Page 100 of The Love Lie
Oh god.Sam steps back with a grimace, her boots squelching in the mud.I am so not cut out for this life.
“A little different from New York?” Wes comes up from behind her and leans his elbows on the fence.
She keeps her attention on Cooper and shrugs, remembering the fresh feces she nearly stepped on while running down the subway platform last Monday. “Surprisingly, no.”
Wes snorts.
A yearning twinge fills her chest as Cooper tips his head back, laughing at something one of the guys said. He’s got that rare gift of seeming at ease no matter what he’s doing. Jet skiing in the Maldives. Running his hand down a cow’s spine. If she put him in a suit and plopped him in the middle of her office, she betshe’d fit right in. Not like her. Sam hasn’t felt at peace in a long time.
She flashes back to waking up in bed this morning.
The comfort of his deep breathing.
The security in his touch.
The promise of what could be if she’d only just let it.
Maybe it hasn’t been so long, after all.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t,” Wes says, dissecting her with his eyes. She’s too afraid to meet them. “He’s got a good heart, and it’s already been broken once before. Don’t do it to him again, Sam. Please. I’m begging you. Don’t do it again.”
Something in his tone makes her turn. Those brown eyes probe and plead, protective in a way she understands.
“His mom?” she asks softly.
“Everything about this place changed when she got sick. Coop. His old man. Even the very air we’re breathing right now felt different, like the land itself was in mourning. She was the glue, and that’s what they both need right now. More glue. Not a wrecking ball with a pretty face.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Then don’t.”
Wes pushes off the fence before she can answer. A few minutes later, Cooper comes back with two horses—a light brown one with black hair who looks boredly ahead, and a reddish one with a white stripe down its nose who’s giving her the stink eye.
“Let me guess,” she comments dryly. “The infamous Nutcracker?”
“How’d you guess?” Cooper answers with a snort, though the pride in his voice is clear. The horse in question neighs in protest, then nudges Cooper with her nose. He laughs softly and wraps his arm under her head to pull her in for a hug. A scratch here, a pet there, and the animal becomes putty in his hands. Hisskills with women clearly extend to the equine species. Cooper leans up to whisper in Nutcracker’s ear. Sam can’t hear what he’s saying, but she’s guessing it’s something to the tune ofYou’ll always be my number-one girlif the victorious side-eye coming her way is anything to go by.
“I hope you’re not expecting me to ride her, because I can recognize when a woman is marking her territory, even if that woman is a horse.”
Nutcracker bares her teeth. He tuts at her and starts stroking her neck. “Her bark is worse than her bite.”
“Wes told me you had to ice your balls for weeks.”
“For fuck’s sake.” He rolls his eyes, then grabs her hand. “Get your ass over here.”
“What—”
“Relax,” he interrupts, seeing her panic. “You’re not riding her, but you’ve got to introduce yourself. I happen to know from experience the only ways to get past her defenses are constant, stubborn exposure and good old-fashioned bribery. Take these.”
He drops three white sugar cubes into her palm. There’s a ten percent chance Nutcracker is going to bite her hand off, but Sam extends her arm anyway. A wet tongue quickly laps the treats from her fingers. The horse snorts, as if to say,That’s all you got?Sam arches a brow, fighting fire with fire. They stare at each other for a second, a sense of mutual understanding seeming to pass between them.
“Good,” Cooper mutters. “Now, hold your hand like this. Fingers closed. Yup. And lift here.” He guides her palm steadily down Nutcracker’s smooth, muscular neck twice before letting go with a soft, “Keep going.”
Sam repeats the stroke again and again, noticing how the horse’s tension begins to melt away. Her own, too. After about fifteen times, Cooper gently catches her wrist to stop her.
“Good, now repeat that again, but with your horse for the day—the friendly, lovable Duchess, who’s been working here longer than some of the ranch hands have. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Hi, Duchess. I’m Samantha,” she announces into an intent ear while she runs her fingers down a long caramel neck. Then she leans closer and whispers, “Please, please don’t throw me.”
