The Wrangler

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The Wrangler Page 18

by Pamela Britton


  “That’s not true—”

  “Goodbye, Sam.”

  “Clint, wait—”

  He hung up on her. She tried calling him back. The phone rang and rang and rang.

  “Impossible man.”

  She went for a walk. She’d taken to going on long strolls in the park during the afternoon. Every once in a while she’d bump into a mounted patrol. That’s what she needed, she thought. The smell of horse to soothe her nerves. But there were no police officers in sight, so she kept walking.

  What was wrong with her?

  It was times like these that she missed her parents the most. She wished she had a girlfriend, or someone close she could talk to, but she’d always kept to herself. That was part of her problem, she realized. She liked her independence. Suddenly, she was faced with being a part of something—something big—and it scared her to death.

  She called Clint the next day, but he flat out refused to get on the phone. Gigi sounded distant, too, and Sam knew the time had come to make a decision. Either she went back to Montana or she stopped calling.

  A week later she knew it was hopeless.

  She loved Clint. This wasn’t some weeklong fling. This was real.

  So. Go back to him.

  But as she looked around the park for what must have been the tenth time in as many days, she shook her head. She didn’t think she could do it. She was terrified that if she threw her heart into the ring, committed herself to Clint and to Gigi and to the ranch, she would end up losing herself in the process.

  So she started back to work. But it wasn’t the same. Point of fact, her job was boring. It was nothing like chasing wild horses. Or sorting cows. Or eating hamburgers by a campfire.

  “Damn it,” she cursed two weeks later as she was checking core samples. She hadn’t talked to Clint. Not once in three weeks.

  “What is it?” one of her coworkers asked, a geeky-looking man who Sam was convinced had a crush on her.

  “I need to take a break.”

  “You look like you need one,” he said.

  She shrugged off her lab coat.

  “You going to the park?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Everyone knew her routine. She came back smelling like a horse half the time.

  Two minutes later she was walking out of the building. She worked in downtown Wilmington, a city that housed some of the nation’s largest chemical companies. Her employer, Dell Chemical, was housed in one of the many high-rises that dotted downtown and she was immediately plunged into the shadows those buildings created.

  She needed sunshine.

  The panic she’d been feeling more and more of late was back. The same anxiety she’d felt when she realized she was in love with Clint. But it’d been weeks since they’d last talked. He was mad at her, maybe even to the point that he didn’t want to see her again. She wouldn’t blame him if he did. It was her fault. She should have been braver. Followed her heart. They could have sorted everything out when she got back to Montana. Instead she’d taken the easy way out. A comfortable routine over the unknown.

  A job over Clint.

  “Idiot,” she said, sitting on a park bench. She wiped her face. Somewhere between Eighth and Ninth Streets she’d started to cry.

  Just go to him, Sam.

  But she was afraid, she thought, clutching her head. She was terrified. Barely able to breathe, hands shaking terrified.

  Of losing Clint.

  Her head popped up.

  Of losing someone she loved. Again.

  “Oh, crap,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Crap, crap, crap.”

  She loved Clint. She loved Gigi, too. She loved the ranch. But she’d detached herself from them. Not because she wanted to keep her life in Wilmington—no. Because she couldn’t face the thought of losing someone again.

  Like she’d lost her parents.

  “Oh, Mom,” she muttered. “I’m such an idiot.”

  She heard horses hooves and straightened up. She needed to hug a horse right now, needed to inhale that horse’s scent that always soothed her nerves. She’d have to quit her job. Give notice on her apartment, too.

  That’s when she saw him. It was Clint.

  Clint rode toward her.

  She thought she was seeing things at first, couldn’t quite accept that there was a cowboy—not a police officer—riding in the park. And he led a horse, too. He led Coaster.

  She started to cry.

  It was a miracle.

  “Lady,” he said, pulling Buttercup up in front of her, “I thought I’d have to ride around this park all damn day.”

  “How did you find me?” she asked, quickly wiping her eyes again as she stood up.

  “It was an inside job,” Clint said. Buttercup tried sniffing her, but Sam went straight to Coaster, placing her forehead in between her horse’s eyes and trying—really, truly trying—not to cry even harder. “I called your boss, told him what I planned to do. He told me you liked to walk in the park.”

  “I do,” she said. “I like to pet the mounted patrol’s horses.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” he said, slipping off.

  She felt her shoulders flex as she held back a sob.

  “Your own horse is right here,” he said, stopping in front of her, nudging her around and into his arms. “And so am I.”

  “Oh, Clint,” she said. “I’ve been such an idiot.”

  “Shh,” he soothed, somehow managing to hold her and the horses’ reins at the same time. “You’re not an idiot.”

  “I was scared of losing you. Afraid you might end up dying on me, too. I didn’t realize it at first, but that’s why I left you and Gigi and even Coaster here.” She reached out and stroked his nose.

  “I’m not going to die on you.”

  “I know. I mean, what would be the odds of that? But I’m still so afraid.”

  “Don’t be,” he said, holding her close.

  “I didn’t want to hurt anymore. I miss my parents so damn much.”

  “I know you do. But you have me now,” he said gently.

  “I realize that,” she murmured. “I really do, but the truth is, it hurts even more to be away from you. At least when I’m with you I don’t feel that horrible ache. And I know why, too. It’s because I feel as if I’m missing a part of myself.”

  “Sam,” he said, tipping her head back and kissing her.

  She kissed him back, tried to show him without words how sorry she was. She’d missed the taste of him, missed the way his kisses made her feel: Wanted. Needed. Loved.

  “I love you,” she whispered a long while later. “I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. I’ll move to Montana. Tomorrow if you want me to. And I’ll let you turn Coaster into a cow pony. I’ll even learn how to cook over a campfire.”

  “That horse will never be a pony,” he said.

  She started laughing. He did, too, and when she looked past him, she saw Gigi near the edge of the riding path, a wide grin spread across her face.

  “I’m thinking a wedding at the ranch,” Gigi said, reaching out and patting Coaster’s side as she walked past. “In December, the month of miracles, ’cause it sure is a miracle the two of you finally, thankfully came to your senses.”

  “Oh, Gigi.” Sam wiped her eyes yet again.

  “Now you two get on and ride. I wanted to take pictures. Need to show them to my future great-grandchildren.”

  And years later, that’s exactly what she did.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-4499-7

  THE WRANGLER

  Copyright © 2009 by Pamela Britton.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill R
oad, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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