her friend.
“I see a table over here, Shana.” Jeff led her toward the
back of the hall. When they were seated, he raised his hand to a waitress and
ordered two beers.
The band was well into The Tennessee Waltz , and the
Friday night crowd was doing more talking than dancing. So when Jeff paid for
the drinks, took a swig of his and held his hand out to her to dance, she knew
they’d be only the third couple on that very big floor.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jeff.” He was a good
dancer but not a graceful one. And a waltz, even the Texas-two-step version,
required a command of the floor and precision that he had never possessed. She
knew people here. Lots of them by now. And they had always seen her in the arms
of a man who took to this floor like he’d been born to it. She didn’t want to
embarrass Jeff, and she certainly didn’t want Chet to see how she looked in the
embrace of another man. “Let’s have our drinks. Wait a bit.”
“Let’s not.” He pulled her forward and, lest she shame him
and allow him to look bad in a town where he needed to become known, she went.
He must have been nervous. His timing was off and for that,
try though she might, she couldn’t save him from himself. To make matters
worse, from the corner of her eye, she saw an impossibly tall, buff male take
up a position on the side wall, staring at them.
Chet. Chet. What are you doing? Don’t get angry. This isn’t
worth it.
The tune wasn’t over quickly enough for her. She put a hand
to her heart, feeling the rising tempo of her fear of confrontation.
But the next song was a Virginia reel, and Jeff insisted
they do that too. Buried in more of a crowd, she felt marginally better, but
the tension riled her stomach.
As they applauded the band, she told him, “I’ve got to go
home, Jeff. I’m not feeling well.”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “Really?”
She disliked him then. Oh, she had tolerated his arrogance
as a businessman. She had at one time in her young life been briefly flattered
by his attention to her. But she knew now he paled beside the likes of
charming, tender, gallant Chet.
Huffing, she spun on her heel. “Don’t bother,” she muttered
as she beelined her way through the crowd. “I can go myself.”
Jeff was right behind her, grabbing her arm and spinning her
around. “Stop, for chrissakes!”
“Let me go!”
“I don’t think I will.” He grinned with an evil curve to his
mouth. “You’re my—”
“Employee,” she clarified as she yanked at him to let her
go. “And that’s all I am to you. Ever.”
“Take your hands off the lady, Wentworth.”
Chet. Chet with his barrel-deep bass warning a man to treat
her right. Chet with his warm solid body heating hers as he stepped behind her.
Chet, towering over her as he always had with comfort and care. Chet, hovering
over Jeff and in those few inches, making the other man drop his hold and back
away.
“I’ll take you back,” Jeff declared.
“I don’t think so,” Chet objected, anger flushing his cheeks
and putting steel in his eyes.
Shana escaped them both by sidestepping and leaving them to
face each other, two bulls in the ring.
Reata joined Shana as she beat a path to the front door. “Can
I give you a ride home?”
She nodded. Home. “What a great idea.” They could
fight but she didn’t want to hang around to witness it. She never did. She was
good at running.
Chapter Six
Three weeks later, Shana’s Aunt Mary brought the house phone
to her as she sat on the back porch overlooking her aunt’s south acreage. The
older woman looked at Shana as sorrowfully as she had so many times when Chet
had returned Shana’s calls on business and she’d been brief with him. It had
taken all Shana’s courage to talk to him about rodeo details.
She had thought it would be easier to complete her planning
if she were far away from him, where she could be focused totally on the rodeo’s
success. She had assumed she
“I see a table over here, Shana.” Jeff led her toward the
back of the hall. When they were seated, he raised his hand to a waitress and
ordered two beers.
The band was well into The Tennessee Waltz , and the
Friday night crowd was doing more talking than dancing. So when Jeff paid for
the drinks, took a swig of his and held his hand out to her to dance, she knew
they’d be only the third couple on that very big floor.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jeff.” He was a good
dancer but not a graceful one. And a waltz, even the Texas-two-step version,
required a command of the floor and precision that he had never possessed. She
knew people here. Lots of them by now. And they had always seen her in the arms
of a man who took to this floor like he’d been born to it. She didn’t want to
embarrass Jeff, and she certainly didn’t want Chet to see how she looked in the
embrace of another man. “Let’s have our drinks. Wait a bit.”
“Let’s not.” He pulled her forward and, lest she shame him
and allow him to look bad in a town where he needed to become known, she went.
He must have been nervous. His timing was off and for that,
try though she might, she couldn’t save him from himself. To make matters
worse, from the corner of her eye, she saw an impossibly tall, buff male take
up a position on the side wall, staring at them.
Chet. Chet. What are you doing? Don’t get angry. This isn’t
worth it.
The tune wasn’t over quickly enough for her. She put a hand
to her heart, feeling the rising tempo of her fear of confrontation.
But the next song was a Virginia reel, and Jeff insisted
they do that too. Buried in more of a crowd, she felt marginally better, but
the tension riled her stomach.
As they applauded the band, she told him, “I’ve got to go
home, Jeff. I’m not feeling well.”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “Really?”
She disliked him then. Oh, she had tolerated his arrogance
as a businessman. She had at one time in her young life been briefly flattered
by his attention to her. But she knew now he paled beside the likes of
charming, tender, gallant Chet.
Huffing, she spun on her heel. “Don’t bother,” she muttered
as she beelined her way through the crowd. “I can go myself.”
Jeff was right behind her, grabbing her arm and spinning her
around. “Stop, for chrissakes!”
“Let me go!”
“I don’t think I will.” He grinned with an evil curve to his
mouth. “You’re my—”
“Employee,” she clarified as she yanked at him to let her
go. “And that’s all I am to you. Ever.”
“Take your hands off the lady, Wentworth.”
Chet. Chet with his barrel-deep bass warning a man to treat
her right. Chet with his warm solid body heating hers as he stepped behind her.
Chet, towering over her as he always had with comfort and care. Chet, hovering
over Jeff and in those few inches, making the other man drop his hold and back
away.
“I’ll take you back,” Jeff declared.
“I don’t think so,” Chet objected, anger flushing his cheeks
and putting steel in his eyes.
Shana escaped them both by sidestepping and leaving them to
face each other, two bulls in the ring.
Reata joined Shana as she beat a path to the front door. “Can
I give you a ride home?”
She nodded. Home. “What a great idea.” They could
fight but she didn’t want to hang around to witness it. She never did. She was
good at running.
Chapter Six
Three weeks later, Shana’s Aunt Mary brought the house phone
to her as she sat on the back porch overlooking her aunt’s south acreage. The
older woman looked at Shana as sorrowfully as she had so many times when Chet
had returned Shana’s calls on business and she’d been brief with him. It had
taken all Shana’s courage to talk to him about rodeo details.
She had thought it would be easier to complete her planning
if she were far away from him, where she could be focused totally on the rodeo’s
success. She had assumed she
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