Montana Hearts (2 page)

“Help!” the woman cried. “He won't slow down!”

“Pull back on the reins!” Delaney shouted from across the yard, but both horse and rider disappeared out of sight.

Sammy Jo squeezed through the open-­slatted woodwork and stepped onto the dirt path that stretched before the cabins lining the river.
Someone
had to go after the pair before the Collinses' guest, who'd somehow managed to spook the horse, fell off and got hurt.

She glanced at Delaney, who still held the reins of two other horses tacked up for the group trail ride. Then she glanced toward Luke. For one intense moment, their gazes locked, and then, in the next instant, she knew.

It wouldn't be him.

L
UKE WATCHED
S
AMMY
Jo take the reins of one of the horses from Delaney's hands and swing up into the saddle.

“I'll get them,” she promised.

Delaney nodded, and a moment later Sammy Jo took off past the trees in hot pursuit.

Luke scowled. She'd get them all right. Then she'd be back to talk about her new idea of a rehabilitation horse and pester him some more. The dark-­haired menace was a year older, the same age as his sister Bree. And ever since he'd known her she'd been a tease, mocking and tormenting him every possible moment.

But what he didn't get was why she'd started
flirting
.

He found the new exchanges between them awkward and wasn't sure what she meant by it. Was this her new way of playing around? The result of transforming from a skinny, spitfire teen into a curvy, sweet-­talking temptation?

Bree and Delaney were no help. When he'd asked his sisters what was up with the way Sammy Jo was acting lately, they'd laughed, as if it were all one big joke.

He had no doubt Sammy Jo had
something
up her sleeve—­some kind of plan or hidden agenda. He just didn't know what it was.

With her stubborn “won't take no for an answer” attitude and a figure like hers, he was sure Sammy Jo could have any guy she wanted. So why wasn't she out pursuing someone else? What did she want with him anyway? What did she hope to gain?

The fact she lived on the ranch next door didn't help. Sammy Jo invited herself over all the time, and because she was best friends with Bree and Delaney, she thought she was part of the family. But he'd never considered her a sister. And he vowed he never would. Sammy Jo made him feel like he could never put his guard down. She was always trying to pull his strings and get him to do one thing or another.

Nothing had changed over the last seven years. After six years in the army and a year living in the Florida Keys, he'd returned to Fox Creek to find that even though his pesky next-­door neighbor had grown up, she
still
refused to leave him alone.

First Sammy Jo had followed him around like a puppy and peppered him with questions about his leg. Then she manipulated him into being her partner for what seemed like a twenty-­minute-­long song at the barn dance, an awkward night for sure. And how she managed to enlist his help to catch a fourteen-­inch rainbow trout in the river last week, he still didn't know.

But if there was one thing to be said about Sammy Jo, it would be that she sure
was
persistent.

S
AMMY
J
O SQUEEZED
her knees against the horse beneath her, urging him to pick up speed as they crossed the open field.

Unbelievable, but the woman atop the runaway horse ahead of her had managed to stay on. Probably because she had both arms and legs wrapped around the animal as tight as she could. Riding up on their left, Sammy Jo leaned over and grabbed the loose reins that had slipped from the woman's fingers and slowed both horses to a halt.

“You're okay,” she assured the Collinses' guest, and handed her back the leather straps.

The startled woman, who appeared to be in her late thirties, nodded and sat up straight in the saddle, her eyes wide. “Thank you.”

“You did a great job of holding on,” Sammy Jo soothed.

“I—­I—­I . . .” The woman's voice faltered as the horse beneath her let out a loud snort. “I was afraid to let go.”

“I'd say you are a natural,” Sammy Jo continued, giving her a warm smile. “With a few more lessons you might be riding rodeo.”

The woman returned her smile and Sammy Jo let out a sigh of relief. The last thing the Collinses needed right now was an unhappy guest. News of their previous ranch manager's embezzlement the month before had put their reputation on the line.

“I don't think rodeo's in my future,” the woman assured her, “but I guess I
could
use a few more riding lessons.”

When they returned to the stable across from the unfinished cabins, Delaney whispered, “Sammy Jo, I owe you.”

“A bowl of hot buttered popcorn and a movie later?” she asked.

Delaney nodded. “Definitely.”

Sammy Jo headed back over to Luke. He pretended to have his head buried in blueprints, but she'd seen him look at her as she and the woman she'd rescued rode up.

“How can I help?” she asked, glancing at the plans over his shoulder. “Do you want me to fetch your tool belt?”

“I don't need you to
fetch
me anything,” he said and, using the cane, hobbled over to his tool belt and buckled it around his waist.

“Just trying to make you happy,” Sammy Jo offered. Sidling up closer, she looked him straight in the face—­her heart flipping over at the sight of those gorgeous hazel eyes—­and asked, “How can we fix this?”

“Fix what?”

“You and me.”

He gave her a wary look. “I didn't know we needed fixing.”

Was he really going to pretend he was immune to her advances? Because last month at the barn dance he didn't seem too immune. From the way he looked at her and said her name, and had drawn real close at the end of the evening, it seemed like it wouldn't be long before they'd become a real ­couple. Except . . . for some reason or another . . . they hadn't.

“Why won't you ask me out on a date?” she demanded.

The Adam's apple in his throat bobbed up and down and the muscle along the side of his jaw jumped, but he didn't say anything.

She leaned forward. “Well?”

He glanced away for a moment, then his face lit with amusement and he crossed his arms over his chest. “C'mon, Sammy Jo. We both know the only reason you're
interested
is to make your father angry. After all—­what better way to get back at your dad than to date a
Collins
.”

“That's not true,” she protested. “My father has nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, no?” Luke challenged. “Can you deny you wouldn't love to see the look on his face if he caught the two of us together?”

She hesitated and she could feel her face flush. “Of course I would. You know I think the feud he has with your family is outdated and silly. But that's not why I like you—­and I'm not
pretending
to like you.”

The expression on his face said he didn't believe her. “Look, Sammy Jo, we're just friends. That's
all
.”

“We could be so much more,” she insisted.

“You may be interested,” he said, his tone resolute, “but I'm not.”

He was wrong. He
was
interested in her. He just didn't know it yet. Her stomach twisted in knots and her eyes stung, but she raised her chin, determined not to let his words throw her off course. One way or another, she would make him believe her feelings for him were real.

Because she'd already decided that it was high time for her to settle down and get serious with someone.

And Luke was her man.

 

Chapter Two

S
AMMY
J
O TOOK
a knife from the butcher block and proceeded to chop the fresh zucchini, onion, tomato, and sweet red pepper spread across the cutting board. She'd picked up the vegetables at the local market earlier that day and had decided to make a nice green salad to go with the rib-­eye steak and baked potatoes she was cooking for dinner.

It would just be her and her father tonight, but she'd soon be off traveling on the rodeo circuit and only popping in for a few days at a time. There wouldn't be much gourmet cooking until the end of the season and she planned to make the most of their last full week together.

Her father wouldn't be the only one she'd be leaving behind. She thought of her best friends, back from what seemed like the three corners of the earth: Bree from New York, Delaney from San Diego, and Luke from the Florida Keys.

This summer they'd all be living here in Fox Creek, while
she
was gone.

She sliced the onion harder than she'd intended and the juice sprayed up into her eye. Wincing, tears formed to blur her vision and she grabbed a dish towel to wipe them away. But the tears kept coming.

Why did they have to come back
now
? Why not a ­couple months ago when she had all the time in the world to spend with them? When she could have had more time to win over Luke and prove she'd changed?

It wasn't that she
needed
a man. She considered herself a strong, independent woman who was quite capable of taking care of herself. And she had, for seven long years while Luke wasn't around. But something had been missing from her life.

Someone to share it with.

The truth was, she hated being alone. Growing up an only child, she'd suffered terrible bouts of loneliness. That was probably why she spent so much time next door with the Collinses. Then after high school when Luke's father's impossible expectations drove him to join the military, she realized it was more than that.

She didn't need just a friend to cheer her on at the end of a rodeo show. She wanted someone to
love
who would love her in return. And after dating several different men, she realized none of them could capture her attention or make her heart race as much as Luke.

She'd always liked him, which was probably why she teased him so much when they were younger. But she didn't realize the extent of her feelings until after he was gone. She didn't know if it was his zest for life, his leadership skills, the crazy strategic plans he made, or his compassion for others, but when Luke walked into a room, the air always crackled with expectancy and excitement. Like anything could happen. Anything at all. And she loved dwelling upon all the possibilities.

Except she wasn't the only one. Even now there were other women in Fox Creek talking about him. Eyeing him up as he walked down the street. And it wasn't because Luke had come back injured, like he supposed, but because there weren't many single, handsome, awe-­inspiring men like him around. Sammy Jo feared if she didn't act fast, another gal would snatch a marriage proposal out of him while she was away at the rodeos. And she'd lose him.

Like her father had lost her mother. All because he never showed how much he cared when he had the chance.

Sammy Jo didn't intend to leave behind any regrets.

After tossing the dish towel back down on the counter, a buzz jiggled inside the back pocket of her jeans. Retrieving her phone, she glanced at the caller ID and answered. “What's up?”

“Can you set an extra place at the table?” her father asked, his tone more cheerful than normal. “I invited a guest over for dinner. Hope you don't mind.”

“No, I don't mind.” Reaching into the burlap sack on the counter, she took out another potato and tossed it into the oven. “Who is it?”

“A surprise.”

“You have a date.” She pressed her lips together for a moment, thinking again of her mother, a woman who he hadn't yet officially divorced. “Is it that lady from the bank?”

“You'll see,” her father said, his tone unyielding.

Sammy Jo's mother often told her she got her stubborn persistence from her father, and when dealing with him, she'd have to pick and choose her battles.

“Okay,” she said, giving in. “But make sure your ‘guest' knows that dinner is at six.”

After Sammy Jo ended the call, she went to add a place setting in front of the seat at the table next to her father and hesitated. Her mother had left five years before, and now lived in Wyoming, but her parents had never filed divorce papers.

And she had no idea why.

Maybe her mother, who alluded to the fact she'd left because she'd felt unloved, still held hope that Andrew Macpherson could have a change of heart.

Sammy Jo scowled. There was no chance of that happening if he continued to date other women. He'd taken out Winona Lane five times over the last few weeks—­twice to dinner, once to the movies, and two other times when she didn't know where they went and he refused to tell her.

The old matronly bat was assistant manager of the Fox Creek branch of Mountain View Bank and had lost her husband the year before. Word had it that she was interested in acquiring property. No doubt the woman saw both her father and the Macpherson land as a good investment.

Glancing out the window at the property next door, Sammy Jo wondered what Luke was up to at that very minute and sighed. Luke had made it clear he wasn't interested in dating so she didn't have to battle off any other contenders.
Not yet, anyway.
But that could all change in a heartbeat. After all, Bree had claimed
she
wasn't interested in dating either, but after reconnecting with Ryan, she'd had a change of heart.

What would it take to get Luke to have a change of heart toward
her
? While she might have the stubborn persistence of her father, she wasn't sure she'd inherited the patience of her mom. She couldn't wait years. She had to find a way to win Luke's heart
this
year,
this
summer, before either his father's high expectations drove him away again or he really did marry someone else.

But how could she do that while in the rodeo?

When her father arrived home it wasn't the banker woman, Mrs. Lane, by his side, or any other woman. It was a man, the transport driver for the auction house that took unwanted, low-­bid horses to the slaughterhouse.

“Sammy Jo, you remember Harley Bennett?” her father asked as they entered through the front door.

She gave a slight nod. “We've met once or twice.”

Harley removed his hat and came forward to shake her hand. “Thanks for the dinner invite.”

Sammy Jo frowned. It wasn't
her
idea to invite him. She waved toward the adjoining dining room. “Have a seat. The steaks will be ready in a few minutes.”

Returning to the kitchen, Sammy Jo clenched her teeth. It appeared she was about to suffer through another one of her father's business meetings. Andrew Macpherson worked for the county building department and was always meeting with local clients, even after office hours.

But why couldn't he have met the slaughterhouse accomplice in town at the café instead? Now she'd have to wear a polite smile and pretend that she was fine having this immoral person at her dinner table. Then again, would she have felt any different if Winona Lane had shown up instead of him?

She supposed not.

Stacking the steak and potatoes on a tray with the salad bowl, she delivered the meal and sat down at the table to join them.

“Harley, are you working on a project with my father?” she asked, careful to keep her tone pleasant.

He gave her a slow grin as he stuck his fork in a thick, succulent steak and transferred the double-­portioned piece to his own plate. “You could say that.”

“What are you building? Adding on to the slaughterhouse?” Okay, she did
not
have the patience of her mother. She shouldn't have said that.

Harley chuckled. “No such luck.”

Luck?

“But I'm not here to talk about work,” he continued.

She arched a brow. “No? Then why—­”

Her father cut her off by clearing his throat. “I thought it would be nice for you and Harley to meet. You both have a lot in common.”

Sammy Jo stared at her father, then cast a swift glance at Harley's beaming, brown-­bearded face. “Is that so?”

Her throat was so dry she could barely get the words out and her stomach dropped down like dead weight on a fly pole.

Was her father trying to set her up?

The large, broad-­shouldered creep her father had brought home let his eyes graze over her as he sat in a chair at the table. “I thought you and I could go out to the auction house this weekend and look over some horses together.”

Never in a million years.
“
Sorry, but I'm off to the Great Falls rodeo.”

“What about the weekend after next?”

“If I'm free,” Sammy Jo said, lifting her chin, “I'll have
my
father
call you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to feed Tango.”

“But you haven't eaten,” her father protested.

Sammy Jo rose from the table. “I'm no longer hungry. Harley, I'm sure you'll enjoy the rest of the meal without me.”

He placed a second potato on his plate and looked up. “We can grab some more food in town later if you like.”

“No, thanks,” Sammy Jo said, and shot a look at her father. “I've had enough for one day.”

L
UKE BROKE OFF
a portion of hay from the bale in the back of the green gator. Then with the assistance of his cane, he hobbled over and tossed the thick square flake over the half door of the nearest stall. The horses greeted him with a series of snorts and soft whinnies, each eager for their morning feed. The horse in the next stall kicked at his door in impatience.

“Yeah, you're next,” he told the sixteen-­year-­old gray gelding. Phantom had come to the ranch when Luke himself was a teen, and everyone considered the brute
his
horse, because he was one of only a few who could handle him.

But the horse had mellowed with age since he'd been away and was now used as a trail horse. Luke's father had said, “Phantom won't be giving anyone any trouble anymore.”

That was okay, Luke supposed, for neither would he, with his leg the way it was.

He broke off another flake, tossed it into Phantom's stall, then leaned over the top of the half door and watched the gelding tear apart the pressed grass strands with his mouth.
Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.
The motion reminded Luke of younger days when his horse signaled his desire to run by champing at the bit. His gaze slid over the animal's shoulder toward his back, and the temptation to ride tugged hard. Did he dare?

Sammy Jo's uncompromising, self-­assured voice broke into his thoughts as clear as if she were standing beside him.
“You could. The horse lies down for easy mounting.”

She was right. He
did
want to ride again. But on a rehab horse? What if he fell off and damaged his knee beyond repair? No, he couldn't do it, not at the risk of never walking without a cane again.

Besides, too much time spent with Sammy Jo, if he accepted her offer, would encourage her so-­called “affection.” And he wasn't willing to get involved with someone who might only want to take advantage of him.

Luke went into the kitchen of the main house for his own breakfast after feeding the rest of the horses. It smelled like vanilla. He glanced toward the stove where his eighty-­year-­old grandma stood stirring the contents of a large pot. “What are you cooking?”

Grandma turned to give him a wide smile. “Marshmallows.”

His mouth watered just thinking about it. His grandma's homemade marshmallows were far more creamy, gooey, and tasty than any he'd ever eaten. There was only one word he could use to describe them. “Yum.”

Meghan, who sat at the table between his sisters, Bree and Delaney, copied him and repeated, “Yum.”

Delaney laughed. “I know, right? I haven't had any of Grandma's marshmallows in years.”

“The guests love them,” their mother said, whisking into the room and handing their grandma a bowl.

“First we've got to prepare the gelatin and cook the sugar mixture before we can whip them into shape and sprinkle on the powdered sugar. Any of you want to volunteer to help?”

“I can cut roasting sticks from the branches by the river, so we're ready to cook them over the bonfire tonight,” Luke offered.

Grandma's white bushy brows drew together and she gave him a pointed look. “I meant help
making
the marshmallows.”

Luke glanced at Bree and Delaney.

“Don't look at me,” Del told them. “The friend I have in San Diego who agreed to take over the lease of my apartment shipped the rest of my things and the UPS truck should be here any moment.”

“And Ryan suggested I interview a band to come play at our engagement party next month.”

“Will there be dancing?” Delaney asked.

Luke hoped not. He'd barely survived dancing with Sammy Jo at the
last
barn party.

“Yes, of course there will be dancing,” Bree said, her face aglow.

Delaney sighed. “I guess I'll have to find a date. But I really don't care for any of the locals. How am I going to find a handsome cowboy I
do
like all the way out here?”

Ma handed Luke a plate of bacon and eggs with jam-­spread toast and he sat down at the table with them. “Why don't you go online and try Montana Mingle.com?”

“Sammy Jo has looked on there,” Bree added.

Luke frowned. “She has?”