The Last Real Cowboy. DONNA ALWARD
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didn’t like the way her lips pursed. She should be glad he was still amenable to signing the checks.
“Your mother …”
“I know,” he replied, cutting her off and growing impatient with the constant reminder of his mother’s wishes. He stood up and faced Angela, wondering how it was possible that she could be getting under his skin so easily—again. “But I’m not my mother. My mother is in her sixties, her family is grown and she was looking for a cause to champion, something to fill her day with purpose. I don’t need such a thing. Surely you can see how our time demands are completely different? My being here is entirely because it means something to her. But don’t ask for more than that. I don’t have it to give.”
“That’s what most people say,” she responded. “I thank you for wanting to mend fences, but you’re really just repeating yourself, Mr. Diamond. Butterfly House is low on your list of priorities.”
Why did she have to make it sound like a character flaw? Sam bit his tongue, but she was making it hard with her holier-than-thou stance.
“What if I asked you to come out to the ranch tomorrow? Spend the day, take a tour?”
“I can’t afford to take a day away from here!” Her lips dropped open in dismay. “There’s too much to be done!”
He sat back, pleased that she’d taken the bait. “Exactly my point.”
“It’s hardly the same,” she argued, wrapping her arms around her middle, the movement closing herself off from him even further. “You can hardly compare the Diamondback Ranch with this place. The differences are laughable.”
She thought the Diamondback ranch was a joke? His blood heated. “Why do you disapprove of me so much?”
“Please,” she said, contempt clear in her tone. “I’ve worked with people a long time. I know your type.”
He bristled. His type? What exactly was his type? He didn’t profess to be perfect but all he tried to do was put in an honest day’s work. He knew he had a bit of a reputation for being single-minded, but what was so wrong with that? He knew what he wanted, and he went after it. There was something else in her tone, the same negative inflection she’d used the night of the benefit. It grated that she made that sort of snap judgment without even getting to know him at all. She had no idea of the pressure he was under these days.
“Really. And you came to this judgment somewhere between me offering you a drink at the fundraiser and walking through the door at the meeting today?”
She looked slightly uncomfortable and he noticed her fingers picked at the fabric in her skirt. “Among other sources.”
“Ah, I see. And these other sources would be?”
She lifted her gaze and something sparked in her eyes. “You are not going to turn this on me, Mr. Diamond.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Ms. Beck.” He put particular emphasis on the Ms., hoping to get a rise out of her. Snap judgments that she wouldn’t even qualify annoyed him. He was gratified to see her nostrils flare the slightest bit. “Because I know your type, too, but I’m too much of a gentleman to elaborate.”
“A gentleman!” she exclaimed. Sparks flashed in her eyes. “From what I hear, you’re far from a gentleman.”
Sam wasn’t in the mood to defend his character as well as today’s actions. He had never, not once, been dishonest with a woman. He wondered where she’d gotten her information from and if it had anything to do with Amy Wilson? Dating her had been a mistake and he’d done her a favor by setting her free. But Amy hadn’t seen it that way and had felt compelled to complain all over town. Most people knew to take it for what it was—sour grapes and hurt feelings. But Angela was new here and Amy could be very persuasive.
He had come here to apologize only to have his good intentions thrown back in his face and his character maligned. His temper flared. “Before you say anything more, think very carefully,” he cautioned. “I’m sure you don’t want to lose Diamond funding. If I recall, even with the house bought and paid for, there are operating expenses to consider. Not to mention your salary.”
He saw her face go pale and felt his insides shrivel. Dammit. They were right back where they’d started despite all his resolve to smooth out the wrinkles. It was beneath him to threaten funding and yet he couldn’t bring himself to back down. He’d look even more foolish. He should have put a stop to Amy’s gossip ages ago, but he’d felt bad after the breakup, knowing he’d hurt her without intending to.
Now he’d gone and acted like a bully. He sighed and wiped a hand over his face, uttering a low curse. “What is it about you that brings out the worst in me?”
“The truth?” she replied acidly.
Angela’s stomach seemed to drop to her feet as the words slid from her lips. She couldn’t take them back and they echoed through the kitchen. He had just confirmed her opinion. Everything Amy had said about him really was true. He was caught up in himself and no one else, wasn’t he? She really should learn to shut her mouth. More than anything else, the need to smooth the waters rather than make waves was the one thing she’d never quite eradicated from her own life.
Her head said to placate him because his funds were crucial to the project. But her pride—and her heart—wanted to tell him exactly what she thought. What sort of example would she set if she allowed him to threaten her job, the very existence of the project? The whole purpose of the shelter was to help women stand on their own two feet, to be strong. How could she allow herself to be weak? She certainly couldn’t give in to the urge to back down every time she faced a challenge.
While she was contemplating her response, Morris chose that moment to strut through the kitchen. Lord of the house, master and protector, the orange-and-cream-colored cat stopped and regarded Sam with a judgmental eye.
“The infamous Morris?” Sam asked.
“I should have called him Houdini,” Angela responded.
“He’s quite the escape artist.” It was unusual for Morris to come out when strangers were around, and she watched as he made his way over to Sam. Maybe she’d judged Sam too harshly before. You could tell a lot about a man by watching him with animals.
Morris went directly to Sam, surprising her, and he sniffed at Sam’s jeans suspiciously. Sam looked at Angela helplessly, shrugging his shoulders. Angela saw the fur on Morris’s back stand up and his tail stiffen. She took a step forward, opening her mouth to warn Sam. But she was too late. Sam shouted and looked down at his leg, rubbing the denim just above the top of his boot.
Morris scooted away, but Angela knew exactly what had happened and wanted to sink through the floor. She hadn’t thought this meeting could get any worse, but Morris had taken matters into his own … teeth.
“Your cat bit me!”
Heat rushed to her face as his words moved her to action. She scrambled after Morris and picked him up. Cursed animal, he snuggled into her arms sweet as honey. “He has a thing about strangers. Particularly men.” She rushed to the half bath and locked Morris inside. “I think he was abused as a kitten,” she continued, wondering if there was anything more she could do to make Sam Diamond more aggravated. “The vet said his tail was broken in three places, that’s why it’s crooked. But he really isn’t a bad cat, he just has a protective streak. He …”
Her voice trailed off. Sam was staring at her as though she was crazy. “I’ll shut up now,” she murmured.
“Really,” Sam said drily, as if she’d stated the impossible.
Morris meowed in protest, the howl only barely muffled through the door.
“You’re a real bleeding heart, aren’t you, Ms. Beck?” He glowered at her. “Maybe I need to come up with a better sob story, eh? Maybe that’ll get you off my back.”
That did it. “Since when