by Kat Martin
Libby dragged in a shaky breath. “I was twelve years old when my parents died. Marty probably told you that.”
Sam nodded.
“I was devastated. My world fell completely apart, and I-I just couldn’t cope.”
“It had to be a terrible time for you.”
She swallowed. “I couldn’t handle the memories, so I blocked them. Even after I went to the city to live with Uncle Marty, I refused to talk about my mom and dad or the life I left behind. Over time, it got easier just to forget those years ever happened.”
She looked up at him. “And then I came here.”
His eyes locked with hers, dark brown and compelling, as if he really wanted to know her thoughts.
“You were raised on a farm. Marty told me that. I guess in a lot of ways, a ranch is similar.”
She looked back at the horizon, which had lightened to a soft yellow glow. “We had beautiful sunrises in Kansas. It’s not mountainous like Colorado, but I loved living there as a kid. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until I came here.”
The hand that covered hers gently squeezed. “Maybe that’s why Marty sent you. So you could deal with the past you’ve tried so hard to forget.”
Fresh tears threatened. “Maybe.” Not wanting to look weak in front of him, she pulled her hand away and immediately felt the loss. “I need to go in and help Clara.”
Sam nodded. As Libby turned away, his expression darkened. “What’s that in your pocket? I thought I told you no phones allowed anywhere but your room.”
Her mouth tightened. “I was taking a picture. I didn’t bring my camera. Next time I’ll ask your permission, though I don’t think the sun is going to wait.” She turned to leave, but Sam reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her before she reached the door.
“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising her. “I should have thought of that. I can’t change the rules, but I can drive you into town, where you can buy one of those disposable cameras they sell at the mercantile.”
Some of her anger faded. At least he was trying not to be a dick. “That sounds fair.”
Sam’s gaze went to her bare feet, and his lips twitched. “You might want to buy yourself a pair of boots while you’re there.”
One of her eyebrows went up. “You’re worried about the camping trip? You don’t think my sneakers will work?”
Sam smiled. He had the nicest smile. “It’s the horseback ride getting there that’s the problem.”
Libby smiled back. “I’ll give it some thought.”
Something shifted in the air between them, heating her from the inside out. Sam’s eyes remained on her face, and Libby couldn’t look away.
Worse yet, she didn’t want to.
Until that moment, she hadn’t realized what a danger Sam Bridger posed. As she headed into the house, Libby vowed not to forget again.
* * * *
Sam thought of the woman taking pictures of the sunrise, and his chest felt tight. He was beginning to understand why Martin Hale had sent his beloved niece to the ranch. Marty hadn’t been able to help her deal with her grief. Sam figured Marty was making a last-ditch effort to give her the gift of her past.
And he had enlisted Sam’s help to do it.
Sam blew out a breath. Unfortunately, Marty hadn’t anticipated the attraction Sam would feel to his niece. Hell, Sam hadn’t expected it, either.
Sure, she was beautiful. Petite and feminine, with miles of shiny blond hair. He wanted to grab a handful and drag her mouth to his, see if those pouty lips tasted as good as they looked. Just thinking about it made him hard.
This morning he had seen her without a trace of makeup, and if anything, she’d only looked more beautiful. At least to him.
He reminded himself there were a lot of beautiful, sexy women in the world, and he had never had trouble attracting a female he desired. He didn’t understand his fierce attraction to this one.
But Libby had caught him completely off guard. He had banked on her being spoiled, selfish, and demanding. He grinned. She was a handful, no doubt. But there was a sweetness to Libby he hadn’t expected. It drew him as no woman had in a very long time.
Sam was man enough to know when a woman was equally attracted. And though they’d been at odds at first, that attraction was growing.
He had to put a stop to it. Martin had entrusted the niece he thought of as a daughter into Sam’s care. Seducing her was out of the question. He sighed as he checked the repair he had made in the fence and headed for the barn.
During the summer, the hands all pitched in to help with the guests. Dare was a fisherman, and he was good. He helped rig the poles and showed the men the best fishing holes on the creek.
Ronnie Yates gave riding lessons. As Sam approached the barn, he spotted Alice and Betty, who looked like silver-haired pixies compared to the muscular African American, and Ronnie looked small compared to Big John. The women seemed enthralled with the horses they had been assigned, an older chestnut mare named Biscuit for Betty, and for Alice, a big red Appaloosa named, aptly, Red.
The two horses were circling the ring while Ronnie instructed the women on their position in the saddle and how to hold the reins. Clearly they trusted him to make sure they would be all right.
Sam glanced around for Libby but didn’t see her, which was good. The less time he spent with her, the better.
* * * *
Finished cleaning Cougar Cabin, which, being the largest, took the most time, Libby picked up the bucket that held her cleaning supplies, grabbed the mop and broom and headed for Wolverine.
The fishermen’s car, an older model faded blue Ford Fusion, was parked in front, but the DO NOT DISTURB sign hadn’t been hung on the door, so she gave it a quick, firm knock.
Max opened the door. He was shirtless, dressed in jeans, his black hair damp from the shower and sticking to his head. He had a hard, sinewy body and a chest covered by curly black chest hair. There were tattoos on his arms, a serpent on one, a skull and crossbones on the other.
“We were just leaving,” Max said. “Come on in.”
Libby stepped into the living room, set the bucket on the floor and propped the mop beside it, then took the broom and started sweeping in front of the iron stove.
The bedroom door opened, and Vince walked out. He eyed her up and down. “Damned shame,” he drawled with a trace of southern accent. “Woman looks as good as you?” He shook his head, moving the stringy blond hair that brushed his shoulders. “You could do a lot better than sweeping floors and cleaning toilets.”
Annoyance trickled through her. “It’s only for the summer. I’ve never been on a ranch, so I think of it as an adventure.” That was total BS, but why she was there was none of his business.
She started sweeping, and Vince moved up behind her. She stiffened at the heat of his big body standing so close.
“If you’re looking for adventure,” he said softly, “I could give you a little thrill.”
Her mouth tightened. She turned, set her palms on his chest and pushed him a few steps back. She was used to men like Vince. They all wanted the same thing. She just needed to make sure they understood they weren’t going to get it.
“Look, Vince. I’m not interested in anything you’re selling, okay? I have a job to do. That’s the only reason I’m here. Max said the two of you were leaving. Once you’re gone, I can finish my work.”
Vince’s pale blue eyes fixed on her breasts, and the corner of his mouth slid up. “I like a female with spunk, so I won’t take offense. You change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Libby gritted her teeth.
“Leave the girl alone,” Max said. “We’ve got things to do. We need to get going.”
The men left the cabin, and Libby blew out a breath. She’d been right about those two. They were more secretive, more unapproacha
ble than the other guests. They hadn’t tried to make friends, just stayed off to themselves. She’d noticed Vince watching her a couple of times, but she was used to that. Now that she’d stood up to him, she figured he wouldn’t give her any more trouble.
Just to be safe, next time she’d make sure they were gone before she went in to do the housekeeping.
Libby made the twin beds, cleaned the bathroom, finished straightening up and left the cabin. She hadn’t done this kind of work since she’d left the farm, but it wasn’t that bad, and it made the time pass swiftly. She hadn’t had a chance to see the miniature goats yet, so she headed in that direction.
As she passed the barn, she noticed one of the stalls stood open and Big John knelt on the straw inside. Changing course, she wandered over just as he was rising, a small blanket-wrapped bundle tucked into the crook of his thick, powerful arm.
“What happened?”
“It’s one of the barn cats. Looks like she ran into trouble last night. Probably a coyote. She got away, but the damage was already done.”
“You mean...she’s dead?”
He nodded, his heavy black braid shifting across his broad back. “I’ll take care of her and the kittens she left behind.”
Libby’s gaze swung to the stall, and she saw a tiny squirming mass in the straw. “Oh my God, she has babies!”
John stopped in the opening, the mother cat still in his arms. “They’re too small to make it. It’s kinder just to get rid of them.”
She dropped to her knees, and her eyes filled as she looked down at the tiny gray bodies. “They just need someone to feed them. I can do it. It won’t be that hard.”
“You’ll be up all hours of the night,” Big John said.
“I don’t care. You can’t just kill them. Please, John, let me take care of them.”
John said nothing, just stood there staring as if he was trying to read her thoughts, then he nodded.
“What’s going on here?” Sam strode up to the open stall door.
Libby put herself between the two men and the kittens. “I won’t let you take them. They deserve a chance to live.”
Big John looked at Sam. “One of the barn cats died. She just had a litter. They may be too small to survive, but Libby wants to try. I said it was okay.”
Sam’s gaze swung in her direction. He must have noticed her mutinous expression. “They’re going to take a lot of work. Are you sure?”
“I’ll take care of them. I can still do my other jobs.”
Something moved across his features. “All right. We’ll all pitch in if you need help.”
“I won’t,” she said firmly.
Sam nodded. “I think Clara has some doll bottles. She’s done this kind of thing before.”
Libby felt a wave of relief. “I just need to get them up to my room.”
Sam found a cardboard box and lined it with straw. They placed the minuscule newborn kittens in the box, and Sam carried it upstairs.
Libby had never really thought about backing out of the conditions of her uncle’s will and returning to New York, but if she had, the kittens would have ended the notion.
They needed her. It had been a long time since anyone had needed Liberty Hale.
Chapter Seven
With Clara making preparations for the three-day pack trip coming up tomorrow, Sam had no choice but to drive Libby into Coffee Springs.
The small community, just a little over a block long, had a narrow redbrick post office at one end and Rocky Mountain Supply at the other, and a mercantile and gas station that serviced the area for miles around. The only other businesses were the Coffee Springs Café, the Elkhorn Bar and Grill, Murray’s Grocery, the Coffee Springs Bed and Breakfast, and Fred’s Gun Shop and Dentistry.
Sam helped Libby out of the truck, and they headed into the big metal building that housed the mercantile.
“Mornin’, Sam.” Fran Tilman, one of the employees, hurried over to help. A stout, older woman with silver hair cut in a bob, Fran knew everyone in town and was always full of gossip.
Just what Sam didn’t need.
“Morning, Fran.” He turned. “Fran, this is Libby Hale. She’s working at the ranch this summer. She needs a few things.”
Fran’s shrewd gaze went from him to Libby. “Always happy to help.” Meaning she was happy to get a chance for fresh gossip.
Fran smiled, and Libby smiled back. “We got just about anything you can think of,” Fran said. “What do you need?”
Libby glanced around the big open area that held everything from farm equipment to saddles and horse gear, along with racks of clothing, heavy winter jackets, and Western wear.
“I’ll leave you to your shopping,” Sam said, eager to escape. “I’ve got some errands. I won’t be gone long.” He started to leave, stopped and turned back. “I don’t think I mentioned there’s a lake in the mountains where we’re camping. If you don’t have a bathing suit, you can probably find one here.”
Libby’s smile widened, betraying the first real excitement he had seen. “A lake. That sounds great. Don’t worry, I’ve got my own suit. I never travel without one.”
Sam ground down on the image of Libby in a miniscule bikini, but his body ignored him and stirred to life. He managed to nod as he walked away. Maybe he should have let her skip the pack trip after all.
* * * *
Libby glanced around the dome-shaped metal structure, taking in the automotive supplies, bags of dry dog food, saddles, bridles, and RV equipment.
“I came to buy a disposable camera.” She thought of her cell phone with longing. “If they still make those things.”
Fran nodded wisely. “Fujifilm Instax Mini. They come in different colors. There’s a rack right over here.” The plump woman led the way and Libby followed.
“Which one’s the best?” she asked.
“Well, you can buy the camera bundle, which has some extra goodies, but it costs quite a bit more.”
“I’ll take it.”
Fran eyed her a little differently, plucked a pink plastic camera off the rack and handed it over. “So how did you come to be working on the ranch? Are you a long-time friend of Sam’s?”
“My uncle was a friend. He suggested I come up for the summer.”
“Maybe I knew him. What was his name?”
Libby was there because she had no choice, but the woman didn’t need to know that. “Uncle Martin only came for a couple of weeks. He passed a few months back.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” They started toward the register. “You said you have a swimsuit. Is there anything else I can show you?”
She looked over at the Western clothes. “Sam thinks I need a pair of cowboy boots.”
Fran grinned. “We have a big boot department. And you might want to look at some Western shirts or jeans. We just got in a new shipment. Oh, and we got some beautiful Montana Silversmith’s jewelry: earrings, belt buckles, bracelets, that kind of thing. You’re new here, but eventually, you’ll probably end up over at the Elkhorn Bar and Grill. They have dances there on the weekends.”
“They have a band?”
“Sure do. If you don’t know how to country dance, I’m sure Sam can teach you.”
The implication was clear, but Libby didn’t take the bait, just smiled and made no reply. She followed Fran over to the Western wear department, which immediately captured her interest.
By the time Libby walked out of the mercantile, she was carrying an armload of jeans, boots, shirts, Western tank tops, some pretty silver jewelry, and of course her Fujifilm Mini.
She set the bags down on the sidewalk and began to watch for Sam’s truck. Across the parking lot, she noticed Max and Vince’s blue Ford Fusion sitting in front of the gas pumps. Vince filled the tank while Max stood a few feet away, deep in conversation with a bearded man in jeans a
nd a red flannel shirt. There were a few streaks of gray in his reddish-brown hair, and above the scraggly beard, a suntanned, weathered complexion.
Preoccupied, they didn’t seem to see her in an alcove near the front door. Vince finished pumping gas, and he and Max got into the car. Max started the engine while the bearded man took off around the side of the building and disappeared.
They sure didn’t look like fishermen, Libby thought, but then what did she know?
As the sedan drove away, Libby spotted Sam’s big Dodge truck pulling into the parking lot. Sam got out of the pickup, his eyes widening at the stack of packages at her feet.
“I knew I shouldn’t have stayed away so long.” He took the armload of bags and began loading them into the back of the truck. Libby tried not to notice the lean muscles shifting beneath his denim shirt, or the way his behind, outlined by faded butter-soft jeans, flexed and tightened with his every move.
The lift in her stomach surprised her. She hadn’t felt the least desire for a man in...well, years. She’d just been burned too often. But Sam was different. Nothing like the men she used to date in the city.
Or at least that was the way he seemed. Maybe it was all just an act, a way to get her to let down her guard. It had happened before.
“Time to go,” Sam said, snapping her out of her dismal thoughts.
Libby climbed into the truck and buckled her seat belt. Tomorrow she was going on a camping trip in the mountains. A memory stirred, her dad promising to take her on an overnight camping trip with two of her girlfriends. He and her mom had been killed the week before they were supposed to leave.
Sadness rose inside her. Libby took a deep breath and forced it away. She thought again of the pack trip and instead of dread felt an unexpected surge of anticipation. Maybe a camping trip into the Rocky Mountains wouldn’t be all that bad.
Then she remembered she was a city girl used to five-star hotels and three-star Michelin restaurants. Not a sleeping bag on the ground and no bathrooms.
She grimaced. More likely, it would be exactly as bad as she imagined.
* * * *
