Lauri Robinson (2 page)

Chapter Two

Garret made his way around the dance floor to the area where his mother and several of her older friends sat, clapping their hands to the music. Setting the punch on a makeshift table, he placed one hand on her shoulder, once again noting how fragile she’d become lately.

“Good turnout,” he said above the noise.

“Yes, it is. But the Campbells always have a full house when they put on a party,” his mother replied, nodding her head, which held more gray hair than brown. “Everyone for miles around attends.”

“Yes, they do,” he answered. There’d been a time when they’d had parties in their barn, big ones, but that had been long ago. Lately he’d witnessed time catching up with his mother, and as much as Rory irritated him, he was glad she was there to assist Mother with several things, though for some reason, Rory didn’t want him and his brothers to know exactly how much help she provided.

“Mother,” he said, kneeling down so only she heard. “If it’s Campbell’s party, why is Rory supplying all the punch?”

“She offered to, dear.” Leaning closer, she said into his ear, “Rory doesn’t like to dance but does like to be in attendance.”

“Well,” he said, “there should be someone helping her.”

“By all means, there should be.” Waving a hand toward a group of youngsters, she said, “Go get Grady and Thelma’s daughter. You know which one she is. She’s old enough to help.”

Garret, knowing his mother would have the solution he hadn’t come up with himself, kissed her cheek. “I’ll do that.”

“While you’re at it,” she said, “it wouldn’t hurt you to ask Rory to dance.”

“You just said she doesn’t like to dance,” he reminded her.

Her eyes took on a youthful appeal as she whispered, “All women like to dance, Garret. Some just deny it harder than others.”

“If you say so, Mother,” he said, and gave her a wink before maneuvering past the dancers to where Grace Campbell and her friends sat with their legs dangling off the edge of the hayloft. He climbed halfway up the ladder, told the girls what he needed and jumped off the ladder before they knocked him down in their rush to help Miss Boyle.

The four girls, probably about twelve or so, he’d guess, took over the space between the table and shelf, forcing Rory to the edge, next to where he stood. He grinned even harder when her lips puckered and a scowl overtook her face.

“I didn’t need any help,” she seethed under her breath.

“It was Mother’s idea,” he half lied. “She insisted Grace and her friends were old enough to be helping.”

Clearly miffed, Rory glanced around. Unless he was mistaken—which he highly doubted—her blue eyes held the same hint of longing his mother’s had. Though Rory was trying to hide it as she searched for an excuse to hightail it for parts unknown. Garret wasn’t about to let that happen. He had a bet to win, and the Rose brothers had arrived, which meant the purse was now a full 200. He took her elbow and led her a few steps away from the table to where there weren’t quite as many people. “Now you’re free to dance.”

Her glare could cut glass. “I’ll tell you what I’ve told every other man here tonight.” Sharpening her gaze a bit more, she said sternly, “No.”

The pink-and-white getup she had on tightened over her breasts as she took a deep breath to refill her lungs. Her shape, well defined by the dress, was made for admiring, and he’d done that often enough, admired it. He’d never admit that or let it show. A woman’s sweet body and charm had twisted him once, and that would never happen again.

“Doesn’t any man understand what that word means?”

Garret let his gaze roam over her once more. “What word?”

“
No
,” she answered. “No, I don’t want to dance. I’ve said that a hundred times tonight.”

Playing dumb, he said, “I didn’t ask you to dance. I said you’re free to dance if you so choose.”

“You’re the only one who hasn’t,” she snapped. “The Rose brothers only arrived a few minutes ago and I had to repeat myself five times over to each one of them.”

The setting sun was shining through the wide doors beside them, and while painting the sky an array of colors, it also reflected in her cheeks, made her eyes a deeper blue. It also had her hair, which was pinned on top of her head in a fluffy sort of way with dozens of little curls hanging around the edges, glittering like gold dust.

A noise or movement or some such distraction had him glancing over his shoulder, where he spied close to two dozen men all looking their way. The Rose boys—men, actually; all five of them stood over six feet and not a one of them was married—were positioned at the front of the group. He and his brothers were as tall as the Roses but not as heavy. Those boys were as barrel-chested as racehorses, and he had to wonder just how seriously they held this bet.

“You know,” Garret said, acting as if he’d just come up with the idea, “you could dance with me.”

“Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “Maybe if you danced with me, the rest would quit asking. Leave you alone.”

She frowned and he knew the moment she sensed the men near the barn door. He shifted slightly to block her view.

“Don’t look,” he whispered.

She leaned sideways, trying to see around him. “Why? Who is it?”

He shifted again to continue blocking her view. “No one out of the ordinary. The Rose brothers, Andy Anderson, Ray Ray, Craig DeLong, the Carter cousins.”

She closed her eyes as if gathering gumption or calming a good set of jitters. Intuition had him reaching over and folding his fingers around hers. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Her eyes snapped open. “I am not afraid, Mr. McCoy,” she said. “Annoyed is more how I would describe it.”

The trembling of her fingers belied her answer as much as her eyes did, but he didn’t point it out. “Good,” he said.

“Good?”

He grinned. “Yes, good. I know I could take on most of them, but without my brothers flanking me, the Rose brothers might be more than I can handle.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Defending you.” He tugged on her hand, forcing her to take a step closer so he could whisper. “I couldn’t have a group of men scaring the punch lady. It would ruin the party.”

She attempted to glance over his shoulder again, which he blocked.

“You didn’t want to come tonight,” she said. “Ruining this party would make you happy.”

“Not if someone got hurt,” he said. “I’m not that boorish.”

She blushed, and his blood heated up a good ten degrees. There was always a special scent surrounding her, like the air after a rain, when everything smelled fresh and alive. It lingered, too; he noticed it in the house after she’d been there. Could tell exactly which room she’d been in. Tonight it filled his nostrils and made him almost light-headed.

“Dance with me, Rory.” The idea had become something he wanted even without Ray Ray’s payout.

She shot a glance over his opposite shoulder, and he figured some of the men had moved to get a better look at what was happening. The competitive part of him stiffened. “Dance with me, Rory,” he repeated.

She settled those blue eyes on him skeptically, and it was a long silent moment before she asked, “Why?”

Shrugging, hoping he looked nonchalant, he said, “I’m here until cleanup. You either dance with me, or I’ll help you serve punch all night.”

“There are other—”

“I don’t want to dance with other women,” he interrupted. The truth of that snagged in his chest.

She sighed. “You’re not going to leave me alone until I do, are you?”

He shook his head.

Chapter Three

The pounding in Rory’s temples said this wasn’t a good idea. Because of Jim, she’d been cold and standoffish to every man in town. The eligible ones, that is. The ones who might possibly pursue her and eventually learn her past. Not that she’d encouraged Jim Houston. He’d learned who she was from his travels.

She’d given him what he’d demanded, and he’d left town. She hoped he’d never return, as promised, but she didn’t believe it, which was why she saved every dime possible. Leaving Carson City would be hard. The people were kind, the community good and caring, but once word got out she’d deceived everyone for years, things would be different. At twenty-one she was young enough to start over somewhere else and old enough to do it on her own this time.

Of all the men at the dance tonight, Garret was probably the safest. The one who disliked her the most. He’d never said he didn’t like her, but she’d felt his glares, heard the remarks he’d made about her when she’d insisted Abigail could not stay at home alone—which, besides her limited funds, was the reason Rory hadn’t left town yet. Abigail needed her. She’d left one ailing mother and wouldn’t do it again.

Perhaps all of that was the very reason she was considering his offer. She could relate to how he felt. He was trying to hide it—doing a very good job of it—but she’d seen Emily Harms come through the doorway even though he’d told her not to look. His mother had told her how Garret and Emily—then Rosengren—had been sweethearts before he went out east to law school as his father had wanted, and how a few short months after he left, Emily married Wesley Harms. Abigail said she feared Garret would never marry, that Emily had broken him.

Rory didn’t believe that. Garret was too stubborn, too full of himself to be broken by a woman. However, he rarely attended community functions. He wouldn’t be here tonight if she hadn’t volunteered for him to help set up the party and take down afterward. Garret, of course, thought his mother had volunteered him. He’d figure out a way to paint the sky if his mother asked him to and Rory liked that about him.

Guilt rolled in her stomach. He was here because of her.

“Dance with me, Rory,” he whispered yet again.

Emily Harms was a complete idiot for choosing another man over Garret. No matter how ornery or cantankerous, he hadn’t deserved to be treated so unfairly. Rory knew what that felt like. She knew, too, how he ignored Emily and was only asking her to dance to do so again.

Rory let out the air burning her lungs. “One dance.”

He grinned. “That’s all I asked for.”

For some unfathomable reason, her heart lurched with such suddenness her feet faltered.

Garret’s hold on her other hand tightened. “Are you all right?”

She wasn’t sure if she was all right or not. No, she knew. She may never be all right again. Before Jim, back when all of Carson City thought her the preacher’s daughter, she’d dreamed what it would be like to have Garret court her. He never had, though.

Never would, either. She’d heard him tell his brother Jeb how no one wanted to court the preacher’s daughter. Her so-called father was no longer in Carson City. He’d left more than two years ago. Went down to Oklahoma to convert the Indians the government was relocating there. But she still pretended he was her father; it was better than who she really was.

At one time she’d tried to convince herself that what Jim had discovered wouldn’t change people’s minds about her. But it would, whether she’d continued to clean the church and board the circuit preachers who traveled through regularly since Reverend Boyle had left or not.

“Rory?”

She shook her head to clear her mind, tell herself this wasn’t about her. It was about Garret. Everyone needed an ally at least once in their life, and she could be his, even if it meant giving her a glimpse of a life she could never have. “One dance,” she said, “and then I need to get back to serving punch.”
Back to my life of shame.

“One dance,” Garret agreed, escorting her toward the center of the barn.

Rory kept her gaze averted, feeling eyes watching them. Though it had been years, everyone in town knew how Emily had rejected Garret for the much older banker. Everyone also knew Emily regretted her decision.

Garret stopped right in the middle of the dance floor, where everybody could see them, which had Rory’s cheeks burning. Then he bowed, and her heart threatened to choke her at his gesture of chivalry. She managed to provide a deep curtsy just to prove she could play this up as much as he. He laughed aloud as he took her hand, pulled her within reach and settled his other hand on her side.

Her breath stalled in her lungs as the heat of his palm penetrated her dress and layers of underclothes as if they weren’t even there.
Pretend
, she told herself, and looked up to meet his gaze.

With eyes twinkling brighter than stars, Garret gave a slight head nod as if asking if she was ready. Although she was second-guessing herself at the way every bit of her being tingled, excited to be so close to him, she nodded. Her feet seemed to leave the earth as he began to sweep her across the dance floor.

Oh, heavens. She’d been right. Garret could charm a snake out of its skin. That was what if felt like. As if he’d stripped her out of her outer shell—her clothes, too, considering everywhere he touched had her skin feeling as if it had been sun-blistered.

He was handsome, with his dark hair and clean-shaven jaw, but it was his eyes that held her captive. The way they never left her, and when he tugged her closer, something shocking flared inside her. There was still a respectable distance between their bodies, but it sure didn’t feel that way. Every part of her that felt him was more alive than ever and told her that after dancing with Garret she’d never be the same again.

Three dances later, Rory was out of breath yet laughing as she hadn’t in years. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

The music had stopped and she was kneeling beside Garret, holding his arm as he lay flat out on the dance floor. “What hit me?”

“Shh,” she said close to his ear. “Mrs. Carter lost her balance and took out half the row.”

It had been another Virginia reel and saying no when Garret suggested one more dance hadn’t crossed her mind.

“Did she land on anyone?” His whisper tickled her ear as much as his words did her imagination. Mrs. Carter was a very large woman.

“No,” she answered while attempting to quell her fanciful imagination. Whispering with him had all sorts of wild ideas bouncing about.

“Thank God.” He bounded to his feet, bringing her with him. Cringing, he said, “Sorry. Not a good choice of words in front of the preacher’s daughter.”

Rory tensed against the crash of her joy, the humor of what had just happened, shattering like a mason jar dropped on the floor. She was as far from a preacher’s daughter as one could get, yet keeping anyone from learning that remained a top priority.

Something close to confusion shimmered in his silver-green eyes. “You don’t like being called that, do you?”

The tenderness in his tone was more than she could handle right now, so doing what she did best, Rory played ignorant. “Called what?”

A lifted brow said he saw through her act. Without saying a word, he led her off the dance floor and toward the doorway. Along the way, he assured people he was fine with exaggerated actions and jokes. She walked beside him, pretending to laugh. At least that was what she told herself, that she was pretending because she needed a touch of fresh air. Not because she loved him. Dreamed of marrying him. More right now than ever.

Once outside, where the sun had set yet twilight remained, he gestured for her to sit on one of the many benches created out of overturned buckets and wooden planks, and when he sat down beside her, Rory didn’t know if she wanted to sigh or escape.

Escape. Definitely escape. “I—I have to get back to the punch table.”

With a firm but gentle hold on her arm, Garret kept her seated. “No, you don’t. You can catch your breath first.”

“My breathing is just fine,” she insisted.

That was for sure. Garret had been watching her breasts rise and fall with each breath, and that was affecting him. Severely. He hadn’t danced in years, but it had never done this to him before. “I saw her coming,” he said, trying to change the direction of his thoughts and get his focus off body parts that hadn’t been this excited in some time. “When I saw her stumble, I knew she was going down and thought she might take out the wagon.”

“Edith Carter?” Rory asked.

“Yes, Edith Carter,” he repeated. “That would have ended the dance.”

Rory’s blue eyes turned critical. “That would have made you happy.”

She’d told him that earlier, and it chided him to know she thought him so callous. He was, though, for good reason. Still he said, “I’m not completely heartless. Chester could have broken a leg.” Garret kicked up a leg to tap the ground first with his heel, then with his toe, much like the old fiddle player was known for doing. Mainly to see her smile. “He wouldn’t be able to play without it.”

She smiled, all right, and his heart did a little skip.

“So you put yourself in harm’s way?”

“Had to.” Leaning close to her ear, he added, “I’m just glad she didn’t land on me. She weighs more than my horse.”

“Shush!” Rory slapped his shoulder. “Someone might hear you.”

Who would have thought he’d have this much fun at a dance? Not he. “They’d know who I’m talking about, that’s for sure,” he answered.

She was giggling again, though he could tell she didn’t want to be. Garret glanced around, hoping no one had heard him. Edith Carter was overly large, but she had a heart of gold. Hopefully she hadn’t broken anything skidding across the floor like a turtle on its back.

All thoughts of Mrs. Carter disappeared at the sight of Ray Ray waving a handful of money over his head on the other side of the barn door. Garret made a slight gesture with one hand, telling the other man to sit down. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for Rory to learn he’d just won a bet by dancing with her. Especially him.

“I have to get back to the punch table,” she said.

Seeing how Ray Ray looked about as confused as a rat in an onion barrel, Garret stood. “I’ll help you.”

“There’s no need for that.”

“I insist.” Though it ignited things inside him all over again, he gathered her hand and looped her fingers around his elbow. “I’m not going back on that dance floor. It’s dangerous.” He led her indoors before she could protest any further and before Ray Ray could stop them.

Tonight was one of those nights. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. It was a good thing his brothers were gone on the cattle drive. They’d be laughing up a storm to see him washing cups. Jeb and Toby were the only ones who saw through the reputation his temper had given him. He didn’t mind the reputation. It kept others at bay, too. Those who thought he’d forgive their transgressions.

Garret kept right on washing cups, ignoring the stares and how Ray Ray tried to catch his attention by waving $170 over his head. The only thing he couldn’t ignore was how his body betrayed him. It enjoyed the predicament. Being this close to Rory had him rethinking his claim of never needing a woman.