The Rancher’s Second Chance Read online

  But this was going to be his. Sammie had promised that this could stay his home for a long, long time. That permanence was something he’d only just begun to allow himself to feel. Like he belonged here in Hope Springs.

  And a coat of paint would go a long way towards making it feel like his own.

  Sammie met them in the hallway, wearing her hair up in the girlish ponytail that always made Cole's heart race. “Tell me again where we’re headed?” she asked, sliding on her shoes. “The feed store?”

  “There’s been a change of plans. I’m thinking maybe we could head over to the big box place.” He held up his hand to ward off her evil glare. “Not Peter's! Good Lord, woman, what do you take me for? I'm talking about over in Culverton. I have a few other things besides feed I have in mind to pick up.”

  “Are you going to tell me, or are you going to be all mysterious about it?”

  He laughed. “Just a few gallons of paint.” He hefted Devon up higher. “Little man asked for a yellow room.”

  “You do like yellow,” Sammie said to Devon, tugging on his foot.

  Devon pointed. “Dat's Bammie's faybrit cudder.” He was pointing right at her turquoise shirt.

  “Good eye, little guy!” Sammie enthused. “That’s right, I love turquoise. Reminds me of swimming in the ocean.”

  “You should paint your room turquoise then,” Cole couldn’t help but point out. “Make it a bit more yours.”

  Just like she always did when he brought up the future, she gave him that sad little glance. Shaking her head, she grabbed her purse and silently headed out to his truck.

  But once he’d strapped Devon into place and slid into the driver’s seat next to her, she cleared her throat. “Maybe I should,” she said in such a small voice that Cole might’ve missed it if he weren’t paying such close attention.

  “Yeah?” He put the truck into drive.

  She twisted in her seat to face him. “Would that be all right? I know I told you that the place would kinda sorta be yours…” She trailed off.

  Cole shook his head. “It will always be your childhood home. And you will always have a place here. Even if it’s got to be turquoise.” He grinned at her.

  She looked pleased.

  And that pleased little smile stayed on her face the whole way into the store.

  * * *

  Devon kicked his legs from the seat in the shopping cart, impatiently awaiting his yellow room.

  “Is that Devon Baker?” called a woman from across the store.

  “We live here most of our lives, and Devon's the one getting the greetings?” Cole grumbled. But he was secretly pleased that his son's roots were starting to take hold.

  Tina from the day care came up to them and gave Devon a pat on the head. She was wearing the bright orange vest that marked her as a store employee. Her eyes went to the shopping cart, which was filled with three cans of a paint color festively named BananaRama, a whole lot of feed, and a tiny can of turquoise paint that Sammie kept lifting from the cart and then putting back in. And they had a long list of items still to grab.

  “What brings you out on this fine morning? Can I help you find anything?” Tina asked.

  “I didn't know you worked here, too!” Sammie exclaimed.

  Tina looked both excited and tired. “I finally decided to head back for my degree, but tuition's gonna kill me. I need all the extra cash I can muster.” She sighed. “I'd rather talk to you folks than finish re-shelving though, so quick, pretend I'm helping you find something.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “We've got a list,” Sammie laughed. “May need your help tomorrow though. Seems like we’ve got to do one of these every single day.”

  Tina nodded. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. It sure is good all the stuff you're doing at Bitter Ridge. Glad it's staying. I don’t want that land gone. One big box store is enough for this area.” She adjusted her uniform.

  “I'm glad to hear that,” Sammie said softly. She glanced at Cole, who nodded.

  “I'm glad too,” he told them both. He had another one of those moments—ones he'd been having a lot lately—where he was so proud of Sammie, of Devon, of the life the three of them were cobbling together as a team, that he wanted to shout his feelings from the nearest rooftop.

  Instead he just touched his fingers to his forehead and told Tina he'd see her soon.

  They were greeted several more times as they made their way through the store. Cole found that in spite of his fears about being in town, he was able to hold his head up high whenever he was out with Sammie. People noticed the investment she was making in the area, even though she had one foot out the door.

  He hated to think about that foot out the door.

  “I've got to say, I’m surprised to see you still around,” the cashier said to Sammie as she pulled out her credit card.

  Cole sucked in air through his teeth, but Sammie just laughed. “There's a lot of surprise on both our ends, I guess. But I’m thinking maybe I’m not going to get out of here as quickly as I thought.” She glanced at Cole, and that little pleased smile reappeared. “Maybe I’m not in such a rush to get back to New York City?”

  She said it like a question, but Cole wanted to climb up onto the roof and break out into a spontaneous jig.

  “I can help you mark off with the tape,” Sammie said once they'd returned to the ranch. “That is, if you don’t mind me getting in the way.”

  “I like it when you’re in the way, darlin'. It really improves the view.”

  She stuck at her tongue out at him, but then her face went serious. “Cole, did you hear me in the supply store?”

  “I sure did.”

  “You haven't said anything about it.”

  “What do you want me to say? You know I'm happy to hear you're reconsidering leaving right away.”

  “You are? You're sure? You won’t mind, right? I have ten months left in my extension. But this is supposed to be your place soon.”

  “Darlin’, I wouldn’t mind if you stayed here for the rest your life, but I know that’s not in the cards.”

  She dragged her bottom lip under her teeth. “My career,” she said faintly.

  Cole held up his hands. Though it was hard not to grab ahold of her and pull her close to him, he kept his distance. “I’m not going to push you,” he told her. “I want to, believe me. I lie awake at night trying to come up with a list of pros and cons like you did for me, reasons why Sammie should stay in Hope Springs forever. But you’re smart, and that smartness…well, it’s what I always liked about you.” He couldn’t resist reaching out and tugging at her hair and tucking a wayward strand behind her ear as she stared at the floor. “I know there’s a time limit we're working with here. I just plan on enjoying the time we have left.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Then silently grabbed the painter's tape from the bag and got to work.

  Cole took his frustration out on the paint can, bashing into it with a screwdriver. It wasn't Sammie's fault he couldn't tell her how he really felt. She was ambitious and driven, and that's what he loved about her.

  He just wished like hell that her ambitions included him.

  Nineteen

  Sammie was just pulling the door to Devon's room closed—she'd been reading to him for a solid forty-five minutes and only just managed to get him down for his nap—when her cell phone rang in her pocket.

  “Shit!' she hissed as she sprinted down the hallway and out of Devon's earshot. “No no no, stop ringing! Hello?”

  “Samantha Jensen?”

  Sammie stopped short. It had been so long since she’d heard an East Coast accent that she almost didn't recognize what it meant. “Yes. Hello. This is Dr. Jensen.”

  “Dr. Jensen, this is Bradley Waterford."

  Sammie mentally flipped through her contacts. "Yes, hello, Dr. Waterford. How are things at UVA?"

  "I'm no longer at UVA, but thank you for asking. I'm at Yale now."

 
He paused as if waiting for her to congratulate him for something. Sammie wracked her brain. Why would the head of economics at the University of Virginia be at Yale?

  "Are you and Dr. Ambrose working together?" she guessed blindly.

  He chuckled and ignored her question. "Dr. Jensen, I'm calling to find out if we could put you on the roster for the fall semester.”

  "We?"

  "The Economics Department."

  "At UVA?"

  "No." He sounded exasperated. "Your position is with Yale, is it not?"

  "Yes of course, but I'm on negotiated delay of start. You mean next fall, right?”

  “No, Dr. Jensen, I'm talking about this one.”

  “I'm...afraid there must be some sort of mistake. I had an agreement with Dr. Ambrose.” Sammie could barely take a full breath. She braced herself against the wall. “Can I please speak with Dr. Ambrose about this?”

  “Dr. Ambrose had to step down for health reasons," Dr. Waterford said, sounding blandly unconcerned. "I've stepped in in the interim."

  "Oh..."

  "Yes, thank you," he said, graciously accepting congratulations she hadn't offered. "It's been quite a challenge. I've taken a look at staffing and identified some areas of concern. Number one being your negotiated delay of start.”

  “I have a contract.” Sammie kept shaking her head. No no no. I can't do fall semester. I don't have time. I don't have time.

  “Of course, you do," he said smoothly. "I guess I'm wondering if we might re-negotiate that?" His conciliatory words were at odds with his brusque tone. "All non-tenured faculty contracts are going through a reevaluation."

  "Reevaluation?" Sammie's throat was so dry it clicked when she tried to swallow.

  "And of course, we don't want yours to get to that point."

  "No, no, of course not."

  "So, I'll ask again," Dr. Waterford said jovially, as if he were Santa Claus asking what she wanted for Christmas. "Will you be able to move your start date up?”

  Sammie pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Yes,” she breathed. “No. Wait. I'll have to get back to you. There are some loose ends I need to tie up.”

  “How loose?”

  She did some quick calculations. The sabotage had stopped. The next inspection was due any day now. “Close of business next Friday, I'll have my answer.”

  Dr. Waterford sniffed loudly. “We're looking forward to having you on board, Dr. Jensen," he said before ending the call.

  Sammie let her hands drop to her sides.

  She'd wanted to go back all this time. But now that she needed to?

  She had to stay a year to inherit the ranch.

  She had to stay a year to inherit the china.

  But those thoughts faded into the background as another one rose up. A single thought, blaring as loudly as a trumpet in her mind.

  Cole.

  What about Cole?

  * * *

  Once again, Sammie sat across from Judge Watkins, feeling like a twelve-year-old girl instead of a professional woman. “I swear, Your Honor, the inspection report is due to come through any moment now. I wouldn't have made an appointment with you if I didn't know this for a fact.” She drummed her fingers on her knees and hoped her bright smile would hide her nerves.

  This was it. Make or break. The inspector had come out and made his final report. Inspector Burton was a scrawny guy who looked like he didn't need to shave yet. But he'd gone over all the repairs with the fine-toothed comb of a lifelong bureaucrat. And Sammie was certain they'd come out successful. She was so certain, that she'd called Judge Watkins's office and made an appointment on the hope that she'd have the glowing report in her hands by now.

  It was not in her hands yet.

  This kind of meeting was the stuff of Sammie's nightmares. She could feel the prickle of sweat starting at her hairline. I'm not even supposed to be here! shouted the voice in her brain, like it always did in her nightmares.

  And this time it was true. She was supposed to be in New Haven now, setting up her office. She was supposed to be in New York, packing up her apartment and gathering her things from the various adjunct offices she'd occupied over the years. She was supposed to be on her way, but something was holding her in Hope Springs.

  “Miss Jensen, I'm a busy man. Are you telling me you came here to give me a report that doesn't exist yet?” Judge Watkins's disappointment was a crushing thing.

  Sammie checked her phone again and sighed with relief. “No, Your Honor. It just came in. I see you're copied on the email too, so if you could just open it up? I'm sure you'll see all the issues have been resolved within the allotted timeframe and...”

  She trailed off, eyes widening as she read. Judge Watkins made a disgusted harrumphing noise as he read the same lines she did.

  “Still in violation?” she read. “How?”

  “Well now, Miss Jensen, I guess that's something you should tell me.” Judge Watkins looked genuinely angry. And even more disappointed. “I don't appreciate you wasting my time like this.”

  Sammie read the email again and again, but it still refused to resolve itself into the words she was expecting. Instead of a certificate stating she was free and clear, she'd received another violations notice, this one stamped with even more violations than the first.

  “But I don't understand! There has to be some kind of mistake!”

  “This is an official document with an official seal.” He turned in his chair. “I really don't see how you can say anything otherwise.”

  “But...”

  “I've got a busy day lined up here and would appreciate it if you respected my time a wee bit more.”

  “Your Honor, I am very sorry about this, clearly this is as much a surprise to me...”

  “Miss Jensen, you're excused,” he said curtly.

  Sammie's mind whirled as she stepped out into the hallway. She looked at the ceiling, the floor, to her right, to her left, anywhere for someone to blame.

  It couldn’t be Cole—he wouldn’t lie to her. She trusted that more than she trusted her own instincts. It had to be someone else. The hands again? But if they were still giving her trouble, Cole would tell her.

  A suit-wearing attorney clacked down the marble hallway in his shiny shoes, and Sammie glared at him. It was his fault, she decided. Those shoes, they were just like her cousin's shoes...never seen an ounce of hard work in his life...

  Her cell phone rang. She spotted Cole’s name on the screen, and a wash of guilt flowed through her. She'd promised him the house when she left. Now she'd have to break that promise because she was about to lose the ranch after all. After all the work and sweat and tears and blood, she was still going to lose it.

  She'd done everything she could, and she still hadn't succeeded. It had to be someone’s fault.

  It was probably the fault of someone who wore very shiny shoes.

  Hardly believing that she was doing it, Sammie found herself driving across town and parking in front of the offices of Jensen Holdings. It was a stupid hunch, the kind of paranoid delusion that she would never admit to having.

  But just like Richard had said before letting her know of the hands' betrayal, there was something here. Something more than just bad luck.

  She tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel as she watched her cousin's offices. Hardly knowing what she was looking for, she was just about ready to drive away—exasperated with herself—when Peter’s BMW rolled up.

  Peter leapt from his car, his cell phone jammed into his ear. Sammie rolled down her window just in time to hear the words.

  Inspection...

  Ranch...

  Sammie's breath caught in her throat. At the same time, her cell phone rang. Cole again. She shoved her phone against her ear, keeping her eyes on her cousin. “What?” she barked, a lot more meanly than she meant.

  “Hey, babe, just wanted to see how your day was going. I got worried when you didn’t answer.”

  �
�I’m fine,” she snapped. Peter was walking into his office right now, and she needed to move into earshot. “I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up and dropped the phone in her lap.

  Cole called her back immediately. She swore softly, feeling ashamed of how she’d just spoken to him, but any thought of answering flew out the window when she saw another car pull up. It was a shiny black pickup.

  Bearing the seal of the Department of Codes and Inspections.

  Inspector Burton had a bald head and a baby's face. An ugly baby, too, as pinched and pointed as a baby bird. His hardhat was too big for his tiny head and made him look like a lollipop. But he held his head high as he walked into Peter's office.

  Sammie swore when Cole called her a third time. She dropped her phone down into the wheel well and stormed out of her car.

  “Hello. Can I help you?” the secretary asked, chasing after her as she walked down the hall. But Sammie ignored her and threw open the door.

  Just in time to catch her cousin and Inspector Burton shaking hands over his desk.

  Twenty

  Cole was getting really sick of closed doors.

  Last night, he'd tried to get an answer from Sammie about why she'd hung up on him and then ignored his calls. He'd been royally pissed off, ready for a big fight and incredible make-up sex once it was over.

  But Sammie had gone right into her office and shut the door.

  He put Devon to bed alone, then emerged to find her office door open. But the door to her bedroom was shut tight.

  After a night of Devon waking up every two hours with a cough, Cole just managed to drag him to day care, only to find that the doors to the center were locked. After banging on them and pressing the buzzer repeatedly, a disapproving-looking Cheryl came to the door and informed him that he had missed his usual drop-off time, so she'd sent the part-time employees home. “We didn't have our numbers. If we take him now, we won't be following code.”

  Cole begged and pleaded and worked his charm like crazy until Cheryl relented and made a phone call. She seemed to take great pleasure in making him sit with Devon in her office until the part-timer returned. When Cheryl shut the door to the center behind him, he got the feeling she was doing it with a little more force than was necessary.