Page 11 of Choosing the Montana Cowboy

“It’s not that easy!” She pinched the bridge of her nose and drew in a long, slow breath before meeting his gaze once more. “Site selection takes time and significant research, all of which costs money. If I go back and make that request, they’re going to demand a solid reason why. And not just over a small farming squabble.”

Sam took another drink from his beer, wanting to disagree but knowing she had a point. What was it going to take to get Terakion to see how damaging this resort could be to Marietta?

The resort—that was the angle he hadn’t touched on yet.

“You want more?” he said. “Fine, how about this. If you build on the Nelson property, not only will you be denying us the chance to grow crops for our cattle, but your resort will also be in direct competition with ours. We may not have the fancy-schmancy accommodations you’re promoting, but our lodge and cabin rentals keep at minimum an 80 percent occupancy rate year-round. You’re coming in claiming to be all about supporting the community, but in reality, you’re about to put us out of business.”

“Put you out of business? Sam, our clientele and yours aren’t one and the same. They’re not even in the same ballpark. You have guests on a budget. We’ll be offering luxury accommodations.”

He crossed his arms. “We’ve had guests from all different socioeconomic statuses, thank you very much.Andthose guests come into town and shop. They help support our town’s economy.”

“I didn’t mean—” Natalie stopped herself. Ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. “Look, we’re just going to have to agree to disagree.”

“That’s not really an opt—”

“Listen, it’s late, and I need to get back to my room. I appreciate the talk and the water.” She gathered her things and slid from the booth, then paused to fish out a business card from her bag. “If you come up with any more ideas to help make this project work alongside your property, feel free to give me a call.”

She placed it on the table with a weary smile. “Good night, Sam.”

He waited for her to exit the building before pounding a fist on the table. What was it going to take to get her to see that this resort needed to be built somewhere else? Because he wasn’t giving up; he had his family and his town to protect.

He downed the rest of his beer, tossed a ten on the table, and headed out to his truck. Up ahead, he saw Natalie, walking at a steady pace back to the inn. Stubborn woman, he could have had her there in a fraction of the time. And—argument or not—if she really thought he wasn’t going to make sure she made it back safely, she had another thing coming.

The same thing went for her company’s damned resort. If she thought walking away would end this conversation, then she had a lot left to learn about Montana living. So did her company. Because this battle was far from over.

In fact, it was just beginning.

Chapter Four

Sam left hishouse early the next morning, irritable and groggy. A certain city girl had haunted his dreams, inspired by the sight of her and that perfect ass in those perfect jeans marching up the steps of the Bramble House. Jeans his fingers still itched to throw somewhere else.

Like over the side of his truck bed.

Stop it. The last thing you need is to go falling for another city girl.

Wasn’t that the truth? It’d been five years since Sasha had packed her things and flown south, and he was still licking his wounds. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t look. He just wished the sight of this particular woman didn’t call to him like it did.

The woman sent to jeopardize his family’s livelihood.

“Well, you look like hell this morning.”

He threw a dark look at Gran, the only other Miles family member who woke as early as him. She stood in the center of the lodge’s kitchen, coffee brewed and breakfast cooking. The aroma of her famous steak and egg breakfast instantly set his stomach to grumbling.

“Went to Grey’s last night, was my turn to be on the lookout for Scooter.”

Nick Johnson, aka Scooter, was an old high school buddy. He was also a recovering alcoholic with a known tendency to fall off the wagon this time of year. Not that anyone could really blame him. Sam and the others all agreed they would have taken up drinking, too, if their girl had run off a month before their wedding with a rodeo star passing through the area. Next week was the ten-year anniversary of the “great departure,” so his friends were all on red alert.

“Was he there?”

“Nope.” Sam grabbed a plate and held it out so Gran could serve him his usual—a steaming cut of steak and two eggs, sunny-side up. “But Natalie Wright was.”

Gran’s spatula stopped in midserve. “Did you talk to her?”

“Had to. Local vultures from the other side of the tracks were practically drooling at the bar rail. Felt like joining her at her booth was the right thing to do.”

Gran must have approved of that answer. Her pan-fried steak resumed its journey to his plate.

“Tell me you didn’t say anything damning.”

---