Love Somebody Like You (15 page)

“No, I . . .” She started down the back steps and he walked beside her. “I need to. But I'll start with my sister. Do you still have Penny's phone number?”

“Sure do.” He gave her back the bag and then, one-handed, pulled his cell from his pocket, located the number, and handed her the phone. He took the bag back and they stopped walking while Sally input the number into her own phone.

They stopped at the barn to say good-bye to Heather, who was again looking after Ryland Riding. When the teen told them to have fun, Ben almost chuckled at the doubtful expression on Sally's face.

As for him, he was looking forward to the evening. When he and Sally climbed into his truck and he started the engine, Blake Shelton's “Honey Bee” was playing on the radio. Ben tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, the catchy tune giving him an urge to dance with the pretty lady beside him, and without his sling. He stretched his shoulders. “It's a week since I bust my shoulder, and I'm sick of this damn sling.”

“How's the shoulder feeling?”

“Way less painful. It's definitely healing.”

“You're doing the exercises Monique gave you?”

“Yes, Mother.” Still, he liked the way she wanted to look after him.

After that, they drove in silence, listening to a succession of country classics and newer songs. He might not be able to line dance with this shoulder, but he was damned well taking off the sling and at least getting in a couple of slow dances. That is, if Sally was even willing to dance that way, given how jumpy she was about letting a man touch her.

In the parking lot at the back of the Wild Rose, he noted a silver SUV with
RIDERS BOOT CAMP
and a logo of boots on the side. “Looks like Robin's mom and stepdad are here.”

Sally didn't respond, just clenched her fingers around her big bag and climbed out of the truck. He ushered her in the back door of the inn and they took the elevator to the fourth floor. When she stepped out into the hall, he moved up close behind her.

She scowled at him over her shoulder. “Don't herd me.”

“Just making sure you don't cut and run,” he teased. Feather-light, he touched her shoulder and, to his relief, she didn't jerk away. “Sally, it'll be fun if you let it. Don't stress out.”

She ducked her head. “I feel silly being so nervous over something so . . .” She considered, and he waited. Finally, she said, “Normal.”

He squeezed her shoulder gently, enjoying her warmth and firmness through her shirt. “I'll be here. If it gets to be too much, let me know and we'll leave. But give it a fair shot, okay?”

She glanced up at him. “Thank you.” Then she squared her shoulders, stepped toward Dave and Cassidy's door, and knocked firmly.

Cassidy answered promptly. “I'm so glad you're here. This is going to be fun, dressing up together.” At the moment, she wore a turquoise tank over skinny black yoga shorts, and her feet were bare. Ben sure wouldn't mind seeing Sally dressed that way.

When the three of them walked past the living room, Robin was on the floor with two cute toddlers, playing with colored blocks. “Hi! I'm babysitting tonight. This is my little brother Alex and my aunt Nicki.”

Ben and Sally said hi, then as Cassidy led them into the kitchen, he said quietly to their hostess, “She means her niece, right?”

“Nope. To Robin's chagrin, that toddler is her stepdad's baby sister. Brooke, Evan's mom, had her babies at fifteen and forty-three.”

“Man.” He shook his head. “She sounds like quite a woman.”

“She's amazing. You'll meet her tonight. She and her husband—her second husband—are down in the restaurant having dinner with Jess and Evan. They'll come over to the bar later.”

Dave walked into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a blue-on-blue Western shirt, and offered drinks. Since Ben was driving, he decided he'd stick to one or two beers at the bar, so he accepted a Coke instead. Sally took a glass of ginger ale, then let Cassidy tow her away.

Dave and Ben went into the living room and talked about this and that—the Wild Rose, the rodeo, Ryland Riding—while Robin and the toddlers played. Then Robin said, “It's almost bedtime for these two. Dad, will you watch them while I get the crib ready in my room?”

“Sure.” As his daughter scooted down the hallway, Dave went over and hoisted Nicki into his arms. “Can't resist cuddling a baby.” He came over to Ben, offering him the girl. “Or will you be able to hold her, with that sling?”

Ben had a soft spot for little kids, too. “I can manage.”

Dave eased the girl over to him, and went to lift Alex.

Ben gazed down at dark-haired Nicki, whose eyes studied him curiously. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi there,” he murmured. She was a warm bundle, cute in her flowered tee and miniature jeans. A sweet smell rose from her, some kind of baby shampoo or soap. “I'm Ben and I'm told your name is Nicki. I hear it's almost your bedtime.”

“Sto-ry,” she demanded.

Dave chimed in. “Robin will read you and Alex a story, Nicki.” To Ben he said, “You like kids? Figure on having some?”

“Sure do. Down the road when I find the right woman and I'm ready to settle down.”

“Sally loves kids too, and she's great with them.”

“Yeah, she always has been. I was surprised she and Pete never had any. Although if he was an—” He broke off, not about to say “abuser” while he and Dave held two innocent kids.

Dave's solemn gaze met his. “I hear you.”

From down the hall, female voices broke the serious mood. Expectantly, Ben turned. Cassidy appeared first, clad in snug, figure-flattering jeans, a white Western shirt with turquoise trim, and turquoise cowboy boots. She made a “ta da” flourish with one hand. “Come on, Sally. Don't be shy.”

A moment later, Sally walked into the room. Ben let out a whistle of appreciation, keeping it low so as not to hurt Nicki's ears. Sally looked very much the way she used to, in a close-fitting light yellow shirt with blue stitching tucked into a snug pair of jeans. The top snaps of the shirt were open and her pendant hung around her neck. On her feet were tooled, honey-brown boots and around her slim waist was a leather belt with a Calgary Stampede buckle.

If he wasn't mistaken, she even wore a subtle bit of make-up around her eyes as well as pink gloss on her lips. Aside from her more mature features, the only thing different from the way she looked in the old days was her hair, the short, coppery-gold curls gleaming in the light. “Sally Pantages, look at you. Take a look, Nicki. That's what a barrel racing queen looks like.”

The little girl babbled something that sounded like speech, but without real words.

Sally said, “Ben, you're being silly.” Despite a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks, there was pleasure in her greenish gray eyes.

“Which is pretty much the same thing you always used to say to me.”

She actually laughed. “I suppose it is. You were so full of yourself, and so young.”

“I'm older now, and it's hard to be full of myself when I'm wearing evidence that a bronc got the best of me. So what do you say to giving me a dance?” He cocked his head toward the sling. “I'll shuck this stupid thing and—”

“You will not! I won't dance with you if you take it off.”

“Ha. That means you'll dance with me. You heard her, Nicki. You're my witness.”

“That's not what I said!”

“As entertaining as this discussion is,” Dave said dryly, “I'd like to dance with my wife. Let's take the little ones in to Robin, and then head down to the bar.”

Ben started to rise, juggling Nicki and trying not to jar his bad shoulder. Immediately, Sally was there, reaching for the toddler. “Let me take her.” He passed Nicki over. His heart gave a tender throb at the glow on Sally's face as she smiled at the child.

Murmuring to Nicki, Sally followed Dave down the hall. Ben enjoyed the feminine sway of her hips in those borrowed jeans. He realized Cassidy was watching him.

“I'm glad you're doing that girl stuff with Sally,” he said. “Her life's pretty much all work, no play.”

“I know. Dave and I've tried to get her to do this kind of thing before, but she always resisted. Guess there's something about having you here . . .” She studied him inquisitively.

“A reminder of old times, perhaps.”

“Oh, I'm sure that's it.” There was humor in her tone.

Seemed maybe her female intuition told her there was something going on between Sally and him. He only hoped Sally was starting to feel the same way.

Sally and Dave returned then. Cassidy linked her arm through Sally's and steered her toward the door. Ben and Dave followed.

Down on the ground floor of the inn, they walked through the lobby and into a nearly full dining room decorated like a ritzy old-fashioned saloon, and then on to the bar. Ben glanced around, immediately feeling at home. He'd been in dozens—more like hundreds—of Western bars, and the Wild Rose's was one of the nicest.

Three or four dozen patrons sat at tables or along the bar or stood chatting. They ranged from late teens to white haired. Most were dressed like Ben and his companions, though a couple of girls wore denim miniskirts with their cowboy boots and another couple had long skirts.

Tim McGraw was singing about how he was looking for “that girl,” and the clack of pool cues hitting balls sounded from a back corner. A slight, pleasant scent of beer and freshly cooked French fries hung in the air. Ben's stomach growled.

The dance floor was empty, but likely the place would get rocking later. He sure hoped he could hold Sally to that semi-promise of a dance or two.

Chapter Twelve

Sally kept close to Ben as the four of them entered the bar and Dave and Cassidy exchanged greetings with numerous people. Her heart fluttered. So far, tonight had been a little overwhelming: the girly fussing with Cassidy, Ben's teasing flattery, the sight of him snuggling that adorable child so comfortably, then the absolute rightness of holding Nicki in her own arms.

While Cassidy went to speak to the bartender, Dave snagged a table for four and Sally sank into a chair. She gazed around, trying to settle her nerves. She'd been here recently, for Dave and Cassidy's wedding reception. The room had been done up fancier; now it felt more like the kind of place where she used to hang out. The wooden furniture was rustic but comfortable, light glinted off bottles of alcohol behind the bar, cowboy-style paintings decorated the walls, and country music played on a jukebox.

A smile teased at her lips. A Western bar. If she was going to practice being “normal,” what better place? There was no reason that tonight, being here with her friends, should be scary.

When a brown-haired waitress in a pink Western shirt and bolo tie came by, Dave said, “Beer? We have a nice pale ale.” He looked first at Ben, then cocked an eyebrow toward Sally.

Ben said, “Sounds good.”

Sally pressed her lips together, deliberating. But really, how could she be in a Western bar and not drink beer? “Sure. Me, too.”

“And I'm starving,” Ben said. He opened the bar menu that sat on the table, laying it so she could read it, too. Neither of them had eaten dinner, both working up until the time they'd needed to shower and dress.

Her gaze lit on something she loved and hadn't had in years. “Nachos with the works.”

“And I'll have a steak sandwich with mushrooms, please,” Ben said. “Cooked medium rare. And fries.” He made a rueful face. “I try to watch my carbs, but those fries smell so good.”

“They are,” the waitress promised.

“How about you add an extra order for the table,” Dave said to her. “If Ben has some, Cassidy's going to want them, too.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

After the waitress left, Sally took her cell from her shirt pocket and double-checked that she'd set it to vibrate.

“Does this take you back to the good old days?” Ben asked her.

She smiled at him. “Yeah, it does.” Her gaze lingered. The black shirt set off his dark skin, and the cinnamon stitching echoed the color of his eyes and the highlights in his dark hair.

Cassidy returned bearing a tray with four beer bottles. “Want a glass, Sally?”

“No, the bottle's good.”

Cassidy took the empty chair on Sally's right. It was reassuring having her there. Though the other woman was bubbly and outgoing, she also had a sensitive, supportive side.

Ben raised his bottle in a salute to Dave. “You've done a great job with this hotel.”

“Thanks. She's a gorgeous old building. She deserves it.”

Sally had just tasted her beer when two couples approached the table. Though she had only met them twice before, they'd been friendly. Besides, Dave, Cassidy, and Robin spoke about their relatives so often, Sally felt like she knew them pretty well.

When they greeted her, she smiled back. “Hi, folks. I'd like you to meet my old friend, Ben Traynor. Ben, this is Robin's mother, Jess Kincaid, and her husband, Evan.” Jess was an adult version of her daughter, an attractive woman with a nice figure and glossy chestnut hair about the same color as Ben's eyes. Evan was a tall, handsome man with sun-streaked brown hair.

“And this is Brooke Brannon,” Sally went on. “She's Evan's mom, though you'd never believe it to look at her.” Brooke, with her fit body, serene face, and wavy blond hair, looked way too young to be the mother of a thirty-year-old. “And this is her husband, Jake.” He was a striking, muscular man with black hair.

After they all exchanged greetings, Cassidy said, “Would you guys like to join us?”

They agreed, and Evan and Jake pulled up another table. Everyone shifted closer together.

Ben's sleeve brushed Sally's. A simple touch of fabric against fabric, yet her skin heated with awareness. A week ago, she'd have jerked away in anxiety. Now it wasn't fear that made her move her arm. It was that disconcerting tug of attraction.

The sensation of being female, sensual, aware of a man was hard to resist. The last time she'd been attracted to a man, it had gone horribly wrong—but Ben wasn't Pete. He'd leave in a week or two. At most, what he wanted from her was sex. He wasn't going to fall in love with her, marry her, and want to possess and control her, to shape her into his notion of the perfect wife.

The others were talking about the food at the Wild Rose, which Sally had only sampled at the wedding reception, when she'd been too socially uncomfortable to do more than nibble.

But now she'd have her chance, because their waitress was here, delivering their order. The nachos looked delicious, served with cheese, salsa, black beans, guacamole, and sour cream. Using her fingers, Sally dug in. The combination of flavors was perfect.

Ben inhaled a couple of fries. “Taste as good as they smell.” He turned to Jess. “Robin mentioned your Riders Boot Camp. Sounds like a great place. How long has it been running?”

Enthusiastically, Robin's mother filled him in, with others in the family chipping in information. Though the intensive riding program had been Jess's idea, it was obvious that everyone else at the table was involved and enthusiastic.

Sally, listening as she ate nachos and snagged an occasional fry, was reminded of the way her family and friends had supported and cheered for her when she'd been barrel racing. After that, it had been just her and Pete. He'd been so adamant that they be self-sufficient.

When he died, she'd been determined never to depend on anyone again, for fear of losing control of her life. Hiring Corrie as an assistant had made a big difference in lightening her load, but Sally hadn't depended on her. She could still handle Ryland Riding on her own.

As for Ben, he'd done more than lighten the load. He turned the dreariest chores into teamwork, praised her teaching skills, and cheered for her when she and Melody raced around the barrels. She didn't depend on him. But when he headed back to the rodeo circuit—

His good shoulder bumped hers, interrupting her train of thought. “You okay?” he murmured close to her ear, his breath stirring her hair. His closeness sent one of those disconcerting sensual ripples through her blood.

“Yes.” And she would be okay after he left, too. She'd grown used to being alone. But she'd miss him in so many ways.

“By the way, Sally,” Brooke said, “I had a client at the salon today whose seven-year-old daughter is interested in taking riding lessons. I suggested she call you.”

“Thanks. That's nice of you.” Brooke worked at a salon called Beauty is You, and was kind enough to not make snide comments about Sally's do-it-herself haircut.

“Something I've learned about Caribou Crossing,” Brooke said, “is that if you're a decent person and you try hard, folks are more than willing to help you out.”

“Very true,” Jess said. She turned to Ben. “I want to hear about the rodeo. That's a career I thought about when I was a girl.”

“One of the many careers you thought about,” Evan teased. “If it involved horses, you considered it.”

She made a loose fist and popped her husband lightly on the arm. “Says the man who thought he wanted to be a hot-shot investment counselor in New York. Now here you are, back in Caribou Crossing, advising people on how to plan for their retirement.”

“What can I say?” he said easily, reaching for her hand and weaving his fingers through hers. “In the end, it was all about a woman.”

“It's always about a woman,” Jake Brannon said with a wink at his wife.

“Or a man,” Cassidy put in with a wink of her own at Dave.

That was how it had been for Sally. She'd moved to Caribou Crossing because Pete had found the spread here. And, she now guessed, because he'd wanted to separate her from her family and her old life.

“Not that Caribou Crossing isn't worth falling in love with all by itself,” Cassidy said. “It gets into your blood.”

“True,” Sally agreed. Even though her marriage hadn't worked out, and she now regretted being estranged from her family, she did love the splendid countryside.

“It does seem like a terrific place,” Ben said.

But,
Sally thought.

Sure enough, he went on. “But what's in my blood is rodeo. It'll be a few years before I'm ready to give it up and put down roots.”

Sally toyed with a tortilla chip. For some people it was a place, for others it was a person, and for some, like Ben, it was away of life. She'd enjoy this short time with him, then wish him well when he returned to the circuit. After he'd gone she'd check his standings now and then, and see if there were any new videos on the Internet. Maybe they'd e-mail occasionally.

She really would miss him. As a friend. Only a friend. A male friend who sent tingles of sensuality through her, awakening her female, sexual side. Not that she was convinced she wanted that side to stir to life. Sexuality, love, those things led to relationships. She'd been there, done that, had the scars to prove it. Being alone was safer.

Yet since Ben had re-entered her life, safety was seeming a little dull....

The waitress came to clear the table. “What else can I bring you?”

Ben said, “One more beer, but that's my limit. Sally?”

To her surprise, her beer bottle was almost empty. “A glass of ginger ale, please.”

When the waitress had gone, other patrons of the bar drifted by the table, saying hi to the people there and getting introduced to Ben, and often to Sally as well. It was embarrassing that she'd lived here seven years yet knew so few people. Still, they did seem friendly, and three even said they'd be in touch regarding lessons or boarding.

After the third, Sally said to her friends, “I've run ads in the
Caribou Crossing Gazette
and online. People should already know about Ryland Riding.”

“People like to do business with someone they've met,” Jess said. “Hang out at the Wild Rose every now and then, and you'll get more clients for sure. Get your hair done by Brooke at Beauty is You and chat with the other customers.”

“Come to Days of Your with me,” Cassidy chimed in.

Fortunately, someone else came by the table, which saved Sally from having to respond. She reached for her beer bottle and took one final sip. Become part of the community? Could she do that? She was so out of practice. Could she be friendly, yet still portray a professional image?

Even tonight, what were people thinking, seeing her here with Ben? He was her old friend, her volunteer assistant; the two of them knew that's all there was to it. But were people speculating, gossiping? She had to be careful of her reputation, as Pete had always told her.

Her heartbeat speeded with anxiety. She'd been enjoying herself, but now she felt overwhelmed again.

Ben leaned close. “You're overthinking again. Go to the thrift shop with Cassidy. Get yourself a couple of pretty shirts. What can it hurt?”

 

 

Watching the stress lines ease from around Sally's eyes, Ben smiled. “There you go. Relax and take it one step at a time.”

Though hanging out with friends on Sunday night was a totally normal thing for Ben, he knew that for Sally it was a big step. A step away from her hermitlike existence. He hoped no one pushed her too hard, or she'd retreat back into her shell.

On the subject of pushing too hard, he wondered how she'd react if he suggested a dance. Several couples had been dancing the two-step and slow dancing to music playing on the jukebox. Right now, Kenny Chesney was singing the tug-the-heartstrings song, “Come Over.”

Making sure his gesture caught Sally's eye, Ben started to undo the wrist cuff of his sling.

“No,” she cried. “Ben, you can't take off the sling!”

He stopped. “I'll leave it on if you dance with me.”

“I don't want to dance.” Her eyes belied her words, flicking a yearning glance toward the dance floor.

“Then I guess I'll have to take off the sling and find someone else to dance with.”

Her lips pressed together in a tight line. “I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding someone. And if you want to take off the sling and delay your return to the circuit, then far be it from me to stop you.”

A chuckle burst from his lips. “Not that you give a damn about any of that.”

“Of course I don't.” She said it huffily, but a moment later her lips twitched with humor.

“Well, I do. I want to heal as fast as I can.” He paused. “And I don't want to dance with anyone but you.” He stood and held out his right hand. When she didn't take it, he said, “Aw, come on, Sally, this is embarrassing, being rejected in front of all these people.”

By now, most of the others at the table were listening. Cassidy chipped in with, “Poor Ben, that is pretty humiliating. Sally, why not take pity on the guy and give him one dance?”

The Kenny Chesney song ended and a catchy rhythm started up.

“Oh!” Sally's eyes lit. “Keith Urban. ‘Somebody Like You.' I love this song.”

“Me, too,” Jess said, leaping to her feet. “C'mon, Ev, let's dance.”

“Keith Urban,” Cassidy said, “is seriously hot. You ever seen that guy play the guitar? Dave, dance with me.”