The Rancher's First Love (15 page)

Jake and Breezy's house was chaos. There were children running amok, adults arguing about baseball and who would win the bull-riding world finals come October. She stood in the living room for a minute, that room with its stone floors, wood walls and massive stone fireplace. She let her gaze travel from Jake, sitting on the edge of a chair watching bull riding, to Brody holding Bria and acting as if the sport had never been a part of his life. Gus sat in a nearby rocking chair making raspberry noises at the baby, playing peekaboo with her so that she laughed.

When Grace sat down next to Brody, Bria cried, reaching for her mommy. The twins, Rosie and Violet, were playing with dolls and appeared to be as sweet as two almost-preschool-aged girls could be. But Samantha knew about the secretive glances those little girls gave one another.

“This is your family,” Remington said, his hand enclosing hers.

“Yes, they're something else.” She slid her hand free. “I should go see if Breezy needs help in the kitchen.”

“Running again?”

She shook her head. “No, not at all. I'm here, aren't I?”

His gray eyes captured her attention. Those eyes with the dark lashes and the faintest lines at the creases, evidence that time had gone by. Of course it had. And in the process they had changed, matured, maybe even come to their senses.

“You're still here,” he repeated.

“I'm going now.”

He laughed at the pronouncement. “Okay, head on to the kitchen like a good little woman.”

“Oh, that was wrong. Duke is in the kitchen, too. Are you going to comment about his apron?” The mood lightened. Her heart felt a little freer.

“Not in a million years. Duke can bake, cook, wear an apron or a chef's hat, and I doubt anyone will tease him.”

She kissed his cheek before walking away. It was a silly thing to do. Impulsive, really. A mistake? She wasn't sure. She left him standing in the living room wearing a stunned look. She hurried to the back of the house and the kitchen where she hoped she could forget for just a little while that Remington had a way of drawing her in and making her forget herself.

He was like driving reckless on a country road. Or racing her horse across the back field, taking no time to slow down for fallen logs and old fences. Loving him—yes, loving, because she did love him—was like closing her eyes and taking a leap without knowing what was ahead. And it scared her because it could either be wonderful, or leave her lost and alone.

In the kitchen Oregon was busy cutting up a salad. Breezy was putting whipped cream on a pie. Duke turned from his place at the stove. “About time you showed up. Can you put ice in glasses?”

Sam stepped into the kitchen to pull glasses from the cabinet. “Has anyone seen Parker and Lilly?”

“She took him to the family room to play a video game,” Oregon answered as she diced tomatoes. “How's work?”

“Really good. Of course there are bad days, but there are a lot of good days, too.”

“Bad days?” Duke asked, glancing back at her. “You haven't said much about that.”

She shrugged off his observation. In the space of a heartbeat the conversation changed to the flea market in town and the new department store. Actually, the only department store in town. It was being built on an empty lot just down from Lefty Mueller's shop.

Oregon slid behind Duke, raising on tiptoe to kiss his shoulder as she moved on to help Breezy pull fresh-baked bread out of the oven.

Remington joined them, standing at the door of the already-crowded kitchen. For a crazy second Sam wished he would look at her the way Duke looked at Oregon, as if he would give her anything, do anything, to assure her happiness. If only she could trust someone enough to be that person for her.

* * *

Remington knew when to leave well enough alone. Most of the time. But when it came to Samantha, he forgot. Completely. At the strangest moments he would suddenly have an urge to be near her.

To prove that point, here he stood, risking her family's knowing looks. He'd been sitting in the living room with the guys. Parker had joined them, excited about a handheld game Lilly had taught him to play. But then Parker had gotten caught up in the PBR, forgetting Remington, forgetting the game.

Remington had headed for the kitchen. And Samantha.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Help me fill glasses with ice.” She pushed a couple of glasses at him. “If we get this show on the road, we can eat lunch before I have to go to work this afternoon.”

He took the glasses and headed for the fridge. She followed.

Behind them Oregon and Duke were talking about more children. That led to talk about their house and the remodel that seemed unending. Couple talk. He glanced at Samantha. She moved him out of the way and held a glass under the spout for ice. He thought about having those conversations with her. But then his thoughts shifted, to the daughter they would have shared.

He hadn't allowed himself to think much about that little girl who would be about the same age as Parker. She was probably too young to really give them much thought. But someday she'd wonder about her parents. Who they'd been and why they'd given her up.

“Remington.” Samantha's voice was soft, as if she knew where his thoughts had gone.

“Hmm?” He held glasses filled with ice and wondered where to put them. She set them on the counter.

“It's strange, isn't it? To be here. To have all of this family around us.”

“We could leave?” he suggested, half teasing and half serious.

“I don't think we'd get away with that.”

“Get away with what?” Duke's voice boomed from behind Remington.

Samantha chuckled a little and walked away, leaving him to face her brother.

“I guess I wasn't talking to you,” Remington said.

“No, I guess you were talking to my little sister.” Duke grinned. “Calm down, Jenkins. I'm teasing.”

Oregon pulled on Duke's arm. “Stop.”

Duke held up his hands, surrendering to his wife. “Can't anyone take a joke anymore?”

Some things didn't classify as a joke, Remington thought. When he thought about Sam, about the past, he didn't feel like joking.

He met her gaze from across the big kitchen and got tangled up in emotions from their past. These new feelings were something more, something lasting. Unless, of course, he was all alone in the feelings.

There were moments when he thought they were going in the right direction. And there were other moments when he knew for sure that she was pushing him away.

She joined him at the counter, setting down two more glasses that had been filled with ice. She handed him a pitcher of tea.

“You can fill,” she said.

“I can do that.” He took the pitcher and began pouring. “I read the letter. I was going to wait until later, but I couldn't resist.”

She lowered her gaze. “I'm always the same way. I rip those letters open like it's Christmas morning. It's always a relief to know that she's okay. She's still a happy little girl with two parents that love her. Each year I look at the pictures and study her face, to make sure the look in her eyes matches what they tell me. I feel as if I would know if she wasn't really happy.”

“I think she's really happy.”

“Me, too.”

He put his hand on hers, to stop her from moving away. “I'm glad you shared it with me.”

She nodded but didn't look up, didn't meet his gaze. “I am, too. It's something I've always done alone.”

“But you're not alone,” he said.

“No, I'm not. For a long time it felt that way. Having the letters made me feel connected to her. As if in some small way I was a part of her life.”

“You gave her life. There's nothing more important than that.” He put the tea pitcher aside. “But Sam, when I say you're not alone, I mean because I'm here.”

“I know you are.”

He studied her face, wondering if she meant those words. Or if it was her way of getting out from under a conversation that was going too far.

For a moment he considered letting her off the hook, but he didn't.

“Sam, I'm not going anywhere. Ten years ago I let you down. That isn't going to happen a second time.”

She took a step back and shook her head just the slightest bit. “This isn't the time.”

No, maybe it wasn't. But eventually there would be a time. At seventeen he hadn't been the man she needed. Neither of them had been ready for a lifetime commitment.

Today was a different story. He couldn't imagine his life without her.

Chapter Fifteen

S
amantha had worked three twelve-hour shifts in a row. When she woke up Wednesday morning she was ready for her day off. And she had the entire day planned. She was going to work with her horse, Buzz, paint her kitchen, then go to town for dinner at Duke's.

She started her morning with Buzz. After she'd worked him, brushed him down and put him back in the field, she cleaned the stall that Lady and her puppies claimed as their home. She watched as the puppies played in the yard with their mama. They were getting too big to keep confined to the stall and they loved the grass, chasing butterflies and tracking whatever scents they could find.

The smallest of the puppies, a little girl Sam had named Polly, lifted her hound dog nose and howled as if she'd managed to track something and had it treed in a nearby bush. In the distance Sam heard a car speeding up the long driveway. She shooed the puppies back toward the barn, not wanting to chance any of them getting under tires.

A familiar red convertible pulled to a quick stop in front of the house. Kayla. She stepped out of the car, her dark hair pulled back with a scarf, big sunglasses covering her eyes.

Sam felt a mixture of emotions when she saw her half sister that they'd only come to know in the past year. Kayla was reckless, unhappy, and yet she cared about all of them. She cared about their mother, mess that she was.

“Kayla, where in the world have you been?” Sam called out as she headed across the yard.

Kayla smiled big, but it wasn't genuine. It was a mixture of sadness and desperation.

“I've been around. I just thought...” Kayla looked away, pulling off the sunglasses. “I thought I could stay here for a little while. I thought you might like to drive to Dallas with me.”

“That's a lot of thinking,” Sam said. She studied her sister, saw the weariness in her expression, the dark circles under her gray eyes. She was only twenty-three, but she looked older. “Are you okay?”

Kayla shook her head. “No, I don't think I am. But I'll be okay. I just need a place to stay for a while. I need to get my head on straight.”

“You need to stop drinking,” Sam said gently, not wanting to hurt the younger woman.

Kayla shook her head and started for her car. “This was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn't.” Sam went after her, grabbing her arm and stopping her from getting in the car. “I'm not going to judge you or lecture you. You can stay here as long as you want.”

Kayla's hand was on the door of her car. She stood there, her back to Sam. “You don't mind?”

“I don't mind. Let's make a deal. I won't lecture you and you don't try to talk me into seeing her.”

Kayla turned around, her bright, reckless smile back in place. “Deal.”

They were more alike than Sam had ever realized. They were both a little bit lost, a little bit alone. But they were sisters. They didn't have to be lonely. They had each other.

“Cute puppies.” Kayla inclined her head in the direction of the barn.

“Yes, and it won't be long before they have to find new homes.”

“I'll take one,” Kayla said softly, as if the thought of a dog was something she'd never considered.

“Of course.” Sam glanced at her watch. “Let's go inside. I need something cold to drink. Have you eaten?”

Because it didn't appear Kayla had eaten in days. She was thin, pale and listless.

“Yes, of course I have. I'm not hungry.”

Sam didn't lecture. Instead she led her sister through the front door of the house. A window air conditioner cooled the small room, the blinds closed to keep out the morning sun. The room was still bright and welcoming with overstuffed furniture, white end tables and aqua-blue walls. She wanted to paint the kitchen a sunny yellow to cover the light color that had started to fade and look dingy. She'd painted the cabinets when she first moved in. Little by little, she'd make this cottage her home.

Kayla followed her to the kitchen, restlessly pacing around that room as Sam poured them each a glass of iced tea. She found pie from the previous day and cut them each a slice.

“Duke's chocolate cream. Have a piece.” She set it on the table with a fork.

“Thank you.” Kayla sat down but didn't touch the pie.

“Kayla, I'm worried.”

“No lectures, remember. I know you're worried. It's a strange thing, to have all of this family concern.”

“I'm sure your dad is worried, too.”

“Worried about his political career and worried people will find out about my mother.
Our
mother.” Kayla picked up the fork and took a small bite of pie. “We won't pretend he really cares about me.”

Because she didn't know Kayla's father, Sam didn't argue. She knew how it felt to believe a father didn't really care. They had lived strangely parallel lives without ever knowing the other existed.

The difference was that Sam had her brothers. Yes, they had been overprotective and made decisions she had fought against, but they'd loved her. She'd always had their love. Even when she'd felt desperately alone.

Kayla needed this family. She needed Sam, Brody, Jake and Duke. She needed their wives and their children.

She needed Martin's Crossing.

But Sam doubted she'd stay long. Kayla loved the city. She got restless, as if seeking something she couldn't find.

Faith. Sam could see it in her life, even though she'd danced around it for years. She could see it in the lives of her brothers, in the lives of her friends in Martin's Crossing. She saw the lack of faith in Kayla.

“Is that paint?” Kayla pointed with the fork.

“Yes, I'm going to paint my kitchen.”

“By yourself?” Kayla looked truly astounded. “I'm impressed.”

“Don't be. I'm not that good. You can help if you want.”

Kayla lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “Sure.”

Thirty minutes later the two of them were laughing together as they painted the first wall. Kayla definitely had no skill with a paintbrush. She had paint splattered on her face, on her hands and her clothes. She'd been telling Sam stories of her life in Austin and things she'd done to her father, just to embarrass him.

The stories were funny, and yet sad. Sam had been a daredevil most of her life, but in the past few years she'd stopped trying to get her brothers' attention. She'd settled in to college and career plans because she'd wanted to take control of her life.

Kayla controlled her life by creating headlines.

After another thirty minutes of painting, Kayla's expression turned serious. She focused on the section of wall she was painting, her bottom lip held between her teeth.

“She isn't all bad,” Kayla said with a quick glance at Sam. “Oh, I know she did horrible things. But sometimes when I go visit her, she's kind. She seems to understand that I...” She hesitated. “She says she's there for me if I need her.”

Their mother. Of course Kayla would go back to that subject. Sam kept painting, taking cautious strokes around the window. She could see Buzz grazing, and in the distance cattle moved to a new patch of grass.

“I'm glad she's there for you.” Sam dipped the paintbrush in the can of paint labeled Goldenrod. “I used to dream that she'd come back and she'd be sorry for leaving. In my dreams she forced my dad to stop drinking. She brushed my hair each morning. She listened to me when I wanted to talk about my day at school. She read to me at night.”

“I had the same dreams,” Kayla admitted.

“We're a pair, aren't we?” Sam said. “But I understand why you take care of her and why you visit.”

“Because I'm still a little girl waiting for her to come back and be who I need her to be,” Kayla finished. “I blackmail my dad for the money to pay for the home she's in. He didn't want to do it, but he also doesn't want the world to know about her.”

Sam didn't know what to say to that. She didn't get a chance to reply because Lady started barking. Then she heard a car door slam. Kayla looked a little worried.

“Probably one of our brothers,” Sam assured her. She put her paintbrush down on the lid of the can, wiped her hands on a rag with some paint remover.

Someone knocked on the front door. Sam glanced out the window over the sink and saw Remington's truck parked next to Kayla's car. He knocked again on the front door. When she opened the door, she frowned at the man on her front stoop, a basket in his hands.

She opened the wood door but kept the storm door between them.

“No,” she said.

He grinned. “Yes. We have some days to make up for. You've been at work and I've been moving cattle and taking some to the livestock auction.”

“Days to make up for?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Don't pretend you've forgotten the plan.”

“Stop being ridiculous.” She still didn't open the door but it was hard to hide the smile trying to force its way to her lips.

Kayla walked up behind her and made an appreciative sound. “If you're turning him down, I'll take your place.”

“No, you're not.”

“Jealousy? Interesting.” Kayla reached past her and pushed open the storm door. “Come on in, cowboy, and let me get you an iced tea.”

Remington stepped inside, his gaze following Kayla from the room. “That would be the missing sister?”

“The one and only,” Sam blocked him from watching, even though there was only curiosity in his gaze.

“Will she mind if you go with me?”

“We're not going anywhere.”

“Oh, but we are.” He opened the top of the basket. “I've got fried chicken, potato salad and chocolate cream pie.”

“That's from Duke's. Don't tell me you have my own brother plotting against me.”

“He's not plotting, darlin', he's
helping
.” He winked and managed to be ever so charming. “I've been assured this lunch is the way to a woman's heart.”

“Rem,” she started, but Kayla returned.

“I'm good if the two of you want to spend time alone. I can finish painting.” Kayla plopped down on the sofa and grabbed a magazine. “Or sit here and read.”

“There you go—no need to worry that you're leaving your company unattended.”

No need to worry about her company, he said. But she had to worry about losing herself. She might have accepted with no qualms had she not been standing in this little house she'd worked so hard to make her own in the past couple of months. Her own place. Her own life.

“Don't overthink,” Remington warned, as if he knew where her thoughts were headed. But of course he didn't.

“Go,” Kayla ordered from the sofa without looking up from her magazine.

Remington stood there, waiting for her answer. Waiting to see if she'd give in. Because it only took twenty-one days to develop a new habit. And maybe, just maybe, Remington was a little too close to making good on that. Because when a day or two went by and she didn't see him, she missed him.

“Okay,” she conceded. “A picnic. Because it's already ninety degrees out there. And what's better than a picnic on a sweltering June day?”

She reached for a card that she'd left on the coffee table.

“Have a little faith, Sam.” He took her by the arm and led her out to his truck.

“Where are we going?”

He opened the truck door for her. “Be patient and trust me.”

Yes, patience. And trust. Two character traits she still needed to work on.

* * *

Remington got out of his truck and opened the gate just down from Duke's house. He headed back to the truck, but Sam had moved behind the wheel and drove the truck through the opening, then waited for him to close the gate and get back behind the wheel. She stayed in the middle of the seat, her shoulder close to his.

It felt like taking a step back in time, the two of them side by side in the cab of a truck. He took a well-worn trail through the field and headed to the hills and the creek. Country music played on the radio, songs about a girl and a boy falling in love. A small town. A pickup truck.

Ten minutes of driving led them to their destination, a creek at the base of a tree-covered hill. He backed the truck into a clearing and stopped.

“Here we are,” he announced as he opened the door.

Sam slid out after him. “You definitely had this planned.”

“Yep.”

He put down the tailgate of the truck and hauled the basket out of the front floorboard. Sam walked to the edge of the creek and lifted her hair to pull it back in a ponytail. Her back was to him and he looked his fill, not at all upset when she caught him staring.

Her cheeks turned rosy pink and she looked away. “You know you're making this difficult, right?”

“I'm not trying to,” he answered, searching for the right words. “I'm just doing my best to convince you to give us a chance.”

“I'm giving us a chance.”

“Then why are you still building walls between us?” He hadn't meant to go there, but he couldn't help it. He had a romantic picnic lunch, a perfect location on a perfect summer day. Why not tread into dangerous waters?

“I'm not building walls. I'm being cautious.” She sat down on the edge of the tailgate and reached for a piece of chicken. “I...I'm afraid, Rem. Because we started like this once before, you and me.”

“Yeah, we made mistakes. And we ended up going in different directions. But now we're here again. I can't help but think we're supposed to be here. Together.”

“Faith,” she sighed.

“Yes, Sam, faith. I'm not ashamed to be a man of faith. I never expected this to be my path. I had a great government job and a nice place in Austin. But here I am, back in Martin's Crossing, running my granddad's ranch and pastoring a church. I wouldn't give it up for anything. And I'm not going to apologize for it.”