Rodeo Sweetheart by Betsy St. Amant

every time Sam fell off. If panic had a tangible form, Ethan would have been wearing it.
    Sam handed Piper’s reins to Cole so he could lead the gelding to a guest. She turned to Ethan, the wind whipping her hair in front of her eyes. “Is the rest of your family joining you for the ride?”
    “My mom probably will, as long as she’s nowhere near Piper again.” Ethan laughed. “Do you have a deaf horse?”
    “Very funny.” Sam glanced over her shoulder as Vickie Ames strode into the mounting area in a stark white button-down and jeans. That shirt probably wouldn’t stay pristine for long, but if the Ames family were as wealthy as Sam’s mother kept hinting, Vickie could easily get another ensemble. She could probably fully outfit every rider on the ranch for their entire vacation and never even notice the expense. What did the Ames family do that they were so successful with? She should ask Ethan about his career. Not that it really mattered—the knowledge wouldn’t change the dwindling dollars in the Jensons’ checking account.
    Sam’s mood darkened as she took Miss Priss’s reins and strode toward the start of the trail where the others waited. What would it be like to have that kind of money? Ethan and his family had never wanted for a thing, while Sam and hermother struggled just to pay the electric bill and the gas bill in the same month.
    “Are you okay?” Ethan caught up to Sam and touched her shoulder. “You walked off pretty fast.”
    She eased away from the innocent contact, too upset to care how the touch held just as much spark as it had yesterday in the barn. Fireworks were dangerous, and so was Ethan Ames. She forced a smile. “Fine. Just busy.”
    “Can I help? Partner?” Ethan smiled.
    Sam winced at the teamwork reference. She should have never made a bargain with Ethan, though she supposed it was better than the alternative of him blabbing her secret to her mom. It wasn’t his fault that he had money and a successful family business. There was no reason to take her anger out on him.
    She blew out her breath and fought for control of her exhausted emotions. “I think Cole and I have it under control. Looks like you’re riding Miss Priss again.” She handed Ethan the reins, careful to avoid brushing his fingers in the process, and strode toward Diego. Ethan’s gaze burned into her back the entire way.
    Sam and Ethan might be forced together for the time being, but she didn’t have to like it—didn’t have to like him. He was on vacation, and while it was nice having the extra help for the chores yesterday, Ethan was bound to get bored soon. And once he did, the workload would fall once again on Sam’s weary shoulders, along with everything else that had taken permanent residence there.
    She gripped the saddle horn in one hand and easily swung onto Diego’s back, automatically dropping her heels and squeezing with her lower legs to urge him toward the rest of the group.
    It was a wonder the poor gelding didn’t collapse from the weight of all the problems Sam bore.
     
    Ethan couldn’t stop staring at the back of Sam’s head. At least this time on the trail, he felt somewhat more comfortable in the saddle, and could afford the time spent thinking now that he wasn’t worrying about falling off. His upper body swayed in rhythm to Miss Priss’s smooth steps as the sun warmed the tops of his shoulders. What was Sam’s problem? She’d smiled like she was happy to see him, then turned distant so fast he’d almost gotten whiplash.
    He adjusted his hands on the reins, ducking along with the rest of the string of riders as they cleared a low-hanging branch. Women. Changing their moods more often than Daniel changed his socks. But Sam didn’t seem the type to play the same mind games that the women he was accustomed to often did. Something specific must have happened to douse her spirits during those few minutes in the paddock.
    Only one way to find out what. Ethan clucked to his