by Calista Fox
“Doesn’t get any easier,” he told her.
“I understand that. I saw the white Arabian, of course. But Caleb had already begun treating the cuts from the barbed wire and he’s not nearly as mentally disturbed as Bells or Midnight. Or some of the others.”
“We’re lucky to have a few that just need time to heal physically, not mentally.”
“I really admire you,” she said. “Everyone at the ranch, to tell you the truth. Even the volunteers and security guards are concerned about the horses’ wellbeing.”
“Well, that’s one of the finer points about Texas, darlin’. Plenty of horse lovers who just want to keep them safe.”
“You make a damn good cowboy.” She kissed him.
Against her lips, he said, “You keep kissing me and we’ll be saddlin’ up again. In about two seconds.”
“Okay.” And her mouth covered his once more.
In the morning, he made her a loaded omelet and hash browns.
She slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar. “And he cooks,” she mused.
“Pretty handy at the grill too,” he said with a wink.
“No surprise there. I’m starting to think you’re some sort of Superman.”
“Hardly.” He set a plate before her, then settled on a stool across from her. “I’ve made love to you twice and I haven’t even taken you out on a real date.”
“At least you’re feeding me.”
He chuckled at her playful banter. They had an easy, natural rapport. Not something Sam had encountered before. He and Caleb had spent most of their lives trying to discern the intentions of the female persuasion.
When one had as much money as the Bennetts did, ulterior motives were the order of the day. Ferreting them out had become a necessity early on for both Sam and Caleb—and it’d created a lot of internal and external conflict when dating. One of the reasons Sam hadn’t bothered with it since coming to Wilder. That and the fact no one had caught his eye or captured his interest. Until Sky had come to town.
The woman enjoying breakfast in his kitchen was not one whose motives he questioned. He had enough experience to be able to tell the difference between fake and genuine. What she wanted from him didn’t come with a price tag. They already shared an emotional connection. Now an intimate one. If she was after anything, it was his heart and his body.
He laughed again.
“What’s so funny?” She eyed him over a forkful of omelet.
“Just thinking about how much I want to make love to you again.”
She put the fork down. “So take me back to bed.”
* * * * *
After their early morning romp, Sky drove to Luckenbach, showered and dressed. If there really was a Cloud Nine, she was on it.
Her night with Sam had her believing a person’s bad luck could change on a dime. And to top it all off—as if landing a studly cowboy with a hearty sexual appetite wasn’t enough to make a cowgirl ridiculously giddy—she hadn’t received a voicemail message from Mac in twenty-four hours.
She wouldn’t completely get her hopes up, since today was a new day. But it was the first time in months that he’d left her alone.
She’d surmised from the beginning that he must have enough of his own money to cover whatever payments he arranged to make while trying to con her out of additional funds. So maybe now that he’d gone silent, he’d either paid the debt in full or he’d found some other way to come up with the sixty grand. Probably by swindling another sucker.
Yes, she felt like ten kinds of fool, but Sky had to admit that Mac had been the one to get her the audition with Casey James. So he’d been on the up and up at some point.
Too bad she’d gotten him on the tail end of his winning streak.
But she refused to let her poor judgment spoil her day. She stopped off at the general store to say hey to Luckenbach friends, most of them milling about the area, going about their business before the evening’s concert and dance started. Then she headed back to the ranch.
Sky’s day got even better when she found a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers in a glass vase sitting on her counter. She unfolded the accompanying note and smiled.
You made my night. (And my morning.) I want to take you dancing. Jack’s saloon, after you wrap up this evening. Sam
How could she possibly resist?
She launched into a new batch of desserts for the Friday-night dinner crowd. Reese had already told her it’d be fine if she took the weekends off, because that’s when most of their events were held, and the clients currently booked had secured bakers in advance for their respective festivities, since the inn hadn’t previously had a pastry chef on staff or on call.
Given that Sky missed making her wedding cakes, she considered calling Lucy at the dance hall and letting her know she was still available, having turned over all of her business to another cake maker.
She hadn’t previously known what the job at the inn would entail, but she now suspected she could enjoy the best of both worlds. At least until things really got rolling at the inn. Then she’d probably be making cakes for the brides and grooms tying the knot on the event lawn, and for the other clients Reese and Liza were bringing in. Not to mention, once Reese hired a marketing director, things really would get hopping out here at the ranch.
Despite her initial reservations—and some of the more disheartening aspects of the Painted Horse, where the mistreated horses were concerned—Sky was thrilled she’d given the job at the inn a chance. Her whole life had changed because of it.
She breezed through her afternoon, then spruced up before meeting Sam outside at his truck. He wore jeans and an untucked black button-down shirt. The hem of the short sleeves hugged his bulging biceps and made her mouth water. He wore his black Stetson and boots.
There truly wasn’t a finer sight than him, she decided.
“You look devilishly handsome,” she said with a kiss. Then added, “Thanks for the flowers.”
“Just hoped you’d look at ’em during the day and know I was thinking about you.”
She smiled up at him. “You’re very sweet.” Her gaze lingered and her smile faded. His eyes were clouded, not nearly as vibrant as usual. Her heart sank. She said, “Please don’t tell me that Caleb had to put the new horse down.”
“Not yet. He’s hanging on.”
She swallowed down a lump of emotion. “But not by much, right?”
“The humane thing to do at this point, darlin’, might just be to put him out of his misery.”
Her breath caught. “There has to be something Caleb can do.”
“He’s going to stay with the horse tonight. He’s given him painkillers. But if there’s no sign of improvement come morning…”
“I know. I get it.” Though facing the reality of the situation did nothing to keep the prickle of tears at bay. She gave him another kiss, then said, “Maybe dancing’s not such a good idea tonight.”
“No,” he was quick to say. “It’s a great idea. I need a break and a change of scenery. Get the horse off my mind for a few hours. You could probably use the same from all your worries.”
“What’s his name?” she asked once more.
Sam shook his head. “Told you not to go there, darlin’.”
She shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and asked, “What color is he?”
A flash of something dark and dreadful in his eyes made her stomach coil.
“Sam?” she prompted.
His jaw clenched briefly. In a reluctant tone, he told her, “Darker than a bay. A much deeper, reddish-coppery color. Kinda like your hair.” His gaze locked with hers. “First time I saw you, I thought I’d never seen hair that color. Now I’ve seen it twice in less than two weeks.” He reached a hand out to her and his fingers curled around her neck, the pad of his thumb gliding slowly over her skin. “Despite all his injuries, he’s still a beautiful horse. Makes me think about you.”
She covered his hand with hers. “It’s just a co
incidence, Sam.”
“I know.” The haunted look in his eyes lingered.
“I’m sorry about what I said the other night. About you not being able to save everyone. I didn’t mean it callously.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I know it already.”
“And you changed my mind about it last night.” Still, she let out a long sigh. “There has to be something I can do to help.”
“Go dancing with me.”
She hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he said with conviction in his tone. “Look, Sky, there’s nothing I can do for the horse. This ball’s in Caleb’s court now, because I don’t possess the skills he does. If I hang around, all I’ll do is create more tension.”
She could tell by his edgy tone that he felt powerless in this situation. She hugged him and said, “Caring about him helps, Sam.”
He held her tight for a minute or so, then told her, “I know you understand how I feel.”
“I do.”
Sam released her and escorted her to the truck. He helped her into the cab.
When he slipped into the driver’s seat, she said, “Maybe my good news will cheer you up a little.”
He slid a glance her way. “Just seeing your pretty face cheers me up.”
She leaned over and kissed him. Then she hooked her seatbelt and told him, “I haven’t gotten a single call from the ex in almost two days. He’s been leaving messages nearly a half-dozen times a day for months. But the last thirty-six hours? Nada. That’s a good sign, don’t you think? He’s either found a way to pay off the debt, or he’s given up on me handing over the cash.”
Sam nodded. “That does make me feel better.” He started the truck and they headed off the property. “But don’t let your guard down, darlin’. Not for a while, anyway.”
“I know. Though…it is a nice change of pace to not repeatedly see his number on my cell phone. Kind of a relief, actually.”
Sam reached over and squeezed her hand. “Let’s hope he’s moved on. If not, then I want you to consider a different option.”
“Going to the sheriff.”
He didn’t say anything. Sky stared out the windshield, silently praying she wouldn’t have to resort to that extreme. Or any other one.
When they reached Wade’s Saloon, she turned in her seat and suggested, “How about we forget about exes and horses and just dance the night away?”
“That was my plan all along.”
“Okay.”
She waited for him to open her door, then they entered the lively establishment Jack owned. As they wound their way around tables—the place was packed, it being Friday night and Wade’s Saloon being the only serious watering hole in Wilder, following the morality crusade a while back—people jumped up to greet her. Friends, family members, old high school acquaintances. She introduced Sam to the few who didn’t know him and told everyone about the progress at the Painted Horse Ranch & Inn.
By the time they made it to the bar, she must have sung the praises of the inn to sixty people.
Sam said, “Maybe you ought to consider taking the marketing position.”
Sky laughed. “Not a chance. I’m finally getting comfortable with the dessert station. No need to throw a wrench in the works.”
“You did turn out to be a godsend, darlin’.”
“Says your stomach.”
“Damn right.” He winked.
She didn’t have the chance to come up with another sassy retort because Jess and George Mills descended upon them. Liza was at the bar too. Jack cracked the tap on an amber beer and slid mugs their way.
“These are on me,” he said. “Welcome home, darlin’.”
They all clinked glasses.
The dance floor was full and Sky sipped while watching the couples two-step and country swing. At the end of the song the band performed, the singer—her very own cousin, Gus Travis—tipped his hat her way and announced to the saloon, “We have a celebrity in our midst.”
Sky shook her head in honest modesty as the crowd cheered. But the enthusiastic reception warmed her heart. Especially as several shouted out for her to sing something.
Beside her, the hunky cowboy said, “A true testament of a woman’s moral fiber is what her friends, family—and yeah, horses—think of her.”
“No fair throwing my own words in my face.”
“Just sayin’.” He quoted Reese this time.
Sky grinned.
Gus said, “Honey, why don’t you come on up here and sing us a song.”
The crowd went crazy again.
Jack told her, “You know you’d hurt my feelings if you said no. This is my joint, after all.”
“Now why on Earth would I want to hurt your feelings? I hear you’ve got a spunky wife. She just might kick me in the shin if I refuse.”
Liza swooped in and gave her a hug. “Not a chance. I liked you the moment I met you. But if you’ll sing, I’ll make Jack throw in a couple shots of tequila. That’s how we ended up together, don’t you know?”
“Well, hell,” Sky said. “I’m sold.”
Everyone gathered around the bar clapped enthusiastically.
To Sam, she asked, “What’s your favorite song, cowboy?”
“A Storm’s Rollin’ In,” he said with another flirty wink. “By one very alluring Sky Travis.”
“Cute. You’re just full of it tonight.” She kissed him. Then she made her way to the stage.
Gus handed over his acoustic twelve-string guitar. “You’re gonna need this.”
“Thanks.”
“They know your songs,” he said of his band members. “So take your pick. And do as many as you want. I’m having a beer.”
“Make it quick. I’m just doin’ the one,” she said. “This isn’t my gig.”
“Oh hell, honey. These people listen to me all the damn time. You’re a fresh breeze blowing through this place.”
Gus left the stage and Sky gave her selection to the band. Then she stepped up to the microphone. She strummed a few chords to get used to Gus’ guitar before she addressed the patrons of Wade’s Saloon.
“Evening, folks.”
“Sky!” came a collective call.
Her throat tightened. She slid a glance toward the bar and Sam raised his beer mug. She smiled at him. Damn, he made her all warm and fuzzy inside.
Returning her attention to the crowd, she said, “This one’s for the sexy cowboy at the bar who saves horses and knows how to kiss a girl ’til her toes curl in her boots.”
Sam grinned and tipped his hat at her. Several people whistled.
Then she got serious. Sky strummed again, the song starting off slow and haunting. When she reached the chorus, her audience sang softly with her in a low, measured, staccato beat.
“A storm’s rollin’ in. I can feel it in my heart. I can hear it on the wind. There’s a storm rollin’ in.”
They left her to the next verse. When she picked up the tempo and reached the chorus again, she sang it an octave higher. So did they. Sky got caught up in the steadily increasing rhythm and pitch, the song showcasing her full register. By the time she reached the final chorus, those who weren’t on the dance floor were tapping their toes as they sat in their seats, slapping their hands against their thighs, cheering wildly.
She strummed faster and the band kept up with her. The song worked its way to a frenzied finish and the entire bar erupted with applause, everyone jumping to their feet.
Emotion and excitement welled in Sky’s throat. She’d forgotten how much she’d enjoyed eliciting such an overwhelming response from fans when she’d toured with Waylon.
Gus’ bandmates clasped her on the shoulder and praised her. She bounced down the stairs of the stage and handed over the guitar to her cousin.
His voice was filled with awe as he said, “Hell, girl, you’re crazy for not recording another CD.”
Sky shook her head. “I’m a one-hit wonder, Gus. As in, it’s a wonder I even had
one hit.”
“You had more than that, honey.” He kissed her on the cheek, then returned to the stage. He clapped her up again, and Sky blushed.
Sam gazed at her with admiration in his bright-green eyes. “You are something else, darlin’.”
She sipped her beer, then said, “Just having fun. How about we dance now?”
He led her out onto the floor and they tore it up with the two-step. Sky lost track of how many songs passed as they danced.
Eventually, she asked, “You know a few country swing moves?”
He smirked. A sexy look that did her in. “I’m a Texan by blood, darlin’.”
He twirled her around the floor. Sky couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed dancing so much.
When she was breathless and feeling as though she’d met her match on the dance floor, she hollered up at Gus, “How about a slow one for us older folk?”
Her cousin laughed. “Girl, if you’d take a break every now and then, you could catch your breath.”
Sky gestured toward Sam. “Look at what I have to compete with.”
Gus chuckled. “Might want to do some P90X, or something.”
She stuck her tongue out at her cousin.
He did her a favor, though, and slowed it down, covering Mickey Gilley’s Stand By Me.
Sky and Sam were in the middle of the floor and he pulled her in nice and tight to him. He twined their fingers and rested them against his chest. Her other hand curled the nape of his neck, her fingers brushing his skin under the thick strands of his hair.
She asked, “Is there anything you’re not good at?”
His jaw set. “Plenty.”
She sighed. “I meant aside from saving the planet and finding the solution to world peace.”
He brushed his lips along her temple. “Sometimes, a man wants to be a hero for a woman like you.”
“Mission accomplished.”
Stand By Me morphed into Willie Nelson’s Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.
“I like the classics,” Sam said.
“Me too. The ’70s country music reminds me of my mama and daddy. They used to sing and dance all night long on Friday and Saturday nights. They were a lot of fun.”
