The Diva Diaries by Karen Anders Read Free Book Online

cowboy. She watched as he removed the coat and grabbed two baling hooks. He stuck the hooks into a bale of hay and dragged it over to the stalls. Dropping it at her feet, he replaced the baling hooks, picked up a pitchfork and began to fork hay into the first stall.
    Jenna watched him, watched the sheer quality of movement, nothing wasted. She’d seen better-polished men, more well-spoken, but nothing fascinated her like watching Sam do manual labor.
    â€œSo why don’t you want me here?”
    She picked up a pitchfork herself. Sam paused and took notice of her for a moment. Then he shook his head and continued working.
    â€œI didn’t say I didn’t want you here.”
    â€œYou didn’t have to. It’s only for a couple weeks.”
    â€œI’m grateful to you, Jenna. I guess I just like dragging a city girl out of her warm bed to show her what real ranching is all about.”
    â€œWould it surprise you that I get up at this time every morning?”
    He stopped pitching hay and leaned his hands on top of the fork. “That does surprise me.”
    â€œI thought it would. I like practicing first thing in the morning.”
    He looked sheepish. “And I dragged you out here in the rain, interfering with your schedule.”
    â€œI don’t mind, really.”
    He stared at her a moment.
    â€œOkay, it’s wet and it’s miserable,” she admitted.
    He nodded and bent to the hay again. “Let me know next time if I keep you from your practicing.”
    â€œI will.”
    Â 
    H OURS LATER they finished the chores in that small part of the barn. Jenna rolled her shoulders, feeling tight, a bit of fatigue between her shoulder blades.
    Sam saw her movement and concern crossed his features. The big, strong cowboy wanted her off his ranch, but he didn’t want her hurt in the process. The thought gave a little tug on her heart.
    He turned her gently and grasped the top of her shoulders. Using his fingers to massage her neck, his thumbs rubbed deeply and rhythmically around her shoulder blades.
    Every muscle, every nerve in her body froze. Her heart stopped for an instant, then doubled its beat, the blood pushing rapidly through her veins to pound in her pulse.
    His hands gentled, slowed until he was caressing instead of kneading. The silence in the barn thickened, stretched, teased and solidified into something completely different. Something alive. It smelled of leather and wood and hard work. It felt like the unraveling ties of restraint.
    â€œBoss? You in here?”
    Sam released her immediately and cleared his voice before he called out. “In here, Tooter.”
    Tooter came into the area where Jenna and Sam stood now a respectable distance apart. He tipped his hat. “Miss Sinclair.”
    â€œPlease, Tooter, call me Jenna.”
    He nodded and turned to Sam. “Silver Shadow is getting ready to drop her foal and I’m worried about her. She’s not actin’ right.”
    â€œI’ll be right there.”
    Tooter tipped his hat to her again, and said, “Ma’am,” as he left the barn.
    She looked up at Sam. “I see you’re quite in demand here.”
    â€œThat I am. If you’d like to go on up to the house and practice, I’ll check out that pregnant mare.”
    â€œI don’t mind.”
    â€œI’ve already interrupted your schedule enough,” he said, and shrugged into his duster, pulling his hat low over his eyes. “You have that first concert tonight.”
    Jenna didn’t argue. As much as she would like to see a foal born, he had reminded her that music was something much safer, something she understood more than this out-of-control feeling she got whenever he touched her.
    She’d seen firsthand how hurt her father had been when her mother made opera the center of her world. Her brokenhearted father had never recovered and, to this day, Jenna had no idea where he was. Jenna never