“You go to great lengths to avoid personal involvement. Why is that? Maybe it’s true what they say about you.”
“And what’s that?” He stood before her, all long legs and broad chest. She felt incredibly small and awkward next to his physicality, dumpy in her overalls next to his worn jeans and cotton shirt that seemed to hug his shoulders and chest. She felt a little bit awed, too, and it irritated her that she should be so susceptible to that because, despite the fact he was a pain in the behind, Sam Diamond was also drop-dead sexy. The sad thing was she was nearly thirty years old and had no idea what to do with these feelings. She’d gotten very good at presenting a certain image, but inside she knew the truth. She had no idea how to be close to anyone.
“Never mind.” She turned away, hating that he was able to provoke her without even trying.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Not so fast. I think you’d better tell me.”
Her heart seemed to freeze as her breath caught for one horrible, chilling moment. Then, very carefully and deliberately, she reached down and removed his fingers from her wrist and stepped back. She wasn’t sure which emotion was taking over at the moment—anger or fear. But either one was enough to make the words that had been sitting on her tongue come out in a rush.
“That you’re a cold-hearted …” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word. She kept her gaze glued to his face for several seconds.
Finally the hard angle of his jaw bone softened a touch and he said quietly, “Where’d you hear that? Let me guess, Amy Wilson?”
She had, and her lack of response confirmed it.
“You shouldn’t judge someone by what you hear.”
“I don’t.” At his skeptical expression, she sniffed. “I don’t,” she insisted. “I form my own opinions. I deal with people all the time, you know. And I judge people by what I see them do.” And right now he wasn’t scoring many points. Her wrist still smarted from the strength of his fingers circling the soft flesh. She touched the spot with her fingers.
His gaze caught the movement and then lifted to meet hers. There was contrition there, she realized. He hadn’t really hurt her; he’d merely reached out to keep her from running away. It was her reaction that was out of proportion and she suspected they both knew it. Awkward silence stretched out as heat rose once again in her cheeks.
“And so you’ve judged me.” The horse got tired of standing and jerked his head, pulling on the reins. Sam tightened his grip, uttered a few soothing words as he gave the glistening neck a pat. “I suppose you won’t believe me if I say I’m sorry about that.” He nodded at her clasped hands.
It was a backward apology, and did nothing to change the situation. That was what she had to remember. “Sam, you give from your pocketbook if it means you don’t have to get involved. I just haven’t figured out why. Is the ugliness of real life too much for you?” She kissed her last hope of success goodbye, knowing she was crossing a line but needing to say it anyway. How many times over the years had people turned a blind eye to someone in trouble? How many people had avoided the nasty side of life because it made them uncomfortable? How many people had known what was happening in front of their faces and hadn’t had the courage to make the call? Angela’s life might have been very different. It was the only thing that kept her moving forward in spite of her own fears.
“That’s ridiculous.” He turned his back and started leading his horse across the barnyard.
“Then prove it. Try giving of yourself.” She went after him, desperately wanting to get through. “These women have been through it all, Sam. They’ve been beaten, degraded, raped …” She swallowed. “By the men who professed to love them. Despite it all, they got out. They sought help, often leaving everything they owned behind. This house will help bridge the gap between overcoming an old life and building a new, shiny one. What in your life is more important than that?”
He didn’t answer. But she sensed he was weakening, and she softened her voice. “All I’m asking for is a few hours here and there. You have a gorgeous house, food on the table, a purpose. I just want to give these women the same chance. If you show the people of Cadence Creek that you support these women, doors will open. They’ll have a chance to be a part of something. People look to you to lead. Lead now, Sam. For something really important.”
She took a step back, uncomfortable with how impassioned her voice had become. For a few seconds there was nothing but the sounds of the wind in the grass and the songbirds in the bushes.
“You realize how busy this ranch is, right? And that I’m going it alone now that Dad’s sick?”
“But you have a foreman, and hands. Surely they can spare you for a few hours?”
“You’re forgetting one important detail.”
“I am?”
“If I help you, we’re going to be seeing more of each other.” He made it sound like a prison sentence. “And I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re kind of like oil and water.”
She felt her vanity take a hit before locking it away. Her personal feelings weren’t important here. It shouldn’t matter if Sam liked her or not. She only needed his support.
“Don’t worry. There’s lots of house to go around. We hardly have to see each other. I can stand it if you can.” Besides, there were lines she didn’t cross, ever, and it was a big leap from noticing the fit of a man’s jeans to personal involvement. They rubbed each other the wrong way. Then she remembered how he’d brushed by her the other night and how her body had suddenly become attuned to his. The real trouble was in the few moments where they had rubbed each other exactly the right way. At least on Saturday there would be tons of other people around and she’d be too busy keeping the kids busy and the food on the go to worry about Sam.
They were at the fence gate now and there wasn’t much left to say. He threw the reins up over the saddle horn and mounted, settling into the saddle with a creak of leather. “I’m not afraid,” he said. “Two hours. I’ll give you two hours Saturday afternoon to talk to whatever press you’ve lined up. Just keep your social-worker analysis to yourself, okay? I’m not interested. Save it for your clients.”
“Scouts’ honor,” she replied, lifting two fingers to her brow. She couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips. It wasn’t all she’d asked for, but more than she’d dare hoped and she counted it as a significant victory. Perhaps she’d be spared the public face after all.
He shook his head and gave the horse a nudge. As they were walking away he twisted in the saddle, looking back at her. “I’ll send over a check. I’d advise you to cash it before I change my mind and stop payment on it. Maybe you can cater your food for Saturday with it.”
He showed her his back again and they took off at a trot, stirring up dust.
Sam looked up from his desk and realized it was nearly dark outside. That meant … He checked his watch. It was going on ten o’clock. He’d been at it longer than he realized. But he wanted to start the construction on the new project before the end of summer, marking a new era for Diamondback. As he got older the more he realized he was caretaker not only of the Diamondback name but the land. The environmentally friendly initiatives were exciting, and he loved the idea of reducing Diamondback’s footprint. But his father’s stubborn refusal to sign off on the contracts was stressing him out.
He
