the veterinary hospital in Bend,” she said dismissively.
Josh wouldn’t let it go. “Who’s working on her? Timmy?”
Timmy was Doc Carey’s assistant vet and more butcher than surgeon. No self-respecting livestock owner would trust him. “Lord, I hope not,” she muttered fervently.
A round of “Here, here” followed with lifted glasses and nods of agreement. Cooper’s mouth quirked in amusement but he raised his beer along with the others.
“So, Sammy Jo, why are you all dressed up?” Ginny Martin asked, leaning on her pool cue and slipping Sammy Jo a mean-mouthed look.
“I’ve been to the bank.” Just my luck, Sammy Jo thought with an inward sigh. She and Ginny’s rivalry went way back, ever since Brent Rollins chose Sammy Jo in the sixth grade as his junior court rodeo princess. It had been her first crown, a kind of foreshadowing of the future, but Ginny had never forgiven her. Sammy Jo hadn’t bothered to mend fences. What was the point? Ginny wouldn’t believe Sammy Jo didn’t give a damn about Brent then, now, or ever.
“That the only reason?” Ginny persisted, eyeing the open-throat of Sammy Jo’s peasant blouse. “I’ve never seen you dress up for anything, ‘cept’n maybe to accept a trophy. Did you know Sammy Jo here’s a local celebrity?” Ginny turned to Cooper. Sammy Jo wished she’d just shut up. “Barrel- racing mostly, but she’s collected some trophies for trick-riding and other things. Even won a heart or two, though she’d like to tell ya different.”
Burning inside, Sammy Jo wondered what was going on between Ginny and Cooper Ryan. Not that she cared. Much. But she hated being a source of amusement to anyone. “If you’re talking about Brent, why don’t you just spit it out?” Sammy Jo challenged.
Ginny’s lips tightened and she turned back to her game, slamming several balls into the pockets.
“So, how did it go with Matt Durning?” Cooper asked casually.
Sammy Jo sipped at her beer, trying hard not to even look at Cooper. She didn’t know why, but it bothered her to meet him eye to eye except for brief little glances. “It went bad.”
“He’s calling the loan?”
“He’s called the loan,” she corrected. “You heard me asking for more time the other day. It really burns me up. We’ve never missed a payment to anybody. He has no right.”
“We?”
“Gil—my dad—and I. My dad raised me.” Why she’d added that bit of trivia, she didn’t rightly know.
“How’s your income statement look?” Cooper asked. “Bankers like fat, healthy income statements.”
Sammy Jo met his gaze squarely this time. “It sucks,” she admitted.
He grinned. And then he laughed aloud, the sound deep and musical, reaching into Sammy Jo’s insides and mixing them up in a way that made her uncomfortable. His teeth were white and straight, his lips thin and yet, sexy and appealing, in a way no man’s had a right to be.
Sammy Jo yanked her thoughts back hard, annoyed at this flight of fancy. She felt like a teenager, for God’s sake, thinking about the man’s body parts while her heart fluttered and trembled as if it were about to quit altogether. Good Lord.
“That’s too bad, Sammy Jo,” Josh commiserated.
“A real bitch,” Sam added.
If Ginny had heard this exchange, she gave no sign of it. For that Sammy Jo was glad. That “real bitch” comment was just aching to be interpreted in other ways, and Sammy Jo didn’t feel like getting into it with Ginny.
“What do you plan to do with Serenity?” Sammy Jo asked Cooper.
“Before or after I change the name?”
She actually smiled. “Thank God.”
“Seems to be the general consensus around here,” Cooper observed with a good-natured drawl.
“When Ethan Riggs named the place serenity Ranch, my father nearly took a shotgun to him,” Sammy Jo said, her voice bubbling with amusement. “It used to be called Cotton Creek Ranch, after the stream, but it’s been years since Riggs bought it
Josh wouldn’t let it go. “Who’s working on her? Timmy?”
Timmy was Doc Carey’s assistant vet and more butcher than surgeon. No self-respecting livestock owner would trust him. “Lord, I hope not,” she muttered fervently.
A round of “Here, here” followed with lifted glasses and nods of agreement. Cooper’s mouth quirked in amusement but he raised his beer along with the others.
“So, Sammy Jo, why are you all dressed up?” Ginny Martin asked, leaning on her pool cue and slipping Sammy Jo a mean-mouthed look.
“I’ve been to the bank.” Just my luck, Sammy Jo thought with an inward sigh. She and Ginny’s rivalry went way back, ever since Brent Rollins chose Sammy Jo in the sixth grade as his junior court rodeo princess. It had been her first crown, a kind of foreshadowing of the future, but Ginny had never forgiven her. Sammy Jo hadn’t bothered to mend fences. What was the point? Ginny wouldn’t believe Sammy Jo didn’t give a damn about Brent then, now, or ever.
“That the only reason?” Ginny persisted, eyeing the open-throat of Sammy Jo’s peasant blouse. “I’ve never seen you dress up for anything, ‘cept’n maybe to accept a trophy. Did you know Sammy Jo here’s a local celebrity?” Ginny turned to Cooper. Sammy Jo wished she’d just shut up. “Barrel- racing mostly, but she’s collected some trophies for trick-riding and other things. Even won a heart or two, though she’d like to tell ya different.”
Burning inside, Sammy Jo wondered what was going on between Ginny and Cooper Ryan. Not that she cared. Much. But she hated being a source of amusement to anyone. “If you’re talking about Brent, why don’t you just spit it out?” Sammy Jo challenged.
Ginny’s lips tightened and she turned back to her game, slamming several balls into the pockets.
“So, how did it go with Matt Durning?” Cooper asked casually.
Sammy Jo sipped at her beer, trying hard not to even look at Cooper. She didn’t know why, but it bothered her to meet him eye to eye except for brief little glances. “It went bad.”
“He’s calling the loan?”
“He’s called the loan,” she corrected. “You heard me asking for more time the other day. It really burns me up. We’ve never missed a payment to anybody. He has no right.”
“We?”
“Gil—my dad—and I. My dad raised me.” Why she’d added that bit of trivia, she didn’t rightly know.
“How’s your income statement look?” Cooper asked. “Bankers like fat, healthy income statements.”
Sammy Jo met his gaze squarely this time. “It sucks,” she admitted.
He grinned. And then he laughed aloud, the sound deep and musical, reaching into Sammy Jo’s insides and mixing them up in a way that made her uncomfortable. His teeth were white and straight, his lips thin and yet, sexy and appealing, in a way no man’s had a right to be.
Sammy Jo yanked her thoughts back hard, annoyed at this flight of fancy. She felt like a teenager, for God’s sake, thinking about the man’s body parts while her heart fluttered and trembled as if it were about to quit altogether. Good Lord.
“That’s too bad, Sammy Jo,” Josh commiserated.
“A real bitch,” Sam added.
If Ginny had heard this exchange, she gave no sign of it. For that Sammy Jo was glad. That “real bitch” comment was just aching to be interpreted in other ways, and Sammy Jo didn’t feel like getting into it with Ginny.
“What do you plan to do with Serenity?” Sammy Jo asked Cooper.
“Before or after I change the name?”
She actually smiled. “Thank God.”
“Seems to be the general consensus around here,” Cooper observed with a good-natured drawl.
“When Ethan Riggs named the place serenity Ranch, my father nearly took a shotgun to him,” Sammy Jo said, her voice bubbling with amusement. “It used to be called Cotton Creek Ranch, after the stream, but it’s been years since Riggs bought it
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