The Last Real Cowboy. DONNA ALWARD
him. He was only here because his mother had asked and he couldn’t say no to her. Especially not now. In his mind, today’s meeting was supposed to be a token appearance and then he could be on his way attending to more important matters.
Instead he found himself sticking around. Aggravating Miss Prim and Proper was a side benefit he hadn’t anticipated, and it took his mind off the troubles at home.
“By all means,” he said slowly, letting a grin crawl up his cheek purely to irritate her. “Educate me.”
Damned if she didn’t blush, he thought with some satisfaction. He tilted his head, studying her. Pretty, he decided, or she could be if she let her hair down a little. Now, as it had been at the fundraiser, it was pulled back into a somewhat severe twist, with only a few nearly black strands rebelling by her ears. Her eyes were a stunning color, too, a sort of greeny-aqua that he’d never seen before and he wondered if she wore tinted contacts. As he watched, she put her glasses back on—armor. He recognized the gesture. He was the same way with his hat.
“Is your father going to be all right?” she asked quietly, surprising him. He’d expected facts and figures from Miss Neat and Tidy.
“I think so,” he replied honestly. “He’s home from the hospital and Mom insists on nursing him herself. Since he requires round-the-clock care, something had to give in her schedule. Your foundation was it.”
“Of course. Please give her my best and tell her not to worry about a thing.”
Sam uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Let me be honest, Ms. Beck. I don’t want to be here. With my dad sick, the running of Diamondback Ranch falls solely to me. I don’t have time to sit on charity boards and shake hands, okay? All I’m concerned about is the responsible management of the foundation so my mother’s donation is held to a … certain standard.”
She looked like she’d just sucked on a lemon. “The Diamonds won’t be associated with anything substandard,” she replied sharply. “I get it, Mr. Diamond.”
She made it sound as though it was a bad thing. Four generations had gone into making Diamondback what it was—the biggest and best ranch in the county. The standards set by his ancestors were a lot to live up to. And it wasn’t just the responsibility of taking the ranch into the future that he carried on his back. Lord knew he loved his mother, but at age thirty-seven he was getting tired of the question of when he was going to provide a fifth generation. When the hell did he have time? His father was seventy-two, his mother in her late sixties. The ranch was bigger than ever and facing new challenges every day. His latest idea—making Diamondback more environmentally friendly—was taking up the rest of his waking hours. And now, with his father being so ill, it made him think about what would happen to Diamondback. To the family. He rubbed a hand over his mouth. Good Lord. Now he was starting to think like his mother. Men weren’t supposed to have biological clocks, were they? So why did he suddenly hear ticking?
Now his mother had lassoed him into sitting on this silly board because the Diamonds had donated some land and a house for Miss Goody Two-Shoes to turn into a women’s shelter. And he had said yes because Molly had looked very tired and worried and family was important. He didn’t plan on being actively involved. He’d write a damned check and keep his hands off.
“Look, we provided the location. What more do you want?”
He hadn’t thought it was possible that she would sit up any straighter but she did—her spine ramrod-stiff as her nostrils flared. “The spot on the board was your mother’s condition, not mine.”
“I know that,” he answered, his annoyance growing. What had he done that had made her so hostile? Surely offering a smile and a glass of wine wasn’t a crime? And he hadn’t meant to be late today. “What I mean is, what in particular do you want from me?”
He heard the sharp intake of breath and could nearly hear the words spinning in her head: not a thing. Instead she put down her pen, looked him dead in the eye and said, “Your assurance that you won’t withdraw funding and that you’ll stay out of the way.”
“That’s blunt.”
“Would you rather I was less direct?”
There was a glimmer of respect taking hold in the midst of his irritation. “Not at all. Please. Be honest.”
But his invitation was met with silence. He wondered what she wanted to say, what she was holding back.
“Perhaps I should mention the elephant in the room,” he suggested. “The fundraiser.”
“What about it?”
But now he heard it—a tiny wobble, the smallest bit of uncertainty. “You really didn’t know who I was?”
“And that surprises you, doesn’t it? Because everyone knows Sam Diamond.”
He raised an eyebrow at her sarcastic tone. “Frankly, in this area? Yes.”
“You really do have an inflated ego.”
Sam chuckled. “Are you trying to hurt my feelings, Ms. Beck? Look, you passed up the opportunity for a free drink. I’m not going to cry in my beer over it.” But the truth was he had felt snubbed. Not because he thought he was God’s gift but because she’d been standing alone and he’d taken pity on her. She was too beautiful to be hidden in a corner all night. And all he’d got for his trouble was a cold no, thank you and a chilly breeze as she left his presence in record time.
“Well, that’s settled then.” She ran a hand over the side of her hair, even though he couldn’t see a strand out of place. It probably wouldn’t dare be so impertinent. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do.”
“More important than impressing your main benefactor? Tsk, tsk.”
He didn’t know what made him say that. Sam didn’t usually resort to throwing his weight around. Something about Angela Beck rubbed him the wrong way. It was as though she’d sized him up at first glance and found him wanting. And that grated, especially since he was already in a foul mood. He’d been late when he prided himself on punctuality. His last meeting with the engineers for the biogas facility had gone well over the time expected and had had less than satisfactory results. Sam was used to being ahead of the curve, not behind it.
He was set to apologize when she stood, placing her palms flat on the table. “This is about helping abused women, not stroking your ego. Your mother understands that. Perhaps you can suggest an alternative proxy for the board position as clearly you do not care about the cause.”
Well, well. She had fire, he’d give her that. And it was all wrapped in a package that momentarily took his breath now that he could see her from head to … well, mid thigh, anyway. She had curves under the neat and tidy librarian clothes—straight black skirt and plain buttoned-down blouse. But she had him to rights and he knew it. And they both knew that Molly had stipulated a Diamond family member sit on the board and not the other way around. He was the only other Diamond in Cadence Creek. There was no one else.
He stood slowly, reached for his hat and put it back on his head. “Ma’am.”
He was nearly to the door when he heard her sigh. “Mr. Diamond?”
He paused, his hand on the door handle. He turned his head to look at her and realized she’d taken off her glasses again. Her eyes really were stunning. And he shouldn’t be noticing.
“Your mother didn’t believe in simply throwing money at a problem,” Angela said quietly. “She believed in being part of the solution. I find it strange she’d ask you to take her place if she didn’t think you’d hold up that end of the bargain.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t care, or that Butterfly House wasn’t a good cause. He just had too much on his plate. Angela Beck was being far too smart. She’d worded her last statement in just the right way to flatter and to issue a finely veiled challenge at the same time.
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