Randall Riches

Rich came in, still looking sleepy, dressed in those split jeans and a clean T-shirt. And he still looked good.

“Morning,” she said cheerfully. But she didn’t say anything else. She couldn’t get used to having someone to talk to in the morning or she’d miss him tomorrow when she was alone again.

“Coffee,” he muttered, reaching for the pot first thing. “Thanks for having it here.”

“No problem. We have the same waitress as last night. She’s working a double shift because her husband’s sick and can’t work.”

He looked sympathetic. But instead of saying something, he studied her. “Have you already paid for your breakfast?”

She frowned. “No, but I figured you understood now.” Darn, she should’ve taken care of it, but the waitress had distracted her.

“Ah. I’ll leave a really generous tip if you let me buy your breakfast, too.”

She stared at him. “She deserves a generous tip.”

“She won’t get one unless you cooperate.” He sounded stern, as if he might really act so badly. She couldn’t see any kindness in his gaze.

“That’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed.

“Your choice,” he muttered and sipped the hot coffee.

The waitress returned with a tray full of food. Most of it was Rich’s. Sam had ordered a bowl of oatmeal.

“I forgot to ask about the ticket,” the waitress said, as she put the food on the table. “Do you want it separated?”

Rich gave Sam a steady look, letting her know she hadn’t answered his offer. She slowly shook her head. “No, the gentleman will be paying this morning.”

With a nod, the waitress hurried away.

He smiled. “Good decision, Sam.”

“Shut up. Blackmail isn’t pretty!”

“I’m not sure the waitress would agree with you. I’d bet she’s got some babies to feed.”

She lowered her eyelids so he couldn’t see the tears pooling there. She never cried in front of anyone. She couldn’t afford to show a weakness. “I know.”

Having broken one of her rules, Samantha felt nauseous. But she didn’t dare not eat. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. She had to stay strong.

There was no conversation after that. As soon as she finished, she slid from the table. “I’ll go load up Bella. You paid last night, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. But I’ll be finished in a couple of minutes and we can go together.”

She turned around and walked out, not bothering to argue with him. He’d thought he could control her, but he had another think coming. She’d only succumbed this morning for the waitress’s sake.

Of course, she wouldn’t know how generous Rich was, because she wouldn’t be there when he paid the bill. But, strangely enough, she trusted him to do what he promised.

When she pulled up in front of the café ten minutes later, Bella safely loaded, Rich strode out with two disposable cups of coffee.

He walked around the truck to the driver’s side. She reluctantly rolled down her window. “Yes?”

“I got you some coffee for the road. I need to collect my gear from the room.”

“Thank you. I’ll wait here.”

“Would you hold my coffee, too?”

She reached out and took it, settling it in the cup holder.

He started to walk away. Then he halted. “Oh, Paula said thank you.”

Then he hobbled toward his room.

While he was inside, she carefully backed the truck and trailer close to his door so he wouldn’t have to walk far. Then she killed the motor and got out to unlock the storage trunk in the back.

When Rich came out, she was standing beside the door and reached for his bag.

“What are you doing?” he asked in surprise.

“Loading your gear.”

By the time he caught up with her, she was relocking the storage trunk. “Hop in. It’s already eight o’clock.”

“We’re not punching a time clock, Sam. If we leave at eight-thirty instead of eight, it’s no big deal.”

She ignored him. Turning the key in the ignition, she put the truck in gear and pulled onto the road. She didn’t touch her coffee until she had the truck going at top speed, where there would be no more shift changes. Then she removed the lid to her cup and took a cautious sip.

“They make good coffee,” Rich said, sipping his own cup.

Instead of commenting on the coffee, she asked, “How much did you give her?”

“One of the hundred-dollar bills. I told her I’d promised you. She wanted to come find you to thank you, but I told her it would embarrass you.”

Relief and gratitude filled her. She hadn’t expected him to be so generous. But she was pleased. It had been worth swallowing her pride. “Thank you.”

“You’re a strange woman, Samantha Jeffers. You didn’t want to let me pay for a bowl of oatmeal. But for someone else, you’ll accept a tiny bit of what you’ve honestly worked for. I owe you more than that, you know.”

“More than a hundred dollars?” she asked, staring at him before she turned her gaze back to the road. “For two days of driving? I don’t think so.”

“Airfare would’ve been a lot more. Probably five or six hundred. Plus they would’ve been shorthanded on the ranch.”

“Well, consider me paid. I don’t charge that much. How far is Rawhide from your place?”

“Fifteen miles,” he said, still thinking about what she’d said.

“Is there a lot of traffic on the road?”

“You worried about the drive?”