Last Chance Book Club

by Hope Ramsay

  Boy, things had changed.

  Speaking of twelve-year-olds, Todd had found a few friends who had made him their champion for taking out Corey Simms, who apparently was a notorious bully.

  Todd seemed to be having a lot of fun, despite his slightly swollen eye. In fact, that black eye was almost like a badge of courage. She watched him laughing with the other kids. He’d grown some. His shirt and jeans looked too short in the arms and legs. They seemed baggy around his middle.

  “Hey, Savannah,” Rocky called, “you’ve got to taste Cathy’s banana bread. It’s to die for.”

  Savannah squared her shoulders and headed toward the book club members. She unfolded her lawn chair as it occurred to her that Todd wasn’t the only one with new friends. She had reconnected with Rocky and made some new friends, too.

  Somehow, in a very short period of time, she’d come to feel as if she belonged here. It was an amazing feeling, given the ugly fight she’d had with Mom earlier in the day. For the first time in her memory, Savannah actually felt sorry for her mother.

  Someone passed her a paper plate with a slice of banana bread and a cup filled with sweet tea.

  “Where’s your husband?” Savannah asked Rocky.

  “Oh, he’s over yonder somewhere, talking to Stone. When they start playing waltzes he’ll come over here and bow stiffly and ask for a dance. We can all pretend that we’re at the Netherfield ball.”

  Molly snorted a laugh. “Hey, Savannah, if this were the Netherfield ball and you were Eliza Bennet, you’d have to dance with Bill Ellis first.”

  A chorus of laughter followed. Savannah looked down at her plate as it occurred to her that, if anyone had played out a scene from Pride and Prejudice, it had been her—when she’d told the minister where to take his proposal and shove it.

  She looked up. Everyone in the book club was grinning at her. Savannah felt her lips tugging upward. “Well,” she said, “he’s a little bit like Mr. Collins. He quotes Bible verses incessantly.”

  Everyone started giggling except Hettie, who never giggled, ever.

  Savannah looked up at the star-spangled sky. “I know that my aunt may have encouraged everyone to think about me and Bill in the same sentence, but maybe everyone needs to think again. Maybe my aunt is like Mrs. Bennet.”

  “Exactly the point I made earlier, before you got here,” Molly said. “I mean, look at him. He’s over there with Jenny sucking up pie. He doesn’t look very heartbroken.”

  “Kind of makes him even more like Mr. Collins, if you ask me,” Cathy said. “I mean, after Lizzy told Mr. Collins where he could go, didn’t he just up and marry Charlotte? And I’ll bet Jenny is a better cook than Charlotte Lucas ever was.”

  “And besides,” Molly said, “didn’t Miriam say that Bill needed someone who was good with numbers? Well, there you go, Jenny is a math teacher. It’s just like last year at the barbecue dance. Everyone thought Rocky and Dash were the perfect fit.”

  Savannah turned toward Rocky. “You and Dash? Really?”

  Rocky shrugged. “He’s all right when you get him on the dance floor. And underneath that cool, calm, cowboy exterior beats a real living heart. He’s got several soft spots.”

  Rocky paused for a long moment. “Hey, wait,” she said. “We’ve got it all wrong. If this were the Netherfield ball, you’d have to dance with your cousin first.” She laughed even harder. “That will be the day—to see you and Dash Randall dancing together.”

  Savannah’s chest tightened. She wanted to dance with Dash. Earlier today he’d as much as suggested that she should dance every dance with him tonight.

  But she refused to fall for Cousin Dash. That would mess up everything. Especially since Dash seemed to be so good for Todd, and Savannah was so very bad at relationships.

  And just then Dash came striding across the lawn like Mr. Darcy, only with cowboy boots. He didn’t look at all like Colin Firth. He had much shorter hair and no sideburns, thank goodness. No, he looked more like, well, no one in particular except his own gorgeously handsome self.

  “Princess, get your butt out of that chair and dance with me.” He delivered this line in a most Darcy-like snarl. As if he were asking against his own better judgment.

  A definite tingle arose in Savannah’s core, and her heart started to pound. The chill bumps climbing up her arms reminded her of just how dangerous it was to dance with a man she found attractive.

  “Oh, go on,” Rocky said. “Lizzy didn’t enjoy her dance but she endured.”

  Dash blinked at Rocky. “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind,” Savannah said, getting out of her chair. She shouldn’t dance with him, but she was going to, and she had a feeling she would enjoy this dance a whole lot. “Let’s go.”

  She took two steps and realized that the dancers were doing a country line dance that she didn’t know.

  “Uh, what is that dance, the Achy Breaky?”

  “No, honey, it’s the Boot Scoot Boogie, but have no fear, the next one is a waltz.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because he requested one.” Dash jerked his head in the direction of Lord Woolham, who managed a much better impression of Mr. Darcy as he strolled up and asked his wife to dance.

  Dash snagged Savannah by the hand and pulled her out toward the street. She was overwhelmed by the heat of his touch, the rough texture of his skin, the bath-soap smell of him, and the fact that practically everyone at the dance was watching them.

  The band struck up “Can I Have This Dance for the Rest of My Life,” and Dash pulled her close. She placed her hand on his shoulder, immediately struck dumb by the hard muscle beneath her palm. He started moving, and Savannah was amazed to discover that he was light on his feet and knew exactly how to lead. They danced for quite a long time without speaking a single word, and the silence became charged.

  She needed to break it. “This is quite a production, isn’t it?”

  “Yup,” he said as he suddenly changed direction and put her through a number of steps that had her moving forward and then backward and then forward again.

  The silence swelled between them.

  “You know,” she said, “people usually talk while they dance. Of course, I guess you and I don’t have much to say.”

  He glanced down at her with a tiny quirk of his lips. “I reckon.”

  He moved her through another pattern of intricate steps.

  “But maybe we should have more to say,” she said.

  “You think?”

  “Yes. I do. It would be kind of weird for us to just dance here for fifteen minutes and say nothing.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve danced with plenty of women who talk up a blue streak and manage not to say anything important. So if you’re talking to be sociable, you can quit. I like dancing just for dancing’s sake.”

  “You know, Dash, you and I are more alike than either of us would like to admit.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We’re fatherless, to start with. And pigheaded. And kind of willful. And bratty.”

  He laughed. “Yep, princess, that describes you to a T. Probably describes me, too.”

  Just then Hugh and Rocky danced a little closer, and Rocky said, “See, I told you Dash was a great dancer. And y’all look so good together. I have to admit that I didn’t know how to waltz until Hugh taught me. And the band was playing this song. But you seem to have it down pat.”

  Hugh twirled his wife away in a swooping turn. Hugh’s dancing style looked like it might have been in vogue back when Johann Strauss was burning up the charts in Vienna.

  Dash’s technique was way more western, and infinitely more intimate. He glanced down at her. “What were we talking about, darlin’? I seem to remember it was a scintillating subject.”

  “Not hardly,” she muttered.

  “Okay, so maybe we should talk about books. Y’all have gotten pretty cozy with the ladies of the book club.”

  “Do you read book
s?”

  “Mostly automobile repair manuals. I reckon that’s not a good subject then.”

  The band moved from “Can I Have This Dance” right into “You Were Always on My Mind,” and Dash pulled her close enough so that his rock-hard thighs grazed hers. He dropped his gigantic hands and spanned her waist. She had to move her own hands up over his shoulders. Only a couple of layers of denim separated them. That fabric was simultaneously not enough and way too much.

  “Did Hugh bribe the band so they would play this song?” she asked.

  The Stetson shaded his eyes, but the lopsided smile on his face told her all she needed to know. “You did?”

  “Honey, you should know by now that actions speak louder than words. And we’re sending messages here. Did Rocky ever tell you about the barbecue dance last summer?”

  “No, but the book club was talking about it.”

  “Well, see, Rocky and I took one of Aunt Mim’s marital pronouncements and used it to match up Rachel and Bubba. So, see, I figure you and me are doing Bill and Jenny a big favor right now.”

  Savannah cast her gaze in the minister’s direction. He was definitely enjoying Jenny’s pie, but Savannah didn’t get the feeling he was really enjoying Jenny all that much.

  She watched him for a long moment and realized that he was looking off into the distance, and he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Hettie.

  And Hettie, who was sitting with the book club, was looking at him, only she was trying not to be obvious about it. Goose bumps crawled up Savannah’s skin, and she got this odd feeling, halfway between an itch and a buzz.

  Hettie and Bill?

  Of course. Why didn’t anyone else see it?

  Just then Dash pulled her so close that she was practically in the shade of his hat. And she momentarily forgot about everything else but him.

  This was not the way cousins danced. Especially when he tucked her head under his chin, and she lost herself in the sturdy feel of him, the rhythm of the music, and the heat he kindled in every cell of her body.

  Dash buried his nose in Savannah’s hair and took a deep breath. She smelled flowery. He closed his eyes and swayed to the music.

  It was sort of surprising the way the princess fit in his arms. She seemed to know which way he was planning to swirl her before he even seemed to know it himself. He’d never danced with anyone who actually knew how to let him lead before.

  Boy howdy, he was hooked on this woman. And he didn’t know what to do about it. If he told her how he felt, she was liable to slap his face or tell him exactly what she thought of him. And then what would happen to Todd and Miriam? He didn’t want to cause a family rift.

  Besides, he knew how dangerous it was to fall for Savannah. He’d just gotten over Hettie. He should have time alone to work out his problems and his feelings.

  “This is dangerous,” she murmured against his chest, giving voice to every single one of his fears. Her breath left a little warm spot at the neck of his shirt and sent a shiver up his backbone.

  “Honey, you’re already the talk of the town, so I doubt that dancing with a reprobate like me is going to get you in any more hot water.”

  She looked up, her dark eyes worried. “That’s not what I meant. And you’re not a reprobate.”

  Her eyes had darkened, and her cheeks were a little pink, and she looked as if she might move in on him like she’d done that night on the porch. Good grief, did she actually want that no-tell motel fantasy he’d talked about earlier in the day?

  Hettie had wanted that fantasy, a long time ago. And he’d given it to her. And like an inexperienced idiot, he’d fallen in love with her. But she hadn’t fallen back. She’d just used him to get her bad-boy experience out of the way.

  It hadn’t taken very long after that to realize that most women wanted a bad-boy experience. And the blondes who hung around professional baseball teams were all about that. In fact, the blond bimbo who had convinced him to ride that Harley after drinking a few beers had been looking for some low-down dirty fun, too.

  And he’d been happy to oblige.

  He’d been such a fool. But he was changing his ways.

  “It’s okay, Savannah, I get it,” he said aloud. “Every woman is curious about us bad boys.”

  She shook her head. “No, Dash, that’s not what I meant. I only meant that I fell in love with Greg because he could dance. It was the worst mistake I ever made.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But you falling in love with me is pretty absurd.” He said the words and realized how much he wanted her to fall.

  She closed her eyes and put her head on his shoulder. “I guess I’m glad that falling in love with you is impossible. I guess that makes it safe to dance with you,” she said.

  No, it wasn’t safe. It was suddenly terrifying.

  The band finished the song and struck up “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.” Almost immediately the street filled with line dancers.

  Some part of him wanted Savannah to stay there with him, but another part was relieved when she let him go.

  “I should sit down now.” She glanced at Bill. “Look, he’s fine. He’s with Jenny and her pies. We’ve accomplished our mission.”

  He stood there like an idiot agreeing with her, because his emotions were suddenly in turmoil. He turned away from her and put one boot in front of the other like a coward running from a fight. An instant later he found himself standing in front of Hettie.

  “C’mon, dance with me.”

  She shook her head, but he could see the longing in her eyes.

  “Honey, Jimmy’s dead. I know the two of you loved this dance. And I know that you never sat for any of it. C’mon, my knee is better. Let’s go boot scoot.”

  She sighed. “No, Dash, I can’t. Because if I dance with you, you’ll get the wrong idea.”

  He ground his teeth together. He’d asked her to dance because he knew how much Hettie loved dancing. And sitting on the sidelines had to be hard for her. She was probably missing Jimmy tonight. But once again, Hettie had thrown his kindness back in his face. So he marched right up to Jenny Carpenter, where she sat consoling the not-very-devastated minister.

  That woman practically busted a gut when he asked her to dance. She got all red in the face and even stammered. And it was almost pitiful the look she gave Bill when the minister suggested that she ought to take Dash up on his offer.

  And that’s how Dash ended up dancing with Jenny. And how Hettie ended up dancing with Bill. And how Savannah ended up not dancing at all, which was a damn shame because she could outdance all of them put together.

  CHAPTER 15

  Savannah arrived at The Kismet at half past seven on the Monday after Easter. She was grumpy for reasons that she didn’t wish to examine too carefully. For some reason, Dash had changed his schedule, and she didn’t bump into him at the bathroom. And he didn’t come down to share a morning cup of coffee with her.

  In fact, from the moment she walked away from him at the street dance, Dash had been avoiding her. Conspicuously.

  Which was probably just as well. After all, their two dances, coupled with her refusal of Bill’s proposal, had unleashed a firestorm of gossip. The old church ladies, led by Lillian Bray, were saying that she was wayward and stubborn, just like she’d been as a little girl. They pointed to her slow dance with Dash as proof positive.

  None of them was ready to admit that she wasn’t Bill’s soulmate. They just thought she was playing hard to get, and using Dash to do it. Apparently they believed this because of the shenanigans that Dash and Rocky had perpetrated on them last summer.

  Oh, if they only knew the way she’d tossed and turned trying to find sleep on Saturday and Sunday nights. Those dances with Dash haunted her.

  And it was kind of strange how the church ladies were missing the most obvious thing—that Bill and Hettie had looked like they were having way more fun than anyone else, even though Bill was a miserable dancer. Why was everyone so blind?


  She went to unlock the theater’s doors, only to find that they were already unlocked. She could hear voices inside.

  She pulled open the door to find Dash and Zeph standing in the lobby discussing the candy counter’s woodwork.

  Her reaction to this scene was complicated. She was happy to see Zeph there. From what she’d heard, he was the finest carpenter in all of Allenberg County.

  But she was suddenly annoyed at Dash, while at the same time being more happy to see him than she wanted to be.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “Talking to Zeph.”

  “Howdy, ma’am.” Zeph nodded and gave her a big smile filled with incredibly white teeth.

  “You know, Dash, I’m perfectly capable of talking to Zeph about the woodwork.”

  “Ma’am, don’t you be blaming Dash, now. He drove by this morning heading to the stables, and he saw me waiting on you. I got here real early. And he offered to open the door for me.”

  Just then Maverick sauntered down the stairs meowing loudly. He picked his way over the dirty floor and proceeded to wrap himself around Savannah’s legs.

  Zeph laughed. “Yessir, that cat sure does belong to you.”

  Savannah picked up the cat and stroked him, memories of Granddaddy’s cat suddenly washing through her mind. Maverick settled into her arms, his motor running loudly.

  It was suddenly hard to stay angry. “All right, so tell me what you’ve decided about the woodwork. I’ll need to tell the contractor when he arrives.”

  “Contractor?” Dash asked.

  “Yes, I’ve hired a contractor. You didn’t expect me to rebuild the place with my own hammer and nails.”

  “I thought you were going to hire an architect.”

  “I talked to several, but their fees were astronomical. I thought the grant was a lot of money until I started talking to those people. Honestly, they all wanted six-figure consulting fees. I can’t afford it. So I talked to some contractors instead.”