The Last Real Cowboy

CHAPTER TWO

SAM pulled into the yard and killed the engine, resting his hands on the steering wheel. He hadn’t been going to come. He had planned simply to leave well enough alone, go home to Diamondback, grab something to eat and collapse in bed so he’d be on his game for his daybreak wake-up call. Instead he’d found himself turning off the main road and driving through Cadence Creek, putting on his signal light and turning into the Butterfly House driveway. Angela Beck’s last words bothered him more than he cared to admit, and he couldn’t escape the need to make things right. He didn’t necessarily want to apologize. He just wanted to explain why he’d acted the way he had today.

Angela was right. His mother was counting on him to step in now that she couldn’t. He was a Diamond, and family was everything. He’d learned that at a young age, and it had been reinforced daily as he grew up alongside his cousin, Ty. Blood stuck together—no matter what Ty insisted these days. The ranch wasn’t the same with him gone, and Sam wished both Ty and Virgil would mend fences.

Sam was only doing this for Molly—Lord knew she’d sacrificed enough over the years for the Diamond men. It didn’t sit well that he was probably going to let her down, too. So when Angela had accused him of just that, it had smarted more than he wanted to admit. He hadn’t exactly acted like a gentleman by walking away. So now he’d just smooth things over and ease his conscience.

Resolved, he hopped out of the truck and shut the door. The rambling yellow Victorian house was full of add-on rooms, giving it a boxy, unsymmetrical appearance. It had once been in its glory but now the gingerbread trim beneath the eaves was dull and the paint was chipping. The front porch sagged as he took the first step. This was what the Diamond money had paid for? This falling-down monstrosity was going to be a progressive women’s shelter? He frowned, then jumped as a train whistle sounded to the west, followed by the faint rumble of the cars on tracks. What a dump! And on the fringes of town. What had his mother been thinking, endorsing such a place?

He knocked on the door. It would be better if he just explained and left. He’d find the right time to deal with his mother. If he bided his time, she might even be back on the board within a month or two.

The door opened a crack. “Mr. Diamond?”

Ms. Beck’s voice came through the crack, clearly surprised at seeing him standing on the ramshackle verandah. “Sam,” he corrected, angling his neck to peer through the thin gap between door and frame.

“Sorry. If I open it further, Morris will get out. Again.”

Morris? Sam sighed. Who on earth was Morris? Give me strength, he thought. He was starting to think that growing a conscience had been a big mistake. But he was here now. Might as well press on and then put it behind him. He had far bigger things to worry about when he got home. Like how to save the family that was falling apart.

“May I come in, then? I’ll shut the door behind me.”

Indecision twisted her face. She didn’t want him inside Butterfly House. He knew it as sure as he knew he was breathing. What he didn’t know was why. Maybe he’d been a little heavy-handed this afternoon, but nothing that should keep the door barred against him.

“I only want five minutes of your time,” he said. “I don’t like how we left things this afternoon.”

She opened the door and he stepped inside, only to find it quickly shut again.

There was barely room to move around in the foyer. Plastic bags were scattered everywhere, along with cans of paint in various shades, the colors announced by dots on the silver lids. He sidestepped around them and pressed against the wall to allow Angela to move past and ahead of him. When she did, the panels of his sport coat brushed against her blouse. Something slid through him, something dark and familiar that came as a surprise. Angela sucked in a breath, clearly wanting to keep from touching him in any way, her eyes wide with alarm.

Just as well. She was pretty tightly wound and he preferred his women to be a little more easygoing. Angela Beck was the kind of woman who was work, and he had enough of that to last him a lifetime.

“I just got home a while ago,” she said, leading the way into the kitchen. “Excuse the mess.”

“I dropped in uninvited. No need to apologize.” He walked around boxes stacked with linens and came to stand in the middle of the room.

“I was just having something to eat. Can I get you anything?”

He looked down at the concoction in cardboard she held in her hand. It appeared to be some sort of chicken and rice in a brownish sauce. “Not if it looks like that,” he replied.

She performed a perfect shoulder shrug and said, “Suit yourself.” She took another bite, but then got a strange look on her face and put the meal down on the counter. He wondered if she was going to ask him to sit down as the silence wound out awkwardly.

“So this is the house,” he said casually, trying to put things on an even keel. He looked around the kitchen and then ignored his customary good manners and took a seat at the table, hoping she’d follow his lead and they could stop standing in the middle of the room. Small talk. He could manage a few minutes of that, couldn’t he?

“It is.”

“And how many residents will you have?”

“We split up the master bedroom and added a bathroom. At full capacity, we’ll have five women and myself.” She remained stubbornly standing, which made him feel even more like an unwanted guest she’d rather be rid of.

He nodded, wondering where to go next. Five tenants weren’t many, but the shelter was only meant to be temporary—for as little as two months with a maximum of a year’s occupancy. It would mean that a lot of abused women could find help in the run of a year. She was doing a good thing. He just didn’t fit into the picture.

“Begging your pardon,” she asked, “but why are you here … Sam?”

“Are you always this abrasive?”

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him. “Are you always this blunt?”

“Yes,” he replied without missing a beat. “What’s the point in dancing around anything? I tell it like it is. Makes it much easier to deal with issues.”

Her mouth twisted. “In answer to your question, no,” she admitted. “I’m usually not.”

“Should I be flattered?” He couldn’t resist asking. Flapping the seemingly unflappable Ms. Beck was an intriguing pastime.

“Hardly. You seem to bring out my worst.”

Sam couldn’t help it, he laughed. A low, dry chuckle built in his chest and the sound changed the air in the room, made it warmer. He looked up at her, watched as her gaze softened and her lips turned up the slightest bit in a reluctant smile. Desire, the same feeling he’d had as they’d brushed by each other in the foyer, gave a sharp kick. Angela Beck was an attractive woman. But when she became approachable, she was dangerous. The last thing he needed was to be tangled up in something messy and complicated. He’d been there and done that and it wasn’t fun.

“Careful,” he warned her. “You might smile.”

“It’s been known to happen. Once or twice. I’ll try to restrain myself.”

He was starting to appreciate her acid tongue, too. It spoke of a quick mind.

“Look,” he said a little more easily, “I didn’t feel right about how I spoke to you this afternoon. I have nothing against you personally, or your project. It’s simply a case of hours in a day and only so much of me to go around, and I was in a bad mood when I arrived at the meeting. I meant what I said,” he continued, “but I didn’t put it in a very nice way.”

“You’re stepping back from the board then?”

She didn’t have to sound so hopeful about it. He frowned. “I didn’t say that. I just mean that the Diamond family assistance will be more of a behind-the-scenes kind of thing.”

He 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 did helping others become a flaw, Diamond?” She took a step forward, feeling her temper get the better of her. “Maybe if you took your head out of your charmed, privileged life for two seconds you’d see someone other than yourself. And as far as Morris goes, maybe I am a bleeding heart because I can’t stand to see another creature abused. And if he’s a little leery of men, he has good reason. I consider him a fine judge of character!”

Sam’s dark eyes flared. “A fine judge of …” He made a sound like air whistling out of a tube. Morris howled again. “You know nothing about me. Nothing.”

“I know you’re a big bully who thinks I’ll dance to his tune because I need his money. But I won’t pander to you like Charles Spring and the others on the board. You can threaten, you can take funding away. Go for it. Because I would rather that than me betray all Butterfly House stands for by letting myself be pushed around by the likes of you.” She finished the speech out of breath.

“Without the funding, this place never opens.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Several times today she’d allowed Sam Diamond to mess with her confidence. But she was done with that. She’d faced worse than Sam Diamond over the years and come through with flying colors. Besides, she had an ace in the hole. She knew Molly Diamond was dedicated to this project. Molly believed in it and in her.

“You think I haven’t faced adversity before?” She pressed her hand to her collarbone, felt her heart pounding against her fingertips. “I’m stronger and more resourceful than you think. So go for it. Pull the funding.”

She wasn’t sure what made her dare him to do such a thing when they clearly pushed each other’s buttons so completely and quickly. That had only happened to her once before when she’d been seventeen and so very vulnerable. She’d fallen for Steven in record time and found herself smack in the middle of a volatile relationship. Her mother had taken one look at Angela’s face and said quietly, “Passion burns as hot as anger, dear.” But that wasn’t the kind of passion Angela ever wanted, and her parents certainly hadn’t set a shining example for her to follow.

It took everything she had to stand toe-to-toe with Sam Diamond now without cowering. And yet, as she looked into his handsome face, she somehow knew that she wasn’t being entirely fair. She was making connections, assumptions without basis. All through her career she’d worked very hard to be objective. She’d had to be.

So Sam Diamond shouldn’t be any different. But he was. And she admitted to herself that he had been from the moment he’d sauntered over and spoken to her in his slow, sexy voice at the benefit. Nerve endings had shimmered just at his nearness. He posed a different threat than physical fear. And that threat came from inside herself and her own weaknesses.

He hooked his thumbs into his pockets. “I’m not going to pull the funding. The Diamond family made a commitment, and we honor our commitments despite what some may think.”

The tension in the room seemed to settle slightly, no longer at a fever pitch amplified by sharp words.

“I appreciate that.”

He took a step closer and her heart started a different sort of thrumming. Earlier she’d taken great care to make sure she didn’t touch him as they passed in the crowded hallway. She stood her ground. She didn’t want him to know she was afraid. Goodness, she was a strong, capable, resourceful woman. It was ridiculous that one person could make her forget all of that just by breathing. She tried to remember what it was that Amy had said. That Sam Diamond took what he wanted until he was done and then he tossed it away like yesterday’s garbage. Amy’s words were completely opposite from Sam’s pledge, so which should she believe?

“You’re tired,” he noted, and to her shock he lifted his hand and ran his thumb along the top of her cheekbone. She knew there were dark circles beneath her eyes. Makeup had concealed it for most of the day, but it was growing late and as the makeup faded, her fatigue came to the surface.

But more than that—he was touching her. She flinched slightly at the presumptuous yet gentle touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. His thumb was large, strong and just a little rough. She was tempted to lean in to the strength of his hand for just a minute, but she held her face perfectly still instead as her insides quivered with a blend of attraction and fear. “I’ve been putting in long days,” she breathed. “There’s a lot to do.”

“I won’t keep you, then,” he replied, dropping his hand. She missed the warmth of his thumb and took a step backward, shocked at her response. No one ever touched her. Ever. And certainly not in such an intimate way.

“I’m sorry about Morris. He’s a very naughty cat. Did he get you very badly?”

And then it happened. Angela saw the barest hint of a smile touch his lips. Not the smooth, charming grin from this afternoon. A conspiratorial upturning of his lips that Angela couldn’t resist. It sneaked past all her misgivings and lit something inside her. She found herself smiling in return and chuckling. He joined in, the warm sound filling the kitchen.

Angela sighed as the laughter faded, looked over at Sam’s face, now holding a spot of devilishness that made her understand why the women of this town all swooned in his presence.

“I’ll live,” he said, the earlier hostility gone. “It was more of a surprise, really.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Just as well I have a tough skin. Maybe he smelled our dog or something. Buster has a way of putting cats on edge.”

Was he teasing her now? The idea made an unfamiliar warmth curl through her. She had to admit, knowing he was a pet owner added to his appeal. She had a momentary image of Sam on a huge horse with a dog following at their heels….

Dangerous. And trouble. At the very least, Amy had that part right.

“Don’t take it personally,” she offered weakly. “It’s not you …”

“If you say so.”

“I couldn’t just leave him,” she continued, not knowing why it was important that Sam understand about her cat but feeling compelled just the same. Another meow sounded behind the door. “He was hurt, and just a baby.”

Sam’s face was inscrutable. “Do I strike you as the kind of man who kicks puppies, Ms. Beck?”

Did he? Lord, no. He might use charm as a weapon, and he might have a ruthless streak—that single-mindedness he’d mentioned—but she found it hard to believe he’d be deliberately cruel. There was something about the way he’d touched her face …

She shook her head, not quite trusting her judgment.

“Well, that’s something, then.”

He turned to walk down the hall, back toward the front door, around the bags of home-renovation supplies and paint and everything else that would take up all her waking moments for the next several days. Perhaps weeks.

Maybe she could sweet-talk someone local into donating their time. School would be out for summer soon. Maybe a couple of students at loose ends … There was so much to do before the open house. The logistics of organizing that alone were taking up so much time and energy, and she’d already drafted the press release and sent it out….

The press release. The media was going to expect to see Molly at that, too. New nerves tangled as she thought of dealing with the press alone. She looked up at Sam. Getting more from him would be like getting blood from a stone. She’d figure something out. She had a little bit of time.

“I’d better let you get back to your dinner,” he said, putting his hand on the doorknob.

Her dinner. The tasteless glazed chicken that she’d popped in the microwave in lieu of a real meal.

“I trust that I’ll see you next month at the board meeting, then?”

His hat shadowed his eyes in the dim light of the foyer, so when he nodded briefly Angela couldn’t read his expression. Something between them hesitated, seemed to keep him from opening the door, made it feel that there was more to her question than she’d voiced—and more to his answer.