DONNA ALWARD - The Last Real Cowboy

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.”

He rolled his eyes. “Here we go again. You don’t give up, do you? Do you ever take no for an answer?”

She gritted her teeth. If he only knew how much she hated confrontation! She lifted her chin. “Do you ?”

A magpie chattered, breaking the angry silence. “From the look of the house, it needs more than a slap of paint. It needs a demolition order. You’ll never get it fixed by Saturday.” Sam adjusted the reins as his horse danced, impatient at being forced to stand.

Angela got close enough that she had to tilt her head to look up at Sam. She wanted him to see what was at stake. It wasn’t enough for him to sit atop his ivory tower of privilege—or his trusty steed—and bestow his beneficence. It was too easy. And the women she wanted to help hadn’t had it easy. Their lives couldn’t be fixed by a blank check.

“I have to. The house has been neglected, that’s all. It just needs some TLC.”

“Ms. Beck.” He sighed, looking down at her from beneath his hat. “Do you want me to do everything for you?”

She felt her cheeks heat. “Of course not. But, for example, I was going to look after the painting and minor renovations while your mother lent a hand with some of the aesthetic needs—like window fashions, linens. On Saturday she was not only going to represent your family to the community and press, but she was in charge of all the refreshments. That’s all fallen to me now. I do need to sleep sometime, Sam. And then there’s the issue of what to say to people on Saturday when they ask about our biggest sponsor and their conspicuous absence.”

“You tell them we’re busy running a ranch. You tell them we’re occupied with adding a new green facility to our operation. Or that we’re busy employing a number of the town residents. All true, by the way.”

“Have you heard of volunteering, Mr. Diamond?”

His dark eyes widened as his brows went up. “I beg your pardon?”

“Volunteering—offering one’s time with no expectation of reimbursement.”

“I know what volunteering is,” he replied, impatience saturating each word.

“Millions of people volunteer every day and still manage to work their day jobs. Most of them also have families of their own—and you don’t have a wife or children that I can see. You can spare Butterfly House the cash, but can you spare it the time?”

Angela swallowed, took a breath, and stepped forward, grabbing the reins of his horse with far more confidence than she felt. She stood in front of the stallion’s withers, her body only inches away from Sam’s denim-clad leg as it lengthened into the stirrup. “What are you so afraid of, Sam?”

He slid out of the saddle and snatched the reins from her hands, his movements impatient. “You can save the holier-than-thou routine. I’ve made up my mind.”

She could sense success slipping away from her and frustration bubbled. “You go to great lengths to avoid personal involvement. Why is that? Maybe it’s true what they say about you.”

“And what’s that?” He stood before her, all long legs and broad chest. She felt incredibly small and awkward next to his physicality, dumpy in her overalls next to his worn jeans and cotton shirt that seemed to hug his shoulders and chest. She felt a little bit awed, too, and it irritated her that she should be so susceptible to that because, despite the fact he was a pain in the behind, Sam Diamond was also drop-dead sexy. The sad thing was she was nearly thirty years old and had no idea what to do with these feelings. She’d gotten very good at presenting a certain image, but inside she knew the truth. She had no idea how to be close to anyone.

“Never mind.” She turned away, hating that he was able to provoke her without even trying.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Not so fast. I think you’d better tell me.”

Her heart seemed to freeze as her breath caught for one horrible, chilling moment. Then, very carefully and deliberately, she reached down and removed his fingers from her wrist and stepped back. She wasn’t sure which emotion was taking over at the moment—anger or fear. But either one was enough to make the words that had been sitting on her tongue come out in a rush.

“That you’re a cold-hearted …” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word. She kept her gaze glued to his face for several seconds.

Finally the hard angle of his jaw bone softened a touch and he said quietly, “Where’d you hear that? Let me guess, Amy Wilson?”

She had, and her lack of response confirmed it.

“You shouldn’t judge someone by what you hear.”

“I don’t.” At his skeptical expression, she sniffed. “I don’t,” she insisted. “I form my own opinions. I deal with people all the time, you know. And I judge people by what I see them do.” And right now he wasn’t scoring many points. Her wrist still smarted from the strength of his fingers circling the soft flesh. She touched the spot with her fingers.

His gaze caught the movement and then lifted to meet hers. There was contrition there, she realized. He hadn’t really hurt her; he’d merely reached out to keep her from running away. It was her reaction that was out of proportion and she suspected they both knew it. Awkward silence stretched out as heat rose once again in her cheeks.

“And so you’ve judged me.” The horse got tired of standing and jerked his head, pulling on the reins. Sam tightened his grip, uttered a few soothing words as he gave the glistening neck a pat. “I suppose you won’t believe me if I say I’m sorry about that.” He nodded at her clasped hands.

It was a backward apology, and did nothing to change the situation. That was what she had to remember. “Sam, you give from your pocketbook if it means you don’t have to get involved. I just haven’t figured out why. Is the ugliness of real life too much for you?” She kissed her last hope of success goodbye, knowing she was crossing a line but needing to say it anyway. How many times over the years had people turned a blind eye to someone in trouble? How many people had avoided the nasty side of life because it made them uncomfortable? How many people had known what was happening in front of their faces and hadn’t had the courage to make the call? Angela’s life might have been very different. It was the only thing that kept her moving forward in spite of her own fears.