Stick in the Mud Meets Spontaneity (Meet Your Match, book 3) (27 page)

“I’m not sure my battery will last that long.” Colton glanced around. There were still dozens of horses left to be auctioned. “Want me to call you back when our number is called?”

“Can I talk to Kajsa first?”

Colton handed the phone over. Kajsa nodded once, twice, and the corner of her mouth actually quirked up before she said, “Love you too,” and gave the phone back to Colton.

“I’m not sure what you said to her, but you sort of got a smile,” said Colton, loud enough for Kajsa to hear. When she looked his way, he smiled and winked, but there was no quirking of her lips this time. Sometimes he worried she still blamed him for losing Maj.

Call our number already,
he wanted to scream.

“Number sixty-eight, Your Majesty, ridden by Kajsa Mackie,” the auctioneer finally said.

“We’re up,” Colton said into the phone.

Shoulders back and chin up, Kajsa coaxed Maj into the arena. The brief introduction came, and the bidding began. Kajsa didn’t even glance into the stands. She stared straight ahead, reminding Colton of the day he’d driven Samantha to the airport. Maybe that’s where Kajsa had learned it. But it was good she didn’t look around. Otherwise she would have seen her father raising a paddle every so often, retaining the highest bid until it rose to four thousand. Then he shook his head and set the paddle on the seat next to him.

Colton clenched his jaw in frustration.

Next to him, a woman wearing a Mustang Makeover nametag waved her hand to get the auctioneer’s attention.

“I have an anonymous caller on the phone,” she said, pressing her phone to her ear. “He’s bidding forty-five hundred.”

“And we have forty-five-hundred,” the auctioneer said in rapid-fire English. “Who’ll give me forty-six?”

Someone in the stands raised a paddle, and the man on the phone bid higher. It happened again and again, until the anonymous caller won Maj for fifty-one hundred dollars.

“Sold to the anonymous caller,” the auctioneer announced.

Kajsa turned the horse around to exit the arena, and a single tear fell from the corner of her eye. Colton felt like crying right along with her.

“Well?” Samantha’s voice came in his ear, reminding him that she was still there.

“We lost.”

She didn’t say anything. After all the effort, the hope, the waiting—it had all come to naught. Samantha didn’t need to say anything. Her disappointment was felt all the way from New York.

“Kevin Grantham,” the woman with the nametag was saying to the recorder. “G.R.A.N.T.H.A.M. He said he wants the horse released to the trainer, Colton McCoy. Yes, that’s right. He would like to remain anonymous.”

Colton stiffened for a moment then jogged to her side. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

The woman gave him a look that said,
It’s none of your business
.

“I’m Colton McCoy.”

“Oh.” Behind wire-rimmed glasses, her eyes widened but she recovered quickly. “Well, it appears as though you will be taking Your Majesty home with you.”

“We will?” came Kajsa’s hopeful voice from behind.

The woman’s expression softened. “Yes, my dear. The anonymous caller was bidding on your behalf. The horse is yours.”

A smile that had been missing for way too long appeared on Kajsa’s face. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Maj’s neck. “Hear that, Your Majesty? You’re coming home!” She looked at Colton, her expression radiant. “She’s coming home!” Then she slid off Maj’s back, handed the reins to Colton, and ran toward the stands. “I’ll be right back. I have to tell everyone else!”

Colton glanced down at the reins in his hand and saw his phone. Oh shoot. Samantha.

He quickly lifted it to his ear. “Um… Samantha? You still there?”

“Oh, you’re talking to me now?” she said dryly.

“You’re never going to believe what just happened.”

“I heard Kajsa, so I know it’s something good. Did I hear Kevin’s name too?”

“Yeah,” Colton admitted. “Can you believe it? He wants to remain anonymous though, so keep it to yourself.”

She laughed. “I’ll keep it to myself, but it’s only a matter of time before everyone else finds out.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Kevin has a soft spot for the girls, and who else has the money to do that? I know my parents and Noah and Cassie don’t,” she said. “I mean, seriously. If Kevin wanted to stay anonymous, he should have bought Kajsa a bunny. Not a horse.”

She made a good point—one that everyone else would probably deduce as well.

“Kevin is a good man,” said Colton.

“Yeah, he is. He sort of reminds me of another good man I know.”

Colton smiled. “Thanks, but I could never have bought Maj for Kajsa.”

“Did I say it was you?” she teased.

“Who else?”

“Dusty.”

“Dusty’s not a man yet.”

“And you are?”

“Of course.”

“Great. Then you’re man enough to come visit me.”

Colton stiffened, not sure how to take that comment. Had she meant it as a joke, or had he detected a hint of a challenge in her voice?

A sigh sounded on the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry. I meant that as a joke, but it didn’t sound that way. I just really miss you. This weekend has been tough, and I hate that I can’t hop on a plane and come home.”

“I understand,” he said.

“Hey, listen. I’ve got to go. But give Kajsa and Adi a hug and a kiss from their sister, and tell Kajsa that I fully expect her to get that horse to let me ride her someday.”

“Will do.”

A slight pause and then, “I love you, cowboy.”

It wasn’t the first time Colton had heard those words, but this time it was different. Instead of the warmth and longing that usually accompanied them, it sounded more like a painful letting go. Colton didn’t like it.

“Love you too,” he said, because what else could he say? For the first time since Samantha had kissed him goodbye in the Denver airport, Colton wondered if the two year countdown would ever really come to an end.

Colton drove his shovel into the hard earth over and over again, tossing the loosened dirt to the side. It had been three days since his truck had ambled down the pot-marked dirt road leading to the McCoy ranch. Three days since his father had come out and greeted them with his hands on his hips.

“I had a feeling we wouldn’t get rid of that horse so easily. How do you propose we keep feeding that animal?”

Kajsa gave his arm a pat on her way to get Maj out of the trailer. “Don’t worry, Uncle Mike. I’ll start teaching riding lessons to help pay for him.”

That had been news to both Colton and his father. Good news. Kajsa’s enthusiasm was back, and it was a beautiful thing.

Three days later, Colton went looking for his enthusiasm in the large, circular hole that his mother had asked him to excavate. She’d decided she wanted a fire pit, and Colton had volunteered to make it happen. Now that the competition was over, life had dulled, and driving a shovel into the ground gave him an outlet for his increasing frustration.

About lunchtime, his father showed up carrying a tall glass of ice water. He handed it to Colton who drank it down in several greedy swallows.

“How big did your mother say she wanted this?” asked his dad, surveying the hole, which, admittedly, had gotten a little out of control. Okay
a lot
out of control. It looked more like the makings of an in-ground hot tub rather than a small-scale fire pit.

“We need extra room for the gravel and retaining wall,” Colton said.

His father raised an eyebrow. “You need two feet of gravel? How big are the bricks?”

“Oh, well… you know.” Colton held his hands about two feet apart, exaggerating the measurements. “That big or so.”

“No they’re not. They’re that big.” His father pointed at a pile of smaller bricks by the corner of the house.

Colton shrugged. “Bigger is always better, right?”

“Not when it comes to forest fires.”

Without saying anything more, Colton began shoveling dirt back into the hole. One shovel full, two, three…

“Somethin’ on your mind, son?” his father asked, as though he had nowhere better to be than standing around, watching his son shovel dirt.

“Nope.” Four, five, six.

“Keep that up, and you’ll have to start excavating again soon.”

With a sigh, Colton rammed the shovel into the ground and jumped into the hole to began compacting the dirt with the heel of his boot.

“You’re actin’ like you’ve got woman problems.”

“Since when are women not problematic?” Colton muttered.

His father barked out a one-syllable laugh. “Isn’t that the truth.”

Pound, pound, kick, pound.

His father shoved his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans and swayed forward and back. “When it comes to women, I only have one piece of advice.”

Colton wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. “What’s that?”

“Simple. If it doesn’t seem like she’s worth the effort, she probably isn’t.”

The pounding stopped, and Colton squinted up at his father. What the heck was that supposed to mean? “And if she
is
worth the effort?”

His father made a sound that resembled a snort. “Then she is. And maybe you should do something about it.” He ambled toward the house and swung open the screen door. It slammed shut behind him, leaving Colton with something entirely new to think about.

“Sam, you busy tonight?” a deep voice intruded on her thoughts.

“Why? What’s up?” Sam frowned at the event postcard she was tweaking for a small engineering company in California. They were having a fall social and had contracted with Brecken Design to come up with the invitations, banners, custom napkin designs, labels for the food, etc. The job was low-profile, but it was the first project that had been given to her and her alone. Sam wanted it to be perfect. But there was something not quite right about the postcard. What? The font? The centered layout? The colors?

“Hello? Up here,” said Derek, reminding her of his presence.

Sam pushed away from her computer and spun around to face him. No matter how late in the day it was, the man always looked perfect. Tall and clean shaven, with that sexy, laid-back vibe going on, Derek draped an arm over the top of her cubical. The slight wave of his dirty blond hair, the crispness of his fitted, button down shirts, the clear blue of his eyes—perfect. Too perfect. It made her wonder what he was hiding.

“Sorry. All yours now.” Sam hoped he’d get to the point soon so she could finish the invitation and get out of here. Her parents would be arriving tomorrow night, and her apartment was in a chaotic state of… untidiness. The past week had been a lot of late nights and early mornings for work, and cleaning and laundry had dropped to the bottom of her to-do list.

“I was just thinking that we could grab a bite after work. Maybe take in a show?”

Was he asking her out? Had she done anything to hint that she
wanted
him to ask her out? Nothing came to mind. Then again, Derek was the sort of man who didn’t need hints. One glance from him and most women went weak in the knees. But not her. She preferred Stetsons, Wranglers, and muscles that were earned the natural way—outside of a gym.

“Um…” Sam stopped herself from saying “I really wish I could, but…” because it was a lie, and instead said, “Sorry, I can’t. My parents are coming tomorrow, and I’ve got a week’s worth of cleaning to do if I don’t want my mother to spend the entire weekend scrubbing my floors and washing dishes and telling me that I’m working too hard if I don’t have time to tidy up a small apartment.”

“Which is why you should come out with me tonight. Just a quick bite and then you might be able to twist my arm to help you clean.”

Help her clean?
As if.
There was no way Sam would be letting Derek Lindstrom inside her apartment anytime soon. Maybe he really was as nice a guy on the inside as he looked on the outside, but Sam didn’t trust perfect. Nor did she want to give him the wrong idea.

“Listen, I really appreciate the offer, but I’m going to have to say no. You should know I’m in a relationship right now.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the office gossip. I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend, only for the chance to get to know you better over dinner.” He lifted his hands. “No hidden agenda here.”