The Rancher's Dance (20 page)

“More,”
she repeated. “Which means she was already upset. Because you made a point of telling her I'm going back to New York?”

“It's true, isn't it? What else do you want me to say?”

Her arms unlocked from around her waist and she reached out to him but he caught her wrists before her hands could touch him. “Don't.”

Her fingers curled into her fists. “Why not? Because it gets under your skin?” She yanked her hands free. “We
both know that it does. We proved that last night.
Several
times.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “I'm not denying that.”

“Of course not. The sex was great.”

He looked pained. “Lucy.”

She wasn't even half finished, though. Not when the sharp pain inside her chest was driving her onward. “Don't call it what it was?” She leaned closer to him, lowering her voice. “We had S-E-X. You're a world-class lover, Beck. A really good—

“Enough,” he barked. “Just because I can't be the man you deserve, doesn't mean you have to cut down making love with me.”

There was a burning deep behind her eyes. “How very sensitive-sounding of you.”

His eyes turned dark. He stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him none too gently. “Are you trying to provoke me?”

Lucy swallowed the knot in her chest but held her ground, staring up at him. “Would it do any good if I did?”

He exhaled roughly. “I shouldn't have touched you.”

The burning was widening.
“Why?”

“Because it's too complicated.”

She shook her head. “It's only complicated if you want it to be.”

“Shelby's way too attached to you.”

“This isn't about Shelby and you know it.” She was shaking but she still lifted her chin. “This is about you and me and the fact that I'm getting too close for your comfort.” She swallowed hard and went for broke. “You know I'm in love with you and if you felt nothing for me in return, it probably wouldn't even bother you. But instead, you're
getting cold feet because I'm crowding into the space you reserve only for Harmony!”

He was stock-still.

But he didn't deny it and her legs felt even more unsteady. “Beck.” She had to stop and choke down the knot in her throat again. Only the rhythmic flexing in his jaw gave her the courage to stand there and not turn and run. “I'm not trying to push anyone out of your heart, least of all someone you've loved. I would never try to do that.”

“It doesn't matter,” he said again. “You're going back to New York.”

Ask me to stay!
Her nose burned. But all he did was look at her. She caught her lip between her teeth and gazed out over the beauty of the land surrounding the home he'd built. Here. In this area of the world. Only because it was the same area where his wife had been born.

“You know, I never thought I'd love anyone more than I loved ballet.” Her voice was hoarse. “And it has nothing to do with my knee. Or some regret for what I've missed out on because of the choices I've made.” She looked up at him. “I always thought I
had
to choose between one or the other.” She blinked and a tear spilled over. But she was damned if she was going to be ashamed of them now. “But I was wrong. A heart's built to love. Period. And its walls are more expansive than I ever dreamed.”

“I know what a heart can do.” His voice sounded like gravel. “It made a decent man out of me when Harmony's heart decided on me.”

The lump in her chest felt permanently lodged. “You
are
a good man. But do you honestly believe that her heart feels better knowing that you're never going to use
yours
again?” She looked into his eyes.

And her heart sank.

It didn't matter that she could see the regret there. Or the pain in the set of his jaw.

He wasn't going to change his mind.

Not now.

Not ever.

No amount of waiting was going to change that.

She drew in a shaking breath. “I didn't know Harmony. But I know you. And I
know
your daughter. And I know that's not what your wife would want.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “You don't even have to love me, Beck. But I pray to God that someday, you let yourself love
someone.
Because that's something that would actually honor the woman and the life you shared.” She leaned up and pressed her lips against his cheek. “At least it would if it had been me,” she finished in a whisper.

Then she turned around and walked down the wide stairs of that lovely house.

She didn't look back.

She didn't count on the miniature bullet that streaked from the side of the house before she could reach the safe haven of her truck, and didn't even have time to swipe her wet cheeks before Shelby pelted against her, wrapping her arms around her waist, burying her face in her stomach.

“You can't leave,” Shelby cried.

Lucy crouched down, hugging the girl close. She stroked her hand down Shelby's silky hair. “Baby, don't cry. It'll be all right.”

“But Daddy says you're going back to New York.”

Lucy closed her eyes. She pressed her cheek to the little girl's head. “I know he did,” she whispered. “But even though they try really hard to, daddies sometimes don't know everything.”

Shelby looked up at Lucy. Her eyes were gold and as shining as wet amber. “You're never gonna leave?”

“I can't say never,” she said softly. “But I'm not going anywhere right now except home to the Lazy-B where my mom and dad are.”

Shelby's breath hitched. “You're gonna come to my picnic at school?”

Could she ache any more deeply? “I promised you that I would, didn't I?”

Shelby nodded. “I
hate
Daddy. I told him so.”

Lucy tucked her hand beneath Shelby's chin. “Don't do that,” she said huskily. “Your daddy loves you more than anything in this world. He needs you to love him back just as much.” She kissed Shelby's flushed nose. “And it wouldn't matter if I went back to New York or if I am here. I am
always
going to love you. Now.” She turned Shelby around until she faced the side of the house. “Go back inside and tell your dad that you love him. You'll both feel better.”

Shelby took a halting step but looked back, her expression pale and pinched. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

 

“Shelby, eat your fried chicken.” Beck tried to get his daughter to focus on the paper plate sitting on her lap rather than on the crowd milling around the playground.

It was the first day of school. “Real school” in Shelby's vernacular.

But the first day of “real school” was only a half day for the first through third graders and came along with the family picnic.

And his daughter was still too busy looking around her to eat what was on her plate.

All Beck wanted to do was get out of there and go home. It was hard enough being surrounded by screaming, excited children and their parents without constantly
being reminded of Lucy. Everywhere he looked he saw something—or someone—who reminded him of her.

Lucy's red-haired cousin, Sarah, who taught third grade at the school and was doling out slices of sheet cake. Her old boyfriend and now cousin-in-law, Evan Taggart, who'd brought a bunch of baby piglets to show off. Even Jake and J.D. Forrest were there with two horses—one as beautiful as the finest thoroughbreds and one the saddest looking horse that Beck had ever seen. And then there were Shelby's friends who'd been taking Lucy's impromptu dance lessons and were twirling around as much as they were eating.

Even there, on his own blanket, with his own daughter, he was pelted with reminders. From Shelby, of course.

But also from Stan and Susan, who were sitting next to each other, poring over calendars and to-do lists as they talked nonstop wedding details.

It had been ten days since Lucy had walked off his porch. Ten days since she'd walked out of their lives.

Because he'd shoved her onto the path.

“Shelby. What are you waiting for?
Eat
your chicken.”

She gave him an injured look. “I'm waiting for Lucy.”

His jaw tightened. He ignored the look Stan gave him. “I told you. She's not coming.” He'd finished the last of the trim work over at the Lazy-B last week. Lucy had been gone. He knew it because Cage had told him he'd taken her to the airport.

“She is too coming,” Shelby insisted and crossed her arms dramatically. “She promised.”

God help him.

“If you're not going to eat, then there's no point in staying.”

She glared at him but picked up the crispy-coated drum-stick and took a bite. And proceeded to chew so slowly that his patience thinned even more.

Then she dropped the piece of chicken and scrambled to her feet, the plate falling potato salad–side down on the blanket underneath them. “See?” She gave him an I-told-you-so look as she pointed. “There!” And she stomped away from him, the short ruffled skirt of her pink dress bouncing around her legs.

Beck looked and was almost afraid that he was seeing things. Because it
was
Lucy.

Looking like some sort of vision in a pale blue dress that floated around her slender ankles while her long, fair hair danced around her shoulders.

“Guess Shelby had more faith than you,” Stan murmured beside him.

Beck glared.

His father lifted his hands, looking innocent. “Just saying.”

Beck grimaced and looked toward Lucy again, only to realize she was carrying a stack of papers that she was distributing among the families there. She stopped the second Shelby caught up to her, though, and crouched down to open her arms for a hug.

Beck's chest ached. “What the hell's she doing here?” He looked at his father. Then at Susan. She was related to Lucy in a manner of speaking. “Do you know?”

Susan just shrugged, looking mildly amused. “Why don't you go ask her?”

“You're a big help,” Beck muttered but without much heat. Because he really did like the woman. And then the point was moot because Shelby had Lucy's hand clutched in hers and they were both heading toward them.

Lucy didn't look at Beck, though. Instead, she greeted Stan and Susan, sounding warm and sincere. Then she stuck out one of the papers she was holding toward Beck. “I expect you to sign her up,” was all she said.

Then, with a brilliant smile and wave, she turned and cheerfully greeted the family sitting next to Beck's. Shelby trotted after her, and Beck saw Lucy hand her a stack of the papers and nod. Shelby started skipping around the other attendees, distributing the papers herself.

He looked down at the page she'd shoved in his hand. It was a flyer, announcing the grand opening of Buchanan Ballet & Dance. He frowned and shoved the flyer at his father. “Did you know about this?”

Stan just gave him a look. “D'you think I wouldn't have mentioned it if I had? Maybe you'd have stopped stomping around like a bear with a sore paw.”

His fingers crumpled the flyer as he strode after Lucy, catching up to her near the dessert table.

“I want to talk to you.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were as pale and blue and distinctive as ever, just the way they'd been haunting his every hour. “The schedule is on the flyer. Shelby would be in the beginner's class, obviously. You have three different days to choose from. Fill out the form today or later. You can mail or drop it off.” She looked away from him and stopped in front of the dessert table. “Hey, Sarah. Can I have a piece?”

Her cousin's gaze went from Lucy to Beck. “Have as much as you like.” She waved her hand over the cake. “We've got oodles left yet to get rid of.”

Lucy transferred a slice to a napkin, looked at the flyers she still held, then pushed them into Beck's hand. “Hold these for a minute.” She picked up her cake and scooped up a swirl of white-and-pale-green icing with the tip of her tongue before moving away, aiming for the swing set that was being ignored in favor of the horses the Forrests had brought.

His gut tight, he followed. “What sort of game are you playing?”

She raised an eyebrow as she settled herself on one of the swings. “You mean the swings?” She pressed one pointed toe of her sandals against the sandy ground, pushing herself back in the swing.

“
No,
I do not mean the
swings.
”

She pointedly looked around him and set her swing moving again with her toe. “Watch your tone, Beck. There are children nearby.”

He stepped in front of her and grabbed the chains, halting the slow arch. The swing jerkily stopped mid-swing, and her knees bumped his legs. “This game.” He brandished the handful of flyers.

She gave a haughty sniff. “I really don't appreciate you calling my business a
game.
”

It was a wonder she couldn't hear his teeth grinding. “Dammit, you
left.
Your father told me so!”

“I had a few things to tie up,” she said coolly. “And now I'm back.”

“To stay?”

For the first time, her gaze shied away from his. “My rates are reasonable,” she said. “And for any children in Weaver who want to take a class but can't afford it, I've been able to set up a simple scholarship program, thanks to Jake. He suggested it. And will fund it for at least the first five years.”

“Five
years?
” Beck nearly choked.

“That's what I said.” She tucked the last small bite of cake in her mouth and delicately licked her fingertips before wiping them with the napkin. Then she jiggled the chains. “If you don't mind?”

“I do mind.”

She looked pained. “I came from Weaver long before
you did, Beck. I have every right to move back and go into business if I want. I'm ready for new challenges.” Then she hopped off the rubbery swing seat even though it meant bumping into him. “And it has nothing to do with you,” she muttered as she slipped beneath his arm.