Page 9 of Choosing the Montana Cowboy

“What’re you drinking?” he asked.

“Whatever bourbon the bartender brought me.” She held up her empty glass and rattled the ice remaining. “That’s my one and done. Time to switch to the plain stuff.”

Sam grinned and waved to the bartender. “Hey, Mac. MGD for me, and a water for the little lady.”

She thanked him, grateful he was trying to help get her sober, not drunk. As it was, she worried this small buzz she had going might loosen her tongue and have her saying more than she should. Water should definitely help.

As she watched the bartender gather their drinks—because staring at Sam and those intriguing green eyes of his might get her tipsy brain going down the wrong path—Sam’s sandalwood cologne infiltrated the space around them. Good grief, did everything about the man have to be so darned alluring? All too soon, the bartender brought them their drinks, exchanged a quick pleasantry with Sam, then returned to his post behind the bar.

“To Marietta.” Sam clinked his raised beer to her water glass, took a long drag, then met her gaze. “But if that doesn’t work and you need a lift—”

And there it was.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking the two blocks back to the Bramble House,” she said. There would be no crossing any lines between business and pleasure tonight. “On myown.”

*

Sam instantly regrettedthe way he’d worded that, watching a fire light in Natalie’s eyes as she misinterpreted his offer. Now, however, wasn’t the time for her to go and get all stubborn on him. She was in an unfamiliar town at night, and clearly oblivious to the local vultures at the bar rail sizing her up.

Marietta was a great town, but that didn’t mean trouble never found its way here.

“I’m sure you are,” he said, casting a warning look to Louie Hawkins across the way. He took the hint and turned back to watching the television at the other end of the rail. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to make sure you get back safely.”

“And why is that?” she asked, one brow arched in challenge.

A challenge Sam was struggling to resist. How long had it been since a woman had his insides in such a tangle? He took a pull from his beer to cool himself off. “Because it’s how I was raised. I’d do the same for my sister. And for my daughter.”

She nodded and took a drink of her water. “How old is your daughter?”

The same one he’d just gotten a lecture from on not leaving clothes in the dryer? He huffed a laugh. “Fifteen going on thirty.”

“Oh?” Natalie’s eyes brightened with interest. “Does she get that from her mom or her dad?”

“Neither. Gets it from her grandmother. Madison was born with an old soul, same as Sunnie.”

“I can think of worse things.”

So could he. And though it felt at times like she was the more mature one in their relationship, he was damned proud of his daughter. Every smile of hers made each day worth living. “How about you? Any kids?”

Natalie shook her head. “Nope. Was married for a few years, but it didn’t pan out. I’m not anti-kid, but I was glad not to have to drag them through a divorce.”

“Tell me about it.” Sam took a long pull from his beer. He’d never even fathomed the idea of divorce. It wasn’t the kind of thing that ever happened in his family.

“How long have you been divorced?”

The tenderness in her tone disarmed him.

“Five years this spring. Said she missed California. More like, she was missing the Californian she fell for when he came to stay at our lodge.”

Dammit, he hadn’t meant to let that last part slip. Natalie didn’t need to hear him air his family’s dirty laundry. Instead of judge, she sighed.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sam. Divorce sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“Thanks. And agreed. Just wished my kid hadn’t had to experience it.”

Natalie clasped her hands and rested her chin atop them. “How’d she do with it all?”

His mind wandered back to those early, single-again days. Him glaring out windows, at the television, hell, at anything. Madison quiet, processing it in her own way, snuggled up beside him on the couch.

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