The Sticky Cowgirl (Lone Star Sweets, Book 2) (10 page)

“Mother —”

“Business associates,” Samantha replied easily, interrupting Samuel before he could say anything further. The words were sugar coated but held their own undertone that dared him to argue, but when his mother’s posture relaxed a bit at Samantha’s answer, Samuel bristled. They were damn sure more than business associates.

“And friends,” he added strongly. They were more than friends too. A lot more, but one step at a time.

“Let’s all remember that, shall we? We shouldn’t keep our guests waiting any longer.”

Samantha walked into the plush room behind Samuel and his mother. She was going to kill him when they left. She’d actually prefer to do it here, even though there’d be witnesses, but she didn’t want to get blood all over the white rugs. Who had white rugs in a house? She tried her best to sneak glances at her boots to make sure there were no visible signs of dirt or mud on the edges. She wore her good, go to meetin’ boots, but it was always possible to have gotten them dirty.

Along with the white rug, the windows were draped in white sheers and curtained in powder blue brocade which matched the furniture. She felt completely out of place. Had that been Samuel’s thought process? To make sure she knew she didn’t belong in his high society life? If so, he hadn’t needed to bring her here for her to know that. She could’ve told him long ago that she was anything but a society belle.

He tugged her along as they advanced toward a blonde woman on the far side of the room. Gorgeous didn’t do her justice and beautiful wasn’t even in the same universe. She was svelte in a bright pink sleeveless, knee length dress. Diamonds glittered in her ears and around her neck. She was everything Samantha knew she wasn’t and wouldn’t ever be and though she was head over ass for Samuel, she knew better than to think she was more than a fling.

Especially when there was someone like the bombshell turning a flawless smile toward him.

That his mother was pushing this on him? Well, Samantha couldn’t fault the woman for wanting him to be happy and to marry well.

She tried again to slip her fingers from his grip and when he let go to reach for the hand of the woman Bitsy Worthington had introduced as Cricket Wilson.

Cricket?

The woman’s voice was light and cultured, though Samantha could hear the twang underneath. She had stunning blue eyes, perfectly straight, white teeth, and a tan that was neither too dark, nor too pale.

She was perfection in black strappy heels.

“Miss Wilson, please let me introduce you to my business associate, Samantha Dawson.”

Samantha smiled a greeting and shook Cricket’s delicate and smooth hand. She’d never known a day of labor, not like Samantha had. But not all women were raised on ranches, even in Texas. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Business associate? What business are you in?”

“I own a small bakery. The Sticky Cowgirl.”

“Oh. I’ve never heard of it.”

“My clientele is pretty much college students, business suits, young moms, and tourists. What about you?” she asked Cricket.

“What about me?”

Samantha wondered if the confusion in her brain registered on her face. “What do you do?”

Cricket’s brow furrowed. “Do? Oh,” she said, her eyes widening. “I don’t do anything. I don’t work a…job.”

“Cricket is on the social committees for several local charities,” Bitsy interjected proudly. “She’s marvelous with fundraising for those less fortunate.”

“It’s important work. My brother has been asked to create a wedding cake for the Autism auction and ball in a few months.”

“I’m working on that one. Who is your brother?”

“Jackson Dawson. He owns a food truck. The Cupcake Cowboy.”

“Yes. I’ve spoken to him. He wasn’t at all what I expected. He looks and talks just like a real cowboy.”

“You sound surprised. He is a real cowboy. We grew up on a ranch not far from here. The Double J.”

“That makes sense then, doesn’t it?” Cricket laughed, the sound tinkling like bells. Samantha wondered if the woman bled red or glitter and rainbows. “We should extend you an invitation to join the auction as well.”

“If you’d like. I’d be happy to take part.”

“Samuel?” The gruff voice from behind had both Samantha and Samuel turning. A handsome older gentleman stood in the doorway. “Did I hear correctly?”

“Yes, sir. Come on,” Samuel muttered to Samantha. To Cricket and his mother, he said, “Please excuse us a moment.”

“Samuel,” Bitsy admonished. “This isn’t a business dinner.”

“For a few moments, Mother, it is.”

Samuel and the older man met in the center of the room. Samantha held back, unsure what was going on. Not that she’d known from the moment he’d asked her to come to dinner at his parent’s home. Watching the low, heated exchanged between the men, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was going on.

Suddenly, though, she had no choice. “Brandt Worthington,” Samuel said, gesturing Samantha forward. “Please meet Miss Dawson.”

“Samuel’s boss,” she whispered, taking his offered hand.

“And stepfather,” Brandt added. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Somehow, Mr. Worthington, I don’t believe you,” Samantha said matter-of-factly. She heard a gasp from somewhere else in the room, but all of that fell away as she stood toe to toe with the man orchestrating the buyout of her building and the relocation of her business.

He chuckled. “Samuel was right about you. You do speak your mind and don’t mince words.”

“No need to pussyfoot around the facts.”

“I’ve tried your product and while they are quite delicious, I’m not sure what he was thinking bringing you out here. It’s not going to change my mind.”

Samantha shot Samuel a look. “In that we’re in agreement. I don’t know what he was thinking either.”

Samuel spoke up. “
He
was thinking that if the two of you were to meet in a casual setting, that maybe you could get to know one another a little and perhaps even come to some kind of understanding.”

Brandt Worthington was staring at her with a curious look in his gray eyes that Samantha wasn’t sure how to decipher. She was usually pretty good at reading people. Being in the service industry had taught her a lot.

For instance, Bitsy Worthington didn’t like her one bit. Samuel’s mother saw Samantha as a threat to her plans. Cricket Wilson didn’t have an opinion about her at all. Samantha was beneath the debutante. Cricket’s parents, who Samantha hadn’t been introduced to, stood off to the side watching everything taking place in front of them. She assumed they were assessing the situation.

And Samuel? He was the easiest to read and yet the hardest. He wanted her, but he was also confused, going through something of his own that she didn’t quite understand.

“While that’s all well and good, I’m sorry he sprung me on you and your family gathering, Mr. Worthington. Your wife was right. It’s not a business meeting. There’re plenty of days during the week for us to fight over my building.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “After all, we need to help Samuel and Cricket decide if they want to make that all important walk down the aisle.”

Brandt laughed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. My wife is hell bent on seeing him married. Soon. How about we all head to the dining room?” He announced to the room. “I understand you have dessert for us, Miss Dawson. I’m looking forward to another taste of your creations.”

Cricket slipped her arm through Samuel’s. “Since your friend seems to have everything well in hand, you can escort me in to dinner. We’re practically married anyway, according to our mothers.”

Samuel shot Samantha a narrow-eyed glare, to which she simply shrugged. He hadn’t warned her what she was walking into, so he couldn’t expect her not to play along when she was tossed in the middle of the game.

“I guess that leaves me to escort two beautiful ladies myself,” the other man in the room said, coming forward to take Bitsy’s arm. Samantha could see the resemblance to Cricket in her parent’s features. They were all beautiful. From Bitsy to Brandt to Cricket to her parents to Samuel. Samantha was average, at best, when compared. She was okay with that, happy with herself and not the least insecure.

She didn’t belong in this world among the beautiful people. She was, for all intents and purposes, a cowgirl. She was a working woman. She was in the business of serving others and making their days better. Even if it was through something as simple as a sticky bun.

Chapter Eleven

“How much trouble am I in?”

Samantha looked over at Samuel. His features were lit by the dashboard lights while at the same time being shadowed by the darkness. “With me or your mother?”

“You.”

“I’m over it,” she said easily.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” It was true. She wasn’t upset at Samuel any longer for springing things on her. She’d willingly agreed to accompany him to dinner. There’d been several things thrown her way that she hadn’t expected, but then again…? She’d had quite a few curve balls thrown her way in recent months. She was learning to roll with the punches. “I never thought I’d see my sticky buns on a china plate, though. That was kind of fun.”

“They’re worth every piece of fine china in the state of Texas.”

Samantha smiled. “So… Cricket. She was nice. Very pretty.”

“Yes, she was.”

“I’m sorry if my being there ruined things.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. You had no idea what was going on. I did.”

“Then, I don’t understand why you brought me into it.”

“Because I’m not interested.”

“Not interested in what?”

“In her.”

“You just met her. How could you have known that before you met her?”

“Because I met you.”

That simple comment gave Samantha pause. But only for a short time. “And that means what?”

“Everything?”

She laughed. “Are you asking me or telling me? What about meeting your stepfather? Was that really what you wanted? For us to get together and be able to talk and see one another as human beings?”

“Yes. I thought it was a good idea at the time.”

“He’s not going to stop though, is he?”

“No.”

Samantha sighed and stared out the passenger side window. Darkness surrounded them as far as the eye could see. She pressed the button on the armrest and the window lowered soundlessly. Warm air flowed in and she closed her eyes, smiling. “I love summer in Texas.”

“It’s damned hot.”

“But it’s wonderful too. Sundresses. Bare feet. Iced coffee. Windows open. Ice cream.”

“What’s your favorite ice cream?”

“Homemade. You know, in the kind you had to churn yourself with the rock salt and ice in the wooden buckets.”

“I’ve never had that kind.”

“We’ll fix that soon. My Daddy still has the one we used when I was a kid.”

“For someone so young, you’re grounded in the past and things that are old.”

She opened her eyes and turned her head toward him. “You’re not the first to accuse me of that.”

“More an observation, not an accusation.”

“I think our past shapes who we are or who we become.”

“It can also keep us from moving forward.”

“What happened before?”

“Before what?”

“You started to talk about what life was like before you lived in the mansion, but your mother cut you off.”

“Yes. She doesn’t like to be reminded of those years when my biological father left us. We lived in Mississippi. Along the coast. She worked in a little diner a block from the ocean and cleaned rooms for one of the cheap motels in exchange for a room.”

“Wow. I had no idea. I mean… Just…” She didn’t know what to say. Samuel Stevenson was cultured, highly educated with barely a hint of Southern accent that didn’t say born and bred Texan. He carried himself with an air of power and smoothness that had her belly quivering every time she saw him.

“What Brandt was doing in that diner, I don’t know. He saw my mother and they struck up a conversation. I was sitting at the counter doing homework and watched them from the corner of my eye. She smiled and laughed and blushed. I’d never seen her act like that with anyone.”

“I guess he came back a second time?”

“And a third, a fourth, and next thing I knew we were moved into an apartment and she no longer cleaned rooms.”

“So she had a fairy tale of sorts, huh?”

“Yes. The rich man fell in love with the working girl. He’s made her happy, given her everything she ever wanted.”

“That’s sweet.”

“I suppose it is. She changed once they got married and she was accepted into his social circle.”

“No one ever questioned them?”

“If they did, I never knew about it. We suddenly had money and friends.”

“How did she change?”

“She got busy in ways she wasn’t when she worked. I don’t know how to explain it. She worked two jobs and worked hard, but she always made time for me. We were close. Then she and Brandt became close and…” His words trailed off and he shrugged. Samantha saw it, even in the dark. She’d bet his eyes were a little sad too.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be. She found happiness and I’ve never begrudged her that. I missed the relationship we had before he came into our lives, but I can’t deny our lives were much better with him in it.”

“Is the life you have now the one you always wanted?”

There was silence for so long, Samantha didn’t think he was going to respond. She didn’t blame him, really. She probably shouldn’t have asked. He didn’t owe her any explanations and he’d already said more than she could have ever expected him to about his past. Just because he was interested in her and she was interested in him, didn’t mean they were more than casual lovers, a hook-up, a late-Spring fling.

He turned left at the flashing red light and the San Antonio skyline came into view. She loved her hometown, loved where she’d chosen to live in the downtown area, loved the location of her business. What she didn’t love was the circumstances of how she’d met Samuel.

Nothing more was said between them until Samuel pulled up outside Samantha’s townhouse. He turned in the seat and reached for her, dragging her toward him. The kiss was hard, quick, full of meanings she didn’t know how to decipher. His lips tasted like her lemon sticky bun and the sweet dessert wine his mother had served. The combination was heady, much like the man whose lips were still pressed to hers.

When he sat back, his fingers stayed in her hair, sifting through the strands. “You’re not like any woman I know, Samantha Dawson.”

“Not sure that’s a good thing or not.”

“It’s a very good thing. You make me feel things, want things, I didn’t allow myself to consider feeling or wanting before. You asked if the life I have now is the one I’d always wanted and the answer is I don’t know. I don’t know what life I wanted. I did what any good Southern boy does. I followed the rules. I got good grades, played football, went off to college and worked my way up in the family business.”

“Not all good Southern boys follow the paths laid out for them.”

“And not all grow up with a good sense of self either. I’ve seen how close you and your family are, how good you are with your customers and those who work with you. I’m good at my job, but it’s not an extension of who I am, like yours is. Until I met you, I didn’t know who or what to be.”

“And now that you have met me? How does that change anything?”

“That’s another of those I don’t know answers.”

Samantha smiled. She was trying not to melt into a puddle of goo in his incredibly expensive sports car, but the feel of his fingers in her hair, the light massage on the back of her head and at the base of her skull was doing a serious number on her ability to concentrate. She was torn between jumping his bones across the small console or closing her eyes and drifting to sleep. She was relaxed, the tension from the evening disappearing into thin air. “You’re going to have to come up with some answers at some point.”

The ghost of a smile crossed Samuel’s lips. “I don’t want to work for Brandt anymore, does that count?”

“Not really. I mean, you’ve already made that break.”

“He offered me the job back.”

“I know. I overheard.”

“I want something with meaning, with purpose. I never thought about that before.”

“There’s a difference between being good at something and being meant to do it.”

“Are you meant to bake sticky buns?”

“Yes. I believe I am. I make people happy. My brother and his cupcakes make people happy. We both do something good. Our father runs the ranch we grew up on, but had dreams of his own that he didn’t follow. Not everyone has the chance I did or that Jackson did. Not everyone knows what they want. Sometimes finding it is part of the fun.”

“For someone so young, you sure are wise.”

“Like you’re so old,” she scoffed.

“I’m older than you. You haven’t even crossed the mid-twenties threshold.”

“Jackson and I learned about life real early.”

“You’re a good woman, Samantha Dawson.”

“You’re a good man, Samuel Stevenson.”

Samuel leaned toward her. “I know one other thing I want.”

“And what’s that?”

“You. Like I’ve never wanted another woman.” He pressed his lips to hers in a hard kiss. “Now, get out of my car.”

Samantha’s brow furrowed. “Huh?” She was truly confused.

“Get out of the car and go inside.”

“But you just said…”

“Yes. I did. I want you so much I can’t stand it. I want you in the car, in your bed, on your couch, in the kitchen. I want you on every surface we can find and a few we aren’t sure we’re going to be able to figure out the logistics of… But, not tonight.”

“I don’t understand. You can have me. You do have me.” Once the words were out of her mouth, she realized just how true they were. He’d had her on a personal and sexual level almost from the moment they met. Professional levels were where they had the biggest issues.

“I know.”

“And you’re sure you want me to go inside alone?”

“Yes.”

Samantha picked up her purse from the floorboard. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Okay.” She was out of the car before she could say anything else. She didn’t want to beg him to change his mind and she didn’t want to push him to explain. “Oh, who the hell are you kidding?” she muttered to herself as his taillights disappeared at the end of the block. She wanted to call his cell and ask him to come back. She wanted to go to his hotel and meet him in his room. She wanted to know what he was thinking.

Instead, she took a deep breath and made her way down the sidewalk toward her townhouse. She didn’t see Jackson’s truck on the street and she didn’t know if she was happy about the fact he wasn’t home. She needed someone to talk to, but at the same time, she wanted the silence and no questions asked that an empty house would afford her.

With no idea what to do with herself, Samantha did the only thing she could do. She went inside, flipped the kitchen light on, dumped her purse on the counter, and grabbed the red mixing bowl.