by Liz Isaacson
He handed her one with mashed potatoes in it. “There was a food truck.”
Sammy leaned into his arm, and Bear paused to absorb it. “Thanks, Bear.” She glanced at Lincoln, who’d already opened his lid and had a plastic fork in his hand. “Should we pray, Link?”
“Sure,” the boy said, and Bear quickly swiped off his cowboy hat.
Sammy grinned up at him, and he wasn’t sure what that was about. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I’ll say it.” She closed her eyes, and Bear did too. He heard her breathe, and then she said, “Dear Lord, we’re grateful to Thee for our health. Thank You for this food. Please bless all those who are suffering at this time, and help all of us here in Three Rivers to stay safe and get back on our feet. Thank You for Bear and his cowboy family who’ve come to help us, and bless all of them with all they stand in need of, according to Thy will. Amen.”
“Amen,” Bear said loudly, and he started to settle his hat back on his head. Sammy caught his hand and she moved hers up to his face. She touched his beard, and then ran her fingers along the top of his ear.
“Uh,” Bear said, but it was more of a grunt. He was aware of Lincoln sitting only a few feet away, but Sammy stood in front of him and his sight was partially obstructed.
“I’ve never seen your hair,” Sammy said. “Looks nice.”
“At least I’m not bald is what you mean,” Bear said as she lowered her arm and he stuffed his hat back on his head. He grinned at her and pulled out a meal with mashed potatoes too.
Sammy smiled and picked up one of the plastic forks. “Another of Lincoln’s camps canceled this morning.”
Bear shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sammy.”
“It’s okay. I just need to figure out what to do with him.” She sat next to him and looked at him. “You didn’t get the pea salad, bud. This is the best stuff there is.” She forked up a big bite of the pea salad.
“Maybe we can share,” Lincoln said, and a brilliant smile filled Sammy’s face. Bear could watch them all day and never get bored.
“Sure,” Sammy said. She glanced at Bear. “Sit, Bear. We won’t bite.”
“Right.” Bear sat down and opened his meal. “Lincoln could come work on the ranch with me,” he added. “I can meet you at the shop in the morning. He can come spend the day at Shiloh Ridge. And I’ll bring him back to you.”
Sammy said nothing, and when Bear dared to look at her, she wore shock in those pretty eyes.
“Can I?” Lincoln asked.
“What?” Sammy whipped her gaze to him and back to Bear. “No.”
“Why not?” Bear and Lincoln asked together.
“He’s eight,” Sammy said.
“I know exactly what to do with an eight-year-old on a ranch,” Bear said easily, not getting her resistance. “I’m happy to do it.”
Sammy clenched her teeth and looked at Lincoln and then Bear, a storm raging across her face.
Great, Bear thought. He’d done something wrong, and he didn’t even know what.
Chapter Twelve
Sammy couldn’t believe Bear. He continued to sit there, eating, and she couldn’t get her voice to work.
“Can I have some pea salad?” Lincoln asked.
Sammy pushed her container toward him, though it smelled delicious and her stomach had been clenching for want of food for an hour before Bear had shown up. With Lincoln absorbed in lunch, she turned toward Bear.
“I don’t need you to fix everything for me,” she said quietly, keeping her eyes down.
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he said.
“Regardless,” Sammy said, looking up and into those electric blue eyes. “That’s how it feels to me. Sammy needs help with her parents’ house, so let me call my window guy. Bam. New windows before anyone else on the block.”
Bear searched her face, a hint of anxiety in his gaze.
“Poor Sammy can’t clean up all the debris. No problem,” she said, feeling wild and out of control now. She hated the hysteria building behind her lungs. “Bear and all his cowboy buddies will come take care of it. Sammy’s hungry; Bear will bring dinner. Sammy’s parents can’t take care of Lincoln. No problem. Bear will take him to Shiloh Ridge.”
She felt so hot, and she pressed her palm to her forehead. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Bear said, “Sammy,” in that deep, calm voice, and she stopped.
“That is not what I’m doing,” he said. “At all.”
“You have solved a lot of my problems.”
“And I’m not going to sit here and lie and say I don’t want to keep doing that.”
She lowered her hand and met his eye again. “It makes me feel weak, and I hate feeling weak.”
“I apologize,” he said. “That was not my intent. My only goal was to help you. A lot of people need help right now, Sammy. You are the strongest woman I know.” His eyes blazed, and Sammy’s foolishness doubled.
Her chest pinched and shook, and she didn’t know what to do. She looked away and pulled her food back in front of her. She took a couple of bites of potatoes and picked up the roll. She ate the whole thing, her mind buzzing through her options for Lincoln. He’d been fine today, but it was day one. By afternoon, he’d be bouncing off the walls and asking if he could go ride his bike down the debris-riddled streets.
Lincoln finished eating, and Sammy said, “Go wash up, Link. I can’t have barbecue sauce on the tires.”
“Okey doke.” Lincoln slipped from the barstool and skipped toward the bathroom.
Sammy drew a deep breath and turned back to Bear. “Okay, here’s the deal.”
“I have strong feelings for you, Sammy,” Bear said. “I never, ever want you to feel weak because of me. I’m sorry.” He took her hand in both of his. “Please, forgive me.”
Sammy couldn’t stay mad at him even if she’d wanted to. She wasn’t mad anyway. She was frustrated, and not necessarily with Bear. With herself. With her own shortcomings.
“Please,” Bear whispered, leaning closer to her. Her eyes drifted closed as Bear neared, and the soft brush of his lips against the side of her neck made her gasp. Fireworks raced through her system, and her heart beat as loudly as a gong.
“Okay,” she whispered.
He pressed his lips to a spot just below her ear, and then his mouth barely tasted her earlobe. “Thank you, Sammy.” He pulled away, but everything around her was fiery and hot. She could barely breathe, and when she opened her eyes, the room stayed blurry for a few seconds.
“Sammy,” Lincoln said, and she blinked to focus on him. “There’s a guy outside.”
She turned and saw a man standing there. “Frank Lemon.” She started to get up, but he waved his hand. He pointed to the container in his hand, which was identical to the one she’d been eating out of.
“Thanks, Bear,” he called through the glass, and Sammy swung her attention toward him.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Bear said, turning his back on the front windows. “What were you going to say before you forgave me?”
“What?”
“The deal?” He picked up his second roll.
“Oh, right.” Sammy sat back down and looked at her food and then Lincoln. He wore such a hopeful look, and she couldn’t deny him something that would make him happy. “The deal is this: You can take Lincoln to Shiloh Ridge on weekdays. I will allow you to pick him up at the shop, but I will come pick him up at the ranch when I’m done here.”
“Deal,” Bear said, a smile playing with his mouth.
It drove irritation through Sammy as much as pleasure. “Stop it,” she said, reaching out to physically straighten his mouth.
“Stop what?” he asked, laughing as he dodged her attempts to manhandle him. He turned toward Lincoln, still chuckling. “Did you hear that, bud? Your mom’s gonna let you come to the ranch with me.”
“Yay!” Lincoln jumped up and down, and Sammy cocked her head at Bear.
He so
bered quickly. “Okay, but Link, a ranch is a lot of work. You’ll have to work.”
“I can work, Bear,” the little boy said, and Sammy’s heart expanded to at least three times its size.
“You’ll have to work hard,” Sammy said, putting one hand on Lincoln’s shoulder. “Bear runs that whole ranch. It’s not a summer camp.” She shot a glance at Bear. All she wanted to do was kiss him. She blinked, and she could see herself pressing Bear against the wall and kissing him, kissing him, kissing him.
He seemed to know it too, if the sly smile on his face said anything.
Someone knocked on the glass, and she yelped as she spun toward the sound. Bear stood, but it was just Lindsey Laurel and her boyfriend. “Thank you for the food, Bear,” she said through the glass, her voice muffled.
“Okay,” Sammy said. “What is going on?”
“Nothing,” Bear said, but Sammy was already striding for the door. She unlocked it and stepped outside.
“What’s with the food?” she asked Lindsey.
“Bear bought the whole food truck,” Lindsey said with a smile. “Anyone can eat there for free today.”
Sammy opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn’t. No words formed, and only a sigh came out.
Bear pressed in behind her, and Lindsey said, “Thanks, Bear.”
“Yep,” he said, lifting his hand. They walked away, and when Bear lowered his hand, it landed on Sammy’s hip. He leaned closer to her, and she pressed back into him almost unconsciously.
“See, Sammy?” he whispered. “It’s not just you I help.”
“You’re too good for me,” she whispered back.
“Nonsense,” he said. “And you should know you’re the only one I want to help. I literally would do anything to make your life easier, but if you don’t want me to do that because it makes you feel weak, I’ll stop. I really will.”
She turned toward him, aware that she couldn’t kiss him while framed in the front door of her shop, and not with Lincoln watching. “I don’t need you to stop. But could you check with me before you make such amazing offers to my son?”
“Of course,” he said without missing a beat.
“I’m just…I manage so much, and there are so many little details that only I know about. I feel like my life is so much more complicated than yours.”
“All the more reason for me to help you if I can.” He had an argument for everything, didn’t he?
Sammy decided she didn’t care. He was helping her, and she sure liked spending time with him. She glanced at Lincoln and back to Bear. “What are the chances that you and I will ever be able to go to dinner alone in the near future?”
“Alone?” Bear dropped his gaze to her lips, where his eyes stayed. “Seems a little impossible at the moment.”
“Oh, come on,” she teased, putting her hands on his chest and gently nudging him back into the shop. “You’re Bear Glover. You can make the impossible possible.”
He chuckled and shook his head. When their eyes met, he said, “I’ll start working on it.”
“Mm hm,” Sammy said. “All right, Lincoln. Time to get back to work.”
“That’s my cue to leave,” Bear said. “Those other meals are for your parents. Do you want me to take them by?”
Sammy’s first instinct was to say no. She could do it. Bear saw her hesitation, and he lifted both hands up as if in surrender.
“Go ahead,” she said. “And you can take Link too. I’ll be done here in a couple of hours.”
“Great,” Bear said, picking up the bag with the extra meals in it. “Come on, Link. Let’s go see your grandparents.” He grinned at Sammy and added, “Maybe they can help with that alone thing.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ranger Glover looked up from the engine of the truck, ready to throw something inside and set the whole thing on fire. He was going to get down to Mack’s Motor Sports today. He’d been tinkering with these blasted trucks for far too long.
Shiloh Ridge Ranch had the budget to replace vehicles that didn’t work.
“Nothing?” Bishop asked as he came into the vehicle shed. He let in a blast of heat with him, and Ranger gave him a glare for that reason alone.
Bishop was the youngest of all the Glovers, and he lived in the newly designed and rebuilt homestead with Bear and Ranger.
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just going to go down to Mack’s.”
“Hm.” Bishop stepped around to look at the engine too. He did have a knack for machinery, Ranger would give him that. He also had a way with getting women to go out with him, and Ranger had been sticking close to his side for a few months now, trying to learn how he did it.
He didn’t seem to do much more than Ranger did. They were cousins, and Ranger’s eyes weren’t nearly as electric as the men and women who’d come from Bear’s and Bishop’s mother. Her eyes seemed made of sapphire, and Ranger’s mother had dark eyes.
His father did too, which made him dark from head to toe. Wasn’t that what women wanted? Tall, dark, and handsome?
Apparently not, at least in Ranger’s case.
He sighed and rolled his shoulder, the one he’d injured years ago. It bothered him when the weather turned hot, when it turned cold, and pretty much every other day in between.
“Did you tighten the radiator cap?”
“Yes,” Ranger said in a deadpan, already looking at his phone to see what the inventory was at Mack’s. Going into summer, they sold a lot of inventory as people geared up for family activities in campgrounds, riding trails, or towing trailers.
Ranger could practically hear his father lecturing him about the Glover family motto, which was repair, reuse, and recycle. Replace didn’t ever seem to make the list, though it started with the same two letters.
“Sometimes things just need to be replaced,” he said. “I wouldn’t just keep sewing up my leather jacket if it kept ripping. I’d buy a new one.”
“And not just because you can’t sew,” Bishop said, poking his head out from behind the lifted hood. He grinned, and Ranger couldn’t help returning it.
“I could ask Etta, but what’s the blasted point?” Ranger shook his head. Bear wouldn’t like the money it required to replace two trucks, especially at the same time. But Ranger was part-owner of this ranch too, and he could make financial decisions just as easily as Bear.
What good was being a billionaire if he literally had to fiddle around with this screw or that cap almost all the time? Couldn’t his money buy him just a little convenience, for once?
Ranger could practically hear his father rolling over in his grave. Uncle Stone too. They’d say that the reason all the Glovers now living and working at Shiloh Ridge had so much money was because they stuck to the family motto.
They didn’t spend money like it was water, and that ensured that the ranch always had a huge reserve, and they could always take care of themselves and their cowboys that relied on them for their livelihood.
Well, they couldn’t run the ranch with broken-down trucks sitting in the vehicle shed.
Ranger had plenty of money too, and he’d take the cost of the trucks out of his own salary.
He wouldn’t have to. Bear growled a lot, and he shot dangerous, sharp looks from those piercing, blue eyes. But he was really a softie at heart, especially now that he was off helping Sammy every other minute.
He’d do anything for that woman, and if Ranger could somehow get Sammy to say the ranch needed the trucks, Bear would be in total agreement.
That wasn’t a bad idea, actually….
Ranger dismissed it, because he was still getting to know Sammy, and he’d rather save his favors for when he really needed them.
“I can’t go with you,” Bishop said, leaving the engine, because he couldn’t find the problem either. “But I know Ace probably would. He just went in to take some meds for a massive headache.”
“Then why would I want to take him to a car dealership? If I go, I’ll be down there for hours.” T
hat alone was keeping him from getting behind the wheel and going right now.
“You’re right.” Bishop sighed. “Well, I’ve got double chores to get done now. Good luck with Oakley.”
Ranger sucked in a breath through his nose and didn’t respond. If he kept quiet, Bishop would just leave. He did, and relief cooled Ranger’s irritation.
“Oakley,” he scoffed, though he hadn’t been shy about his feelings for the woman. It certainly didn’t hurt that she owned and operated Mack’s Motor Sports, or that she knew more about cars, trucks, motorcycles, ATVs, and jet skis than anyone else in the whole world.
Fine, maybe just Three Rivers. “Possibly Texas,” he muttered.
Oakley intrigued him, that was all. She was unlike any woman he’d ever met in Texas, though she’d been born and raised in the state. The Southern part, but still. It wasn’t another country.
Sometimes he felt like they existed on different continents, but she always had a smile for him at church, and he sure did like her pretty sundresses that showed off the muscles in her arms and shoulders. And her back.
Ranger shook his head and moved around the truck he couldn’t get to start. He opened the driver’s side door and snapped a picture of the VIN. He repeated the process with the other truck, and he decided he could leave that one behind too. The air conditioning didn’t work in it, and he had a thirty-five minute drive to the dealership in near-summer temperatures.
Ranger finally decided to just go. He was forty years old, and he could talk to a pretty brunette for a few minutes. He’d done it before—to this exact pretty brunette, in fact.
He left the vehicle shed, resolved to see this through. Shiloh Ridge needed two new trucks, plain and simple.
He talked to himself all the way down to town, vocalizing things halfway through sentences to coach himself about what to say and how to act. “You’ve dated other women,” he said. “Not for a while, but it’s fine. You know how this goes.”
He’d walk in, all cool and sophisticated, looking rough and rugged with a bit of grease smeared on the hem of his shirt. His cowboy hat was fairly new, and Oakley seemed to comment on it every time she saw him.
