The Millionaire and the Cowgirl. Lisa JacksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
through his short, sandy brown hair. “Me? No way, and I pity the poor fool who is. She’s one mule-headed lady. I like my women a little bit less short-tempered.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Kyle wasn’t convinced and didn’t bother hiding his feelings. Grant had been a bachelor for years, but he wasn’t immune to women—especially the smart, good-looking kind. Like Sam. “I met her kid today.”
“Caitlyn?”
“Mmm. She was here less than half an hour ago. Looks a lot like her ma.”
“Yeah. Same temperament, too. Kinda has a way of weaseling her way into your heart.”
“Like Sam does?”
Grant grinned and his eyes glinted. “Why would you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Well, speak of the devil,” Grant said at the sound of a truck roaring down the lane. A plume of dust followed the old Dodge as it rumbled to a stop near the house. “I think I’d better see how she’s gettin’ along with Joker.”
“The devil horse? Not too well, if yesterday’s exhibition was any indication.”
“You want to try a hand with him?”
“Hell no. The farther I am from that mean bastard, the better I’ll like it. If Kate hadn’t seen fit to let you have him, I would have probably sold him to the glue factory,” Kyle said, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Sure.” Grant finished his coffee, but his eyes never left the window and Sam’s truck.
“Look, I have to live here for the next six months, but I don’t think there was anything in my legacy about risking life and limb trying to train some self-important stud how to follow on a lead rope.”
“I assume you’re talking about the horse and not about me.” Grant was still staring out the window, and Kyle let his own gaze follow as Samantha hopped to the ground and blew her bangs from her eyes.
“Take it any way you want,” Kyle said. “You know, she looks mad enough to spit nails. I think I’ll go check on my horse.”
“Chicken.”
Grant reached for his hat. “You bet. I made a promise to myself years ago that I would never sit around and be chewed out by a woman before ten in the morning. It starts the day off on the wrong foot.” His eyes narrowed as he rammed the hat on his head. “You know the saying about someone getting a bee in her bonnet? This may just be a guess, but from the looks of her, I’d say Samantha has a hornet’s nest in hers.”
Samantha slammed the door of her pickup. Her jeans were tight and black, her shirt faded denim with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, as if she were ready for a fight. Her lips were compressed into a firm, determined line. Before Grant could walk out the back door, she stormed in, the screen door slapping shut behind her.
Kyle felt a smile stretch across his face, though he wished he could hide his amusement, because if looks could kill, he’d have dropped dead the second she swung her furious green gaze in his direction.
“Mornin’, Sam,” Grant drawled.
“Mornin’,” she offered.
“I was just leavin’.”
“Wait. I was gonna call you,” she said, laying a hand on Grant’s arm—so friendly and intimate it made Kyle’s teeth grate. “What do you want to do about Joker now that Kyle’s back?”
“I’ll move him in the next week or so. No hurry. By that time I assume he’ll walk docilely up the ramp into the trailer.”
Sam couldn’t help but grin, and Kyle felt an unwanted kick in his gut. How many times had she, a tomboy of seventeen, trained that smile on him?
“I guess that’s up to Kyle. He’s in charge now.” Her smile faded and was replaced by her original expression, the one plastered on her face as she’d marched grimly to the porch. Tiny white lines pinched the corners of her mouth, a deep furrow was wedged between her eyebrows and the skin over her cheekbones was stretched as taut as a hide ready for tanning as her gaze landed full force on Kyle again. Some of the starch seemed to leave her for a second before she said, “I just came by to pick up some of my things. Now that Kyle’s here, it doesn’t make much sense for me to hang around.”
She breezed past Grant.
“Samantha? Wait a minute. You’re not giving up on Joker, are you?”
“Maybe Kyle can handle him.”
“In his dreams,” Grant replied.
“No way.” Kyle lifted his hands. “I want nothing to do with that beast.”
She muttered something under her breath that had to do with spoiled brats and silver spoons.
“We had a deal,” Grant reminded her.
“Cancelled when Kate left the place to your brother.”
“Hey—this isn’t my fight,” Kyle proclaimed, and Sam pinned him with a look that all but called him a citified, useless, low-life coward.
“For the love of…” She clawed stiff fingers through hair that was pulled tightly away from her face. A few strands fell into her eyes. “Okay, okay,” she said to Grant. “I’ll handle Joker. It’ll take a couple of days, but then I’m outta here.”
“What’s wrong?” Grant glanced from Kyle to Sam. “Lovers’ spat?”
The color drained from her face. “I just have enough to do over at my place.”
“Fair enough.” Grant didn’t look like he completely bought her story, but he didn’t seem anxious to press the issue. “As long as I can pick up Joker before Clem James’s mare goes into heat.”
“No promises. I’ll do the best I can.”
“All I can ask.” Grant squared his hat on his head. “I’ve got to run into town for a part for my damned tractor. I’ll see ya around.” He slapped the side of the doorframe with a tanned hand as he sauntered out, then hesitated on the porch, the screen door propped open by one shoulder. “Oh, I meant to tell you, Kyle, Mom called this morning. Rebecca’s gone off on some toot about hiring a private investigator to look into the cause of Kate’s plane crash.”
“I thought it was all just an accident, faulty equipment or something.”
“Yeah, that was what everyone assumed, but you know our aunt. She doesn’t believe in letting sleeping dogs lie.”
Kyle felt a sensation akin to dread. Rebecca was the youngest daughter of Ben and Kate, and though she was technically his aunt, she was only a few years older than he. A mystery writer, Rebecca had earned her reputation of having a vivid, sometimes wild imagination. “So what does she think?”
“Who knows? If you ask me, she should quit working herself up over everything and settle down.”
“Oh, like you?”
Grant shot him an unreadable look. “Just don’t be surprised if she gives you a call. See ya around, Kyle. Sam.”
Samantha watched him leave and felt a moment’s hesitation. She was alone with Kyle. Again. Which was what she wanted. Or was it? As Grant drove away, she was suddenly aware that the air in the house seemed thicker, dense with silent emotions, and she had trouble drawing a breath. Being this close to a man who had once had the ability to break her heart was just plain stupid.
“For the life of me I can’t figure out why Kate left this place to you,” she said, untying the knots that suddenly took hold of her tongue. “Grant or Rocky—”
“I know, I know. You’ve already pointed out that nearly anyone in the family would have been a better choice.”
She angled her chin