by Kat Martin
“The kitchen looks fine.” Sam’s deep voice rumbled through her, sending little flutters into her stomach. He had left right after supper, and she hadn’t seen him since. “You’ve had a long day,” Sam said. “Why don’t you go on up to bed? You’ve got an early start in the morning.”
She flicked a glance out the window. She had never seen a night sky so clear. The stars looked as if a huge crystal ball had exploded, scattering diamonds from one horizon to the other.
Libby nodded and untied the apron around her waist. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how exhausted she really was.
She didn’t look at Sam as she crossed the room, but she could feel his eyes on her until she disappeared out the door.
Tomorrow would be her first official day. She groaned to think how many more days there would be until this nightmare was over.
* * * *
The first guests arrived just before noon, when a white four-door Subaru SUV pulled up in front of the cabins. The Dunbar family lived in Denver, a three-hour drive away. It was their second year at the ranch, which Sam considered a sign of approval for a job well done.
As a young man, Caleb Dunbar, the father, had nursed a secret yearning to rodeo. Instead, he’d married, taken an accounting job in the city, and had a couple of kids. Though the man was clearly happy and crazy about his family, being at the ranch revived a little of his long-ago dream.
Sam heard the crunch of sneakers on gravel behind him and knew Libby had joined him. The scent of orange blossoms gave her away.
“Libby, this is Caleb and Jenny Dunbar.” A lean, lanky, dark-haired man, and his wife, a petite woman with curly, light brown hair. Sam looked down at the couple’s ten-year-old son and eight-year-old daughter, miniatures of their parents. “These guys are Jordy and Suzy.”
Libby smiled. “Nice to meet you all.”
“Libby will be helping with chores while you’re here,” Sam explained. “She’ll be taking care of Cougar Cabin. If there’s anything you need, just let her know.”
Libby’s features tightened. Housekeeping definitely didn’t appeal to her.
Too bad, Sam thought. Everyone carried their weight at Bridger Ranch.
Sam gave the Dunbars their keys, and the family went to work unloading their gear. Cougar Cabin was the largest, comprised of a living room with a fireplace, a kitchen, two bedrooms, and two baths. There was a queen bed in one room and twin beds in the other.
“We’ll see you at supper,” Sam said.
Caleb gave a wave, and parents and children hurried away.
“Cute kids,” Libby said.
Sam cast her a glance. “You like kids?”
“Sure. But they’re a lot of work.”
“True enough.”
“Animals are a lot less trouble.”
Sam just smiled.
The next guests to check in were a pair of older women, both widows, Alice Weeks and Betty Spurgis. Alice was short and plump, Betty slightly taller and thin. Both had short-cropped, iron-gray hair. They were staying in Badger Cabin, a smaller accommodation. It was their first time on a guest ranch, and both were excited.
Betty glanced around. “Oh, it’s just beautiful here.”
“We think so,” Sam said, his gaze automatically going to the range of mountains surrounding the pastures, rising toward the endless blue skies.
“We’re especially looking forward to the pack trip,” Alice said, following the line of his gaze.
Betty smiled. “I haven’t been on a horse since I was a little girl.” But she was dressed in jeans and boots, ready to go anytime.
“And we get to sleep in a tent,” Alice added excitedly.
The corners of Libby’s pouty lips turned down, and Sam couldn’t stop a grin. “I guess Libby’s not as enthusiastic about the trip as you two are. Maybe she’ll change her mind once she’s up there.”
Betty’s silver eyebrows went up. “You don’t like camping?”
“I don’t really know. I’m from Manhattan.”
“We’re from Phoenix,” Alice said. “The photos on the website look wonderful. We can’t wait to visit the high country.”
“It’s beautiful up there,” Sam said. “You won’t be disappointed.” He helped the women with their luggage, then left them to settle in. Libby caught up with him as he strode toward the barn.
“You didn’t say anything about sleeping in a tent,” she muttered darkly.
“You’re here to work. Guests enjoy different activities. Their days are pretty much their own. Some like to fish; others like hiking or sightseeing. One of the add-ons we offer is a camping trip into the mountains. Guests ride in on horseback. We lead a string of pack mules in with supplies, stay two nights, then ride back out.”
“Do all the guests go on the trip?”
“Not all of them, no.”
“Then I’ll stay here and take care of those who remain behind.”
If she were anyone else, he might let her. But it wasn’t what Marty had wanted, and Marty was paying the bill. “Sorry, that’s not going to happen. I’ll need you to help with the cooking.”
“So Clara’s going on the trip?”
He almost laughed at her hopeful expression. “I do the camp cooking. You’ll just need to pitch in with the meals and help with cleanup.”
“But—”
“But what?” He cast her a glance. “You aren’t afraid of horses, are you?”
“No, but—”
“The weather plays a role. At the moment, it looks like we won’t be going till the end of next week. That’ll give you some time to get used to the idea.”
Libby grumbled something he was glad he couldn’t hear.
At least so far she’d been pleasant to the guests. Still, she wasn’t used to taking orders. He wondered how long her good humor would last.
* * * *
The afternoon passed more quickly than Libby would have guessed. Between visitor check-ins, Sam had given her a tour of the ranch, or at least a portion of the 5,100-acre property he owned.
Along with the cabins, there were two barns—one with a large tack room—an equipment shed, the bunkhouse, and a metal structure that sheltered huge rolled bales of hay stored for winter feed.
“We’re a working cattle ranch,” Sam explained. “That’s our main source of income. Having guests in the summer helps raise a little extra money, but it’s not really what we do.”
According to Sam, along with a thousand head of Black Angus cattle, there were thirty horses, the remuda, he called them. There was also a pigsty and a chicken coop.
Libby paused to watch the black-and-white speckled hens pecking in the yard around the coop.
“Oh, you raise Plymouth Rocks!” she exclaimed. “And look at that beautiful Rhode Island Red rooster.”
Sam’s head swiveled toward her in amazement. “You know chickens?”
She shrugged. “I was raised on a farm.” But most of the first twelve years of her life were buried behind the wall of grief she had built to protect herself after her parents were killed. She remembered almost none of her childhood and didn’t really want to.
When he continued to stare, she found herself telling him the truth. “I don’t remember much about my life back then. Seeing the chickens, I remembered going with my mom to collect eggs from the coop. Some days it was like an Easter egg hunt. My mom had a way of making it fun.” Libby swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. She didn’t like thinking about the past. It was just too painful.
Sam said nothing, but she thought that his features softened.
Next they went to visit the pigsty, an open-field enclosure with mounds of fresh straw, half-round metal shelters where the small group of pink-and-white pigs could get out of the sun, and a shallow pond where they could bathe and cool themselves.
�
��We only raise enough animals for our own use, but the visitors enjoy them,” Sam said. “We’ve also got five miniature goats. They’re a real favorite with the kids.”
Her interest sharpened. “Where are they? I’d love to see them.”
Sam pulled out his cell and checked the screen. “Unfortunately, we’re out of time. Our next guests should be arriving any minute.” He tucked the phone into the back pocket of his jeans, and Libby’s gaze lingered on his tight behind.
“Why do you get to use your cell and the rest of us don’t?” she grumbled, annoyed with herself for noticing.
“Now that we have guests, I won’t use it unless there’s an emergency. As I said, people come here to escape the digital world we live in these days.”
Sam started walking, and Libby lengthened her stride to keep up with him. “I’m surprised you have any cell service out here at all.”
“It’s spotty, that’s for sure. There’s not much once you head up in the hills, but close to the house it’s fairly reliable.”
At least she could use her phone upstairs.
She looked up to see one of the ranch vehicles, a black Ford Expedition, pulling up in front of the cabins. The next guests to arrive had flown from Los Angeles into the Eagle airport, and Big John Coolwater had gone to pick them up.
According to Sam, they were on their honeymoon.
“You must be Brad and Kim Hillman,” he said, shaking Brad’s hand as Big John unloaded their luggage from the back of the SUV. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sam Bridger, and this is Libby Hale.”
“Good to meet you,” Brad said. He was a lawyer, and he looked like one—attractive, with short, perfectly styled dark hair and blue eyes.
“Libby will be taking care of your cabin. If you need anything, just let her know.”
Brad slid an arm around his pretty blond bride. “I’ve got everything I could possibly need right here.”
Kim blushed.
“Congratulations to you both,” Sam said. “You’ll be staying in the Dove’s Nest. That’s our honeymoon cabin. I think you’ll like it.”
It turned out to be a one-bedroom with a natural rock fireplace in the living room, a king-size four-poster bed, and a kitchenette. All of the cabins, Libby discovered, were cozy and welcoming and reflected the mountain setting of the ranch.
When Big John set the couple’s bags on the pine floor at the foot of the bed, Brad leaned down and brushed a soft kiss over Kim’s lips. Warm color crept into her cheeks.
“This looks great,” Brad said, his gaze sweeping the room furnished with a pine dresser and nightstands. “The bed looks real comfortable.”
Kim’s flush deepened.
“We’ll leave you two to settle in,” Sam said. “Part of the honeymoon package is your choice of supper with us in the main house or having your dinner brought over so you can eat here. You just need to let us know ahead of time.”
Brad flicked Kim a heated glance. “We’re both pretty slammed after the flight. I think we’ll have supper here.”
It wasn’t hard to read Brad’s plans for the evening, or the anticipation in Kim’s pretty face. Libby’s glance strayed from Sam to the big four-poster bed, and a little thread of heat curled low in her belly.
Sam’s eyes met hers and seemed to turn a shade darker, but he made no comment as they left the cabin and headed back to the house.
“I don’t think we’ll be seeing much of the Hillmans,” he said. “At least not for the first few days.”
Libby glanced back over her shoulder and saw that the curtains had already been drawn. Unexpected longing welled inside her. “They really seem happy,” she said.
“They’re newlyweds and they’re in love. That’s the way it’s supposed to work.”
Libby pressed her lips together. “I suppose.”
Sam paused outside the back door. “What? You don’t believe in love? Is that the reason you don’t date?”
She tilted her head back to look up at him. “I don’t date because most men are selfish bastards. I hope Brad Hillman isn’t one of them.” With that she brushed past him, marched into the house, and closed the door.
Chapter Six
After supper, Sam spent a couple of hours in his study. There was always work to do: QuickBooks entries to check, supply orders to prepare, cost analyses to examine. The work was endless. He was grateful for Clara’s help, along with the CPA in Coffee Springs who kept everything running smoothly.
Tonight his mind kept straying to Libby. She didn’t trust men, that was for sure. Obviously, she’d been hurt badly. He wondered who had done it and felt a surge of protectiveness he hadn’t expected.
The house was quiet as he walked down the hall to the kitchen for a glass of milk before heading up to bed. When something glinted on the deck off the dining room, he stepped outside and was surprised to find Libby sitting in a chair peering through a thick tube perched on a tripod.
“You’re up late,” he said, walking toward her. “Is that a telescope?”
Libby turned away from the scope. Although it was dark, he could tell she was smiling.
“Stargazing is my passion. I got interested in college, and it just stuck with me.” She stared up at the blanket of stars overhead. “Isn’t it amazing? The sky so black and clear, almost no light anywhere. The stars look like white diamonds on black velvet.” She pointed up. “That’s the Milky Way. You can just look up and see it. There’s nothing like this in the city or anywhere else I’ve ever been.”
Something shifted inside him. He was learning there was more to Libby Hale than he had first thought. “Except for the three years I spent in the army, I’ve lived in Coffee Springs all my life. You begin to take things for granted, I guess.”
“Like being able to see the stars whenever you want?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to take a closer look?”
“Sure.” But he regretted the impulse the minute he moved closer and inhaled the soft, sweet scent of her.
Libby shifted forward to adjust a few knobs and bring the picture into focus, brushing her breasts against his shoulder and putting her cheek close to his. If he turned his head, he could kiss those full pouty lips.
His body stirred to life, and Sam bit back a groan.
“So what do you think? Isn’t it something?”
He forced himself to concentrate. “Spectacular.” But he couldn’t help wondering if he was talking about the stars or the woman looking up at them.
He took a deep breath and eased away. “Thanks for sharing.”
“You think it’s safe to leave it set up out here?”
“We’re not in New York. If you’ve got something to cover it and keep out the moisture, it should be fine.”
“I’ve got everything I need.”
Sam nodded. “Well, goodnight then.”
He heard her moving around in the darkness behind him. “Goodnight, Sam.”
There was an intimacy in the way she said his name that made his groin tighten. It was impossible to deny he wanted her. Sam cursed Martin Hale again for putting him in this position.
* * * *
The last two guests arrived the next day, a couple of fishermen. One was a black-haired man named Max Stoddard with a wiry build and darkly suntanned skin. The other, Vince Nolan, was big and beefy, with straight blond hair that nearly reached his thick-muscled shoulders.
Libby stood next to Sam as he made the introductions; then the two men left to unpack their bags and make themselves at home in Wolverine Cabin.
They seemed different from the other guests, Libby thought, a little less friendly, but maybe it was just her.
By the end of the first few days, she had settled into a routine, finding the chores less distasteful than she had imagined. The Dunbar kids picked up after themselves, while the honeymooners, Kim an
d Brad, passed on housekeeping for two days in a row and mostly stayed in their cabin. If Alice and Betty were in Badger Cabin when Libby arrived, the women both pitched in to help.
In Wolverine, the fishermen, Max and Vince, slept late and missed breakfast their first morning, picked up sack lunches, grabbed fishing poles, and headed off to the creek. At supper, they stayed mostly to themselves. The next day, they ate and left but declined housekeeping, which was fine with her.
The guests all seemed to be having a good time, and Libby had to admit she was enjoying these days away from the city far more than she had imagined.
This morning, she’d awakened early and wandered over to the window. Noticing the spectacular sunrise taking shape outside, she quickly dragged on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, pulled her hair into a ponytail, grabbed her cell to take pictures, and headed downstairs.
Standing at the rail on the deck, she snapped a string of photos, excited to post them on her Instagram page and text them to her best friend, Caroline Thompson, back in the city. Finished, she stuck the phone in her pocket and just stood there watching the light, an array of pink, orange, rose, and gold that reminded her of rainbow sherbet.
Memories tickled the back of her mind, mornings she had stood outside the barn on the farm with her dad, watching the gray dawn brighten to a palette of beautiful colors. She remembered the smell of bacon frying and her mother humming in the kitchen as she cooked.
More memories surfaced. Her first day at school when she was five, getting on the school bus in the winter, her mom reminding her not to lose her gloves. Her chest ached. It took a moment for the sound of bootsteps to register behind her. Libby turned to see Sam, a worried look on his face.
“You’re crying. What’s wrong?”
She hadn’t realized. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, reached up and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
Sam didn’t look convinced. His hand covered hers where it rested on the railing, and his touch gave her strength.
“Tell me,” he said softly.
