“Whatever you want. Let’s see if we can get out of everyone’s way.” He grasped her hand and moved through the crowd. They wended their way past groups of people lining up for the dance. Rusty found them a place against a wall far enough away from the music that they could actually hear each other.
“Rachel Stevens, is that you?” Katie Brenner, a woman well known in the community as having eyes for the best looking men in town, strolled up to Rachel, her hands extended as if they were the best of friends. They were not.
“I haven’t seen you at one of these dances in years.” She laughed gaily, her gaze the entire time on Rusty. “And who is this?” She placed her hand on Rusty’s arm, looking up at him as if he might be her next meal.
Rachel gritted her teeth. “Rusty McIntyre, the new foreman at the Lazy Sunset. Rusty, Katie Brenner.” She spoke quickly, waving her hand back and forth between the two of them.
“Really?” Katie raised her eyebrows as if such a statement was the most amazing thing she’d heard all year. “Well, I must make a visit to the ranch sometime soon. I make a mean pecan pie, Mr. McIntyre.”
Rusty threw his arm around Rachel’s shoulders, hugging her close. “Isn’t that something? So does Rachel.”
“But I do so much more than baking.” Her cupid lips drew into a pout that had Rachel’s dinner climbing up the back of her throat.
Katie took hold of Rusty’s arm just as the next number, a waltz, started up. “Rachel, I’m sure you won’t mind if I borrow Mr. McIntyre, do you?” Without waiting for a reply, or even glancing in Rachel’s direction, she tugged Rusty toward the dance floor.
Rachel told herself over and over she didn’t care one whit if Rusty waltzed all night with Katie. Or any other woman at the dance, for that matter. He was a good-looking, single man, and could dance with whomever he pleased. She plastered a smile on her face, her jaw so tight it was amazing her teeth didn’t shatter.
“Mrs. Stevens, may I have the pleasure of this dance?” Greg Hancock stood in front of her, grinning like a small b
oy. The cowboy had been with the Lazy Sunset since before Rachel began working there. A widower himself, he’d shown some interest in her when she first arrived, however soon gave up when she remained polite, but distant.
Although she would have preferred to share the waltz with Rusty, since Katie had beat her to it, she might as well enjoy herself, anyway. “Yes, I would like that.” She accepted his hand and followed him to the dance floor where Katie was practically climbing up Rusty’s body.
Not that she cared. Not one whit.
***
If Rusty had to move Katie’s hand one more time, he would do the ungentlemanly thing and leave her right here in the middle of the dance floor. Her delicate fingers, resting at his waist, kept wandering toward his backside. Aside from the soiled doves in a bordello, he’d never encountered a woman so forward before. Cut from the same cloth as his erstwhile fiancée, apparently.
While he continued to wrestle with Katie, he twisted and turned, curious to see Greg Hancock approach Rachel. What was that old coot doing, cozying up to her? He was old enough to be her father. When she smiled up at the man and took his hand to accept a dance, his gut twisted. Turning Katie in a circle, he maneuvered his way through the other dancers.
“Why are you dragging me across the floor?” Katie frowned when she saw the direction he was headed.
“It was too crowded where we were.”
The dance seemed to go on forever. He watched how close Greg and Rachel danced, not happy with the lack of space between them. He tried to catch Rachel’s eye, but she never glanced his way.
What the hell was the matter with him? He had no claim on Rachel. Maybe he should be taking advantage of all the signals Katie was sending him. He glanced down at her. All wrong. She was the wrong height, the wrong hair color. Hell, the curves she pushed against him were wrong.
Damnation. She wasn’t Rachel.
Maybe it was time to admit he had feelings for the woman. Feelings beyond friendship. If he wanted to settle down—not saying that he did—Rachel was everything he would want in a wife. She was beautiful, compassionate, a wonderful mother, and made his blood boil.
The night he’d sat in her kitchen, drinking tea of all things, with her in only a nightgown, it had all seemed so right. What had not seemed right was when he kissed her goodnight and walked out the door. It had taken him hours to cool down enough to sleep.
If he and Big Bob worked out the deal they’d discussed, he would have something to offer a wife. A place to call home that was his. He would slowly buy Big Bob out, giving him all he’d saved so far as a down payment.
Big Bob explained that he’d already found a house in Arizona Territory where he wanted to move his wife. Rusty’s down payment on the ranch would help to get them settled. The quarterly payments would provide their support, with enough left over to tuck away for their old age.
“Hey, you haven’t been listening to me,” Katie whined.
He looked down at his dance partner, surprised to find her in his arms. Certainly not the woman he wanted there. But did he desire more than that from Rachel? There was no doubt he lusted after her. And, although she tried to hide it, her attraction to him was very obvious.
At last the final note in the number sounded. He squeezed Katie’s hand and uttered, “Thanks,” before he turned and strode to where Rachel was returning from her dance.
“My turn, Hancock,” he said as he took Rachel’s hand and tucked her arm into his. He bent and whispered, “Let’s take a stroll outside. It’s warm in here.”
The night air felt good on his face. But what felt better was Rachel snug against his side as they walked.