The Last Real Cowboy. DONNA ALWARDЧитать онлайн книгу.
him. Perhaps. But not like any gentleman she’d ever known. And maybe that was the problem.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE’D been kidding herself.
Exhausted, Angela sank down on the lopsided front step and put her head in her hands. For ten days she’d worked her tail off, and there was still so much to do her head was spinning. Having to do the renovations herself meant no time for working on the embellishments, the little special touches she’d had in mind. The basement was littered with used paint cans and rollers, and she’d missed a stud trying to install a curtain rod and ended up having to do a substantial drywall repair in the yellow room. Yards of material gathered dust waiting to be sewn into curtains and duvet covers. Boxes of supplies were still taped up, needing to be unpacked. The carpet was torn up in the living room but the local flooring business had postponed installation of the new hardwood until tomorrow. The place was a mess.
The open house was only four days away. She needed Molly’s help. Molly had been on board to look after feeding the crew from the youth center on Saturday. She was also supposed to be a spokesperson to the media so Angela could stay in the background, where she liked it. Angela had been so annoyed by Sam’s attitude that she’d squared her shoulders and determined she’d show him and do it all herself.
But she’d been wrong. She needed help. And she needed his help if Molly wasn’t able. It wasn’t just about a pair of spare hands. The press release had gone out before that horrible board meeting and the local angle had been playing up Diamond involvement. To go ahead with the day and have the Diamonds conspicuously absent … to stand in front of a camera and have her picture taken, her words put into print …
Her stomach tied up in knots just thinking about it. This wasn’t about her, it was about them—the women the foundation would help. The last thing she needed was anyone digging around in her past. She closed her eyes. It was truly a bad state if she was relying on the likes of Sam Diamond to be her ally!
She wiped her hands on her overalls, resigned. It came back to the same thing every time, no matter how much she didn’t want to admit it.
She needed Sam Diamond’s help.
She found him coming down a beaten track on horseback, sitting a trot effortlessly while a golden retriever loped along behind. Growing up in the city she hadn’t really believed that cowboys and ranchers, like those in storybooks and movies, really existed. But they did. The Diamondback Ranch sprawled over the foothills, dotted with red-and-white cattle. The house was a huge log-type mansion that reeked of money and Western tradition at once. Just beyond a gigantic barn was a paddock where half a dozen gleaming horses snoozed in the warmth of the summer sun. And Sam Diamond was getting closer by the second, all six foot plus of him in his own über-masculine element.
She’d never felt so out of place in her life, and she’d been in some pretty uncomfortable spots over the years.
“Well, well. Must be important to tear yourself away from Butterfly House on such a gorgeous day.”
She had to squint against the sun to look up at him. “You manage to compliment the weather and antagonize me all in the same sentence,” she said. She forced a small smile. “And I might get mad, except for the fact that you’re right. It is important.”
He’d slowed to a walk but she still had to hustle to keep up with him.
“And it has to do with me … why?”
With a slight shift of the reins, horse and rider came to a stop. The dog, sensing home, bounded off in the direction of the house. Angela held her breath as Sam turned in the saddle and looked directly at her. On horseback he was an imposing figure, and he had a direct way of looking at a person that was intimidating. She wasn’t comfortable being one hundred percent of his focus, but she made herself meet his gaze. He looked far too good for comfort in his jeans, boots and dark Stetson, and she took her sunglasses out of her hair and put them on, shading her eyes.
The horse Sam rode was big and black, and the way he tossed his head made his bridle hardware jingle. He was exactly the kind of mount she’d expect Sam Diamond to ride—big and bossy and used to having his way. But Angela refused to be intimidated.
When she didn’t answer, he grinned. “Let’s try that again, shall we? Good mornin’, Ms. Beck. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
There was a mocking note to his words and Angela felt his gaze drop over her clothing and back up again. She’d considered changing out of her paint-streaked overalls and sneakers but decided not to. She felt safer in the shapeless garment rather than her work clothes that skimmed her figure more closely. Besides, the scale of work that had to be done was enormous. Fixing herself up would have taken valuable time she couldn’t afford to lose.
“I need your help.”
There, she’d said it, and it only hurt a little. Mostly in her pride.
“My help? My, my. That must have been hard to say.”
“Yes. I mean no. You see … I had counted on your mother’s help and without it I’ve fallen behind. I know it couldn’t be helped,” she rushed to add. “I don’t blame Molly. She belongs with your father, of course. I’ve tried for the last week and a half to keep pace on my own, but we’ve got a press opportunity happening this Saturday and I’m not ready.”
“As you can see, I’ve got my hands full here.”
“Surely you can spare some time? I’ve been doing the renovations myself but there are some things I’m just not equipped to do. The front step is a hazard and the furniture needs to be moved into the living room before Saturday and somehow I have to have refreshments on hand for a dozen teenagers who will be at the house. Not to mention the press.”
She was quite breathless at the end and felt a blush infuse her cheeks as Sam merely raised one eyebrow until it disappeared from view beneath his hat.
“Come to the house. I’ll write you a check and you can hire some help for a few days.”
Her blood began to simmer. For most people she would have said put your money where your mouth is. But for Sam, writing a check was an easy way to rid himself of the inconvenience of her and of Butterfly House. Her annoyance temporarily overrode her personal discomfort.
“You don’t understand. This isn’t just about slapping on some paint. It’s about perception.”
“Perception?”
“Yes, perception.” She sighed. “It’s not even so much the renovations. When you replaced Molly on the board, the press releases had already been sent and the arrangements made. You’re the foundation’s biggest sponsor, Sam. And everyone expects to see a Diamond presence this weekend. If there’s no one there …”
“If it’s perception you’re worried about, I’m not sure I’m the image you want to present to the public. You’ll do fine without me.”
He laughed, but Angela wasn’t amused. This project was about more than helping women reclaim their lives. It was about changing attitudes. And Sam Diamond, with his money and swagger, was the perfect test case. If she could bring him around, she figured she could accomplish just about anything.
“I won’t say no to the check because the foundation needs it. But we need more than that, too. We need a showing of support. We need the backing of the community. I don’t like it any more than you do. I wish I didn’t need your help. But I sat on the step this morning trying to figure out how I was going to manage it all and I kept coming up blank.”
“Maybe I can spare a man for a day or two, but that’s all. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
But that wasn’t all. How easy was it for Sam to solve a problem by scrawling a dollar amount and washing his hands of it? “All I’m asking for is one day. One day for you to show up, be charming, give a visible show of support. As much as it pains me to admit it, the people of Cadence Creek follow your lead.”