The Princess of Coldwater Flats (27 page)

When he thought about Sammy Jo’s defeat, his heart twisted a little. But she’d forgiven him for the position he’d put her in. She’d never have been able to make love to him otherwise.

Ignoring the tiny doubt that he couldn’t seem to kill, he hurried into the house, running into Lettie who was at the oven, shoving in a pan of berry cobbler, even though the outside temperature was sky-high and the kitchen felt like an oven itself.

“I’m going over to the Triple R,” he told her, to which Lettie smirked with delight.

“Good idea, Mr. Ryan.”

Sammy Jo’s pickup stood in front of the house but when he knocked on the door, he got no response. Circling the house, he ran into Trigger who barked happily upon seeing him. At least he’d won over one female completely, he thought with some amusement.

Sammy Jo was in the barn, he realized, hearing a storm of swearing coming from somewhere inside. Grinning, he hurried to catch up to her. He couldn’t recall ever being so excited about the future. It was insane, really, but hell, it was great.

“Hi, there,” he greeted her, his boots echoing on the weathered plank boards.

She was feeding the pregnant mare. Tick-Tock, he recalled. When she glanced his way, Cooper was taken aback at the expression on her face. Her emerald eyes were miniature glaciers. His gaze immediately fell on the purpling mark on her cheek. “That’s one nasty bruise,” he remarked.

Her lashes fluttered; he’d distracted her. Encouraged, he moved toward her, but stopped short when she backed against the wall of the stall, suddenly spitting-mad

“I’ve rethought our arrangement,” she announced rigidly. “No deal. No partnership. No sex for payment.”

“Sammy Jo!” Cooper half laughed.

“I’m through with you, Ryan. Go find the rock you crawled out from beneath, and get back under there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know.”

“Sammy Jo, what happened between us didn’t have anything to do with the ranch.”

“That’s not how I remember it.” She closed the stall and circled away from him. Perversely, her actions only increased his desire to drag her close. He wanted to grab her and hold on and make her realize that they were made for each other.

That struck like a bolt of lightning. Amazed, Cooper assessed his feelings, which were all tangled and deep and damn near incomprehensible when it came to Sammy Jo.

“I know the way it came off,” he said, thinking back. He inwardly winced when he remembered how they’d struck their bargain. “That’s not how it is and you know it. I just didn’t want you to think I’d fall into that marriage trap.”

“That marriage trap?”

If he’d been listening closer, he would have heard or seen the early warning signs: her careful tone; her body’s frozen stillness; the expectancy, as if she were waiting for him to keep digging his own grave. Which, unfortunately, he did.

“I’ve been through one marriage, and it was hell. My ex-wife gave new meaning to the term ‘avaricious.’”

She crossed her arms, still waiting.

“I know it works for some people, but it didn’t work for me. And knowing you, I don’t think it’d work for you, either.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I told you I wanted to buy this ranch, but you made it clear you weren’t selling.”

“So you fell back on your only other option.”

A prickling along his nerves finally warned him. In a slower voice, he said cautiously, “If you mean the partnership, then yes.”

“Do you do this often, Mr. Ryan?”

“What’s this ‘Mr. Ryan’ stuff?” he demanded, annoyed.

“Do you seduce your way into all business transactions? Or is it just gullible women who fall for it?”

Cooper’s eyes held hers. She was fighting for control, her fury and hurt palpable in the still, dry air and slanting sunlight of the barn. “You agreed on our partnership. I didn’t force you.”

“You didn’t have to.” Raw bitterness roughened her voice. “I was desperate. But I’m not anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m letting the bank take the ranch. I’d rather lose the Triple R than my self-respect. So get the hell off my property. It’s the last time I’m asking.”

Cooper slowly began to count inside his head, silently swearing all the way from one to ten. He’d about had it with Sammy Jo and her mercurial temperament. “Fine. Let the bank take your property. You don’t know how to accept help when people are throwing it at you.”

“Helping yourself, you mean.”

“Damn it, Sammy Jo. You liked making love as much as I did.”

“This isn’t about making love!” she snarled through gritted teeth.

“The hell it isn’t,” he snarled right back. “You’re mad because I haven’t offered a lifetime commitment. Is that what you want? A marriage proposal? Want me to make an honest woman out of you?”

He hadn’t meant to hurt so deeply. He truly didn’t understand the depth of her insecurity. But as soon as the words were out, he regretted them. Deeply. The wounded look across her face was like a blow to his stomach. He’d hurt her. Bruised her. Far worse than any fall off Goldie.

“I’m sorry.” He reached forward. Her reaction was predictable. She kicked him in the shins. He tightened his grip on her wrists and she struggled for several seconds before tossing back her hair and glaring at him with all the strength of her personality, which was formidable to say the least.

“I must have been out of my mind,” she told him in a shaking voice, “to give myself to such a slimeball. If I hadn’t been so miserable, I would’ve never struck such a bargain. I’m not interested in you. You can’t have the ranch, and you can’t have me. I’m leaving Coldwater Flats. And you, Mr. Ryan, can find some other easy prey. There’s lots of women in this town who want you. Try Bev, or Ginny, or maybe both together. I don’t care what you do, but you’d damned—well—better—keep your hands—off me!” she declared, twisting her arms with each sharply punctuated word in an effort to dislodge his fingers. Pain slashed across her face when she turned her injured wrist.

“Sammy Jo, for God’s sake!”

“Let me go!”

He released his hands, automatically bracing himself, half expecting another attack. Breathing hard, she glared at him. Her mouth quivered. Self-loathing swept through him at how terribly he’d mishandled this. His own feelings about love and marriage had shattered Sammy Jo’s illusions. It had been her first time, and he’d been insensitive.

And he realized, belatedly and with a hard jolt, that he cared for her deeply. More deeply than he’d imagined. More deeply than he’d seriously thought possible. He shied away from labeling it “love,” but it was damn close. As close as Cooper Ryan was ever going to get.

“Don’t give up the ranch. I’ll pay off the mortgage and you can still—”

“You can’t buy me off!” she shouted.

“Damn it, Sammy Jo,” Cooper declared, exasperated. “If you’d just listen for a moment instead of jumping and screaming at me, you’d see I’m not trying to do that.”

That did it. She shoved past him, pounding out of the barn, a booted whirlwind of repressed fury. Cooper charged after her, his ground-devouring strides catching up with her at the corral rail.

“Touch me again, and I’ll kill you,” she snarled.

He almost laughed. This blonde spitfire couldn’t engender fear no matter how hard she tried. The laughing would lose him more ground, though, so he fought it back.

“You’re just mad because you still want me,” he said arrogantly. “And you know we’re good together.”

She swept in a sharp breath. “Well, you’re certainly a smug bastard. I’ll give you that.”

“Name-calling will get you anything you want.”

“I want you to leave.”

“No, you don’t.”

“And I’m tired of your telling me what I want. What are you doing?” she demanded suspiciously when Cooper moved closer.

“I’m going to kiss you goodbye.”

Her lips parted in pure disbelief. Then her gaze drifted to the pitchfork propped up against a post.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, leaning down to fulfill his promise.

“I’ll bite your lip,” she stated flatly.

Cooper delicately kissed her bruised cheek. She stiffened, but didn’t make any untoward movements. “I’m not giving up,” he told her.

With that, he left, unsettled but certain he could make things right. He didn’t see the quick look she darted him, nor witness a resigned, bitter smile.

He forgot that Sammy Jo Whalen sometimes had more backbone than sense, more pride than reason. While Cooper drove away, she walked straight to the phone.

“Hi, Tommy,” she greeted her old buddy. “The bank’s foreclosing on the ranch and I’ve got a lot of livestock to sell cheap. Find me someone who’s ready to make a quick deal. You can have first pick…‌.”

“What?”
Cooper demanded, three days later, his stunned gaze spearing both Lettie and Jack.

Jack shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Sammy Jo went and sold every bit of livestock. Got Tommy to help her move it. Tommy’s half thief, you know, but Sammy Jo don’t seem to care.”

Lettie banged a pan on the stove. “Maybe she shoulda married Brent,” she fretted. “Namby-pamby, he is, but she’d still have the ranch.”

She slid Cooper a glance of unspoken criticism that nevertheless spoke volumes. Cooper shoved his hands through his hair in exasperation. He’d been forced to take a quick trip to Los Angeles, one he’d been putting off because he knew he’d run into Pamela. But he’d needed her signature to sell off the last of his California property and she’d been there, cool as ice and as approachable as a distant planet.

The funny thing was, all his animosity had disappeared. One look at Pamela, and Cooper had expected his chest to tighten up with anger. Instead, he’d felt nothing. Just a kind of urgency to get the transaction over with, so he could get on with the rest of his life. Amazed, Cooper had smiled at his ex-wife, and that had earned him a dark scowl.

“What are you up to now?” she demanded in that husky voice of his memories.

“Just getting on with my life.”

“In some godforsaken Oregon village? I’m lucky we divorced.”

“Me, too,” he agreed reflectively.

No hostility. No burning anger. Nothing.

He’d left L.A. feeling as if a heavy load had been lifted. As if a faith healer had worked his magic and renewed Cooper’s soul. And he saw the future in a different light.

Except Sammy Jo was thwarting him again.

“She sold every bit of livestock?” Cooper repeated, disbelieving.

“Down to the last hoof,” Jack admitted.

“What about the pregnant mare? Tick-Tock?”

“Doc Carey took her. Hardest thing he ever had to do. Sammy Jo standin’ there with tears in her eyes and insistin’ he take the reins.” Jack shook his head. “But there’s no talkin’ to that girl when she’s like that. You think Rollins threw her over, and that’s why she’s so upset?”

Lettie sniffed. “I think she got her heart broke,” she stated coldly, meaningfully.

“All she’s got left is her dog,” Jack went on. “She’s still at the house, I reckon, but not for long. Told Matt Durning she was leavin’, and that was that. Made the banker feel like dirt.”

“As well he should,” Lettie declared. “The poor thing!”

“Oh, Lettie, you know Sammy Jo’ll come out all right. She’s tough. Too tough, maybe.”

Lettie stared her husband down. “You better start lookin’ with more than your eyes. That girl’s suffered a lot of pain and covers it all up with stubbornness and anger. Her mama left her when she was three. Her dad took away the only thing she loved. She’s alone and she’s got a pretty thin shell to fight off the world.” She banged another pan. “So don’t go actin’ like Sammy Jo ain’t hurtin’, ‘cause she is.”

“She’s still at the house?” Cooper grabbed on to the one piece of information that could help him.

“Far as I know.” Lettie softened a bit. “You gonna try to help her?”

Grabbing his hat, Cooper growled, “She won’t let me within fifty feet of her. But I’ll die trying.”

Lettie watched him leave, then glared at her husband who was standing at the table, hands raised in surrender. “You got somethin’ else to say about Sammy Jo?”

Jack Babbitt knew his wife better than himself. “A fine-lookin’ woman,” he said. “Make Cooper a good wife someday.”

Lettie slowly lowered the frying pan in her right hand. “I believe you’re right.”