“Just one dance?” she asked.
Tate studied her for another moment, and only then lifted his gaze to focus on a spot behind her. She knew which spot.
When his gaze returned to hers, he looked … entertained.
“If you insist,” he said.
Rae wanted to say that she certainly did not insist, but he didn’t give her a chance. He left his beer on the bar. He kept hold of her hand. Then he tugged her with him into the crowd and out onto the dance floor.
Rae had danced with a number of men in her lifetime, but they had all been either family, polite gestures by men whose wives were her friends, or Riley.
She had never been pulled into the arms of a single man who she could, if she wanted, do anything she liked with.
Nothing she liked sprang to mind, however, because she was too overwhelmed by an arm around her back and another holding her hand. And the way Tate tucked her into him, so she was almost pressed against his chest.
Rae couldn’t breathe, because she felt something like suffocation, even though he wasn’t holding her all that tightly.
And then they were moving.
She told herself she was having a delightful time. This was fun. She was dancing. Actually dancing with a man who was basically a stranger. Tate spun her around and around.
And every time he did, she caught a glimpse of Riley, still lounging there in that chair.
As she’d suspected, he was smirking.
Rae decided that while she might be suffocating to death, she would do it with a freaking smile all over her face.
She tipped her head back, letting her hair bounce where it pleased. She didn’t think that would be too much bouncing, given the amount of hairspray she’d put in it to maintain the curls she’d decided she should wear tonight. Simply because she could. Because it was her hair, not Riley’s, and the fact he liked the way it fell naturally shouldn’t matter to her. She smiled up at her brand-new dance partner, and she held on—until Tate grinned down at her.
Then spun her around even faster.
And when she stopped worrying about whether or not to breathe, or why it felt so strange and not right to be held like this at all, it was easier. And the faster they moved, the more ridiculous the entire thing felt to her.
At some point, she began to laugh.
Because Tate was attractive, he was a surprisingly good dancer, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. So she ought to be enjoying herself too, shouldn’t she? And it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t shaped right. That he didn’t smell right. That his shoulders weren’t precisely the right width and that his jawline might be stellar, but it wasn’t angled the right way.
None of those things were his fault, she thought. Kindly.
For some reason, that made her laugh even more.
Around and around and around they went. And when the song ended, Tate stopped and held her there, a different sort of gleam in his gaze. “Happy to be of service. Can I buy you a drink?”
Rae did not want a drink. She did not want him buying her a drink, because she might not know much, but she was pretty sure drinks always came with strings attached. And she didn’t want strings. She wanted to call it a night because she’d done it. She’d walked up to this man, asked him to dance, and danced with him. Surely, that was all that mattered.
But she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder. She found Riley’s gaze instantly, and this time, she was the one wearing a challenge all over her face.
Rae could feel the way he looked back at her all through her, punching into the parts of her only he had ever touched. She felt alight. As if looking at him was plugging herself into an electrical outlet and turning it up all the way.
Riley was still smirking. Then he upped the game by lifting his beer in a little toast.
She wanted to go over and punch him, but that would be showing him far too much. That would be giving in. She refused.
So instead, Rae looked back to Tate and smiled even more brightly.
“I would love a drink,” she told him.
And laughed uproariously, just to seal the deal.
11
Rae woke up the following morning in her cute little room beneath the eaves in the Mortimer house, done up in soothing blues and her own bright and cozy comforter, not sure whether she had a hangover or not.
And not from alcohol.
Either way, her eyes were a little gritty, and she couldn’t stop going over—and over—everything that had happened last night. Tate Bishop. Dancing. The dark way Riley had watched her have a drink at the bar with Tate, though with that smirk of his in place.
Maybe she was the only one who’d seen the darkness beneath it. And maybe she was also the only one who found it a little more thrilling than she should have.
She took her usual morning shower in the tiny bathroom that was all hers on the third floor, complete with an antique, claw-foot tub and a view out over a sleepy Cold River, dark and sparkling. And when she dressed and went downstairs, she had the kitchen to herself. Because it was a Saturday morning, and Rae was the only one up early. That meant no sounds of the old pipes to warn her that Charity was about to start her morning shower songs until Monday.
Rae drank down her first two prescription-strength mugs of coffee while settled against the counter in the comfortable kitchen, letting last night entertain her. Because the more she replayed that dance, the better it got. All that spinning around and around, and Riley’s dark gaze in the middle of it all, always. Watching her.
Waiting, something in her whispered.
Her breath got a little choppy at that.
“Stop that right now,” she ordered herself.
She washed out her mug and set it on the drying rack beside the sink, then marched herself over to the mudroom to stamp her feet into her boots and shrug into her coat, winding her scarf tightly around her neck before she zipped up. Then she let herself out the side door and into the little alleyway that was still dark. Enough to make her imagine she saw Riley there again, like her own, personal ghost.
“And you can stop that too,” she muttered out loud, her grumpy voice making clouds in the air as she walked.
It was a cold, crisp morning, with the threat of snowfall later. She could smell it in the air and in the gusts of wind that made her cheeks redden. Rae shoved her hands in her pockets and made her way out to Main Street, welcoming despite the early-morning dark with all its pretty streetlights shining brightly. She set off toward the flower shop, listing the things she was grateful for in this new life of hers as she walked through the cold.
That she and Riley were friends. That however strange that friendship might feel, at times, they were both clearly dedicated to it. That she was living in Hope’s house here in town, which meant she didn’t have to dress in quite as many layers as she did when she woke up out in the country—because she didn’t have to worry about her truck breaking down in the middle of nowhere and her with the wrong thing on.
Every morning during this walk, she saw the same shopkeepers. The few that were open—or about to open—at this hour. She smiled at Katrina, who worked behind the desk of the little inn, and was always out first thing in the morning, sweeping off the step. Or in this kind of cold, getting rid of any ice.
“Good morning,” Rae said as she drew close. The way she always did.
But instead of replying in kind, the way she normally did, or saying something about the weather, Katrina glanced up with a speculative look on her face.
Everything in Rae stilled. Because she knew that look. She’d been the subject of it before. Her marriage had been a topic of conversation for years, complete with sniffs from some and snubs from others, but looks like that had been reserved for big events. Like when she’d moved back into her parents’ house, scandalizing far more people than she’d imagined.
She would have said no one paid her that much attention, but she’d been wrong. Repeatedly.
And she was so surprised to see a look
like that again that she actually stopped walking, there beneath the inn’s front light. “Is something the matter?”
Katrina blinked, and possibly reddened, though it was so cold out here it could have been that instead. “Oh no. Not at all.”
Rae didn’t believe her for a second, but what was she going to do? Stand here in the dark on the cold street and interrogate Katrina? Who also happened to be her former sister-in-law’s best friend?
She wanted to, so she didn’t. Instead, she smiled and walked on.
By the time she made it to the Flower Pot, she’d convinced herself that whatever had been going on with Katrina was Katrina’s business, not hers.
Why on earth would you think that every stray expression on another person’s face has something to do with you? she asked herself.
Then she let herself in to the shop, took that first, beautiful, deep breath, and got to work.
It was when Matias showed up to handle the day’s deliveries that Rae realized Katrina hadn’t been an isolated case. Because her older brother was looking at her in much the same way Katrina had.
Except with Matias, everything came with a heaping side helping of older-brother judgment he did nothing to hide.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked when he’d finished loading up the van they used for deliveries and stood there on the other side of the desk, waiting for her to finish the paperwork.
“Am I?”
“You know you are.”
He let out a faint sigh. “What are you doing, Rae?”
She kept her expression bland. “You say that as if you haven’t seen me prepare our delivery paperwork approximately ninety-five thousand times in the past year alone.”
“Not what I mean.”
Rae very serenely returned her attention to the clipboard before her. “Then you’ve lost me.”
“Let me remind you. Tate Bishop?”
There was that just-this-side-of-scathing note in Matias’s voice, on the off chance she hadn’t already discerned that he did not approve. And the minute the name was out there, dancing around between them on the counter in much the same way Rae and Tate had spun around last night, Rae understood that she should have been prepared for this. She should have formulated a plan this morning, instead of mooning around about Riley’s smirk.
Katrina had been a clue, but she’d missed it.
Because, of course, everyone and their mother and her own older brother would have an opinion on Rae’s behavior. Having opinions on other folks’ behavior was part of the entertainment around here, particularly as the weather got cold. There was usually no malice in it. It was all part of the same story they all told as they lived it, weaving their various tales together until they became nothing more and nothing less than Cold River itself.
It was nothing new. But somehow, Rae had once again convinced herself that no one would pay too much attention to her. Not now.
It had only been a dance, after all.
“He’s a very good dancer,” she said now. “Which is a surprise, I guess. Only because I knew him in high school and I would not have said ‘good dancer’ was going to be something he could add to his résumé down the line.”
“You can do whatever you want with your life,” Matias told her.
“Wow, Matias. Thanks for that. And here I was under the impression that I had to run it past you first.”
“But it’s only you and me here. I’ll ask again. What are you doing?”
“Whatever I want. As advertised.”
“For a minute there, it almost looked like you were cleaning up your mess,” her older brother said in that stark, hard-hitting Trujillo way she liked to think was charming when it came from her. Even though she had Matias here to make it clear that there was nothing charming about it when you were on the receiving end of it.
“My mess,” she repeated. “Let me guess. You’re talking about my marriage.”
“Why aren’t you?” Matias looked exasperated. “Why are you throwing him a bone and then dancing in his face with Tate Bishop, of all people?”
“Riley and I are friends.”
Matias laughed insultingly. “Sure you are.”
“We are!” She felt stung and really didn’t want him to see that, because surely if she had confidence in what she was saying, it wouldn’t matter if he believed her or not. “And even if we decided we were bitter enemies, what business is it of yours?”
“It’s not like your ex is some random guy,” her brother said as if he were explaining something very basic to her. The jerk. “Everybody knows him. They’ve known him longer than they’ve known you, as a matter of fact.”
“I’ve known you my entire life, and right now, I can’t say I consider that a good thing, Matias.”
He shook his head. “The problem with everybody knowing Riley is that it’s clear he’s not evil. He didn’t suddenly take to the bottle or worse. If he were stepping out on you, it seems likely that whoever he was stepping out with would have come out of hiding after all these years. He’s never met a horse he couldn’t tame, which is as good a way as any to tell he’s not a bully. And he never shows up in any of the places people go around here when they’ve decided it’s time to walk on the wild side.”
“He sounds amazing, Matias. Maybe you should marry him.”
Her older brother studied her for far too long. Only her determination that she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking away kept her from it. “Whatever he did that made you leave him, how can it be that bad?”
“I don’t remember you offering me the opportunity to weigh in on any relationship you’ve ever had. Is that something we’re doing now? I would have brought my notes on your private life if I’d known.”
“What I’m saying, Rae, if you would get your head out of your—”
“I also don’t recall asking you for advice. On any topic at all.”
Matias stared at her a moment. That wasn’t better.
“It looks like you’re playing with him,” he said quietly. “After years of acting like he doesn’t exist, suddenly you’re cozying up with him in public. And then the next thing you know, you’re dancing with another man, right in his face.”
“Riley and I are friends,” Rae said again, aware that she sounded significantly less at peace with her decisions. But there was no helping that. “Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s the one who suggested I ask Tate to dance in the first place.”
“Maybe you’ve forgotten how it works around here. Maybe that’s true and maybe it isn’t, but it doesn’t matter what actually happened if everyone around you has a different impression, does it?”
She blinked. “Are you … concerned about my reputation?”
“You’ve always been prickly,” he replied, which she thought was deeply unjust. Especially coming from him. “You’ve always done exactly what you wanted and never paid any attention to the fallout.”
“I know you’re not lecturing me. You of all people, who takes pride in storming around this valley like a hurricane, except less approachable.”
His mouth twitched as if he liked that description. Or wanted to laugh. It only made her more irritated.
“You’ve never actually had the pleasure of being single in Cold River,” Matias told her, and if he’d been close to laughter, there was no trace of it in his voice. “There are different rules for single people than there are for childhood sweethearts who are mysteriously estranged. You don’t have to take my word for it. Keep it up. See what happens.”
“I’m dating. People date. With or without your permission.”
Matias sighed again. “I’m not telling you to stop doing what you want to do, I’m telling you that people talk about it differently. But you know what? Forget it. You’re like talking to a wall.”
He didn’t wait around for her to cobble together a response to that outrage, coming from him, a man of stone and silence when it suited him. In typical older-brother style, he tugged the
clipboard out of her grasp and left her standing there with her mouth open while he loped off out the back, seemingly without a care in the world.
Leaving Rae to fume until the shop door opened and three women walked in. Rae knew them all. Two were teachers, and the other was a nurse. They often ate their lunch together, then bought themselves flowers to take home. And sure enough, instead of chattering brightly the way they normally did, they … whispered. Or talked to each other in very low voices, and even though Rae pretended she wasn’t watching them, she could see every time they glanced in her direction.
When they came to make their purchases, they all eyed her in that same speculative manner.
And she hated it.
But it was a pattern that repeated itself throughout the day until she found herself wishing no more locals would come in.
“Why is it that you can date or not date as your heart desires?” Rae demanded of Hope later that afternoon, bursting into the bookstore with—she could admit it—a touch of theater. “But I have one dance and I’m the Whore of Babylon?”
Hope gave her a mild glance from behind the counter but returned her attention to the book she was reading. “That sounds like a question only you can answer, Rae. Exactly how do you dance?”
Rae rounded the counter and threw herself onto the arm of the comfy old chair. “I’m serious.”
Hope smiled. “So was I.”
“My entire day has been spent contending with all these looks,” Rae complained. She summarized Matias’s unsolicited advice. “I assumed that he was just being a little crazy, but then there was a whole day of people looking at me like I grew a new head last night.”
“We live in a place that hasn’t changed a whole lot for more than a century. Of course any hint of change is suspect.”
Rae frowned at her. “Have people been treating you this way all this time and I didn’t know it?”
Hope smiled, almost sadly. “No. Because I stare them straight in the eye and remind them of the Mortimer family curse.”
That statement, obviously, derailed the entire conversation.
Secret Nights with a Cowboy Page 14
