She’s Gone Country (8 page)

“You’re a great dancer,” Mason shouts to me over the amplified music.

“Not great, but I am having a really good time,” I answer, flashing him a warm smile.

We do another spin, and as I turn, I see big shoulders on a big man, a man with thick honey blond hair. My breath catches in my throat.

Dane’s here.

I lose track of what I’m supposed to be doing and step the opposite direction, bumping into Mason. He steadies me. “Gotcha,” he says.

“Sorry. Got distracted,” I say, flushing. I steal another glance in Dane’s direction, and my skin prickles as I realize he’s not alone, either. He has a date, a stunning brunette in snug jeans, an even snugger sexy western-cut blouse, and fancy dress boots. Despite the western threads, she screams city and money, and I’m reminded of Blue’s wife, Emily.

Since I’ve already vowed that I’m not going to get involved with him, I don’t know why I care that Dane has a date, but I do. I care very much, which just frustrates me.

Even more frustrating is that Dane’s cane in no way diminishes his size or strength. I should find him less attractive now that he’s injured. But he’s still so big, and his thighs are so muscular, they stretch the denim fabric, making his Wranglers look as if they were painted on. Sinewy thighs. Lean hips. Perfect butt.

The song ends, and Mason walks me back to the table where I was sitting with Charlotte. I sit down, and Mason takes a seat near me.

“Thank you. That was fun,” he says, running a hand through his dark hair. We’re both warm and a little breathless from dancing. “Wish I didn’t have to get back to Dallas. I’d love to stay another couple hours. Love to dance another dance.”

“It was fun,” I agree, suddenly self-conscious and knowing it’s because Dane’s here. But how can Dane give me butterflies twenty years later? How can he make me feel like a teenager all over again?

I glance up then, and as I do, my gaze collides with Dane’s.

Dane doesn’t look away. He holds my gaze, jaw squared, and I stare right back.

I’m not going to run and hide. Not going to back down. Not going to let him win this time.

I can hear Mason talking, but my attention is only on Dane, and we continue our little stare-down for another couple of seconds.

The edge of his mouth lifts. He smiles the smallest of smiles at me, as if he’s somehow won.

But he didn’t win. He hasn’t won.

“I’m anxious to see how the last thirty frames turned out.” Mason’s still talking, and I force my focus back to what he’s saying. “The sunset couldn’t have been more spectacular, but I’m not sure about my lighting on you and Brick.”

I’m listening to Mason, but my attention is still split and it’s a struggle to answer him. “I’m sure you’ll have something Blue can use.”

“I’ll let you know,” he promises. “And Shey, if you’re not going back to New York right away, I’d love to see you again. Even as friends.” He sees my expression and adds apologetically, “Your brother told me about John. I’m sorry. John’s a fool.”

I feel a sudden tightness in my chest. Don’t want to think about John tonight. John’s part of the past. I need to leave him there. “I guess we can’t help who we love.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Shey—”

“I’d love to be friends, Mason,” I interrupt gently. I don’t like cutting him short, but I’m not ready for compliments and charm. “Let’s stay in touch. Okay?”

He pulls his business card from his wallet and scribbles a number on the back. “Here’s my contact info. Call me the next time you’re in Dallas. We could go to a movie, grab lunch, whatever.”

“Sounds good.” I take his card but don’t offer one in return. I think we both know that it’s going to be up to me to contact him, and I’m grateful he doesn’t press for my number.

He gives me a quick hug and goes. I watch him leave and then turn my head a little to see where Dane has gone. But Dane hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s standing right where I last saw him—adjacent to the bartender’s table—and he’s looking at me.

I lift an eyebrow at him and he shakes his head at me, and just like that I get the crazy frisson of feeling. It’s sharp and hot and electric. He makes me feel hungry and alive and reckless. So reckless.

“So Dane’s here,” Charlotte says, following my gaze. “That’s interesting.”

Charlotte and Brick have been together since high school, and like the rest of my family, Charlotte knew Dane was the reason my parents sent me to California.

“What is he doing here?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” she answers dryly. “Why don’t you find out?”

“You think I should go talk to him?”

“Well, your brothers certainly won’t.”

“Not in a thousand years.”

Charlotte is grinning too much like the Cheshire cat for my taste. “You always did have a soft spot for him.”

Soft spot? Is that what she calls it?

I can see myself at sixteen, sitting on the top rail of the corral in my snug Wranglers and boots, wearing a tight pink T-shirt, trying to make the most of what God gave me while Dane takes a practice ride. I see me climbing onto his lap in his truck and kissing him with all the passion a sixteen-year-old can feel. I see me cutting the last two classes at school so I can jump in my truck and head to Fort Worth to watch Dane compete.

I would have done anything for him. Gone anywhere with him. But Dane didn’t let anything happen. We came close a couple of times, but he stopped before we got carried away. And then suddenly I was shipped off, sent away to St. Pious.

The first month at the boarding school, I lost ten pounds because I was so worried he’d forget me, I couldn’t eat.

It’s been a lifetime since I attended St. Pious, but it still stings when I think about him marrying Shellie Ann. In my mind he was supposed to be with me, supposed to wait for me. I might have been a Stanford University grad, but my heart was holding out for a cowboy. I was never going to model, never going to travel the world. My dream was to be a bull rider’s wife.

“I did like him,” I admit, getting to my feet.

“Where are you going?” Charlotte asks.

I rap my knuckles on the table. “To find out what he’s doing here.”

He watches me approach, eyes hooded, arm draped casually around his date. I hate that he has a date. Hate that he never wanted me the way I wanted him. “This is the last place I expected to find you,” I say to him before turning to his date. “I’m Shey Darcy, Blue Callen’s sister.”

“Lulu Davies,” she answers. “Blue Callen’s investor.”

So this is Lulu Davies. I had no idea she’d be so young or pretty. Lulu is the widow of the late Hap Davies, one of Texas’s original oil tycoons. She’s his third wife and inherited billions after less than five years of marriage. And seeing as she’s big, big money and one of Blue’s investors, I suppose she can bring anyone she wants to the party, and that includes Dane Kelly.

“What do you think of the party?” I ask her, aware of Dane’s scrutiny but unwilling to give him a reaction.

“Glad to see everyone having a good time,” she answers, “but I’m not surprised. I sent Blue to my personal event planner, and I think they did a fine job.”

I glance at Dane. “When we talked yesterday, you didn’t mention the party.”

His eyes gleam. He knows what I’m doing. Knows I’m deliberately stirring things up.

“When Lulu told me we had plans for Saturday night, I didn’t know we’d be coming here,” he responds, smiling down at me, “otherwise I’d have suggested we double-date.”

So this isn’t their first date. They may even be a couple. Dane Kelly, bull-riding champ, and Lulu Davies, Texas heiress.

Makes me want to throw up.

I smile grimly instead and gesture to the sawdust-covered dance floor. “The band’s wonderful. Have you had a chance to get out there yet?”

Lulu’s expression falters, and she looks at me as though I’m heartless. I sigh inwardly. I didn’t mean it like that. I know Dane’s been hurt, but if he can still ride a horse and drive a truck, he can dance, can’t he?

“Dane doesn’t dance,” Lulu corrects me with quiet dignity. I imagine her using the same tone of voice when she ordered Hap Davies’s dinner for him after his stroke. “His injury,” she adds significantly.

As if she knows anything about him or his injury.

I glance at Dane’s hip. “Giving you trouble, Dane?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Shey.”

I hear the hint of laughter in his voice. He knows I’m annoyed that Lulu felt the need to correct me. He knows I didn’t need Lulu’s correction.

“Good to hear,” I answer, smiling as pleasantly as I can considering the circumstances. I shouldn’t have approached Dane in the first place. I’d imagined the conversation going so very differently.

“I bumped into Bo on the way in tonight,” Dane says. “He didn’t know I’d called yesterday.”

“I forgot,” I confess, taking a jittery step backward. Dane looks gorgeous in his black dress shirt and Wranglers, boots and big buckle, a buckle he was awarded in one of his many wins. “Things have been hectic, and Blue was there and I just got distracted. I’m sorry,” I add sincerely, grateful for the kindness he showed Bo.

“It looks like he’s healing.”

“He is.” I look up at him and our eyes meet, lock, and once again I’m hit by wildly conflicting emotions. Awareness. Desire. Curiosity.

I’m too warm, and I exhale hard. “I should go check on the boys. They’ve been on their own long enough.” I look at Lulu. “Nice to meet you,” I say to her, and then nod at Dane. “See you round,” I say to him before moving on.

Dumb, I think, walking away.

That was so dumb of me.

I thought I was going to be clever and cool, show him just what he’d missed in life. But then I discover he’s dating one of Texas’s richest women and doing just fine.

A little too fine.

T
wo hours later, I’m rounding up my boys. It’s nearing midnight, and I’ve had enough of Lulu and Dane playing kissy-face. Not that they kissed a lot, but even the one kiss I witnessed was more than my stomach could handle.

Although I say I’m not going to get involved with Dane, the fact is I’m already involved. I’ve always felt connected to him, possessive of him. I don’t know why, either. He just feels like mine. As if he were made for me. I’ve never felt this way about any other man, not even John. I used to think it was because Dane was my first love, but now I think it’s just the energy between us. That crazy chemistry that makes me feel fiercely alive.

And Dane does make me feel alive.

As well as hungry and passionate and physical.

Three things I never felt with John. With John I was sunny, stylish, and sophisticated. We were an elegant, fashion-forward, culturally sensitive, socially prominent couple. If there was an A-list party in Manhattan, we were inevitably on the guest list. Big party in the Hamptons? Of course we attended. Trunk show, fashion week, designers’ darlings—check, check, check.

We lived a glamorous life filled with interesting people and exciting activities, and John was the ideal husband—handsome, charming, chivalrous. He respected me, even adored me, and even though our relationship was far from sexually charged, I never questioned the lack of passion because John was such great company.

But with Dane… it’s all chemistry. I don’t know if we’re compatible. All I know is that when I see him, I want him.

The boys began arguing as we left the party and are still fighting as we head to my truck. Cooper is angry with his brothers for ditching him earlier, Bo’s pumped because he got the phone number of one of the two hot girls, and Hank isn’t saying anything, but I think he made out with the other one. But that wouldn’t surprise me; girls have always had a thing for Hank.

“You’re such a jerk,” Cooper mutters as Bo trips him.

Bo whacks Cooper. “Don’t call me names.”

“Then stop pushing me!”

It never ends, does it? “Enough.”

“He started it—”

“Did not.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Well, you’re an asshole.”

“Boys!” I’m practically screaming. “Stop it
. Now
.”

“Kids giving you trouble, Shey?”

Of course it’s Dane, and he’s giving me a play on the very words I said to him earlier.
Hip giving you trouble, Dane?

I turn my head, peer into the dark, and just make out his powerful silhouette. He’s leaning against a sports car, legs extended. “Nothing I can’t handle,” I answer smartly, but in truth I’m humiliated that he overheard the scene. I find it embarrassing that my boys give one another—and me—such a hard time.

“Sounds like they’re giving you a run for your money,” he replies.

“Heck, no. This is our version of quality family time.”

He laughs softly. “At least you still have your sense of humor.”

“At least,” I agree.

The moonlight plays on his face as he pushes off the car to join us. His lips are curved. Even his eyes seem to be smiling. I hear the crunch of his cane on leaves. I hate that he’s hurt. Hate that I wasn’t there when he was hurt. “What happened to Lulu?”

“She’s having a word with Blue.”

“Why? Is Blue in trouble?”

His husky laugh floats on the night. “She fires you up, doesn’t she?”

“I have no feelings one way or another.”

“Liar.”

I blush and my cheeks grow hot, almost as hot as the rest of me. Because of course he’s right. Lulu did fire me up, but then, I’d be fired up over any woman Dane dates.

“I don’t think you’ve met all my boys,” I say, aware of my boys there, listening to our exchange. I gesture to each of the kids as I introduce them. “Hank, my oldest. Bo you’ve met. And Cooper, my youngest.”

“Hank, Bo, and Cooper,” he repeats, looking at each in turn and studying them as intently as if they’re the champion bucking bulls he raises.

I suddenly see my boys through his eyes. Tall, lanky, thin. The boys are in that awkward stage of adolescence where only a mother can find them beautiful. And some days it’s hard even for me to see the charm in them.

Unsettled, I place my hands on Cooper’s shoulders. “This is Dane Kelly, a friend of Uncle Brick’s and a national bull-riding champion.”

“Three-time national champ,” Cooper corrects as he extends his hand to Dane. “I’ve read a lot about you, Mr. Kelly. You’re the most famous person in Palo Pinto County.”

Dane smiles, and creases fan from the edges of his eyes. “Follow the circuit, Cooper?”

“Yes, sir. I want to be a bull rider like you and Uncle Brick.”

“You ride, then?”

“No, sir. Not yet. I’d like to get some training, but I don’t have any roughstock experience yet. I was hoping you’d maybe teach me.” Coop swallows nervously. “If you had time, that is.”

“Coop,” I protest in a low voice.

Dane is focused on Coop. “Your uncle won’t teach you?”

“Haven’t asked him.”

“Why not?”

“He told me once that he wouldn’t let my cousin Tyler do it, that bull riding’s too dangerous.”

“It’s an extreme sport,” Dane agrees.

“I know I’m skinny,” Coop adds. “But I’m strong, and a lot tougher than I look.”

“Cooper, I’m flattered you asked, but I’m not doing a lot of training right now. Lately my business has me on the road more often than not—”

“That’s okay with me. We could work when you’re home. It’d be around your schedule, Mr. Kelly, whenever you have time,” Coop interrupts, voice cracking. He’s nervous and scared and yet so hopeful. “I can pay you, too. I have my own money. I’ve been saving for a while.”

“Money isn’t the problem, son. Time is.”

Cooper is momentarily flustered. He digs the toe of his boot in the ground. “Will you at least think about it, Mr. Kelly? You’re one of the best bull riders ever. I could learn a lot from you.”

I didn’t want Cooper to ask Dane to train him. I don’t want to be indebted to Dane more than I am. But when I hear that pleading tone in Coop’s voice, my heart aches. Cooper has never asked for anything before. He’s never wanted anything like this before. And even though Dane isn’t the one I’d have train him, I suddenly want Dane to tell him yes. I want Dane to make him happy.

Dane studies Cooper for a long moment. “As I said, I’m not working with cowboys right now, and I don’t think it’d be fair for me to start training you and then stop because I’m just too busy. But let me sleep on it tonight. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. How does that sound?”

Cooper lights up. “Good. Really good. Thank you.”

A few minutes later, we’re in the truck and heading home. The boys talk about Dane and bull riding, and every time Dane’s name is mentioned I feel a little zing, a sharp shock of recognition. It’s so strange to hear my sons discussing Dane Kelly. They have no idea that Dane and I once dated, that we had one month of clandestine meetings and stolen kisses and feverish make-out sessions before I got packed up and shipped off to Monterey, California.

For four weeks I was Dane’s girl. For four weeks I thought we were a couple and we were going to make it work. At least, Dane let me believe we had a chance. But once I was sent away, it was over. Completely, totally over. I didn’t understand it. Kept thinking it was a mistake. That once I was back home—during summer or Christmas vacation—Dane would see me and realize he missed me. But he never looked at me again, or took my calls, or sought me out. He showed absolutely zero interest, and it crushed me. Talk about unrequited love.

I was still hung up on Dane when I started Stanford, especially as he was beginning to make a name for himself. I was in the middle of my junior year when he won his first national championship, and he was leading the standings the following year when I graduated. It was a big deal in Palo Pinto County, as everyone back home followed Dane’s career. Whenever I returned home, it seemed like Dane was all anyone talked about. That’s why I headed to Europe after I graduated from college instead of moving back to Texas. I couldn’t go back to Parkfield. Couldn’t be in Dane’s world but not be part of it.

Remembering hurts. It’s bruising to know one can be so completely dismissed. So easily forgotten.

I’m still thinking about Dane when bits of the boys’ conversation reach me. They’re discussing the girls they met tonight, comparing them in terms of hotness. After listening to them analyze the girls’ figures, I interrupt. “Give me a break, boys. They’re still just little girls.”

“They’re fifteen, Mom,” Bo answers.

“Not old enough to vote, drink, or drive, which makes them little girls,” I answer. “And you guys have other things to think about. Like school. I haven’t seen any of you do any homework yet this weekend.”

“You weren’t even around today, Mom. How would you know?” Bo protests.

“As if there’s real homework,” Hank answers sarcastically.

I stiffen and my hands tighten on the steering wheel. “If you’re not being adequately challenged, Hank, then maybe it’s time you challenged yourself. Do extra reading. Do your own research. Create your own projects. Not everyone gets to go to private prep schools that cost thirty grand a year!”

“What does money have to do with it?”

“Everything!”

“
Jesus
.”

He’d said it beneath his breath, but I heard. And I’m sure he wanted me to hear, which makes me even more upset. Livid, I pull over to the side of the road and twist to look at him. “What are you doing?” I demand.

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re deliberately pushing my buttons. Why are you picking a fight?”

He sighs with exaggerated patience. “I’m not picking a fight. You’re picking the fight. I’ve done nothing—”

“Your school cost thirty-three thousand a year, and I paid that tuition for the past ten years. But things have changed and I’m not comfortable paying that kind of money for school.”

“But we can afford the tuition. I talked to Uncle Brick and he said we could take a second mortgage out on the ranch—”

“You what?”

“Talked to Uncle Brick.”

“Oh, my God.”

“What?”

Bo and Coop are so quiet now, I’m not even sure they’re breathing. But I barely give them a passing thought as I focus on Hank. “You would have me risk the family ranch, property that’s been in the family for four generations, so you could go to your elite school in New York?”

Hank is unmoved. “If I graduate from Dyer, I’m virtually guaranteed a spot at any college I want to go to.”

“That may be true, but you’re not going to do it on Uncle Brick’s back. This is your uncle’s home—”

“This is my future!”

“Your future,” I repeat, appalled and revolted.

“Yes. My future.”

“When did you get to be so selfish?” My voice shakes. “Your uncle is one of the most giving, decent men you’ll ever meet, and I’d rather you never go to college than do it by putting his home and security at risk. Now I don’t want to hear another word about Dyer. You’re not going back. You’re going to make Mineral Wells High work. And you’re going to find a way to be successful here. Understand?”

He glares at me in the dark.

“Henry William Darcy, do you understand?”

And still he stares at me, anger etched all over his face.

“Answer me, Hank, or you walk home.”

I’ve pulled the ultimate power play, and he hates it. “Yes,” he hisses.

I don’t like fighting with him, but I can’t back down. “Good. This discussion is now over.”

I start the truck and drive the rest of the way home in heavy, suffocating silence. The younger boys don’t dare to speak, and Hank seethes next to me. I can feel his anger. He hates me right now. He might still hate me in the morning. But I have to do what’s right. I have to teach them, which means raising them to think of others.

I’m in bed a half hour later, but I can’t fall asleep and end up watching the minutes change on the clock with its jumbo neon yellow numbers. Mama bought the electric clock for Pop because he had a hard time reading the numbers on the old one. But this clock is like a billboard, impossible not to see.

I have to talk to Brick. I know with Pop gone, Brick’s become the head of the family and feels responsible for everyone, but it’s not Brick’s job to provide for my kids. I’ll accept his time and his love, but we don’t need his financial support.

I walk over to Brick and Charlotte’s in the morning, determined to have a word with Brick. But he’s already out on the ranch, checking on some missing cattle. Their house sits on the corner of the property, about a mile from Mama and Pop’s house, but they didn’t always have their own home. When Brick and Charlotte moved back to Parkfield after he graduated from college, they moved into Brick’s old room for a year while they built the little house they live in now. Brick had promised Charlotte that once they had the money, he’d remodel the house to give her a proper home. He did remodel—adding on a bedroom for Carolyn and then another one for Tyler—but Charlotte never did get a big or fancy house.