The Wrangler Page 8

  “Sam!” Clint called.

  She shook her head. But Buttercup was born to run. He had the taut athleticism of an animal whose ancestors had outmaneuvered prey for hundreds of years. With every stride Clint came closer. She leaned forward, tried to urge her horse faster. But it was no use. Clint caught her.

  “Sam,” he repeated. “Stop.”

  She didn’t want to. She wanted to keep on running…and running…maybe one day outdistancing her pain.

  She pulled up out of kindness to Inca. Pastures were tricky. All it would take was a tiny hole or a thick patch of grass…something that would tangle in her legs or hooves and bring them down.

  “Whoa,” she said softly, leaning back. But she didn’t dash her tears away quickly enough.

  “You’re crying,” he said when he had Buttercup stopped.

  “The wind in my eyes.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said, dismounting.

  Her mare shook her head, as if chastising her for running her so fast. “I’m okay,” she said. “Really.”

  But he ignored her, dropping his reins and crossing to her. “Get down.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need to let it out.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said, attempting, and failing, at sounding outraged.

  “Sam,” he said gently. “Get down. You’re like a race horse, ready to explode out of the gate.”

  She wiped her eyes again because, damn it, another tear had managed to escape. “Only you would use a horse analogy,” she said, slipping out of the saddle. She sounded like Alvin the chipmunk her nose was so clogged.

  She was shaking now, trying so damn hard not to lose control. Breathe in. Breathe out.

  But she couldn’t do it. She could feel her control crumbling like the ancient hills behind her.

  She couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t be strong. She wanted her mom. And her dad. She wanted her life back.

  She wanted not to go blind.

  “I don’t think. I just don’t know—”

  And then she was in his arms, sobbing, crying like she’d never cried before.

  Chapter Eleven

  Clint held her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “So damn sorry.”

  “’Sokay,” he heard Sam slur. “’S not your fault.”

  He rested his head against the top of her short-cropped hair. She fit him so perfectly. Like two pieces of a jigsaw, her curves fitting into his concaves as if they’d been cut apart at birth. “I still ache for you.”

  She sucked in a breath, clinging to him as if she was afraid she’d sink below the surface if she didn’t hold on.

  “Thank you,” she said a long while later.

  He’d been rocking her, slowly, gently. “You’re paying my dry cleaning bill,” he said.

  “Dry cleaning bill,” she repeated, drawing back and wiping at her eyes. Other women would look hideous after such a crying jag. Not Sam. “You look like you need a blow-dryer.”

  “Sorry. No blow-dryers in my saddle pack.”

  She smiled slightly. Progress.

  “You’ve been so kind to me.”

  He gave her one last hug before setting her away from him. Frankly, he had to retreat because he was starting to feel something for her. “Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone,” he said. “You’ll ruin my reputation as a surly old cowboy.”

  “You’re not old,” she said, sniffing. “And you’re certainly not surly.”

  “Come on,” he said, turning to see where his horse had run off to. Always made him laugh when he watched those old cowboy movies, the horses never moving once the reins had been dropped. It was a rare horse, indeed, that wouldn’t wander, even with grass nearby. Sure enough, both horses were at least twenty paces away. “Let’s get on before they head back to the barn.”

  But before he’d taken a step he heard her say, “Clint.”

  He faced her again, reluctantly.

  “I realize you didn’t want me here…not at first,” she said. “But I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you and your grandmother’s generosity. You two are strangers to me, but you’ve treated me like family.” Her breath sounded jagged. “I needed that right now.”

  That’s why he hadn’t given in to the urge to kiss her, though it nearly killed him. But the timing was all wrong. It might never be right.

  He moved away, fetched her horse for her and then held the reins while she mounted.

  “Which way?” she asked.

  “WHERE’D YOU TWO RIDE OFF TO?” Gigi asked him later that night.

  They’d just finished dinner, Samantha having already gone up to her room for the night. Clint knew his grandmother was brimming with questions. She must have sensed Sam’s subdued mood, and noticed that he couldn’t keep his eyes off Sam.

  “We rode out to open the south gate,” he said. “After I fixed that fence line.”

  Gigi got up, began to clear plates. Clint got up to help her.

  “She looked like she’d been crying.”

  Now, how had she guessed? “She broke down while we were out riding.”

  “Broke down?” Gigi asked.

  Clint batted Gigi’s hands away from the dishes, butting her out of the way. “Let me do that.”

  “By all means,” she said, motioning for him to continue.

  “Did she tell you she’s disabled?” he asked.

  “Disabled how?”

  He shook his head, put one of the dirty plates under the warm stream of water. Sam’s dishes were already in the sink—food untouched.

  “Don’t know,” he said. “Didn’t ask.”

  “She looks fine.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But then we started talking about her having to quit her job, having to sell her horse—”

  “Poor dear.”

  “She’s really had a tough time of it.”

  “She sure has,” Gigi said, crossing her arms in front of her. “So what are we going to do about it?”

  “We aren’t going to do anything but take her up to see our horses,” he said, opening the dishwasher and setting the clean plate inside.

  “Clinton, that girl is all alone, without a friend in the world.”

  “It’s none of our business,” he said, picking up another plate.

  She huffed. “Of course it’s our business. She’s a guest in our house, and let me tell you, the whole time she’s been here I haven’t heard her cell phone ring once. And she doesn’t call anyone. Heck, she hasn’t even asked if we have Internet.”

  “She’s probably afraid to impose,” he said.

  “You’re right. She probably is. She’s not like Julia.”

  The plate slipped out of his hands and landed with a clatter against the stainless steel.

  “Did it break?” she asked, peering into the sink.

  “No,” he said. “But if it had, it would have been your fault. Why’d you have to go and mention her?”

  “Because you almost married her. Fortunately, you woke up in time, but not before you were hurt. I’m worried you might be afraid to put your hat in the arena one more time.”

  “Meaning you don’t mind me dating Samantha Davies, but you don’t want me sleeping with her,” he said, taking Gigi’s plate from the pile. Hopefully he wouldn’t drop this one.

  “I’ll have none of that kind of talk in here.”

  “Why not?” he asked. “You were the one who told me to keep my paws off of her.”

  “Because I thought all you wanted was sex. Now I’m not so certain.”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  “You took her out on a trail ride.”

  He set Gigi’s plate down, shut off the water. “What does taking her on a trail ride have to do with the price of tea in China?”

  Gigi studied him intently. “You don’t mix business with pleasure. The last time you did that was with—”

  “Julia,” he finished for her.

  “Yes.”

  “And look where that got me.”
<
br />   “Sam’s different.”

  “Sam’s got a whole lot more on her mind than me.”

  “Have you kissed her?”

  He’d been in the middle of scraping off Sam’s plate, but the damn thing almost slipped from his grasp, too.

  “You have, haven’t you?”

  “No comment,” he grumbled.

  “Just be careful, Clint. She’s fragile right now.”

  “You don’t know her well enough to say that.”

  “Yes, I do. I know her heart. And it’s a good one. Unlike—”

  Julia’s. He didn’t say the name. Didn’t need to.

  “I just want you to be careful. What that girl needs right now is a shoulder to cry on.”

  “Believe me, she had one this afternoon.”

  “Good. And some kindness, too. We’ve been blessed, you and I. Yes, we’ve had more than our fair share of tragedies, but we’ve had each other, this ranch, friends…. Sam has no one.”

  And nothing to look forward to, either. That seemed a shame. A damn shame.

  “I’ll give her some space, if that’s what you want.”

  “Take things slow with her. Shower her with love.”

  “Love?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  No, he didn’t. “You want me to sleep with her now?”

  “That wasn’t what I was inferring at all,” his grandmother spat.

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “Do something nice for her. The poor dear is in desperate need of a random act of kindness.”

  Yeah, she was. He got the impression Sam had never had a helping hand. Her parents had been there for her, but purely as emotional support. She’d put herself through school. Supported her own riding career. Lived on her own.

  “Let me think what I can do.”

  THE NEXT MORNING HE WAS no closer to figuring out what “random act of kindness” would be appropriate for someone they barely knew. He got dressed in his clean denim shirt and jeans, half expecting to bump into Sam. Yesterday, she’d seemed anxious to help, but today she was nowhere in sight. He went outside to feed the horses, but when he came back in for breakfast, she still wasn’t around.

  Gigi looked worried. “I brought her breakfast earlier. She thanked me, but claimed she wasn’t hungry.”

  Clint kissed the top of Gigi’s head. “I’ll go check on her.”

  He went to her room, lifting his hat and running a hand through his hair before softly knocking. “You there?” he asked.

  She didn’t respond.

  Had she gone back to sleep? He knocked again, louder. Still no answer.

  Crap, what if…she’d killed herself?

  He opened the door. She gasped, turning away from the window, clutching the robe she was wearing tightly around her. “What the hell?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “When you didn’t answer, I…got worried.”

  “Well, as you can see, I’m fine,” she said. The morning light outlined her hair and set it aglow.

  He stepped into the room.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong. Last night, at dinner, you seemed fine. Maybe light on appetite, but fine.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong. I just didn’t sleep well, is all.”

  “No,” he said. “You’re not fine. Anyone who cried as hard as you did yesterday is definitely not fine.”

  “That’s just it,” she said. “I shouldn’t have lost it like I did. I barely know you guys, yet all I’ve done is blubber on your shoulder ever since I’ve come here.”

  He moved closer to her, and though he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help but notice how sexy her legs were.

  What a caveman you are, Clint.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “What do you mean, what happened?” she asked. “Nothing’s happened.”

  “Bull,” he said. “I can tell something’s set you off.”

  She shook her head.

  “What happened?” He closed the distance between them.

  She looked down at the floor, and Clint could tell she wanted to tell him.

  “Sam,” he said gently, lifting her chin, “I told you yesterday, if you need a shoulder…”

  She sucked in a breath, her pupils dilating. “Yeah, but you were just being kind,” she said softly.

  “I sincerely want to help. Tell me. What happened?”

  Chapter Twelve

  As if from a distance, Sam heard herself say, “Someone bought my horse this morning. I got a very early call. They bought him sight unseen. He’s being shipped out after the wire transfer clears the bank.”

  Clint studied her for a moment, concern written on his face. Finally, he pulled her into his arms, murmuring, “Aww, Sam. I’m sorry.”

  She’d grown numb. Gigi and Clint were nice people. She had to stop burdening them with her troubles.

  “I’m okay,” she said, stiff in his arms, but not because she was afraid she might cry. She was naked under her robe. And Clint…his body was hard and hot and she was starting to tingle in places….

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, drawing back.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I just can’t…I mean, I know it’s for the best, but it still hurts. I’ve had Coaster since he was a baby. Raised him. Trained him. Now he’s going to someone else’s barn, and with my life the way it is…”

  “You might never see him again,” he said, his voice full of understanding.

  She stepped away from him.

  “It was a great offer,” she said, running a hand through her short hair. “Money I couldn’t refuse. Twenty thousand. So I gave the go-ahead.”

  “Wow,” he said. “Isn’t that great news?”

  No. “Yeah,” she said.

  And for a moment she let herself be angry. What the hell kind of dark cloud had she fallen under to lose her parents, her job, her horse, and soon, her vision?

  “Look,” she said, pulling the robe around her, “thanks for caring enough to check on me. I appreciate that. But I’ll be fine.”

  She expected him to nod. For sure she expected him to leave. Instead he removed his hat, ran a hand through his hair.

  “I know it’s probably not going to be the same,” he said, “but we have a boatload of horses around here. If you’d like, I’ll give you one.”

  She couldn’t speak for a heartbeat. “You’ll give me one?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Why not. Like I said, horses are something we have a lot of.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that. Really. I’ll get over losing Coaster.” Sooner or later.

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “I mean it,” she said, grabbing his arm and leading him to the door. “I’m fine. But I plan on staying out of everyone’s hair today so don’t be worried if you don’t see me. I promise not to kill myself.”

  “I never thought you were going to kill yourself,” he said, dragging his heels.

  But honestly, every time she touched him—no matter how fragile her emotional state—she didn’t want to let him go. It was frightening how badly she wanted him.

  “You thought something bad had happened. I could see it in your eyes.”

  He didn’t say anything, and she knew she shouldn’t do it…knew it was a bad idea, but she couldn’t seem to stop from reaching up on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. “You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met,” she admitted, pulling back before she did something even more crazy like undo her robe and place his hand against her breast.

  But when she stepped away, he didn’t let her go. “You wouldn’t think I was sweet if you knew what I was thinking right now.”

  She froze.

  “If you had any idea how much I want to part that robe of yours, to see if you’re wearing anything beneath it.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Don’t be silly. Of course I’m wearing something beneath this. What kind of girl do you think I am? “I’
m not.”

  His eyes flashed, and Sam recognized that she’d crossed a line, one that put the ball in his court.

  He stepped back. Sam tried not to let her shoulders slump.

  He closed the door.

  Sam felt her body throb to life.

  He pulled her to him, and the carnal way he kissed her told Sam all she needed to know. This would be no slow seduction.

  And then she stopped thinking.

  His tongue seared her mouth. She arched into him, offering herself, begging him without words that she wanted him to part her robe, to put his hand on her, touch her….

  He did exactly that.

  She groaned, closing her eyes as his hand found her naked breast. His thumb and forefinger lightly stroked her, and then gently—ever so softly—squeezed her. She almost sagged to the ground the sensation was so exquisite. When he pulled his lips away, Sam’s eyes opened in disappointment.

  He was bending, his mouth moving to the tip of her nipple and—oh, dear—sucking it. “Clint,” she moaned.

  Somehow she was moving backward, toward the bed, Sam sinking onto it while Clint continued to lick and then nip and then gently bite. And she was pressing herself against him, lifting her hips off the bed because it’d been so long…so long since she’d been with a man.

  His hand glided downward. She knew where that hand was headed, her body erupting in anticipation of it touching her. He paused for a second at her hips. She tipped toward him in such a way that he wouldn’t be able to mistake what she wanted him to do. Stroke her. There.

  He did.

  Softly at first, then with more and more pressure. She pushed against him, trying to encourage him without words to delve deeper. He did as asked.

  She would remember this, she thought. Remember what it felt like. Smelled like. Looked like. That most of all. So when his lips left her breasts to follow the same path as his hand, she watched him, reached out and touched his hair. But the lower he moved, the harder it became to keep her eyes open. It felt so good. She wanted to lean back and savor every sensation. He kissed her side, lingering there for a few breaths, tickling her with razor stubble, and then he shifted, licked her left hip.

  “Clint,” she said softly, bright flashes of light exploding behind her eyes.