voice—or maybe his hand on her elbow—ended her trance. She shrugged off his touch, ignoring his raised eyebrow.
Wade cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“The wedding guests departed early.” She motioned to the hole in the ground. “How’s the digging coming along?”
His body tensed. “I was taking a short break.”
At this pace he’d hit water around Christmas. Sam rolled up her sleeves. “I’ll spell you.”
“What?”
Were his ears clogged with dirt? “I’ll dig for a while.”
“I understand you want to get the ball rolling on this rescue ranch, but I don’t think you should—”
“Shovel a little dirt?” A dusky hue seeped into his cheeks. Sam couldn’t recall witnessing a man blush before and found the act charming. “Sorry to burst your bubble but I’m not a pampered princess.”
The first month after she’d been discharged from the rehab hospital she’d had trouble concentrating for long periods of time, so she’d thrown herself into ranch chores because physical activity didn’t tax her brain and leave her with a headache.
“This was my idea. I’ll do the digging,” he insisted.
Let him, a voice whispered inside her head. A man accustomed to sitting behind a desk all week wouldn’t last a day toiling beneath the blazing Oklahoma sun. When he realized he was in over his head he’d give up and phone a contractor to dig the well, which had been her intent all along. She had two weeks—give or take a few days—until her father returned from Europe. The sooner Wade accepted defeat, the better. “Okay then. I’ll leave you to the digging.” She hadn’t taken three steps when he called out.
“What are you going to do?”
“Decide where I want the paddocks.” By the time Sam stopped at her truck she’d forgotten what she’d intended to get. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. The more she fretted the longer the duration of her memory lapse. Once her mind went blank she remembered the reason for going to the truck—her notepad. She removed the black notebook from the glove compartment and a pen from the cup holder, then wrote the word Paddocks on the paper.
Ignoring the sound of Wade’s shovel scraping the ground, Sam studied the area adjacent to the house. Approximately thirty yards separated the soon-to-be paddocks from the well. A water pipe would need to be installed to carry well water to a spigot near the fenced-in area.
She spent the next half hour jotting down a list of fencing materials—hardware, posts, cement, water troughs, gate latches. Tomorrow she’d stop by Barney’s Ranch Supply and order the items. She’d also ask Barney to spread the word that she needed a few hardworking cowboys—preferably not the nerdy kind—to install the fencing for the paddocks.
D AMN IT , S AMANTHA WASN’T supposed to show up today and witness him bumble his way through Well-Digging 101. The fact that Wade cared about her opinion of him caused concern. He might find her attractive, sexy and intriguing, but she was his client. If that wasn’t enough of a reminder to keep things businesslike between them, then being held accountable for her lost trust fund should be.
He jumped on the edge of the shovel head with both feet and the tip sank deeper into the red clay. His arm muscles shook like Jell-O and his shoulders burned as if a hot branding iron had been pressed against his skin. A lot of good his three-a-week forty-minute workouts at the company health club did him.
You’d make more progress if you’d stop watching Samantha.
She sat on the rickety steps of the ranch house, doodling in a notebook. Once in a while she stared at the cloudless sky with a quizzical expression on herpretty face. Beauty aside, the woman confused the heck out of him. One minute she was a snippy miss know-it-all, the next she wore a lost-little-girl expression, which made Wade want to wrap his arms around her and protect her from the big bad
Wade cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“The wedding guests departed early.” She motioned to the hole in the ground. “How’s the digging coming along?”
His body tensed. “I was taking a short break.”
At this pace he’d hit water around Christmas. Sam rolled up her sleeves. “I’ll spell you.”
“What?”
Were his ears clogged with dirt? “I’ll dig for a while.”
“I understand you want to get the ball rolling on this rescue ranch, but I don’t think you should—”
“Shovel a little dirt?” A dusky hue seeped into his cheeks. Sam couldn’t recall witnessing a man blush before and found the act charming. “Sorry to burst your bubble but I’m not a pampered princess.”
The first month after she’d been discharged from the rehab hospital she’d had trouble concentrating for long periods of time, so she’d thrown herself into ranch chores because physical activity didn’t tax her brain and leave her with a headache.
“This was my idea. I’ll do the digging,” he insisted.
Let him, a voice whispered inside her head. A man accustomed to sitting behind a desk all week wouldn’t last a day toiling beneath the blazing Oklahoma sun. When he realized he was in over his head he’d give up and phone a contractor to dig the well, which had been her intent all along. She had two weeks—give or take a few days—until her father returned from Europe. The sooner Wade accepted defeat, the better. “Okay then. I’ll leave you to the digging.” She hadn’t taken three steps when he called out.
“What are you going to do?”
“Decide where I want the paddocks.” By the time Sam stopped at her truck she’d forgotten what she’d intended to get. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. The more she fretted the longer the duration of her memory lapse. Once her mind went blank she remembered the reason for going to the truck—her notepad. She removed the black notebook from the glove compartment and a pen from the cup holder, then wrote the word Paddocks on the paper.
Ignoring the sound of Wade’s shovel scraping the ground, Sam studied the area adjacent to the house. Approximately thirty yards separated the soon-to-be paddocks from the well. A water pipe would need to be installed to carry well water to a spigot near the fenced-in area.
She spent the next half hour jotting down a list of fencing materials—hardware, posts, cement, water troughs, gate latches. Tomorrow she’d stop by Barney’s Ranch Supply and order the items. She’d also ask Barney to spread the word that she needed a few hardworking cowboys—preferably not the nerdy kind—to install the fencing for the paddocks.
D AMN IT , S AMANTHA WASN’T supposed to show up today and witness him bumble his way through Well-Digging 101. The fact that Wade cared about her opinion of him caused concern. He might find her attractive, sexy and intriguing, but she was his client. If that wasn’t enough of a reminder to keep things businesslike between them, then being held accountable for her lost trust fund should be.
He jumped on the edge of the shovel head with both feet and the tip sank deeper into the red clay. His arm muscles shook like Jell-O and his shoulders burned as if a hot branding iron had been pressed against his skin. A lot of good his three-a-week forty-minute workouts at the company health club did him.
You’d make more progress if you’d stop watching Samantha.
She sat on the rickety steps of the ranch house, doodling in a notebook. Once in a while she stared at the cloudless sky with a quizzical expression on herpretty face. Beauty aside, the woman confused the heck out of him. One minute she was a snippy miss know-it-all, the next she wore a lost-little-girl expression, which made Wade want to wrap his arms around her and protect her from the big bad
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