Rodeo Sweetheart. Betsy Amant St.
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beneath his mustache. He looked as if he wanted to argue, but wasn’t sure what to say.
“Uncle Jeffrey, we’ll handle the bags. No problem.” Daniel grabbed the largest of the suitcases from the trunk and hefted it to the ground. “Where to?”
Ethan took a second bag, trying not to snicker at Daniel’s obvious attempt at kissing up to his father.
“I think check-in is inside there.” Vickie pointed to a two-story farmhouse with a wraparound porch. Paint peeled near the faded trim and the stairs leading to the front door looked saggy, as if they’d held up one person too many over the years. “They’ll have our cabin numbers. I requested the two biggest ones they had.”
Ethan’s mouth twitched as he studied the crumpling architecture of the house. “After you, Daniel.” He wasn’t about to stand on that top porch step with a suitcase. He was likely to go straight through to the grass.
“I’ll check us in.” Vickie brushed them aside. “You boys get the rest of our luggage.” She lightly scaled the steps and disappeared inside the run-down building, an unspoken warning floating in her perfumed wake. Don’t upset your father.
Ethan grabbed another bag and passed the next to Daniel. Jeffrey stood by with his hands in his pockets, letting others do the work. The familiar claws of resentment dug once again into Ethan’s back, and he set his father’s suitcase in the dirt a little harder than necessary.
“Watch it, boy.” Jeffrey didn’t even bother with a glance in Ethan’s direction, just kept staring out across the fields spotted with wildflowers. “There are breakables in there.”
Ethan bit the retort on his lips and set his father’s suitcase upright. Three weeks of this? He must be crazy. No, his mother must be crazy to insist they come. She’d played it up as a huge business opportunity, a real working vacation—heavy on the vacation. But so far, the Jenson ranch was nothing to get excited about. Who cared if the family had been here for three generations? That didn’t make the property a steal—it’d just make it even more expensive to buy because of the owner’s hesitation to sell, especially if she heard of Jeffrey’s plan to develop a mall on site. Families didn’t like getting rid of memories.
Normal families didn’t, anyway. The only thing sentimental to Jeffrey Ames was his collection of gold money clips. Maybe Ethan and Daniel should go ahead and hightail it to Vegas after all.
Ethan turned his back to his father and shot a grin toward his cousin, the same easy, cover-up smile he’d spent years perfecting. Jeffrey would never know how badly he got to Ethan, and neither would anyone else if he could help it. Ethan had buried so many emotions over the years, what was a few more? He lowered his voice. “I don’t know about you, man, but I could go for a little fun instead of playing this charade. You want to get out of here?”
Daniel sat on the top of his suitcase and rocked back, balancing on his heels. A gleam sparked his eyes. “You know I’m up for anything. Just say the word. Where do you want to go?”
Ethan started to answer, and then stopped as a woman about his age stepped out of the shadows of the giant red barn and headed in their direction. Underneath a tan cowboy hat, her light brown hair was streaked with natural blond highlights, not the fake stuff his mother used every six weeks. Her slim jeans were peppered with dirt and her boots clomped across the dirt-packed earth as she strode confidently in their direction.
A slow grin spread across Ethan’s lips. “Who said anything about leaving?”
Chapter Two
“Welcome to Jenson Farms.” Sam greeted the guests with a smile, trying not to cringe at the amount of luggage surrounding the three men. Wasn’t the family only here for a few weeks? “I’ll be happy to show you to your suites.”
The older man sized her up with a quick nod. “Jeffrey Ames.”
Sam shook his offered hand. “I’m sorry for the delay in coming out. I had business to tend to in the barn.” She started to add they were short-handed, but thought better of it. Her mother had warned her not to say anything that would make these guests think the Jenson ranch was less than top-notch—although it wouldn’t take more than a cursory glance to determine that particular truth.
“Not a problem.” He gestured for Sam to lead the way. She hefted a bag on her shoulder and turned toward the two adjoining VIP suites. They were really nothing more than two small wooden cabins joined with a narrow porch, but these particular cabins had full kitchens, unlike the partials in the other guesthouses. Good thing her mother had added those big garden tubs in the bathrooms last summer, or the Ameses might make a dash for civilization. Why was such a wealthy family on vacation in the nowhere town of Appleback, anyway? If Sam had money, she’d vacation in Europe. Or some deserted island in the middle of the ocean where she could ride bareback in the sand and sip fruity drinks with umbrellas.
“Dad!” The sharp voice sounded seconds before the duffel bag was tugged from Sam’s grasp. She turned to find the young sports car driver holding the luggage and scowling at Mr. Ames. “She doesn’t need to carry our luggage.”
“We can get it.” The passenger from the convertible winked at Sam and she quickly looked away from the leer in his eyes.
“Nonsense. It’s her job.” Mr. Ames turned back to Sam. “I’ll make sure you’re compensated for it.” He motioned her along with a wave of his hand.
Sam’s stomach clenched at the flippant dismissal. She’d never been talked to like the hired help before, although with the Jensons’ new business venture into the tourist world, that’s exactly what she was. Her father’s image flashed in her mind, and Sam forced tidbits of pride down her throat. Without money, she’d never get the ranch back the way it was, and the Ames had it to spare. Time to work. She picked up another suitcase, this one heavier than the first.
“Here, let me.” The son’s warm voice and sudden nearness filled Sam’s senses. “I’m Ethan Ames. And this is my cousin, Daniel.”
“Sam Jenson.” She set the bag down and shook Ethan’s hand, noting its smoothness. The men in Appleback all had work-worn hands, calloused from hard work. This guy must not be used to handling anything other than a leather steering wheel or computer keyboard.
“You don’t look like a Sam to me.” Ethan’s dark hair, short and spiky, heightened the deep brown of his eyes. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was a dreaded tourist, she might actually find him attractive. He was taller than Daniel, and didn’t seem to have an agenda in his eyes like Daniel did, either. More maturity lurked in Ethan’s gaze, along with a heaviness that suggested secrets. Maybe there was something substantial to this greenhorn after all.
“It’s really Samantha.” She allowed Ethan to take the suitcase handle from her. “But I go by Sam.” No one but her father had called her Samantha, and if she had her way, no one ever would again. Some rights were reserved for the dead.
“Samantha.” Ethan’s smile turned slightly flirty, heightening Sam’s first impression when he’d arrived in his convertible. “I think I’ll call you that instead. You don’t mind, right?”
The respect he’d earned by helping her with the bags faded into oblivion, and Sam flashed her own smile as she hoisted another duffel bag in her arms. “Only if you like boot prints on your back.”
Sam strode past the men toward the cabins, ignoring Daniel’s burst of laughter. She kept her head high and refused to give them the dignity of a backward glance.
“You really said that?” Sam’s best friend Kate Stephens laughed, leaning forward to momentarily rest her head on the top rail of the fence. Her curly red hair gleamed in the setting July sun. “Only you, Sam.”
“He had it coming.” Sam stuck a strand of hay in her mouth and chewed as she looked out over the pasture, unable to hide her smile. “I wish I could have seen his face.”
“Priceless, I’m sure.”