Read Online Samantha’s Cowboy by Marin Thomas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marin Thomas
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new.”
“Don’t be silly.”
Silly? He yearned to confess the well-digging fiasco had been a stall tactic to prevent her from spending money she didn’t have. Money he had to front her fromhis personal funds. Instead he had to act silly and insist he didn’t mind digging a frickin’ hole in the ground with blistered hands.
Samantha returned the shoebox to the shelf next to the ancient cast-iron sink. “Tomorrow I’ll contact a drilling company and offer a financial incentive to dig sooner rather than later. While we wait on the permits, I’ll hire a crew to fence in the paddocks.”
“Give me a week, Samantha, and I’ll have the hole dug.” Grasping at straws, he added, “Your father will be impressed by how frugal you were with your inheritance.”
A wrinkle formed across her brow and Wade curled his stinging hand into a fist to keep from caressing her forehead and discovering if her skin felt as velvety as it appeared.
“Maybe you’re right.” She sat across the table from him. “In any regard your hands have seen enough work for one day.”
“I can help,” Luke offered, carrying a stack of plates to the table.
Samantha smiled at his son and Wade swore Luke stood a few inches taller. “We’ll both take turns,” she said.
Damned if he’d allow a woman to show him up. “No need to ruin your hands, too,” he argued.
“You really don’t believe I’m capable of shoveling a little dirt?” Her eyes gleamed with challenge.
“I doubt you’ve done much work—” Damn. He should have kept his mouth shut.
Face red with anger, Samantha nodded at his bandaged hands. “You’re one to talk.”
True.
“How about a wager?” she said, winking at his son. “Luke and I will dig three more feet by suppertime.”
Great. First Samantha had shown him up with her tree-climbing talents and now she was about to defeat him in a well-digging competition. Couldn’t a hardworking investor get a break?
Blast, it was hot.
Samantha was ringing wet, her shirt soaked with sweat and plastered to her skin. Wade’s son was just as exhausted, but the sweet boy hadn’t uttered one word of complaint. Sam rested against the old ladder she’d found in the barn and handed the bucket of dirt to Luke, which he dumped a few feet away.
They’d made decent progress, but her arms were sore and her shoulders itched from the dirt that had slipped inside her collar when Luke had accidentally tipped a full bucket onto Sam’s back.
“Looking good, Samantha,” Wade complimented for the hundredth time. She wished he’d stop hovering and go chew tobacco with Millicent.
Sam feared her plan might backfire. She’d insisted on taking a turn at digging because she’d hoped to guilt Wade into agreeing to call in the professionals to finish the well. Most men would have felt compassion for a struggling woman. As a matter of fact the cowboys she knew would have insisted she quit shoveling hours ago. Obviously financial advisers had no problem with women showing them up.
Needing a break she set aside the short-handledshovel and climbed from the hole. Without warning Wade removed her gloves and checked her hands.
“No blisters?” He sounded disappointed.
Sam shook off his touch. “Unlike you, my fingers rarely spend time on a keyboard.”
Wade’s shoulders stiffened and a businesslike mask fell over his face. “Luke, fetch Ms. Cartwright a drink from the cooler.” As soon as his son ran off, Wade glanced into the hole. “You made good progress. I’d say it’s about six feet.”
From disappointment to admiration—Wade confused the heck out of her. Luke arrived with Gatorade bottles and they took a break from conversation to quench their thirst. Sam’s eyes strayed to Wade’s Adam’s apple, which bobbed up and down as he swallowed. A vision of her tongue tracing the sexy bump popped into her mind and she choked.
Wade slapped her back. “Down the wrong pipe?”
Nodding, she coughed again and wiped her
“Don’t be silly.”
Silly? He yearned to confess the well-digging fiasco had been a stall tactic to prevent her from spending money she didn’t have. Money he had to front her fromhis personal funds. Instead he had to act silly and insist he didn’t mind digging a frickin’ hole in the ground with blistered hands.
Samantha returned the shoebox to the shelf next to the ancient cast-iron sink. “Tomorrow I’ll contact a drilling company and offer a financial incentive to dig sooner rather than later. While we wait on the permits, I’ll hire a crew to fence in the paddocks.”
“Give me a week, Samantha, and I’ll have the hole dug.” Grasping at straws, he added, “Your father will be impressed by how frugal you were with your inheritance.”
A wrinkle formed across her brow and Wade curled his stinging hand into a fist to keep from caressing her forehead and discovering if her skin felt as velvety as it appeared.
“Maybe you’re right.” She sat across the table from him. “In any regard your hands have seen enough work for one day.”
“I can help,” Luke offered, carrying a stack of plates to the table.
Samantha smiled at his son and Wade swore Luke stood a few inches taller. “We’ll both take turns,” she said.
Damned if he’d allow a woman to show him up. “No need to ruin your hands, too,” he argued.
“You really don’t believe I’m capable of shoveling a little dirt?” Her eyes gleamed with challenge.
“I doubt you’ve done much work—” Damn. He should have kept his mouth shut.
Face red with anger, Samantha nodded at his bandaged hands. “You’re one to talk.”
True.
“How about a wager?” she said, winking at his son. “Luke and I will dig three more feet by suppertime.”
Great. First Samantha had shown him up with her tree-climbing talents and now she was about to defeat him in a well-digging competition. Couldn’t a hardworking investor get a break?
Blast, it was hot.
Samantha was ringing wet, her shirt soaked with sweat and plastered to her skin. Wade’s son was just as exhausted, but the sweet boy hadn’t uttered one word of complaint. Sam rested against the old ladder she’d found in the barn and handed the bucket of dirt to Luke, which he dumped a few feet away.
They’d made decent progress, but her arms were sore and her shoulders itched from the dirt that had slipped inside her collar when Luke had accidentally tipped a full bucket onto Sam’s back.
“Looking good, Samantha,” Wade complimented for the hundredth time. She wished he’d stop hovering and go chew tobacco with Millicent.
Sam feared her plan might backfire. She’d insisted on taking a turn at digging because she’d hoped to guilt Wade into agreeing to call in the professionals to finish the well. Most men would have felt compassion for a struggling woman. As a matter of fact the cowboys she knew would have insisted she quit shoveling hours ago. Obviously financial advisers had no problem with women showing them up.
Needing a break she set aside the short-handledshovel and climbed from the hole. Without warning Wade removed her gloves and checked her hands.
“No blisters?” He sounded disappointed.
Sam shook off his touch. “Unlike you, my fingers rarely spend time on a keyboard.”
Wade’s shoulders stiffened and a businesslike mask fell over his face. “Luke, fetch Ms. Cartwright a drink from the cooler.” As soon as his son ran off, Wade glanced into the hole. “You made good progress. I’d say it’s about six feet.”
From disappointment to admiration—Wade confused the heck out of her. Luke arrived with Gatorade bottles and they took a break from conversation to quench their thirst. Sam’s eyes strayed to Wade’s Adam’s apple, which bobbed up and down as he swallowed. A vision of her tongue tracing the sexy bump popped into her mind and she choked.
Wade slapped her back. “Down the wrong pipe?”
Nodding, she coughed again and wiped her
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