turn like he was about to leave but stopped. “Oh, and tonight, we’re…” He dropped his gaze for a second before looking me in the eye again. “The folks and I, we’re going into town this evening. To a country club.” He paused again. “Do you want to go?”
“A country club?” Something told me this wasn’t the same kind of country club I’d been to in my other life. Something else told me my heart shouldn’t have started racing like this, and my knees shouldn’t suddenly be this unsteady. I smiled, hoping it didn’t seem too forced. “Um, sure. Yeah, I guess. Sounds like fun.”
His eyebrows jumped. “Really? Great.” He smiled, though I couldn’t decide if it was forced or nervous. Maybe both. “We’re leaving at six thirty, so just meet me in front of the house.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be there.”
He left the barn and left me standing there wondering just who the hell he was and what he’d done with Dustin King. First he was looking down his nose at me and telling me to steer clear of certain horses, and now this? Offering to let me work with his horses and inviting me out this evening?
Shaking my head, I went back to work. I wasn’t so sure about socializing with Dustin, but now that the offer was on the table, I did like the idea of getting off the ranch for a little while. I’d made all of two trips off the property since I got here, once to the grocery store in town and once to run an errand for John. Apparently, it was possible to get some cabin fever when the cabin in question was thirty-five wide-open acres of horse country.
After I’d brought the horses in from their pastures and made sure everyone was fed, I went back to my side of the duplex to get cleaned up. It occurred to me as I looked through my clothes in the old oak dresser that I should have asked Dustin what people customarily wore to this place. I hadn’t been to any country bars before—I assumed that was what country club meant in this context—and for all I knew, this could have been a jeans-and-a-cowboy-hat place, or the women could be wearing giant square-dance skirts. Not that I’d feel any less out of place either way.
And whatever the dress code, I hadn’t packed many clothes to begin with. Most of what I brought with me was for wearing around the farm. Jeans. T-shirts. Heavier clothes in case I was still here when that bitter Eastern Washington winter rolled in.
At least I’d grabbed a few favorite earrings and bracelets; they had some sentimental value, and I guess I must have been afraid someone would take off with them if I left them in the house. And I did have the foresight to bring a handful of button-up blouses on that off chance I decided to go someplace that didn’t involve dust and mud. But were any of those appropriate for the place we were going tonight?
I glanced up at the mirror above the dresser and laughed. Was this really me? Fretting over having nothing to wear? Wow. That was new.
But then, so was going out with someone who was this confusing. And attractive. And unreadable. And…attractive.
I grabbed a pair of jeans and a halfway decent white blouse. Once I’d showered, changed clothes and covered up the fading bruise on my face, I scrutinized myself in the mirror again.
“ Is that really what you’re wearing? ”
I bit my lip, and something in my stomach twisted as I avoided my reflection. There was nothing wrong with this, was there? I mean, it was a country-western bar. Jeans and boots would be fine.
“ Amy, I really think you should— ”
Shut up, Sam. Just shut up.
I put back my shoulders and stared down my reflection. This was as good as it was going to get tonight, so hopefully it was good enough for Dustin.
That thought made me jump, and I held my own gaze in the mirror.
Good enough for Dustin ? Since when did I care?
But then I thought about how he might look tonight, cleaned up and clean shaven, all straightened up and pressed in that way
“A country club?” Something told me this wasn’t the same kind of country club I’d been to in my other life. Something else told me my heart shouldn’t have started racing like this, and my knees shouldn’t suddenly be this unsteady. I smiled, hoping it didn’t seem too forced. “Um, sure. Yeah, I guess. Sounds like fun.”
His eyebrows jumped. “Really? Great.” He smiled, though I couldn’t decide if it was forced or nervous. Maybe both. “We’re leaving at six thirty, so just meet me in front of the house.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be there.”
He left the barn and left me standing there wondering just who the hell he was and what he’d done with Dustin King. First he was looking down his nose at me and telling me to steer clear of certain horses, and now this? Offering to let me work with his horses and inviting me out this evening?
Shaking my head, I went back to work. I wasn’t so sure about socializing with Dustin, but now that the offer was on the table, I did like the idea of getting off the ranch for a little while. I’d made all of two trips off the property since I got here, once to the grocery store in town and once to run an errand for John. Apparently, it was possible to get some cabin fever when the cabin in question was thirty-five wide-open acres of horse country.
After I’d brought the horses in from their pastures and made sure everyone was fed, I went back to my side of the duplex to get cleaned up. It occurred to me as I looked through my clothes in the old oak dresser that I should have asked Dustin what people customarily wore to this place. I hadn’t been to any country bars before—I assumed that was what country club meant in this context—and for all I knew, this could have been a jeans-and-a-cowboy-hat place, or the women could be wearing giant square-dance skirts. Not that I’d feel any less out of place either way.
And whatever the dress code, I hadn’t packed many clothes to begin with. Most of what I brought with me was for wearing around the farm. Jeans. T-shirts. Heavier clothes in case I was still here when that bitter Eastern Washington winter rolled in.
At least I’d grabbed a few favorite earrings and bracelets; they had some sentimental value, and I guess I must have been afraid someone would take off with them if I left them in the house. And I did have the foresight to bring a handful of button-up blouses on that off chance I decided to go someplace that didn’t involve dust and mud. But were any of those appropriate for the place we were going tonight?
I glanced up at the mirror above the dresser and laughed. Was this really me? Fretting over having nothing to wear? Wow. That was new.
But then, so was going out with someone who was this confusing. And attractive. And unreadable. And…attractive.
I grabbed a pair of jeans and a halfway decent white blouse. Once I’d showered, changed clothes and covered up the fading bruise on my face, I scrutinized myself in the mirror again.
“ Is that really what you’re wearing? ”
I bit my lip, and something in my stomach twisted as I avoided my reflection. There was nothing wrong with this, was there? I mean, it was a country-western bar. Jeans and boots would be fine.
“ Amy, I really think you should— ”
Shut up, Sam. Just shut up.
I put back my shoulders and stared down my reflection. This was as good as it was going to get tonight, so hopefully it was good enough for Dustin.
That thought made me jump, and I held my own gaze in the mirror.
Good enough for Dustin ? Since when did I care?
But then I thought about how he might look tonight, cleaned up and clean shaven, all straightened up and pressed in that way
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