With This Ring (Denim & Spurs Book 1) (20 page)

She climbed in the cab and buckled herself in. “What’s that?”

“Was your father right about what you’ve felt for me since fourth grade?”

She nearly hung her head in shame but at the last moment remembered he couldn’t see her, even if Gunnar could. “Doesn’t matter, Dustin.”

“It matters, Samantha Mallory, never forget that.”

“Goodbye.”

She stared at the screen of her smartphone for a moment before she set it down and got them moving, turning her attention and focus to the trailer she followed as well as the road. Gunnar remained silent for all of two minutes and when he spoke, she was grateful for the distraction from her own wallowing thoughts.

Chapter Twelve

Dustin stared at the phone in his hand. He really longed to put it through the window of his office so it scattered across the deck and into the shrubbery. A knock at the door brought his head up.

“What?”

Connor stood there, his gaze hard. The man still hadn’t forgiven him for how things had gone down with Samantha. “Some cutters here to talk to you about some of your horses.”

He shoved his chair back and made his way to the door, swiping his Stetson on the way out. “Thanks.” He’d been waiting for them to show, a few of the contacts he’d made at the expo.

Connor didn’t do anything other than grunt. Before they left the house, he paused and grabbed his friend’s arm.

“How long you going to blame me, Connor?”

Green eyes stared by him, searching. “Is Finn back and I just haven’t seen her yet?”

He scowled. “You know she’s not here.”

“Then I still blame you.” His foreman pivoted away and continued to the door.

“She’s the one who left, you know. Not me. I’m still here,” he snapped.

Connor veered around, flames alive in his gaze. “Right. You’re just the one who had his slut back at the house talking about her pregnancy when she arrived. You’re the one who didn’t go after her. You’re the one who fucked up, so why shouldn’t I blame you? You had a woman who loved you, and you let her get away. I liked Finn. She was one hell of a woman, and you blew it.”

There had to be more than that to it, but Connor strode outside before he could pose the question. Sure enough, three men awaited him outside, and he shoved lingering thoughts of Samantha to the side and focused on making some sales.

Later that night, however, as he sat in his living room, staring unseeing at the show that played on the large flat screen, he realized Connor had made some valid points. He’d said she’d loved him. First, how had he known and why did he use past tense?

Pushing to his feet, he made his way to his study and dug around for his high school yearbook from his senior year. He sat at his desk and flipped it open, searching through the freshman until he found Samantha. A small smile curled his lips as he stared at her image. Such a tomboy in the shot. She looked as if she’d rather be anywhere than where she was. Perusing through, he found a few more shots of her, in her basketball uniform and in the stands at football games.

He couldn’t forget what her father had said either and got up to pour himself a drink. Back at his chair, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number he knew by heart.

“Hello?”

Her voice, rough and sleepy, made him think of how she sounded after waking from spending the night in his arms. Jealousy surged through him, leaving an acidic taste in his mouth.

“Samantha.”

She yawned. “What are you calling me for, Dustin?”

“Did you love me in school?”

“What does it matter? Are you trying to find out just how pathetic I was?” Muffled sounds. “Is this how you get your rocks off? Fine, I’ll tell you since you can’t seem to let it go. Yes. I did. Happy? My dumb ass fell for you in the fourth grade. Perhaps earlier, I just didn’t know what it was. All through school all I ever did was want the great Dustin Kane to even acknowledge I existed. It never happened. I managed to survive, and I will continue to do so.”

“I didn’t know.”

She snorted. “Of course you didn’t. Why would you? You are so far out of the league of someone like me.”

“Like you?” He frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, figure it out, Dustin. I can’t do this anymore. Now you know, you can do with it what you will. Leave me alone.” She hung up.

He drained the rest of his drink and placed his phone on the polished desk. Leave her alone? Not hardly. The words bothered him but not as much as the tears in her voice did. If she’d been pissed when she spoke that, perhaps he’d believe it more. But this was sorrow. All he needed was to see her again. He could explain everything, tell her he loved her.

“Just a few years of stupidity for me to catch up on,” he mumbled to himself as he drummed his fingers on the yearbook. “And no, it’s not how I get my rocks off, Samantha. Not even close.”

The next day he walked into the kitchen to grab some lunch and paused at what Rosa had on the television in there. Dressage.

“What’s this?” he asked as he took his sandwich from her.

“Nationals, up in New York. Finn’s at it, I was hoping to see her.”

That’s all he needed to know. Plate in hand, he made his way to the sofa and turned on television, searching for the channel Rosa had it on. When he found it, he settled back against the leather of his sofa. He’d never been one to watch dressage, but here and now he found himself completely drawn in to the display on the screen.

He was pissed at himself that he hadn’t any clue who she worked for so he could listen for the name of the farm. Or the rider. The station switched rings and the announcer spoke of Gerda Torkjelson and the camera flashed to a young girl waiting to enter the ring. He could identify her Scandinavian roots even from the television, with her pale blonde hair and fair skin. It wasn’t the child, however, who caught his eye.
No, it was the woman next to her, hand on the child’s leg and whispering what he imagined to be encouragement. His woman. Samantha Finley.

Black jeans, boots, and a gray hem hung from under a hunter green and cranberry jacket, which had cobalt blue piping and lettering on it. The day was overcast and slightly windy. Samantha’s hair was drawn tight only to hang in a thick braid down to her shoulders. It was her expression, which would have taken him to her knees had he not been already seated. The joy and love there, for all to see.

His heart broke a bit more when he witnessed a tall man, fit and dressed in the typical competition outfit strode up to them, placed his hand against the small of Samantha’s back, and leaned in to talk to the child as well. Dustin cursed when the camera followed the youngster as she began her entrance to the ring.

The jumps were lower than they had them for adults, but the girl handled them like a pro. Her horse took them without any hesitation, and he couldn’t see any on the part of the child either. She rode with grace and poise belying her young age. The stands erupted in applause when she finished, but he didn’t take his gaze from the woman who awaited the duo as they left.

Samantha reached for the reins and led them away while the man—who’d dared touch her—walked on the other side, his hand now on the young girl. Later when they showed older ones riding again, back in the ring with the full height jumps, he saw Samantha once more. This time she was with others who wore the same color jacket as she did. They always had happy expressions on their faces, and the camaraderie showed through like a beacon in the night.

He lived for the moments they showed the team up close, waiting and watching the one out in the arena. God, he missed her. Rubbing his chest, he sat up as if it would bring him closer to her.

Although work waited for him, he watched some of his men working with some of the horses. He knew later on that week Judd Travers would be stopping by so he decided to stay in his office and get some work done. More like he watched the television for more sightings of Samantha. The place she worked for was Cypress Sky Farms. At least he’d discovered that much. And he had the address right there before him.

He picked up the note, which had his ranch name emblazoned across the top. Diamond J. below that, the details to where he could go and retrieve his woman. He’d dealt with Charlotte’s father and informed him of all she had been up to along with a warning that he would ruin them if she came after him with slanderous accusations ever again.

When his doorbell rang, he frowned slightly.
Who could that be?
His housekeeper had left for the day so he made his way from office to front door. The person on the other side was a surprise.

Evan Finley stood there, his face an unreadable mask. “Evening, Mr. Finley. What can I do for you?”

“I need a few minutes of your time.”

Dustin waved him in and watched him progress by, his limp barely lingering. Closing the door, Dustin waited while the man made his way to the living room. Mr. Finley turned to face Dustin once he’d crossed the entire room, pausing before the fireplace. Evan had removed the hat from his head, and Dustin noticed the way he gripped it before him. Almost unsure.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he offered.

“No, thank you.” Evan sniffed. “What is it you want from my Finn?”

Sure, they’d discussed how Evan would protect his daughter. Hell, part of him expected something like this from the man again, but the directness and anger that lined the question threw him a bit.

“I want her love.”

“So sure you love her?”

Dustin never even hesitated. “Absolutely.”

“How can you be so sure it’s not just lust?”

“Your daughter, Mr. Finley, is more important to me than anything. I was an idiot and never realized that until she left Branchwater and returned to Maryland.”

“More important than your ranch?”

“Yes. This has been in our family for generations, and I would prefer to pass it along to my children, but if that’s what it takes to be with Samantha, then so be it.” The words he uttered were honest and true.

Evan stared at him for a few moments then walked toward him, reminding Dustin of the man he had been in his prime. Toe to toe, the men held each other’s gazes.

“Take care you don’t hurt my baby girl.”

“Is that your way of giving me your blessing to marry your daughter?”

Almost conversationally, Evan said, “You know, she called me today and said she’d not make it home for Thanksgiving this year and Christmas was questionable. For whatever happened between the two of you, she’s not coming home, thank you very much. Now she’s hiding. Good luck.” Evan walked by him, and Dustin turned in time to see him letting himself out of the house.

* * * *

Three months later

The cold wind set her teeth chattering.
Barely after Thanksgiving and we’re having cold snaps like this. It’s not going to be a pretty winter.
She turned the collar up on her coat and ducked her head as she strode toward her truck, her breath fogging her way. Hand warmers, that’s what she needed. Something, anything to help the feeling come back into her digits.

Leaning over, she rooted around for the smaller nipper she needed. She’d come out here to a horse rescue and given of her time to ensure the feet were neatly trimmed. Unlike Cypress Sky, Equine Haven didn’t have heated barns. So, she worked in the cold.

Lord, what she wouldn’t give for a hot mug of java. Perhaps two. A long hot shower was definitely in order when she got back.
Shoulda gone home for Thanksgiving
. And she knew that, but she wasn’t ready to face Branchwater again. All the other years she’d gone back, she’d not even left the ranch, but this time, she didn’t think she had the strength to stay away from him.

Him. Dustin Kane. A man who had way too much power over her. She didn’t like it so she combated it the only way she knew how. Avoidance. Did she miss him? Hell yes. Not to mention the way he had this uncanny ability of making her body sing under his touch. She planned to invite her daddy up here for the holiday this year.

She blew out a breath and shook her head, as it only chilled her more. Tugging down her cap, she made her way back to the open barn where her second to last horse waited. It didn’t take her too long to finish his hooves and set him back out with the others. He was a mini and truly cute. Her heart broke when she saw the condition of the final horse. His hooves were so long they’d begun to curl, and the poor thing could hardly walk.

His eyes watched her as she tied him up. “It’s okay, boy, I promise I’ll make this as painless as I can. You’ll be fine in just a bit.”

People who treat their horses like this ought to be shot, revived, and shot again.
She hefted her larger nippers and grinned.
Or let me use these on parts of their anatomy.
It took a few tries, but she got the gelding to put his foot on the hoof stand and she got to work on him, taking off all the curl so he could at least stand easier. It took a while and despite the cold, she was sweating as she finished.

The rescue’s dogs were dodging in and out swiping the clippings, but she didn’t care so long as the horse didn’t seem bothered by their presence. Giving him a break, she patted him while waiting to warm up a bit.
He helped, and she murmured little things to him as she tried to loosen up her tight muscles.