grinder. It whirred noisily for just a few seconds before she stopped the machine and added the freshly ground coffee beans to a French press. Taking a kettle from the stove, she poured hot water from it into the press and then, after a few minutes, depressed the plunger.

“Voila!” she announced, pouring out two cups of steaming brew and setting both cream and sugar on the table. “Now taste this and if it isn’t the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had I’ll eat your hat.”

Ben stirred in sugar, no cream, and sipped the hot coffee. Its aroma rose up enticingly. He quickly decided that it tasted as good as it smelled.

He nodded. “Yes ma’am, I’ve gotta hand it to you. This
is
the best cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted. But, part of the reason it tastes so good might be the company I’m keeping. I think you could serve up a cup of mud and I’d like it.”

He smiled at her, making Samantha’s heart do that little stutter again.

She moistened her lips while staring at his, mesmerized by the sexy shape of his mouth and imagining it claiming hers in a passionate kiss. Ben slowly stopped smiling and stared back at her, their eyes meeting in a look of shared desire.

Samantha saw a flicker in his eyes briefly, then he blinked and it was almost gone. Still, she found herself caught and held by his still smoldering gaze, wondering … as always … exactly what color his eyes were. Right now they seemed darkened by passion and looked to be a deep gray. But earlier, while they had been in the barn grooming the horses, she had noticed that they looked to be a clear sky blue.

Honestly, she had never known anyone else with eyes that were beautiful but impossible to label any certain color.

Ben seemed to make an effort to get things back on a casual footing, asking questions about her life in New York city.

Sam found herself chatting as though she had known him all her life, filling him in on some details about her career at the publishing house where she had worked since finishing college and going on to share her dream of being an author.

Before she knew it, she had confided in Ben about her mom’s death and then her dad’s and how she and Maeve had relied on each other. As both parents had been only children and both sets of grandparents lived far away—her mom’s parents in Italy and her dad’s retired to Boca Raton, Florida—the sisters had had only each other for family.

Their grandparents stayed in touch, visiting occasionally and very generous financially with checks and money for little extras. But for all practical purposes in their day to day life, Samantha and Maeve were a small family of two.

That was, until Maeve had met and fallen head over heels in love with a handsome young policeman who had worked with their father.

“It was love at first sight for both of them,” Samantha told Ben. “Maeve met Patrick at the wake following our father’s funeral when I was seventeen and Maeve twenty three. Both of them swore that when their eyes met across that crowded room, they instantly knew they had met the love of their life.”

Sam’s eyes were soft with the memory of the story she was telling. “They were

inseparable after that and married after a brief courtship. Patrick moved in with us since we had a large, rent controlled apartment. But they were planning on moving to the burbs and having a house with a white picket fence, a houseful of kids and at least one dog.”

Ben looked across the table at her. “Did you feel sort of left out or like a third wheel after your sister married? After all, it would be only natural if you did since you had her to yourself for so long. Suddenly having to share her time and attention with someone else must have been a jolt.”

Samantha sat, stunned. What he said was true. She
had
felt left out even though Maeve and Patrick tried to keep her from feeling that way. They were careful to include her in most of their plans and made a point of inviting her when they went to the movies or out for a meal or maybe a concert in Central Park.

Samantha had usually demurred, not wanting to horn in on their togetherness even though they both insisted they wanted her to come along.

She had never put her feelings into words or even arranged them as conscious thoughts back then. Feeling ashamed of her own feelings, she was determined to deny them and refused to acknowledge what she felt even to herself. After the sacrifices Maeve had made for her to have as normal a home life as possible, Samantha believed that she should have been wholeheartedly happy for her sister to find romantic love and happiness.

She had always felt small and mean for the way she felt toward Patrick. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, because she did. He was a great guy and treated Samantha like his own little sister, always kind and considerate of her feelings. She didn’t dislike him, in fact she was fond of him. But still, there was that niggling little bit of jealousy … that tiny but unsettling bit of resentment that made her feel awful about herself.

Nodding slowly, her eyes seeing back into the past, Samantha wondered how Ben Connors had been able to be around her only a few times and zero right in on her innermost feelings. Feelings she had denied even to herself for years.

“You’re right,” she said. “I was very fond of Patrick, but a part of me did begrudge sharing my sister with him. Isn’t that selfish? I was a detestable little brat, feeling resentful and envious of their relationship and happiness.”

Ben leaned across the table and enclosed her hand in both of his. He looked directly into her eyes intently. “No, you were not selfish or a detestable little brat. You were a normal girl who had lost your mother and father and must have felt that you were losing your sister, too, when she fell in love and introduced a third person into your little circle of two.”

His voice was warm and sure, he seemed to have no doubts about what he was telling her. “Your feelings were perfectly natural and understandable,” he went on. “You’ve been beating yourself up about this for a long time, haven’t you?”

Samantha inclined her head in assent, not trusting herself to speak.

Ben squeezed her hand softly, reassuringly. “I’m sure your brother-in-law and sister understood how you felt and bear no ill will toward you at all. So,” he continued in a brighter tone that Samantha figured was geared toward lightening the mood, “Did they get their house in suburbia with the white picket fence, kids and a dog?”

She sat for a moment without answering.

“No,” she finally replied, “They didn’t.”

Samantha swallowed hard, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“He died.”

Ben looked at Samantha’s bowed head and felt an almost overwhelming impulse to take her in his arms and comfort her.

Poor kid! Eaten up with guilt and shame all these years over feelings that were only normal. He was willing to bet that any other teenager in the same circumstances would have felt some jealousy and resentment over the introduction of a newcomer to their little family unit.

“What happened to your brother-in-law?”

Samantha continued staring down at her coffee cup, unwilling to let another person see the raw pain in her eyes when she thought about Patrick, even after so much time had passed. To her it was still a fresh wound, a wound that never completely healed. She knew that her sister felt the same way.

She collected her thoughts to answer Ben’s question.

“As I mentioned, Pat was on the police force. He was on his way home after his shift ended one evening and stopped at a little mom and pop grocery store close to our apartment to pick up a few things Maeve had asked him to get.” Samantha closed her eyes, reliving the terrible shock of what had happened back then.

“While he was in the back of the store, a man came in to rob it. He was threatening to hit the owner, an elderly woman. He didn’t realize Pat was in there at first, but my brother-in-law was a brave man who took his oath to protect and serve seriously even when he wasn’t on duty. He stepped out in the aisle to confront the robber, who pulled out a gun and shot him, then ran. The store owner called 911 immediately but the bullet had nicked a femoral artery and Pat bled to death before the ambulance arrived.”

Ben shook his head slowly in sympathy. “That’s rough,” he said. “How long had your sister and her husband been married?”

“Just a few months. Not even long enough for the honeymoon to be over. Maeve had just found out she was pregnant and the shock and grief caused her to lose the baby. She had such a difficult time that the doctors said she would never be able to have anymore children.”

At last she raised her head and met Ben’s eyes. “It was terrible. I thought for a while that I was going to lose my sister. She sort of shrunk into some dark place inside her soul and wrapped her grief around herself like a shroud. Like she was the one who died instead of Patrick. Or as if she had died right along with him. She barely ate enough to survive and I could hear her walking the floor in her bedroom most nights. Back and forth, just walking.”

Samantha’s gaze was fixed on those scenes from the past. “She would answer me if I spoke to her but didn’t initiate conversation at all. It was like the lights were on but nobody was home. Maeve was like a gentle, sad little ghost for months after Patrick was killed. I was afraid she’d kill herself and suspect that if her faith hadn’t considered suicide a mortal sin, she would have done just that. But then she came out of her shell to some extent and started living again. She was never the same but at least she got on with the business of living.”

“She’s never met anybody else?” Ben inquired.

“Oh no,” Samantha replied. “It was years before she even dated again and she only dates now on rare occasions. Usually when someone fixes her up and she doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings by refusing to go out with the latest man a friend or relative is convinced will be perfect for her.”