The Wrangler

The pattern was deceptively simple. Big circle at a lope, change of pace, then a small circle. Switch leads. Do the same thing going the other direction. Stop in the middle. Spin. Red didn’t like the spin, but she dug her leg into him and made him do it. All in all, it wasn’t a bad pattern, and she loved the last part where she got to run down the middle of the arena at a full gallop, coming to a sliding stop at the end. That part Red did beautifully.

“Bravo!” Eugenia called out when she was done. “That was terrific.”

Perhaps not terrific, Sam thought, but she gave Red a pat on the neck nonetheless. They’d hardly win points on the quarter horse circuit, but she was proud of her ride and, man, it felt wonderful to be back, almost as wonderful as the look on Clint’s face.

“I bet I really could work some of those cows,” Sam said, riding up to where her audience stood.

“How long has it been?” Eugenia said.

“Not since the accident,” she said. She hadn’t had the heart when they’d finally given her the go-ahead, not when she was going to have to sell her horse anyway to cover her medical bills.

Coaster, her beloved black gelding, was going to a new home soon.

“Accident?” Clint asked. “What accident?”

“The one that killed my parents,” Sam admitted.

Chapter Five

Her parents were dead?

“What?” Clint asked.

“They died four months ago,” she said. “Just before Christmas.”

Damn. No wonder Gigi had taken an instant shining to her. His grandmother’s maternal instincts were legendary. Crap. It’s what’d gotten him through the death of his own parents.

Gigi had never truly recovered from the death of her only child. To be honest, Clint had never truly recovered, either. Even though he’d lost his mom and dad years ago—ten, to be exact—he still missed them every day of his life.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his gut twisting as he recalled his own grief. “I know what that’s like. It’s not easy.”

She nodded, Red shifting beneath her, but she controlled the horse beautifully. He was an honest man—something he prided himself on—and she had one of the nicest seats he’d seen on a woman in a long time, and he wasn’t talking about the seat she sat on. Although that was nice, too.

“You should stay with us.”

Clint jerked his head up. He’d been leaning against the top rail of the gate and he damn near stumbled backward when he heard Gigi say the words.

“What?” Samantha asked.

Gigi nodded toward the woman on horseback. “You should say with us,” she said again. “You can help us prep for the gathering in a few days.”

“Gigi,” Clint said in a low, furious voice, hoping the woman behind him was hard of hearing. “Are you crazy? We just met her today.”

“Clinton McAlister,” Gigi said, turning toward him. “I can’t believe you would say that. Just look into that child’s eyes. She’s still grieving.” And this time it was his grandmother who lowered her voice. “And you know better than most what that’s like. Don’t be a complete ass.”

Ass?

His grandmother spent entirely too much time on the Internet.

“Fine,” he said, because what else could he say? If he kept on protesting he would, indeed, end up looking like an ass. “But she stays in one of the bunkhouses.”

His grandmother shook her head. “The boys’ll be using that next week. She can’t be staying in a bunkhouse with men. She’ll stay in the house.”

“Gigi!”

“Don’t you Gigi me,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “I’ve swatted your butt a time or two before and I’m not afraid to do it again.”

“Wait.” Gigi and Clint turned to face Samantha. “You don’t need to open up your home to me, Mrs. Baer.”

Her home? It was his home. But, of course, Samantha didn’t know that. Or maybe she did. Frankly, he didn’t care. She couldn’t stay with them. That was that.

“Don’t be silly,” Gigi said. “If you’re going on the roundup, you’ll need to stay here. We don’t leave until later this week and there isn’t a hotel within twenty miles.”

“Yes, but—”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Gigi said, holding up a hand.

He would take no. “Gigi—”

“You can sleep upstairs,” she added. “In the room next to mine.”

“Gigi,” he repeated, and then lowered his voice. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s plenty of other rooms for her to choose from.”

Which gave his Gigi the wrong impression; that he was okay with Samantha staying with them.

“Fine,” Gigi said, a smile settling upon her face. Obviously, she felt as if she’d won this particular battle. “You can pick your room, Samantha,” she said.

“Call me Sam,” the woman on horseback said with a smile. “Nobody calls me Samantha except used car salesmen and telephone solicitors.”

“Sam,” his grandmother said, “there’s plenty to choose from.”

“Well, I—” she started to say, until Red put his head down and let loose a snort that drowned out her words.

“What was that, dear?” Gigi asked.

“I think she said no,” Clint pointed out.

“Actually, I said I don’t want to impose,” Sam explained, pulling on the reins because Red was trying to sniff the sand in the arena.

“You wouldn’t be imposing. We’d love to have you, wouldn’t we, Clinton?” Gigi asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Clint said jovially. “I’d love to have you.”

His grandmother elbowed him again, the expression on her adorably wrinkled face clearly warning him to behave.

“I just don’t think it’s a smart idea,” Sam said.

“Clinton,” his grandmother said, “now that that’s settled, why don’t you untack Red here? I’ll show Sam to the house.”