One Last Kiss by Kat Martin

Chapter Ten

Sam wasn’t a man who spent much time on regrets. If he made a mistake, he left it in the past and moved on with his life. Last night, he had made a huge mistake, but so far he hadn’t figured a way to move past it.

Instead, all he could think of was finishing what he’d started. Or more accurately, what Libby had started. He almost smiled. He wanted Libby in his bed, and not for just one night, but even thinking about it wasn’t fair to Libby. And it wasn’t fair to him.

In a few weeks’ time, Libby would return to the city. With any luck, she would be a better, happier person for the experiences she’d had on the ranch. Libby would go back to the lavish, glamorous life she’d lived in New York, and Sam would stay here on the ranch, the only place he could ever be happy.

There was no chance of a relationship, no future for the two of them.

Hell, how had the word relationship even entered his mind?

He shook his head and concentrated on cooking breakfast, which everyone waited eagerly for Libby to serve. The bacon sizzled in a giant frying pan, and next to it a pan of scrambled eggs turned a perfect fluffy yellow. There was even a batch of biscuits he’d cooked in a Dutch oven over the open flames.

A thought that reminded him of Libby, the fire last night and the terror he had felt. Sam shook it off. Accidents happened. He knew that. Still, it was Libby, and the idea of her being hurt in any way sent a ball of dread into his stomach.

“Everything ready?” Libby asked. She was surrounded by Suzy and Jordy and the rest of the guests, all wearing eager, hungry expressions.

He nodded. “You got the plates?”

“Right here.” Libby handed them over one at a time, Sam filled them, and Libby passed them around. The kids ate first, then everyone else. It took three batches in all, the last for him, Big John, and Libby—though she passed on the bacon.

The weather had been warm and would be even warmer today. As the guests wandered off to explore the area, Sam worked with Libby to clean up the breakfast dishes. Libby had barely looked at him all morning. He tried not to wonder what she was thinking, but it was impossible to do. He had promised her sex would be good between them, but he hadn’t really had a chance to show her. He hoped she at least liked the sample he had given her.

Sam inwardly smiled.

“It’s warming up,” he said as they finished drying the last metal plate and tin coffee mug and put them away. They’d already dealt with the trash, put away the leftover food and hoisted the food box into a tree. No bears in camp last night, but he sure as hell didn’t want to attract them, or more raccoons.

“You going swimming?” he asked.

Libby smiled. “Absolutely.” Was there an impish tilt to those big blue eyes? Because just thinking about Libby in a bathing suit was enough to make him hard. “What about you?” she asked.

“Maybe. I’ve got some chores to take care of first.”

She glanced up at the sky. “It’s eleven o’clock. I think I’ll go change.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Was that just a guess, or can you actually tell time by the sun?”

“I can navigate by the stars, and yes, I can use the sun to tell time. My dad and I made a sundial once when I was a kid.” She glanced away, shadows in her beautiful eyes. “I still remember how it works.”

He knew the memories must be painful. But he deeply believed remembering the past was the only way Libby could move forward toward a happy future. As she walked away, he glanced over to see Big John standing in the shadows. The man was as silent as a cat.

“Your woman...she is different from the others you have known.”

The muscles across Sam’s abdomen contracted. John had a way of knowing things that was almost spooky. “She isn’t my woman. She’ll be leaving in a couple of weeks. And you’re right. She is different.” He tossed the last of the cold coffee he had been nursing all morning and set the tin cup aside. “She belongs in the city. Soon as her time here is over, she’ll be going back to the life she lives in Manhattan.”

John said nothing, just gave him a pitying stare out of eyes as black as onyx. Turning, he walked away.

Forcing thoughts of Libby aside, Sam worked around the camp for a while, then changed into his swimsuit, grabbed a towel, and headed down to the lake. The water was clear enough to see the round multicolored rocks at the bottom. On the camp side, there was a long stretch of sandy beach. Sunlight glistened on waves slapping lightly against the shore.

Sam’s gaze roamed over the guests enjoying the water. One of the camp rules was that one person stayed out of the lake at all times to observe and make sure everyone was safe. At the moment, Caleb sat on a log on a low hill above the beach, a pair of binoculars beside him on the grass. His wife and kids played in the water. Betty and Alice were splashing around and laughing. Kim and Brad were both sunbathing on a flat rock a little way down the shore.

Sam glanced around for Libby, spotted her as she emerged from the lake a few feet away. Water streamed over her perfect breasts, tiny waist, and curvy hips. She was wearing a one-piece white swimsuit cut high on the sides and low in the front and back, tasteful, and yet she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen.

His mouth went dry while his skin felt hot and tight. Jesus. He’d learned the shape of her body last night, but seeing her half-naked stirred an erection he fought to conquer. He clamped down on his lust but still had to concentrate on something else to bring himself under control.

“You should join us,” Libby said. “The water feels great, once you get used to it.” Her gaze slid over the front of his swimsuit, and her pouty lips edged up. Sam had no doubt she knew exactly the effect she was having on him.

“I think I’ll spell Caleb, let him go swimming with his family.”

Libby propped a hand on her hip, drawing his attention to the sexy curves he had touched last night. “Are you sure I can’t convince you?”

At the moment, there was almost nothing she couldn’t convince him to do. “Maybe later,” he said gruffly, and forced himself to walk toward the hill.

“Why don’t you take a swim?” he said to Caleb. “I’ll take a turn watching for a while.”

“Great. Thanks.” Caleb whipped off his shirt and tossed it on a bush, adjusted his swimsuit, and walked down the hill. He grinned as he waded into the water to join Jenny and the kids.

Sam sat down on the log, his gaze skimming the water for any sign of trouble. This was a job he took seriously and expected the same attitude from everyone else. The only people missing from view were Max and Vince, who had gone fishing on the other side of the lake.

Sam picked up the binoculars and scanned the shoreline, saw the two men reclining on towels spread open on the ground, both of them asleep.

They had come to fish, or so they’d said. A lot of places along the creek were catch-and-release, but the fish in the lake were keepers. So far neither man had brought back any photos of trophies they had caught, and there was no sign of a fish near their poles, which lay abandoned against the trunk of a tree. They had to be the worst fishermen he’d ever seen—or they weren’t there for the fishing.

Unease filtered through him. So far they hadn’t given him any reason to be concerned, and yet there was something about them he just didn’t trust. Over the years, he’d had lots of different people as guests. That was what made life interesting. Most of them had been really great people, but there had been a few troublemakers in the crowd.

The good news was the men would be leaving in three more days. He would just have to keep an eye on them until then. He checked the water, counted heads, then focused the binoculars back on the men across the lake. Neither Max nor Vince was anywhere in sight.

Apparently nap time was over. The unease returned. He’d be glad when they were gone.

* * * *

It was time to return to camp and help Sam get ready for supper. There was always work to do in the camp, Libby discovered. Big John handled the livestock, but Sam took care of the rest. He needed her help, and she was glad.

The evening meal went smoothly, a combination of fried lake trout Brad and Caleb had caught, hot dogs, potato salad, and chili beans. Libby ate more than she should have, fish not being a problem for her conscience, and Clara’s potato salad was delicious.

Afterward everyone sang songs around the campfire. Tomorrow morning they would pack up and head back to the ranch. Libby was enjoying herself, but a long hot shower sounded like heaven, and a comfortable mattress beat a narrow cot any day. She had to admit she’d be glad to get home.

A soft pang echoed in her heart. Not that Bridger Ranch was actually her home.

In a few more weeks, she’d be leaving, returning to her life in the city. All she’d have left of Sam and the ranch were the memories she made while she was there. Her throat tightened. She wanted Sam, and he wanted her. Libby vowed to make a memory that would stay with her through the years after she left.

As everyone dispersed to their tents, she glanced toward the tent that belonged to Sam. She wanted to spend the night with him, wanted him to finish what they had started last night. A sigh of frustration escaped. No way was she being the aggressor again tonight, and she knew Sam wouldn’t come to her.

He had duties, responsibilities. Once they got home, maybe they could find a way to be together.

The thought hovered deliciously in the back of her mind as she headed for the outhouse before she went to bed. The moon was out, bright enough she didn’t need a flashlight to find the wooden building in the woods.

Finished, she descended the two wooden steps and walked down the trail back to camp. It was darker here among the pine trees. She gasped as a tall, bulky figure stepped into the trail, blocking her path.

Libby stiffened. “Get out of my way, Vince.”

His teeth flashed in a smile more wolfish than friendly. “I’ve been looking for you. I figured you’d have to come here sooner or later.” His blond hair glinted in the moonlight, paler than Sam’s, long and stringy, not thick and silky.

Libby stiffened her spine. No way was she letting the guy intimidate her. “I’m warning you, Vince. If you don’t get out of my way, I’m going to scream.”

Instead of backing off, he moved closer. She caught the sudden flash of silver, saw the knife in his hand, and shock rolled through her. She opened her mouth to scream, but Vince’s thick arm wrapped around her neck, dragging her back against him and knocking the breath from her lungs. She felt the edge of the blade at the side of her neck.

“You aren’t going to scream,” Vince said. “Not if you’re smart. You’re going to give me what you gave Sam Bridger last night, and you’re going to keep your mouth shut. If you don’t, Bridger’s throat will be the next one I cut.”

Libby was shaking as Vince pressed the knife a little deeper, forcing her off the trail into the forest, spilling a drop of blood that ran down her neck. He was big, more than twice her size, and the hard look in his eyes said he wasn’t bluffing.

She thought about her self-defense classes, but as long as he held the knife, he was in control. She had to wait, bide her time. She stumbled as he dragged her farther into the forest, turned her around and forced her up against the trunk of a tree. He sheathed the knife, but his big hand remained around her throat, holding her in place.

Libby whimpered as he popped the snap on the waistband of her jeans and unfastened her zipper.

“A smart woman would relax and enjoy herself.”

Bile rose in her throat. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she jerked her knee up into his groin hard enough to make him grunt, but the impact wasn’t hard enough to make him stop.

His mouth tightened. So did the thick fingers around her neck. “I like a little fight in a woman, but not too much.” He ran a finger over her cheek. “Just give me what I want, keep your mouth shut, and you’ll be okay.”

He used his free hand to unzip his pants, and Libby started struggling. No way was she giving in to this animal without a fight. The moment he lowered his head to kiss the side of her neck, she drew back and head-butted him as hard as she could. Pain shot into her skull, and stars appeared behind her eyes. The next instant, Vince was flying backward, a big fist hit him hard in the mouth and he went down.

Big John Coolwater stood over him, his giant hand fisted. “You can leave now, you and your friend. Or you can ride down with us in the morning and face the sheriff. The choice is yours.”

Vince worked his jaw. A trail of blood oozed from a cut at the corner of his mouth. “We don’t know the way back.”

“The horses do. Give them their heads, and they will find their way home. If you have other ideas or plan to make trouble when you get there, I’ll be somewhere behind you. You won’t like what will happen if you make me angry.”

Max walked out of the woods just then, his gaze running over them as he took in the scene. He was smaller than Vince, dark and wiry instead of blond and beefy. “What the hell have you done, Vince?”

“Take him and go,” Big John commanded. “Or face the law tomorrow.”

Max eyed Big John, assessing the situation. Then he turned and nudged Vince’s shoulder with his boot. “Get up, goddammit. I told you not to make trouble.”

“Fine.” Vince rolled to his feet, wiping the blood off his lips with the back of his hand. “I’m sick of these fucking hillbillies anyway. Let’s get our ass on the road.”

They stumbled off toward the horses, Big John right behind them. He stopped and turned. “I will be back in the morning.” He started walking and didn’t turn around again.

Libby took a moment to compose herself. She was trembling all over, her head aching, her mind still spinning. Nausea rolled in her stomach. She took a deep breath and waited until she could control her shaking limbs. Then she adjusted her clothes and started through the trees back up the trail toward camp.

By the time she got there, she had made a decision. If Big John wanted Sam to know about Vince, he would have said something. Sam was responsible for all the people in camp. If he knew what Vince had done, Sam would go after him. If he did, anything could happen while he was gone.

Libby decided to wait, tell Sam in the morning. She prayed Big John would be okay, but there was a calm certainty about the man that assured her he would be.

The camp was quiet when Libby crawled into her tent. A few minutes later, the flap lifted and Sam appeared in the opening.

“I was starting to worry,” he said.

She hoped her voice didn’t tremble. “I was...umm...stargazing,” she lied, hoping he wouldn’t see the moisture in her eyes.

Sam lingered in the doorway, and she thought for a moment he might come inside. It was what she wanted most and the very last thing she wanted.

“Goodnight, Sam,” she said.

A long moment passed. “Goodnight, Libby.” Sam left the tent, zipping it behind him.

Libby could hear his soft footfalls as he returned to his tent. Then everything went quiet.

Tears burned her eyes. If Big John hadn’t shown up when he did, Vince would have raped her. More tears welled and spilled over onto her cheeks. She muffled her sobs with the sleeping bag.

As the hours slipped past and sleep wouldn’t come, Libby thought of Sam and wished he had stayed.