Abe glanced over his shoulder at Fiona. ‘Prepping as hard as I can, sir.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
There’s nothing wrong with forgetting which way you were going when you put the knitting down. You’ll learn to read where you are, and to know that the working yarn is attached to the right-hand needle. Until then, just knit on. – E. C.
Rayna Viera had to be the prettiest girl to ever live in Cypress Hollow, Fiona decided. Tonight she was wearing a yellow gingham dress with red crinolines that flashed as she danced with her husband, Tommy. No one else could get away with that, though several girls were trying. Whitney from the bakery came close, with her blue square dancing dress cut low and tight. Her husband Silas couldn’t keep his eyes off her. And Trixie Fletcher looked like Cyd Charise, though her dance partner, Royal Berring, looked more like Fred Armisen than Fred Astaire.
But Whitney and Trixie both looked like they were wearing costumes, and Fiona understood exactly what that felt like. They’d dressed up for the Cowboy Ball in clothes they probably wouldn’t wear to the grocery store.
But Rayna? She could prance out of here in that yellow gingham and carry it off while ordering salmon at Gertie’s Fish Market, Fiona reckoned. Her hair – that gorgeous hair flowing like mahogany-colored silk – was styled exactly the way Daisy had styled Fiona’s yesterday. The long, beautiful waves moved the way Rayna did: gracefully. Fiona hadn’t even tried to get her hair to go the way it had the day before. She might have been able to figure it out with some time and a curling iron, but it felt like … trying too hard. She’d refused Daisy’s offer to stay and do it for her after she’d dropped off the loaner dress. Fiona had straight locks instead of waves, and she knew the back of it probably looked like a pile of scrap metal, since she’d merely brushed it. Her eyes felt heavy with the makeup she’d applied, and she wondered how long the mascara would stay on before it started running down her cheeks. What if she sweated? Would it come off faster?
Jeesh. Fiona liked – no, loved – making other things look good. Just not herself. It just wasn’t worth the effort. Not even on a night like tonight.
She watched as Rayna approached Abe. She greeted him with a kiss, of course. Why wouldn’t she? She probably even smelled better than Fiona did. Fiona had forgotten to put on the one brand of perfume she had, and instead had to hope that her deodorant was floral enough to smell good.
Fiona wasn’t exactly jealous – that wasn’t quite it.
Instead, she was disappointed that she didn’t clean up as well herself. She was disappointed that this blue dress, so prettily tailored to look like it was from the forties, sweetheart neckline, narrow waist and all, didn’t quite fit in the bust because she didn’t have enough to fill it. If Rayna had put it on? Or Daisy, who owned it? Either of them would have filled it out to the point where they could stop a train.
Fiona wouldn’t even stop a bicycle. People swooped by her on their way to the makeshift dance floor or to get another drink without even noticing her, blue streak in her hair or not.
She took a deep breath. She was used to being the grease monkey, the girl who wasn’t seen as a girl.
But that didn’t stop it from hurting anyway.
Next to the drinks station, Abe said something that made Rayna laugh and then, with a quick touch to the pretty girl’s shoulder, he headed back to Fiona.
‘You could have talked to her longer,’ said Fiona. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’ She wouldn’t have, either. It would have given her more of a chance to watch the way they communicated. The way Rayna flirted. So naturally. To women like her, flirting was like breathing. Did they come out of the womb like that? Winking at the doctor and giving perfect little coos to the nurses? Probably. Fiona knew from her father that she’d come out screaming and, due to a nasty case of colic, hadn’t stopped for the first six months.
‘But I want to talk to you,’ said Abe.
‘Why?’
Abe blinked.
‘I don’t mean to put you on the spot. But why do you want to talk to me?’ Fiona was curious to know what he’d say.
‘I think I’m supposed to talk you out of presenting your teardown-my-lighthouse idea,’ he said. ‘But I haven’t done a good job convincing you yet. I’ve got to work harder, I guess. I keep looking at you in that dress and forgetting to do it.’
Fiona opened her mouth to answer, but Abe continued quickly, ‘Why do you want to talk to me?’
It was too late to pretend anything around him. Too late to lie about anything. ‘Because I’ve had a crush on you for years.’
‘But why? I don’t think you ever told me.’
Fiona felt a thump in her chest that she couldn’t attribute to Peggy Murphy whacking away up there on her stand-up bass. ‘I don’t really know.’
‘So from not knowing me at all, you start to like me.’
‘Yep.’ Fiona prayed for an earthquake. A tidal wave would do, too. Just something to stop this conversation, which had spun completely out of her control. ‘Want to dance?’
‘In a minute. I just want to know one more thing … How am I measuring up?’ Abe tugged on his ear and looked like he was totally serious. ‘You had a crush on a guy you didn’t know, and I’m not sure I’m good enough to warrant it.’
How was he measuring up? In that black shirt, which did nothing to hide the width of his chest, with that silly blue bolo, which just happened to match her dress exactly? With that smile, which could power a million of the little strands of lights hanging inside the barn? With that bright, unnerving spark his eyes flashed at her? ‘You’re doing just fine,’ Fiona said.
Abe reached out and touched her cheek, surprising her. His touch was light. A caress.
It was exactly what she’d wanted all night.
‘Okay,’ he said.
‘Okay, what?’ Fiona shifted from one foot to the other.
‘Okay, let’s dance.’
The band was playing a lively two-step when they took the floor, but the song ended as soon as Fiona put her hand in Abe’s. They laughed, Fiona feeling bubbles of nervousness play along her veins as though her blood was carbonated. They waited.
A waltz was next. Good. At least Fiona knew how to dance this one.
And so, it turned out, did Abe. He pulled her against him as they both took a breath. Abe whispered in her ear, ‘One, two, and one, two, three.’
The way he led made her feel like she was flying. They didn’t talk, neither of them counting steps after that initial pairing of limbs – they just whirled around the floor, staying to the inside of the swirling mass of bodies. The older dancers and the more unsure ones, the ones who were tromping on their partners’ toes every few measures, stayed to the outside. But five or six couples, of which they were one, danced in the middle, gliding past each other, twirling and spinning, parting and coming back together.
Fiona trusted him completely. When Abe stepped back, pushing her into a spin, she kept the beat with her feet, and then at the end of the measure she was in his arms again, as if she’d never left.
She could have danced like that all night.
When the song ended, she automatically dipped into a curtsey, and he matched it with a bow. ‘Thank you, pretty lady,’ he said.
‘You’re welcome,’ Fiona stammered. Was that just something he would have said at the end of a dance with anyone, no matter what?
Rayna Viera glided up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Dance, Abe? For old times’ sakes? You don’t mind, do you, Fiona? I know you have to dance with the one what brung you, but Tommy’s had one drink too many, and I’d love to two-step with this guy.’
‘Of course I don’t mind.’ A polite and unavoidable lie.
They spun away. Rayna probably felt like she was flying, too.
‘That was amazing,’ said a voice at her elbow.
‘Daisy! There you are!’
Daisy, dolled up in a dress that was made of approximately three blue silk flounces, looked for all the world
like she’d stepped out of the thirties. The bodice of the dress was perfect, and suited her figure wonderfully. Her blonde hair was in slick finger-waves and her makeup was applied so she looked big-eyed and pale, with perfect red lips.
‘You look insanely awesome,’ said Fiona with wonder.
Daisy patted her curls with satisfaction. ‘I worked hard at it.’
‘Who are you going for tonight?’
‘Why would you ask that?’ Daisy countered, moving her chair coyly to the right and then the left.
‘Because I know you.’
Daisy leaned forward and tugged at Fiona’s arm until she came down into a crouch. ‘You know that guy Zeke, the one who works for Abe sometimes?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’ve decided I think he’s cute.’
‘Careful. He seems like such a nice boy.’
‘And?’ Daisy’s thin eyebrows danced upward.
‘You’re a man-eater.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You are! Name me one guy you’ve dated for more than six months.’
‘I … well. Okay, you name me one, missy!’
‘Touché,’ Fiona said, rocking back on her heels. ‘At least I keep all my exes as friends.’
‘That’s because that’s the way they all start out.’
Fiona hit her own chest with the flat of her hand. ‘Here. Right here is where you wound me.’
‘Oh, stop.’ Daisy craned her neck to look around her. ‘See, there he is.’ Zeke was on the far side of the dancers, moving slowly and awkwardly around the floor with a woman old enough to be his mother.
There was no grace to his lumbering and even from a distance, Fiona could see the wincing of his partner every time he stepped on her toe.
‘Hmmm,’ said Daisy. ‘You think he’s always that clumsy?’
‘Ex-linebacker on a dance floor? Yes. Probably.’
‘But that also means he’s fast. And accurate.’
‘Sexy words, from you,’ teased Fiona.
Daisy laughed. ‘Words that get me hot. I love accuracy. If a guy talks about his budget on a date?’ Daisy leaned farther forward. ‘I get wet.’
Even incapacitated by giggles, Fiona still knew exactly where Abe and Rayna were on the floor. Abe and Rayna. Their names still went together. They did a move where Rayna spun away from him and then kept spinning until she reached out a hand and he caught it, wrapping her up in his arms. They’d obviously done that move a hundred times, and they looked more graceful than Fiona had ever felt in her life.
‘You kind of look like her.’
‘What?’ Fiona was startled. ‘Like who?’
Daisy rolled a few more centimeters forward. ‘Like Rayna. Yeah. I didn’t see it until this new haircut.’
‘No way.’
‘I can see it.’
‘Just the hair then, and I couldn’t get it to go the way you had it yesterday anyway.’
‘No, it’s more than that. You have the same body style.’
Fiona glanced down at the unfilled portion of her dress. ‘Are you kidding me? Do you see her boobs?’
‘Besides that, you’re the same frame. Same coloring.’
‘You’re telling me I’m a washed-out version of Rayna Viera. Thanks.’ Maybe that was it exactly. Maybe that was why Abe was so interested in her suddenly – he’d seen a woman who reminded him of his fantasy.
‘Of course not. You’re more vibrant and gorgeous than she could ever be. She’s got that married-with-three-kids look.’
‘Well, that looks good on her then. She looks amazing. What look do I have? The oil-under-my-fingernails look?’
‘You have the I-could-give-you-a-reason-to-stay-up-all-night look.’
‘Huh.’ Fiona crossed her arms over her chest. Flat-chested women could do that, at least. ‘I don’t think I give off that vibe.’
‘On a normal day you don’t, agreed. But as soon as you see that man? You start to hum like a telephone line, girl. You’re smoldering.’
Fiona didn’t believe Daisy, but it was still nice to hear. Smoldering. Rayna didn’t smolder. Rayna was the All-American girl next door with big boobs. She was warm. Abe’s face was happy right now, dancing with her.
But when Abe looked at Rayna, he didn’t look … bothered. When Fiona and Abe had danced together, there’d been tension between them, a trembling tautness that collapsed and grew every time they touched. As she watched Rayna and Abe spin by, she saw comfort. Familiarity.
Well, everyone liked familiarity.
Did Abe like that in Fiona? With her hair blown out and make-up, Fiona felt like a copy of Rayna, with less color. Except that blue streak, which she was almost regretting now that all the old ranchers in the room were staring. She’d overheard one saying, ‘You think she did that to her hair on purpose?’
The future Fiona, the one she wasn’t yet but would be, that Fiona was good at this flirting thing. That Fiona believed she was pretty even when she didn’t feel like it. That Fiona didn’t feel like a fake.
Fiona had never been scared of the future. She closed her eyes and concentrated. When she opened them, she would be the future Fiona.
That’s what she told herself, anyway, but part of her was listening to the old version of herself. That version was way more convincing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A party can’t start until the knitters arrive. – E. C.
Abe had never been in this position before. Having Rayna in his arms always felt good. The two of them fit. He wondered if it was possible that bodies could actually remember other bodies – if they danced so well because they’d done it so many times before. It had to be, even though it had been too many years to count since they’d worn a groove on an old wooden floor.
He’d been mad at her so long that it shocked him to find that dancing with her was fun.
It was sweet.
And it was in no way as sexy as Rayna apparently thought it was. The way she was sighing whenever he held her was making his ear itch. And she was pressing herself way too close to him, as if she was paint and he was the wall. Now, if Fiona had chosen to press herself that tightly to him, he couldn’t have been held responsible for what she would feel pressing back. But with Rayna … it was just old times. And not necessarily times he cared to revisit.
At the end of the dance, he bowed. ‘Thanks, Rayna.’
She nodded and kissed his cheek – damn, she was kissing his cheek a lot lately. ‘We always did have chemistry, Tiger.’
Chemistry? Was that what this boredom was? He doubted it but smiled at her anyway, trying not to give away the fact that he was having a hard time not searching out Fiona, not letting himself stare at the woman with the electric blue hair and hazel eyes that sparked heat.
Fiona could melt an anchor with one of the looks she was shooting him. He was trying to go slow with her, trying not to scare her off. There was no way he’d tell her any time soon how much he was thinking about her, how freaking hot she looked standing there next to Daisy. No woman wanted to deal with that kind of intensity, did they? Not from a man they barely knew.
He couldn’t explain where these feelings were coming from, anyway. Better to just keep them bottled up. He knew how to do that. Abe was an expert at that.
He left the dance floor before the next song started, leaving Rayna looking disappointed, but what was he supposed to do? Keep dancing with her? He didn’t want to. Not when Fiona was right there, partner-less. He caught Fiona’s eye and his heart did some weird, fish-flopping motion in his chest. He mimed lifting a drink to his mouth and then pointed to her with a questioning look. She smiled and nodded, pointing to Daisy and holding up two fingers.
The bar was being tended tonight by Jonas Harrison. An unofficial extension of the Rite Spot, there was a hand-lettered sign on the back wooden wall that said ‘The Almost Correct Spot’. Bottles lined the shelves where tack usually hung.
‘What can I get you, Abe?’
‘Three spiked punches, tha
nks.’
‘Coming right up.’
Tommy Viera pulled up the stool next to him. ‘I think you should buy me a shot, at least,’ he muttered toward Abe.
Rayna had left Abe at the altar for this man, yeah, breaking Abe’s heart in the process, but Tommy appeared to be a good father to their kids, and he was a solid businessman. The hardware store had tripled its size in the time Tommy had owned it, and both his customers and employees were loyal.
It didn’t stop Abe from thinking Tommy was a horse’s ass. But he had danced with the man’s wife. ‘I s’pose I could do that. What’s your poison?’
‘Rye.’
‘Jonas? Two shots of your cheapest rye.’
When the shots were lined up in front of them, along with the three glasses of punch, Tommy said, ‘One of those for my wife?’
‘Nope.’
‘Huh.’ He tossed his shot back without formality, and Abe followed suit. Well, if that was all he had to do to get off the hook, he should be glad. He wondered how many shots Tommy would have to buy Rayna to make up for cheating on her.
‘I guess I’ll see you.’ He didn’t add what his head said. Asshole. Abe knew he should leave before he got riled up. He might be closer to being over Rayna than he had ever thought he could be, but that didn’t mean he wanted Tommy to hurt her.
‘Don’t dance with my wife again,’ Tommy said conversationally, keeping his eyes forward.
‘’Scuse me?’ Abe kept his voice low.
‘Don’t put your hands on my wife again.’
‘As long as you keep your hands on her and on no one else, that shouldn’t be a problem.’
Tommy stood so fast he knocked over his barstool. ‘What the hell are you trying to say to me?’
Abe shrugged. ‘Rayna’s not stupid, Tommy. Don’t treat her like she is.’ He picked up the three glasses and started to turn with them. Now was the time he might get cold-cocked, just like that. He wouldn’t be surprised if Tommy hit him. He didn’t want him to, but neither did Abe want to take back his words. It would be a waste of good drinks, though, if he did get hit.
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