The voice from the doorway made her startle and lose her footing. The rope tangled around her ankles, and she pitched forward with a yelp. Strong arms caught her up before she faceplanted.
She reeled back to see Cole’s face inches from hers. Her heart raced from the exercise, but that wasn't why she was suddenly breathless.
Cole set her back on her feet carefully, watching her as if she was a skittish horse. Once she recovered, her cheeks flamed. “What are you doing out here?”
“I heard a strange noise,” he explained, letting his eyes drop pointedly to the rope handles she still had in a death grip. “For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what it was. Sounded like some crazy person jumping rope in the middle of the night.” He leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms before raising one eyebrow. “Seems like I was right?”
Sammie tore her eyes away from his bare arms and looked out into the darkness. “Sorry. I couldn't sleep.”
“So you decided to jump rope?”
“Yes.”
He gave a shrug as if to say, “Suit yourself,” and then pushed himself upright. “So why can't you sleep?” he asked.
The mocking tone was gone from his voice. Sammie felt her gaze being pulled inexorably back to his. A hysterical laugh bubbled up in her throat. “You really need to ask that question? We have two months to fix a list of violations as long as my arm. Two months to save the ranch. Two!”
Cole held up his hands. “Hey now, don't freak out on me. I thought we went over this.” He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I was gonna save this for the morning, but I see you need to hear it now. I've been working on some plans.”
“You have?”
“Doubling the size of the herd, for one. You need a new irrigation line out to the west field; that'd double your grazing land. And not for nothing, but selling a few horses would get you enough cash to clear the hills back there.” He gestured to the scrub-covered hills to the north.
Sammie narrowed her eyes. “None of that was on the list of violations.”
“I know that. I'm still talking future here.” He eyed her. “Don't go running away on me now.”
“How far in the future? Because I've got a future I'm looking to, also.” She tore her eyes away from his, because she didn't want to see the hurt that suddenly gathered there.
It didn't work. The hurt was right there in his voice. “You mean you're just aiming to do a quick fix and get a move on, huh?”
She looked back at him and spread her hands. “My job, Cole. My career.”
“I thought you put that on hold.”
She wanted to scream she was so frustrated. “Right. For a year. I negotiated a delayed start, but after that they won’t hold my position. Do you know how replaceable I am? There are hundred of people with my exact qualifications, all ready to walk right over me to take this job.” Including my ex-boyfriend. She laughed and shook her head ruefully as she thought of Grady. He'd sworn it didn't bother him that her career took off before his. He'd still been swearing it when they broke up and swore they'd still be friends. But she'd never quite believed him.
No. She couldn't stay here. All the years she'd put in juggling teaching positions at three different colleges—riding the subway with her heavy briefcase in tow, eating ramen noodle cups as she graded late into the night—would mean nothing if she didn't leave Bitter Ridge in a year.
“Can't you teach anywhere?” Cole asked gently. “What about Crane?”
Another laugh bubbled in her throat without her meaning it to. “You mean Lame County College?” she scoffed.
Cole's expression hardened. “You can sure be snobby sometimes.”
“What the hell are you saying?”
“I'm saying exactly what I'm saying. This morning, you told me you wanted to fight for this place. What changed?”
“Nothing changed!”
“You said it was important for the town.” He stepped closer. “But I think it's important for you, too.”
Sammie shook her head. “No. No way. I got out of here as soon as I could for a reason. You don't know what's important to me.”
“Don't I?” She shivered as he brushed his knuckles up her bare arm. To her horror, her whole body came alive under his touch. “I know a lot of things about you, Sammie,” he whispered. “I know you're smart and driven, and you don't go in for doing anything half-assed.” His fingertips caught under her chin. “I also know exactly how much you want to kiss me right now.”
“I don't,” she said weakly.
“See now, that's another thing I know about you. Your voice gets higher when you're lying.”
She opened her mouth, her sharp retort gathering on the tip of her tongue. But it died there, leaving only a tiny gasp in its place, when his thumb swept up to drag lightly along her lower lip. The rough pad contrasted sharply with the gentleness of the motion, and Sammie shivered in spite of herself.
He drew his thumb away, and before she could stop herself, she flicked her tongue out to lick where his skin had met hers. She felt suddenly caught. Like a rabbit in a trap.
But fighting seemed less and less appealing the closer his lips drew to hers.
In fact, giving in seemed like the most appealing thing in the world.
Her moan of frustration died in her throat as his lips caught hers. There was only silence. Even the breeze died down and the horses quieted; all her senses were caught up in him. In the heat rising from his body, in the electrifying buzz of his closeness. Her nose was filled with the scents of him, the traces of soap that still clung to him after his shower and the clean tang of his laundry detergent. Under it all was something fundamentally him that had her drawing even closer, suddenly greedy for it. His scent awakened old feelings in her, good ones she'd thought were gone forever.
And his kiss…
Well…
His kiss was still him, too. Still confident. Still taking his time. Cole rushed into everything else in life, but he never rushed his kisses. He took his time with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. And it frustrated her now just like it had frustrated her way back on those stolen nights in the bed of his pickup. When her need rose into a frenzy and he just took…his…time.
With a grunt of frustration, she flung her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. She'd prized her Yale hoodie when she bought it, but now she hated that it was a barrier between them. She wanted his skin on hers.
His lips curved against hers in a smile she knew would make her crazy if she saw it, so she kept her eyes closed, the better not to think of what a mistake this was.
But when she intensified the kiss, he let out a low growl that raised goosebumps all the way down to her toes. In an instant, Cole swept her up, crushing her against him. His fingers sank into her hair, threading through the strands so that he could turn her head this way and that as he devoured her mouth. This was all Cole too, the roughness and hunger that had always sent her mind reeling. This was why they had broken up so long ago, because when she was with him she forgot everything except how good it felt to be kissed by him. She forgot her ambitions and her goals and her dreams for a future, all in favor of the now.
Her eyes flew open. With a stifled gasp, she pressed her hand to his chest.
Immediately, Cole backed off. She tried to muster anger against him, tried to find some outrage to save her dignity, but he was just as flustered as she was. His face was flushed, and he was breathing heavy. He lifted his hand and unconsciously raked it through his hair, then looked at his hand in surprise as if it had done that all by itself.
He let his gaze drop to the floor. “Well, shit. I'm not gonna apologize for kissing you, Sammie, but I will apologize for the effect it had on me.”
“What do you—?” She raked her eyes over him.
He gestured at his crotch.
“Oh!” she cried, as the evidence of just how much that kiss had riled him pressed against his sweats. She lifted her eyes and glared at the moon as her c
heeks flamed.
“Think about what I said.”
“What did you say?” She couldn't remember anything prior to that assault on her mouth.
He smirked.
“Hush.”
“I was saying that this ranch is way better for the town than your cousin's plans. You got a good thing here.” Sammie couldn’t help noticing how he'd dropped the we. “You could pay people good money, much better money than they'd make with Pete's big box store. And the land is good, too. You could grow things. Healthy food. For the future of this town. For the kids.”
His sincerity made her squirm. She needed distance, and teasing was the only tool for getting it she had. “So now you're a farmer and a cowboy?”
Cole never let her shame him. He just grinned. “I'm a man of many talents.”
At that, her fingers went right to her lips.
She stepped back abruptly and looked at the moon again.
Kiss aside, he did have a point. It wasn't just about the will or the china. It wasn't even all about her any more. Someone had to stop Pete, once and for all.
She sighed.
Cole eyes shone. “Yeah?”
“I didn't say anything.”
“Sure sounded like you did.”
She lifted her finger and pressed it to his lips. “You hush.”
He nipped at it. “Or what?” He closed the distance between them. Sammie felt a tingle rushing up from her toes as he kissed her again. She smiled against his lips.
He pulled back with a gasp, his face suddenly white.
Her shocked brain took a moment to register why. Then it came again. A howl of pain from inside.
“Devon!” Cole roared.
He threw open the front door with a bang and sprinted inside.
And without thinking twice, Sammie followed him.
Seven
There’s so much blood. Too much blood. He couldn't think. He couldn't move. What can I do? Who did this?
Are there more insurgents lying in ambush, ready to jump if I move?
The cries of his men filled his ears, and the air smelled like blood. Someone bumped into him. “Get down!” he ordered.
“What?” the private gasped.
But it wasn't the private. It was a woman.
Sammie.
Cole's whole body jerked, and with it, his mind too. Then he blinked, the cries were his own son's. “Devon!” he cried, but his feet were still rooted to the spot.
When he didn't move, Sammie sidestepped him and rushed into the room.
“Did you fall out of your crib?” she asked. Quick as anything, she unzipped her sweatshirt, balled it up, and pressed it to the gushing wound on Devon's forehead. “He must have caught the corner of the windowsill when he fell. What were you doing, buddy?” she cooed to the toddler. “Were you trying to look out the window?”
“He must have heard us.” A pit opened up in Cole's stomach, and for one fleeting moment he almost wished he was back there in the desert. As horrible as the cries of his men had been, they paled in comparison to the cries of his baby boy. “He must have been trying to climb out onto the porch.” Cole fell to his knees next to them, his training finally kicking in. “I need you to go get my truck,” he ordered Sammie. “My keys are on the nightstand in my room.”
Sammie's face was pale and her lips bloodless, but she nodded and jumped to her feet.
“Hey, buddy.” Cole fought the guilt-induced tears that wanted desperately to fall. “I've got you, bud. You're okay. I know. I know it hurts.”
Devon's shocked wails had dwindled to anguished sobs. He clutched at his daddy's shirt with one hand, smearing a mixture of blood and snot across his chest as Cole gently lifted him, cradled to his chest. As he walked carefully down the hall, he heard the approaching thunder of his truck.
Sammie's hair was in tangles. Her shoulders were bare and she had a smear of blood across her skimpy tank top, but she sat tall in the driver's seat as if it was her throne. And she didn't move from behind the wheel. Not even when he'd finished easing Devon into his car seat.
“I got it,” Cole told her. “You can go, thanks.”
Her eyebrows slammed together. “Like hell you're doing this alone. Get in.”
The pit in Cole's stomach deepened, and he would have loved to let it swallow him whole. Was Sammie going to be present for every single one of his failures as a father?
“Climb back there with him,” Sammie ordered. “I remember how to drive this truck.”
He nodded and slid in behind her, ignoring how his knees were now up around his ears. “You have a lead foot, as I recall.”
“Right now, that's a good thing.” She floored the accelerator, and the truck leaped forward.
“Dada!” Devon clutched at his arm, then grabbed a fistful of T-shirt as if he was trying to pull his way into Cole's arms. “Up!”
“I'm so sorry, bud.” He pressed Sammie's sweatshirt to his son's head and felt like the biggest shithead on the planet for not picking up him up. He was right next to him, but it felt like he was miles away. “Back in my day, I'd be allowed to hold you in my lap, but these days, Daddy would end up in jail for doing that.” He held his son's chubby hand as Sammie pulled out onto the highway.
It was a thirty-minute drive to the nearest hospital, but Sammie made it in twenty-three.
Twenty-three of the longest minutes in Cole's life.
His whole focus was on Devon—How was his breathing? Was his arm bent funny? Had the bleeding stopped yet?—but every time the clouds of anxiety parted, Sammie was there.
Like an angel.
She helped him move Devon into the ER, then settled him into a chair before going to the desk. Cole felt like he was moving underwater, but Sammie worked at light speed. She shoved paperwork at him and pointed out where to sign. She took his wallet and rooted through it for Devon's insurance card. She spoke animatedly to the front desk clerk. He wasn't sure what Sammie had said that made the woman look frightened like that, but the next thing he knew, they were being led to an exam alcove.
“He looks so small,” Cole sighed, once Devon had been settled into a comically large hospital bed. “Hey, buddy? Can you sit up a little? You're worrying Daddy.”
Devon cried out, a fresh wail of alarm. There was the skid of rubber soles on the floor and a nurse rushed in. “His arm's probably broken,” she announced. “See how he's holding it close to his body that way?”
“Oh shit.” Cole clapped his hand to his forehead. “Oh fuck, I put him in a car seat. Fuck.”
“We'll need to do X-rays.”
He wanted to punch something. He needed to punch something. “I am the worst fucking father on the—”
“Cole Baker?” The nurse interrupted his meltdown by peering closely at his face. “Is that you?”
Cole blinked in momentary confusion.
Her kind eyes widened. “It is you!”
“Wait, you—?” His voice caught in his throat. Sammie's attention bounced between the two of them like she was watching a tennis match.
“From when your friend came in that night?” she prompted. “I don't remember his name exactly, was it…Jay?”
“Jameson. Yeah.” Cole's throat tightened. “I remember you now.” His gaze dropped to her lanyard. “Beth. Of course.”
Beth shook her head fondly. “I still remember that night like it was yesterday. A bunch of teenagers playing like the biggest badasses on the planet, but underneath you were all little boys scared for your friend.” She touched Cole's arm. “You were the bravest by far.”
Cole turned away. “Not that it mattered,” he grunted, his voice catching in his throat.
“Now, I wish you'd stop that,” Beth chided. “You were talkin' the same way back then. Honey, you can't blame yourself for what happened to your friend. Just like you can't blame yourself for what happened to this little one.” She pressed her hand to Devon's forehead. “Kids get hurt. It's how we stay in business.”
“That's right, Co
le,” Sammie agreed. He was startled by the warmth in her eyes, especially when the subject of Jameson came up. How could anyone look at him that way after what had happened?
He had no idea. But she was still looking at him that way as he gritted his teeth through Devon's X-rays. She gave him a soft, encouraging smile as he sweated through the exam, then rested her head against his arm once they'd wheeled Devon back into the tiny alcove and closed the curtain.
“You're doing really good, Dad,” she whispered, then slid her hand into his.
Cole didn't believe her. But he wanted to.
Just then, the doctor slid back the curtain. Her face was round and so youthful she barely looked old enough to have graduated from high school, much less medical school. She smiled at Devon—who scowled fiercely—then turned to Cole and Sammie. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Baker, the good news is that the head wound is just a superficial cut.”
Cole held up his hand. “Wait, we're not—”
“I bet you gave mama quiet a scare, little man!” the teenager masquerading as an MD chuckled. “Come on, let's get that arm of yours fixed up.”
Sammie's eyes met Cole's. She seemed to be willing him to correct the doctor, to protest that they weren't actually a family. But he was too exhausted and confused, and then the sudden whirlwind of activity around his son drew his attention away from even bothering.
It really didn't seem to matter all that much.
They spritzed Devon’s forehead with a numbing spray, which Cole wished was around when he was an accident-prone kid, and then sewed up the gash.
“His perfect skin,” Sammie squeaked, peeking through her fingers. She looked a little green.
“He's going to have a badass scar. Chicks dig guys with scars,” Cole said. He would have offered a comforting touch if holding Devon’s hand wasn’t so much more important.
“Do you have scars?”
“I'm a soldier and a cowboy,” he teased. “What do you think?”
The sudden color that rose to her cheeks made his throat go dry and his fingers itch to fold her into his arms, if only to get as much comfort from her as he could give in return. But kissing her had been the reason Devon got hurt in the first place. This was what happened when he let himself get distracted from his role of daddy.
The Rancher’s Second Chance Page 6
