by Marin Thomas
“Veronica, get me the number of the company that operates the security cameras in the building.”
“Right away, sir.”
While he waited for the information, Wade paced his office, his thoughts straying to Samantha. His ego wished to impress her—change her opinion of him. He admitted he wasn’t the kind of man a woman like her would give a second thought. He didn’t walk with a swagger. Didn’t possess bulging biceps. Wasn’t tall—Samantha darn near looked him in the eye.
And he wore glasses.
Why don’t you wear contact lenses?
Deep in his gut he believed Samantha’s question hadn’t been meant as a criticism. He’d sounded like an idiot when he’d explained that contacts dried his eyes out. He’d considered laser eye surgery—had even scheduled a consultation appointment with a doctor over a year ago, but he’d chickened out at the last minute.
And you know why.
Wade attempted to block out the annoying voice in his head, but the nasty bugger refused to be subdued.
Because you hide behind your glasses.
That’s insane.
Or was it?
Few were aware that Wade’s business smarts hadn’t come easy.
Not until the third grade had his dyslexia been diagnosed. Once he’d been given the tools to overcome his reading challenges he’d embraced learning, but had continued to struggle to keep pace with the rest of his classmates. Then his mother had died and his uncle had taken him in and insisted he attend a prestigious all-boys school. If not for a sympathetic instructor who’d tutored him, Wade would have flunked out of the academy. The grade reports he’d brought home had been nothing short of a miracle. Only the fear of disappointing his uncle prevented Wade from conceding defeat.
The battle continued in college. His uncle’s promise of a job at Dawson Investments upon graduation had motivated Wade to sacrifice friends, sports and a social life. He’d graduated near the top of his business class, then had been hired by Dawson Investments and handed Samantha’s trust fund to manage. Wade had believed his promotion to VP was a slam dunk—until this latest fiasco.
What if his uncle was involved in the disappearance of Samantha’s funds? He shoved the thought aside. He’d view the security tapes before jumping to conclusions.
Samantha won’t criticize you if you take off your glasses.
How did he know? Because she intended to care for unwanted horses? Because she treated Luke kindly, had taken an old woman under her wing and had appeared genuinely concerned about his blistered hands? None of that means the pampered princess isn’t above putting you in your place.
Samantha flustered him. She was friendly and approachable yet aloof and guarded. One minute she acted self-confident and downright bossy. The next uncertain. Her uncertain moments tugged at Wade’s heartstrings and he yearned to please her, slay her dragons, right her wrongs—basically make an ass of himself around her.
He knew one thing for sure—he’d never have a shot at being her hero if he didn’t recover her money.
WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON?
Since Wade wouldn’t receive copies of the company security tapes until next week he’d decided to skip work Friday and head out to the Peterson homestead, hoping to make progress on the well-digging before Samantha showed up tomorrow morning. He hadn’t expected to find a dozen half-naked cowboys strutting around the place.
Wade slowed his car to a stop and stared at the assortment of pickups parked near the farmhouse. Where was Samantha? He spotted her writing in her trusty notebook while a cowboy—a tall, muscular, no-eye-glasses kind of cowboy—talked her ear off.
The guy’s words must have tickled her funny bone, because Samantha’s head fell back and she laughed. Her full-blown smile caught Wade in the gut, stealing his breath. What he wouldn’t give to make her laugh that hard.
Feeling like a misfit among a gathering of Marlboro men, Wade shoved his glasses up his nose and got out of the car. He made a beeline for the barn, hoping his presence would go unnoticed. Fat chance.
Each cowboy Wade strolled by stopped. Turned. Stared. Twenty steps later Samantha’s voice smacked him in the back of the head.
“Wade!”
Crap. He waited for her to catch up with him, hoping she wouldn’t make a big deal of his presence in front of the work crew. Face smudged with dirt and her braid unraveling, she’d never looked sexier.
“What are you doing here? Weren’t we supposed to meet tomorrow morning?”
“Things were slow at work this week so I decided to take today off and put in a few hours digging the well.” He knew how badly she wanted the project finished by Sunday night. There wasn’t a chance in hell of making that deadline, but he was determined to give it his best shot.
Instead of appearing pleased, she scowled. “You should have called me.”
He nodded toward the others. “If you’re worried I’ll get in the way—”
“I would have told you not to bother showing up today. Or any other day.”
“Why?”
“The guys offered to finish digging the well.” She motioned to the milling cowboys.
Wade stared at the throng of sweaty musclemen and clenched his jaw. The walls were closing in on him and damned if he could find an escape route.
“I appreciate that you’re trying to save me money, Wade, but there’s no reason to wear yourself out—”
Was she implying that he was a wuss?
“—when I have the funds to pay professionals to dig a well.”
“And these cowboys are professional well-diggers?”
“No. They’re my brother’s rodeo friends. But most of them have grown up on ranches and have construction experience.”
Wade’s gaze took in the workmen and he conceded that they did indeed appear qualified to dig wells and install fences. “How are you paying for supplies?” He motioned to the wooden posts the cowboys were unloading from the pickups.
“I charged the materials to my account at Barney’s Ranch Supply.”
Wade swallowed the knot in his throat. “How much did you spend?”
“Aside from the fencing, I ordered two water tanks, feeding bins and a few other items. Came to a little over six thousand dollars.”
“What are you paying these guys to help out?”
“Nothing. Juanita, my father’s housekeeper, is making her famous barbecue pork sandwiches for the men. You’re welcome to join us when we finish for the day.”
He’d stand out like a sore thumb among the ropers. “Thanks for the invite, but Luke’s mother is dropping him off at my condo tonight.” He hated asking but his bruised male ego lashed out. “Do all these guys live around here?”
“No. The rodeo’s in town this weekend.” She chuckled. “Cowboys will do anything for a home-cooked meal.”
A home-cooked meal and a beautiful woman. “When do we owe Barney’s Ranch Supply a payment on your account?”
“Barney sends out a bill once a month.”
At least Wade had enough in his savings account to pay off the fencing costs without dipping into his 401(k). “I’d better get to work.” He walked away, expecting her to call him back, praying she wouldn’t.
She didn’t.
Wade shimmied down the ladder and slowly chipped away at the ground with the short-handled shovel until he’d filled the bucket with dirt. Then he hauled the bucket up the ladder, tossed the dirt out and began the process all over again.
“Yer gonna get mighty tuckered climbin’ up ’n down all day.” Millicent flashed a toothless smile when Wade poked his head out of the hole. Knobby hands set a water jug on the ground. “Where’s that youngin’ o’ yers?”
“My sidekick is in summer school today. He’ll be here tomorrow.” Wade dumped the bucket of dirt, careful to avoid the old woman’s shoes. “Thanks for the drink.”
Millicent puckered her mouth. “Why don’t ya let them cowboys finish diggin’ the well? Go a lot faster.”
Because, dam
n it. He intended to prove that he could pull his weight as well as any cowboy. Wade didn’t care to delve too deeply into his reasons for needing to impress Samantha. He’d rather believe guilt urged him to continue shoveling dirt. Samantha’s father had entrusted his daughter’s money to Dawson Investments and they’d screwed up. “Isn’t it time for your nap?” he asked the old biddy.
“Watch yer britches, young feller, lest I put a hex on ya.” Millicent hobbled over to the rocking chair, sat and stared daggers at Wade.
Great. Not only was he being shown up by a bunch of cowboys, but a water witch threatened to cast a spell on him. Wade descended to the bottom of the hole, figuring he didn’t need anyone’s help digging his own path to hell.
“WANT US TO RESCUE HIM?”
Sam spun at the sound of the gravelly voice. “What?” she asked Connor, one of her brother’s rodeo buddies.
He motioned to the hole in the ground fifty yards away. “You’ve been staring in his direction for the past two hours—” he shrugged a pair of wide shoulders “—figured you had the hots for the guy.”
Connor believed she lusted after Wade? “Wade Dawson is my financial adviser. He’s trying to save me money digging the well by hand.”
“Like hell you say?” Connor grinned until the corners of his mouth threatened to split.
Sam giggled. “Nope.”
“I’ll be damned.” The cowboy frowned. “You’re sure he’s not after a share of the Cartwright fortune for himself?”
“His uncle owns Dawson Investments in Tulsa. Wade pulls in a healthy income.” She doubted he had millions like her but he drove a nice car and she’d noticed the quality of his suits and shirts. The executive had no trouble making ends meet.
Right then Wade’s head popped out of the hole. He flung the bucket toward the pile nearby, but the afternoon winds blew half the dirt back in his face. Maybe the poor man did need to be rescued. Pride was well and good until stubbornness impeded progress. “Let him be for a while longer.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” Connor touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. “Larry’s bringing in the water tanker. We’ll be ready to mix the cement and set the posts shortly.”
“Holler if you need any help,” she said.
As soon as the cowboy walked off, Sam’s thoughts returned to Wade. Did he really want to save her money or was there another reason Wade was killing himself?
Maybe he’s trying to impress you.
The possibility sparked a tingle in her toes that worked its way up her calf, zipped through her thigh and migrated into her stomach. She couldn’t compete intellectually with Wade—of that she was certain. So what did he see in her that made him want to prove he wasn’t afraid of hard work or getting his hands dirty?
Too much pondering gave her a headache. “Hold up, Jake!” She jogged over to an empty wheelbarrow, then steered the contraption toward the cowboy who’d been wrestling with two bags of cement. “Use this.”
“Thanks, Sam.” Jake loaded the bags into the wheelbarrow and went on his way.
Now why couldn’t Wade be as cooperative? Seeing there wasn’t much else for her to do while the men cemented the posts into the ground, she checked on Millicent.
“The man’s dumber ’n a doorknob,” the old woman said as soon as Sam sat on a patch of dirt next to the rocking chair. “Told ’im to let the others dig the well, but he—”
“Said he didn’t need help,” Sam finished.
Millicent spit a stream of tobacco juice at the dirt. “Stubborn as a mule.”
Wade wasn’t the only obstinate person in the bunch. When Sam had visited the Peterson homestead with her Realtor they’d both been surprised to discover Millicent living in a cabin on the property. The Realtor had suggested Sam contact the sheriff’s department and have Millicent forcibly removed, but Sam hadn’t had the heart. If she intended to provide a sanctuary for unwanted horses she couldn’t turn her back on a lonely old woman with nowhere to go.
Sam had returned to the property a few days later without the Realtor and visited with Millicent. The old woman had explained that the Dust Bowl years and the Depression had forced the Petersons to sell off large parcels of land and turn the farm into a small cattle ranch. Millicent’s father had helped with the herd while her mother had done the laundry, cooking and cleaning.
When Millicent turned seventeen she’d met an army soldier at a local dance and, shortly after, they’d married and moved in with his family in Arkansas. World War II broke out and Millicent’s husband had been shipped overseas. Millicent gave birth to a baby boy a week before she’d received the news that her young husband had died in action. So she’d gathered her belongings and the baby and had returned to the Petersons.
Millicent never remarried. She’d spent her days taking care of her aging parents and helping Mrs. Peterson with household chores. Time passed and Millicent’s son had dropped out of school and left for California. He’d returned twice through the years to visit his mother, but Millicent confessed she hadn’t heard from him in two decades. Odds were her son wasn’t alive anymore. Eventually Millicent’s parents and the Petersons had passed away, leaving Millicent alone on the property.
When Sam had assured Millicent she’d always have a home on the ranch, the old woman had teared up and offered to clean and cook for Sam once she built a new house on the property. Sam understood the need to feel useful only too well, so she’d agreed to Millicent’s offer.
“He ain’t half-bad ta look at,” the old woman said.
“No, he’s not.” Wade was definitely an attractive man—in a studious kind of way. She switched her attention to the cowboys heckling each other as they wrestled with the fence posts. Rodeo cowboys were full of muscle, bravado, bragging and mischief. They lived and breathed danger. Risked their lives on the backs of rank broncs or raging bulls. For years Sam had believed a rodeo cowboy was exactly the kind of man she wanted. Admired. Desired.
But she no longer envisioned herself spending the rest of her life with a rough-’n-ready cowboy. She needed a man who calmed and soothed her anxious spirit. A patient man who didn’t mind repeating things. A man who tolerated her memory lapses. A man who loved her despite her shortcomings.
And a man who didn’t have or want children.
Wade emerged from the hole with another bucket of dirt. Her heart sighed. He was the furthest thing from a real cowboy she’d ever met, yet he risked making a fool of himself to save a wealthy woman money. If only he wasn’t a father already, Sam would be tempted to test the relationship waters again with Wade.
Uh, oh.
Connor stopped at the well and spoke to Wade.
Sam was too far away to catch the discussion, but Wade’s frown told her he took exception to whatever the cowboy had said. Right then a group of wranglers joined Connor, brushing Wade aside. In a frenzy of activity, the men constructed a pulley system to lower and raise the bucket of dirt. Wade was pushed farther and farther from the group as the cowboys shouted bets on who could dig faster.
Sam got to her feet, intending to intervene when Wade whipped off his shirt and shoved his way back into the fray. The look of determination on his face snatched Sam’s breath. Even the cowboys understood Wade wouldn’t be deterred from helping. Pride swelled in her chest. Her financial adviser didn’t need anyone to fight his battles for him.
“Suppose we gotta fix some vittles fer the men,” Millicent said.
“Don’t bother. They’re all heading to the Lazy River for a barbecue. Juanita’s been cooking since yesterday. Care to join us?” Millicent hadn’t socialized with people in years and Sam doubted she’d begin today.
“Well, now that would be nice but I gotta mess of things needin’ my attention. Best I get to ’em.” Millicent pushed herself out of the chair and wobbled toward her cabin.
Time passed slowly as Sam watched Wade—more specifically his chest. For a guy who wore a suit to work he had nicely defined pecs and biceps. Not the bulging muscles the cow
boys flaunted but the lean, hard muscles of a swimmer or a runner. Sam studied the intriguing patch of dark hair in the middle of his chest, before following the line of fuzz down his stomach, where it disappeared beneath the waistband of his Wranglers. When her eyes reversed direction, she discovered Wade staring at her.
Their gazes clashed and Wade’s brown eyes smoldered with invitation.
Oh, boy. She was in trouble.
Big trouble.
Chapter Seven
A caravan of pickup trucks departed from the ranch, leaving a cloud of dust hanging in the air. Sam peeked at Wade and the intensity of his brown-eyed stare sent a jolt through her. Suddenly she didn’t want to say goodbye. “You’re coming to the Lazy River for barbecue, aren’t you?”
“I’ve got Luke this weekend.”
At the risk of sounding eager for his attention, she suggested, “Could Luke’s mom drop him off later in the evening?”
Wade’s gaze slipped to her mouth. “Maybe.”
Maybe what? Maybe he’d come to the barbecue? Or maybe he’d kiss her? Feeling short of breath she said, “I’ll wait in my truck.” As soon as she got inside the cab she watched Wade in the rearview mirror, wondering how friendly he and his ex-wife were.
Questions like…Whose idea had the divorce been—the ex’s or Wade’s? Did Wade still love the woman? Had infidelity played a role in their breakup? Wade didn’t act like the cheating kind. Then again, where men were concerned, Sam’s judgment had failed her before.
Sam had believed Bo would forgive her for accidentally putting his daughter in danger. Never in Sam’s wildest dreams had she expected he’d quit their relationship out of fear for Emily’s safety.
Wade’s expression remained neutral while talking on the phone, then he turned away and Sam worried the conversation had taken a nosedive. She prepared herself for disappointment as he drew near and leaned his head inside the truck window. “Carmen agreed to bring Luke by my place tomorrow morning.”
The scent of his faded cologne filled the cab and for a split second Sam lost her train of thought. “Great.” His mouth was so close if she leaned a little to the left…Wade stepped back and cleared his throat. Oh, God. Had she almost kissed him? What was she thinking? “Follow me.” She raised the window and flipped the air conditioner to high while Wade got into his car.
