“Davy!” Mike yelled. His face turned white and he rushed the fence, Angie right behind him.
“Grab him, Mike!”
Sam emerged from the barn, her confused expression a blur as Ethan sped past her. “Come on!”
She immediately sprinted behind him, her booted footsteps thudding in Ethan’s wake. Mike had climbed inside the paddock but still couldn’t reach his son. One of the stallions reared, clipping Mike’s shoulder with his hooves. He crumpled to the ground.
Sam and Ethan reached the fence at the same time. She reached beneath the rails for Mike and grabbed his arms, pulling him away from the danger and into the grass beside the paddock. Angie stooped to help, and Ethan vaulted over the top rail into the pen.
One of the stallions snorted in Ethan’s direction and pawed the ground. “Davy, very slowly, come around the horse to my side.” He kept his voice even and tried to smile. No doubt the horses were sensing Davy’s fear and reacting accordingly. It wouldn’t help adding his own anxiety into the mix. Was Mike okay? Hopefully the throng of horses had blocked Davy’s view of seeing his dad fall.
Davy, eyes wide and teary, took a half step toward Ethan, but was still boxed in between the disgruntled horses. Ethan nodded. “You’re doing good. Keep going.”
Then suddenly the brown stallion blocking Davy’s path reared up on his hind legs. Ethan snatched Davy’s shirt collar and hauled the kid toward the fence before the horse could land. The force slammed them both against the paddock. Better that than falling under the anxious animal’s hooves.
Ethan helped Davy scramble back over the rails before quickly doing the same. The stallions tossed their heads, ears pinned flat, but seemed relieved to have the sudden intruders gone from their territory.
Davy flew to his father’s side. Mike sat up slowly and groaned. “Daddy, are you okay?”
“Yes, are you?” Mike touched his son’s head as if checking for injuries, then pulled him into a tight hug.
“That was a close one.” Sam stood from her kneeling position and shoved her hair back from her face with both hands. Relief peppered her expression.
Angie brushed her hands on her jeans and turned an admiring gaze on Ethan. “Well done. The horses really responded to you.”
“That’s funny. They looked terrified to me.” Ethan released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. That had been close—too close.
“Red, the bigger of the horses in there, would have had no problem dancing all over you and Davy if he was scared enough to do so.” Angie tucked her hair behind her ears. “You calmed him down. Very impressive.”
Ethan cleared his throat. “If I had known Red was such a beast I might not have been so effective.” He didn’t deserve the attention, he’d just happened to be closest to the situation at the time. It wasn’t like he’d jumped from a burning building. He was all too aware of his exceeding lack of superpowers—Jeffrey and Daniel served as a constant reminder of that.
“I just hope a certain young man has learned his lesson.” Mike clapped Davy’s shoulder as they both slowly stood to their feet. “Isn’t that right?”
Davy nodded his agreement and Ethan could barely contain his snort. Hopefully the boy’s father would learn a similar lesson in paying attention. If Mike had kept his son corralled instead of flirting with Angie, this wouldn’t have happened.
Although Angie didn’t seem to mind the attention. She ushered the twosome toward the main house. “We better get some ice on your shoulder, Mike.”
“I guess we can get on with the morning ride, then.” Sam let out her breath. Her gaze locked with Ethan and he couldn’t help smiling at the admiration lingering in her eyes. Maybe he’d finally impressed her after all.
There just might be more cowboy in Ethan than she originally thought. Sam ambled along on Diego, the warm sun lulling her thoughts far away from the trail ride at hand—and straight toward Ethan riding just a few paces away. She couldn’t help being impressed at his rescue of Davy. Ethan hadn’t thought twice before rushing into the stallions’ pen to save the boy. That showed courage above fear—definite cowboy traits. He’d also had the instinct to stay relaxed and try to calm the horses without further panicking them or Davy. Then, on top of all that, he tried to disregard the praise he’d earned, had even looked a little embarrassed by it. That proved he hadn’t done it all for show, but to truly help.
Apparently starched shirts and gold-tipped pens didn’t hide character as much as Sam first thought.
She absently brushed a fly from Diego’s mane. Sam certainly didn’t know any city slickers who would have done what Ethan did back there. It was beginning to look as if she wouldn’t be able to use that unofficial label anymore.
She also couldn’t keep clinging to the anger that kept her up last night. Despite Ethan’s trying to talk her out of the rodeo, it was growing harder and harder to stay mad. He was just looking out for her. Annoying, maybe—but sweet. A far cry from the calloused greenhorn that showed up at the ranch just a few weeks ago. Who knew what soft layer Ethan would reveal next?
Sam urged Diego forward on the trail, his long tail flicking from side to side and tickling the back of her arms. It was actually easier being around Ethan when he played the sarcastic, teasing jerk like when he first arrived, insisting on using her full name and expecting special treatment. This mature, considerate—and masculine—version was far too attractive for Sam’s own good.
A few yards ahead, Ethan twisted around in the saddle and glanced back at her, as if reading her thoughts. Sam ducked her head but couldn’t keep her traitorous gaze from catching his own once again. He smiled and her stomach shivered, just like last year when she rode the Gravy Train at the fair and began to descend the highest hill.
Sam swallowed hard and looked away. She was falling, all right.
“It’s Saturday night. No hot date?” Angie grinned from the loveseat in the den as Sam attempted to climb the stairs to her room. Her mother was always trying to encourage her to have more of a social life.
Sam paused on the bottom step, muscles stiff with fatigue and too much exercise. She should have stretched more before riding Lucy last night—not that any amount of preparation could have softened that particular fall. Plus, the at-home exercises Cole had Sam doing left her abs permanently sore, and all the time she spent in the saddle today hadn’t helped. She forced a smile, hoping her mom wouldn’t notice her discomfort. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a hot date, Mom.” For some reason, the words brought Ethan to the forefront of her mind and Sam shook her head to dislodge them.
“You always did prefer horses over boys.” Angie smiled. “A fact that had your father elated. But I want you to be able to go out and enjoy life and not get so bogged down by the farm.” She sipped from her oversize mug. “Clara made a fresh pot of coffee before she left for the evening. It’s still hot if you want some.”
Sam started to say no. After all, it’d be a long day of chores and tourists, and she had only a few hours to sleep before meeting Cole and Lucy again. Reminiscing about the past—boys or her dad—was not at the top of her to-do list. But something hollow and wistful in her mother’s expression changed her mind. She sighed. “Sure, why not?”
Sam prepared her coffee and sank onto the couch opposite her mom, nestling back against the cushions. “How’s Davy after the near accident this morning?”
“He’s fine. Mike is too.” Angie gave her a pointed look over the rim of her mug. “They’re a little shaken up, but okay.”
“Maybe if Mike spent more time watching his son than watching—” The words stuck in Sam’s mouth and she quickly swallowed them with her coffee. The hot liquid burning her tongue was more tolerable than the heated expression on her mom’s face.
Angie frowned. “Watching what?”
Sam lowered her cup. “You. Mom, don’t pretend Mike doesn’t follow you around like a lovesick puppy.”
“Oh, he does not,” Angie scoffed, but something that looked a
lot like amusement, even delight, lit her eyes.
“He does, too. He’s interested, which is pathetic because he must think you’re married.” She gestured to the ring on her mother’s left finger.
“He knows about your father.” Angie’s voice softened and she studied the glittering diamond on her hand. “We’ve talked about it before. He also knows I’m not ready to take this off yet.”
Relief filled Sam’s stomach and she set her coffee down, suddenly full. If her mom wasn’t ready to take off the ring, then there was no immediate danger of her getting serious with another man—especially Mike. Sam’s nose wrinkled. That’d be too many changes at once. No, one problem at a time. Saving the ranch came first, then finding love.
For both of them.
“But you know Sam, one day, we’ll have to move on.” Angie’s eyes met hers as she leaned over to set her mug on the coffee table. “Your father wouldn’t have wanted either of us to waste our lives.”
He also wouldn’t have wanted Mike anywhere near her mom, but Sam imagined this wasn’t the best time to make such a statement. She nodded, lips pressed tight.
“One day you’re going to need a life of your own.” Angie rubbed her hands over her cheeks. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m putting too much pressure on you, keeping you here to work instead of making your own career, your own path. You just said yourself you don’t even have time to date.”
“Mom, no. Don’t think that.” Sam leaned forward. “It’s my choice. Sometimes I get overwhelmed with the load we carry, but that’s not your fault. You didn’t wish for any of this.”
“But I want you to have fun, too.” The words came out a whisper and Angie looked away, fiddling with her ring. “You know, I hate to push you into something you don’t want, but maybe selling the ranch, starting over would be good for us. Give both of us a fresh start.”
Sam sucked in her breath. “But this is our home. This is all we have left of Dad.”
“That’s why I haven’t.” Angie sighed. “Yet.”
“Mom, don’t be silly. We’ll make it through this. You’re just stressed about our finances. Things will get better soon.” Fresh determination to win the rodeo filled Sam’s heart and she stood up, arms out to hug her mom. “You’ll see.”
“I hope you’re right, baby,” Angie hugged her back, arms tight against her neck. “I hope you’re right.”
Chapter Eighteen
The bonfire crackled and hissed, orange sparks shooting into the night air for a brief moment of glory before slowly extinguishing on a gust of wind. Ethan held a metal clothes hanger over the flames and rotated the marshmallow dangling from the end. He snuck another look at Sam, laughing on the other side of the stacked wood with Angie and a few other guests. Her face, illuminated by the glow of the flames, shone with happiness as she tilted her head back and laughed.
Ethan’s grip on the hanger and his stomach tightened simultaneously. He’d thought she was beautiful before, but when she laughed—wow. He tried to look away but his eyes didn’t want to obey. Sam glanced over and met his gaze, and her smile slowly faded from laughter to a private grin, just between the two of them. She whispered something to her mom and then stood and made her way around the bonfire.
His stomach flipped again as Sam settled onto the log bench beside him. He opened his mouth to say hi but his tongue suddenly resembled sawdust. What did that little smile mean? Did she feel the connection between them, too? Their own personal flame—
“Ethan? Your marshmallow is black.”
He jerked his eyes back to the fire and winced. His once puffy marshmallow now looked like a hardened ball of charcoal. “Must have gotten distracted.” He lobbed it off into the fire and reached for a new one from the plastic bag at his feet.
“Distracted by what?” Sam’s shoulder brushed his as she held out her hand for the bag.
Their fingers touched as he handed her the marshmallows and this time he knew there was no hiding the reaction on either of their faces. He held on to the bag, refusing to relinquish the small bit of contact. “Sam, I—”
“Listen up, everyone!” Angie stood by the fire and clapped her hands.
Ethan jumped, and Sam’s hand slipped from his grasp. She drew a tight breath before turning her eyes to her mother. Ethan reluctantly did the same. Great timing, Mrs. Jenson.
“We’re glad we had such a good turnout for our bonfire tonight. I’m happy you’re all enjoying yourselves.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes as a gust of evening wind teased the fire. “If you want another hot dog, there are leftovers on the card table by the oak tree. Marshmallows are being passed around now, and extra hangers are on that line over there. Hurry up and eat, because the games are about to begin.” She smiled before settling back onto the log seat by Mike.
Davy sat beside his father, uncommonly quiet as he cooked a marshmallow on a hanger. Maybe the incident with the stallions had finally calmed the kid. Ethan had never wanted children before, and Davy’s recent behavior only confirmed that fact. Yet looking at Sam, he couldn’t help but wonder if their kids would have her wavy, light-colored hair and blue eyes or his darker looks.
Ethan quickly reined in that thought process. He was moving way too fast, even in his own mind. Sam hadn’t been sharing a secret smile earlier, she was laughing at him for burning the marshmallow while staring into space—staring at her. He’d better back off before what was in his heart became too obvious on the outside.
“Your mom looks like she’s having a good time.” Sam pointed across the camp fire. Vickie sat by Daniel and was trying to trap a marshmallow between two chocolate-covered graham crackers to make a s’more. The marshmallow oozed over the sides onto the plate and she laughed, swiping the excess on Daniel’s arm.
“She sure does.” Ethan’s heart flinched at the easy camaraderie his mom had with his cousin. Once again, he was out of the loop. Some things never changed. What was it about Daniel that his parents preferred? His cut-throat business savvy? His willingness to do what the job took, regardless of the negative consequences to innocent people? Ethan didn’t want to be like that—but what if that was the only way to ever earn his parents’ affection and respect?
Was it worth it?
“I’m surprised your father isn’t here.” Sam plucked a marshmallow from the bag and skewered it onto her hanger. “He hasn’t participated in many of the ranch activities since you guys got here, though, has he?”
“No, he’s not really into country life.” The words slipped from Ethan’s mouth before he could censor. Hopefully the night shadows would hide the lies he knew were plastered all over his expression. He turned his face away from the glow of the fire. If he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, no way could Sam see his eyes now. His family’s entire cover would be blown in a second flat.
“Then why is he even here? I have to admit, when my mom told me your family was coming and you were big-city VIPs, I wondered about it. I’d have guessed you’d hit up Europe or some exotic beach.” Sam held her marshmallow over the fire, directly above where Ethan’s burned one had fallen moments ago.
“We usually do.” Ethan pressed his lips together and busied himself with another marshmallow. The sticky sweet stuck to his grimy fingers, black ash on white sugar. He dirtied everything he touched. But wasn’t that why he was trying to get out of the business—to start a clean life? Yet the notion seemed impossible. There would always be one more lie to tell, one more web to weave before he was completely clear of the past—if he ever could be, with the last name Ames.
“What does your family do, anyway?” Sam bit into her roasted marshmallow, pieces of white crust clinging to her lips. She wiped her mouth with her hand but the sugar stuck there, too.
Ethan handed Sam a napkin from the pile someone had left beside him. The truth stuck in his throat and he coughed. What could he say that wouldn’t be incriminating? Developers? Vague but still suspicious. Real estate? Definitely not. That’d be like waving a neon sign over his
head. “We, uh…well, we—”
“Game time!” Angie jumped to her feet again, clanging a musical triangle. “We have a spotlight set up over there for horseshoes, and for those of you tired of the mosquitoes, in about thirty minutes there’ll be a line-dance demonstration inside the lodge.”
The crowd of guests immediately stood and began putting away their trash. Sam hopped up and brushed the dirt from her jeans. “Play horseshoes with me?” The anticipation lighting her eyes only further churned the hot dog in Ethan’s stomach. He nodded and forced a smile in return.
Saved by the bell, Western-style.
Sam laughed and tugged the horseshoe from Ethan’s hand. “No wonder they’re flying over the fence. You’re not holding them right.” She held the horseshoe up so it resembled a backward C shape. “Grab it here, from the bottom. You want your fingertips to curl under the inside edge.”
Ethan took the horseshoe and adjusted his grip. “Like this?”
“Yes, just keep your thumb on the flat side.”
Ethan reared back and tossed the curved metal toward the tall pin staked in the ground. It landed at least three feet away. He winced. “I thought this was supposed to be an easy game.”
“It can be, if you have any sense of direction or accuracy.” Sam grinned.
“Very funny.” Ethan shook the second horseshoe at her. “Let me guess. You’re probably an expert and can play this blindfolded?”
She grabbed for the horseshoe but he held it just out of her reach. She bumped into his arm and he lifted the metal higher. “You’re just afraid I’ll show you up.” She stretched for it again, jumping on her tiptoes.
“Ethan.” Jeffrey Ames’s deep voice boomed across the open field. Ethan stumbled backward a step away from Sam, his expression full of guilt as his dad drew closer. “We need to talk.”
Rodeo Sweetheart Page 13
