Bunking Down with the Boss. Charlene Sands

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      Last night Sam had had visions of lying with Caroline in the sleeping bag, counting stars and making love. He’d willed the sensation away, but the powerful urge only grew stronger. Unable to fight it off, he’d wanted to get up and run for the hills, but Sam had had enough of letting people down in his life. This time, he would keep his promise to work here for the month. He’d given his word, and he wouldn’t back out now.

      Caroline believed he wasn’t interested in anything but an honest day’s work and that’s how he would keep it, as difficult as that would be.

      “I slept just fine.”

      “Me, too.” She sighed breathlessly. “Best sleep I’ve had in a long while, even though I miss Annabelle something fierce.”

      Sam turned away at the mention of the little girl’s name. He had yet to come to terms with the death of his daughter. He didn’t begrudge Caroline’s love for her little girl, but the ache inside him burned deep and tore at him with raw agonizing pain. He couldn’t hear talk of her little Annabelle without reliving the horrible day that young Tess had died.

      Sam blamed himself.

      And he always would.

      He peered out over the yard and the other buildings they’d be working on and quickly changed the subject. “Do you have a plan of action?”

      Caroline sidled up next to him. “After breakfast, I was hoping we could go over what needs doing. We could make a list of repairs. As you can see, the yard itself is pretty run down.”

      Sam glanced her way, seeing so much in her eyes, her hopes and expectations and her dream of a successful stable coming alive again. “I think that’s a good plan. But I’m not one for breakfast.”

      She smiled. “Coffee then?”

      “Sounds good.”

      “Well then, I’ll go get it brewing and bring you out a cup. Sound fair?”

      “You’re the boss.”

      She lifted her lips in a soft smile. “I am, aren’t I?”

      Her scent lingered as he watched her walk into the house, her perfect derriere catching his eye. She moved with grace, the unintentional sway of her hips purely natural. She wore a plaid work shirt and ripped jeans. Work clothes. Yet Sam eyed her with more enthusiasm than he would an exotic dancer working a dance pole.

      His body reacted, tightening up.

      He cursed and grabbed a steel rake. He’d just burn off his extra energy with good hard work. He wasn’t above mucking out a stall, and from what he could tell there would be plenty of stalls to muck in the very near future.

      

      Later that day, Caroline cooked spaghetti and meatballs and they ate dinner together in the kitchen, each absorbed in their own thoughts, or so it seemed. The radio, set on low, played down-home country tunes, easing the quiet. All in all, Caroline was pleased with the day’s work they’d put in. Sam had proven himself a hard worker and a man of his word. So far.

      But Sam didn’t divulge too much about himself. And Caroline wasn’t into prying. She knew what she needed to know about Sam Beaumont for now.

      “So do you think we can finish everything on our list before the month is up?” Caroline asked, stringing a wad of spaghetti around her fork. She’d posed this question to Sam in different ways today and each time his reassurance had helped calm her nerves.

      “I think so. There’re major repairs to be done to the roofs and stable stalls, some painting and shoring up of your fences. The yard will need a complete overhaul. You’ll need new supplies of feed and hay. But I think we can do it.”

      Caroline nodded. “Yes, I’m hoping so. I’d like to have everything done before school starts. Annabelle will be starting first grade. She’ll be gone most of the day. I’ll be able to run things, along with some part-time help.”

      “Do you have anyone in mind?”

      She shrugged, not worried in the least. “There’s always high-school students ready to earn some extra cash. I know because I used to be one of them.” She chuckled, recalling her days as a part-time employee. “I worked at Curly’s Ice Cream Parlor, making root beer floats and banana splits after school.”

      Even though they spoke of nothing specific, Caroline enjoyed conversing with another grown-up. And this particular grown-up happened to make her heart stop every now and then when she least expected it. Sam Beaumont had a style all his own. His quiet demeanor, his work ethic and his incredible good looks blended into a man who had, to put it quite simply, entered into Caroline’s fantasies.

      Caroline set her fork down, her spaghetti plate empty. “What about you? Did you ever have a part-time job?”

      Sam took a moment then nodded his head. “I worked for my uncle. He had a small ranch outside of El Paso.”

      “Ah, so you do know something about this life.”

      “Well, we had a herd of cattle, but ranching cattle isn’t too different. And we had a healthy string of horses, too. Uncle Lee used an old army helicopter he’d salvaged to oversee his ranch. I’d go up in that bird every chance I got.”

      Caroline could only imagine a young Sam Beaumont completely addicted to flying, watching his uncle fly over the ranch and wishing he was the one behind the controls. “I’m surprised you didn’t fly it yourself.”

      Sam stared down at his plate for a moment, then admitted. “I did. Got my pilot’s license when I was twenty.”

      “You’re a pilot?” Stunned, Caroline stared at Sam. Everything she knew in her heart about this man, contradicted his presence here in Hope Wells. Early on, she’d pegged him for a drifter, a man with no ties, no connections to anyone or anyplace, but the man she was coming to know didn’t quite fit that bill.

      “I was. I don’t fly anymore.”

      “May I ask why?”

      Sam glanced at her and for a moment she thought she might get an answer, but then the phone rang. “Oh, excuse me.”

      Sam watched Caroline answer the phone, twirling the cord on her finger as she leaned against the refrigerator. She smiled as she recognized the caller.

      “Hey, Joanie. It’s good to hear from you. Yes, yes, I know. I’ve been busy.”

      Sam rose from the table and took his plate to the sink.

      “A girls’ night out? Oh, that’s sounds like fun, but I can’t. Yes, I know how long it’s been since I went out. But you know I’ve got only the month to get the stables running again. I’m working every day.”

      Sam put the iced-tea pitcher in the refrigerator, along with the container of Parmesan cheese and Caroline mouthed him a “thank you” as she slid out of his way.

      “Yes, I know. I can’t use Annabelle as an excuse right now. I do know that, Joanie, but oh—darn. I forgot it’s Lucille’s birthday. All the girls are going?”

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