While he ushered the group into the saloon, Conn didn’t move an inch.
“You, too,” said the man, coming down the wooden steps, his hand extended. “There’re no strangers in St. Valentine. I’m Wiley Scott, family friend.”
Conn shook his hand. “Conn Flannigan. I’m afraid I don’t really know the bride or groom. There’s just a member of the wedding party that I...”
“Who?”
Oddly, Conn felt a rush of heat cover his face. “Rita Niles.”
“You’re in the proper place then. She looks right lovely, too, in that dress.” Before going through the doorway again, Wiley waved Conn in. “Come on. Have a drink!”
But Conn merely watched the old man go. Rita was in there, and...
A stray, foreign thought punched through him. He still had time to hightail it back to the ranch in his truck.
He shook his head. Just where the hell had that come from?
Yet Conn didn’t really need to ask. The thought had arrived so naturally that it had to have originated from habit, from years of thinking that way...and escaping from hard situations with women.
Was something inside of him preserving the bachelorhood that he had reportedly enjoyed so much?
He listened to the gaiety inside the saloon, seeing through the doorway how people were hugging and enjoying each other. In spite of himself, more unwelcome thoughts crowded him, convenient and easy.
If he went in there, would Rita make a scene at the mere sight of him? Would she say something like, I thought you knew enough to leave me alone and just go home...
Was that what he wanted her to say, just so he could assure himself that he’d given it the good old All-American try?
Again, it sounded like something the old Conn would’ve embraced.
An unfamiliar voice cut through everything else. “Looks like there’re folks from different sides of town in there, having fun. Things have come a long way for this place lately.”
Conn glanced to the other side of the doorway, where he hadn’t noticed a man loitering. He was dressed in black, from his low-dipped cowboy hat to his boots. The only deviation in color was his silver belt buckle, which Conn recognized as a rodeo trophy.
Conn nodded to him, and for an instant, he thought that the man actually hadn’t said anything at all. But then the guy used his knuckles to nudge up the brim of his hat so his dark eyes were visible.
“Jared.” He had a hard face, chiseled, but it wasn’t entirely unfriendly. Still, Conn got the feeling this guy wasn’t terribly sociable.
Then he realized that Jared resembled the pictures of the infamous town founder, Tony Amati, that he’d seen in newspaper articles and even on TV. How about that.
“I’m Conn.”
The man nodded, too, his gaze taking in Conn’s casual wardrobe. “Looks like you weren’t at the wedding. I wasn’t, either, but I’m never one to miss a party.”
“Even from the outside?”
Jared smiled. “I prefer it that way.”
Conn had heard about the look-alike’s standoffishness, and also that he wasn’t being very cooperative in Violet and Davis Jackson’s journalistic investigation into Tony Amati’s long-ago life and death. But before he could say anything about it, his new pal wandered away, as if he’d never had any intention of being a part of the reception.
Conn just watched him go. It was almost like seeing a dark ghost walk away. He recognized ghosts, too, because that was how he’d felt so often recently—disassociated, alienated, on the fringes of so many things.
It didn’t appeal in the slightest.
With a new sense of purpose, Conn walked through the Queen of Hearts’ doors, looking past all the people to the only woman he wanted to find.
And as Rita locked gazes with him, the rest of the world and all its troubles ceased to exist, just as they seemingly had during their one night together.
* * *
So this is what it’s like, Rita thought when Conn walked into the saloon.
This was how it felt to be looked at by that one special man, just as Davis had looked at Violet at the wedding ceremony, when she had appeared in her bridal gown and he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.
Rita didn’t remember ever feeling like this, even when she’d been engaged to Kevin. But that had been years ago, and so many ugly things had happened between them that it was hard to remember the good times, although Rita knew they had existed.
Now, as Conn smiled at her, fairy-tale dust seemed to shimmer through her veins. Out of defensive instinct, she almost shut off the feeling, just as she always did.
But then she thought of the moment she had seen their baby on the monitor in the doctor’s office, and when Dr. Ambrose had told her the child was a girl.
And how she’d wished Conn were there for all of it.
You can sit here in your pretty dress and sob, or you can let go of the past and take a chance on the present.
At the echo of Andrea’s words from earlier in the day, Rita took that chance and smiled back at Conn across the room.
Maybe she wasn’t altogether ready to offer her heart, but she could offer him an opportunity. He was the father of her baby, and he had seemed so genuine this morning, putting himself on the line and coming back here to see if they could work something out.
Conn deserved to at least make his case about the baby to her.
He started to thread through everyone in the room, which had been cleared for the reception, with the usual tables relegated to a rarely used adjoining room that was normally separated by a sliding door.
He never took his gaze from hers, and as he got closer, her heart beat louder...louder...
Until he was standing in front of her.
Her mouth was dry, but she worked up enough courage to say, “I’m glad you came.”
Before he could answer, the room exploded in applause and cheers as the bride and groom entered. When they paused at the doorway, the wagon-wheel light fixtures lent illumination to Violet’s joyous glow. Even a tuxedo-clad Davis, whose perpetually tossed dark blond hair was actually tamed for the wedding, looked as if he were walking on clouds.
Wiley Scott led the toast to the new couple, but Rita barely heard any of it. She couldn’t stop thinking about the cowboy at her side.
This time, she wasn’t imagining him being here, as she had during the sonogram. He had really come back again.
If only it was for more than an obligation, though...
The dancing started with a tried-and-true wedding tune, “Celebration.” On the floor, everyone from the bride’s and groom’s relatives to townsfolk—some from mining families like Vi’s, some from the rich side of town like Davis’s—was having fun. Even Davis’s hoity-toity, fashion-victim mom was on the outskirts, holding a drink and smiling as if she were trying very hard to enjoy herself as she watched her son and Violet posing for a picture.
When Rita saw that her daughter had pulled some of her little friends as well as her uncle Nick and her aunt Kim onto the floor, too, Rita waved at them. Kristy did a cute rear-end-wiggling shimmy in her flower-girl dress while Kim, who’d been watching her during the wedding, got to a knee to plant a kiss on her niece’s cheek.
Conn bent to Rita’s ear so she could hear him over the music. “You look beautiful.”
And...melting again. She felt as if she’d been left too long in the sun.
“Thanks.” Was she blushing now, too?
Why did he have that power over her when no one else could outwardly faze her?
She gestured toward his cowboy hat, Western shirt and jeans. “You look...”
“Like I wasn’t invited?” he asked, laughing.
“I invited you.”
Her blush intensified. Was she actually doing something like flirting?
Uh-uh. She was willing to give him the chance to show her that he was more than a fly-by-night playboy and that he had it in him to be a dad, but here she was, stepping over a line she shouldn�
��t be crossing on a personal level.
Couldn’t happen.
But he didn’t make an issue out of it. And soon, when the music flowed into another song—“Life’s a Dance,” a tune she hadn’t heard in a long, long time—Conn took her hand without even asking, leading her onto the dance floor.
Her first impulse was to resist, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. Truthfully, it didn’t take but a moment for them to ease right into the rotation of other dancers as they two-stepped and circled the floor.
She felt the burn of judgment singeing her from the observers they were passing. Margery Wilmore from the hotel, who’d always clucked her tongue at Rita and monitored every move she made. A few miners’ wives from a knitting circle who met in the saloon—part of the moral majority in this town.
But then Conn danced her past Vi’s mom, and Rita met her optimistic gaze.
When Andrea gave Rita a subtle wink, Rita smiled, then turned her full attention on Conn.
His laughing blue eyes, his playful grin... She didn’t care if the whole town would gossip about her and speculate if he was the dad of her new baby. Lost in his gaze, she couldn’t care less, because he was all that existed in this instant.
But all too soon, the song ended, and they didn’t let go of each other. She could feel her pulse flitting over every inch of her skin.
What next? she thought.
As she anticipated the answer, Conn smiled at her, and once again, he became her fantasy man, even though she knew the dream would probably end all too quickly.
Chapter Six
The tension was almost strong enough to be bullet-proof, and Rita couldn’t stand a moment more of waiting as she looked at Conn and he looked at her.
Seconds languished.
Heat surrounded them.
“I could use something to drink,” she said finally.
Yup. Leave it to her to ruin a moment.
At first, he seemed stymied. But then he laughed, slowly letting her go, much to her relief.
“I’ll get us something,” he said.
As a fast song started up, he made his way toward the bar, coming back with two lemonades with mint sprigs decorating the rims. Then he jerked his chin toward the quieter side room, silently asking if she wanted to go in there.
They found an empty table toward the back, and after he set down the drinks, he pulled out a chair for her to sit.
After she did, he said, “I know you’ve got a spot at the bridal-party table, but I thought you might like a break from some of the noise.”
“You just want to show me that you’re responsible, right?” she asked.
He shrugged good-naturedly, then took a seat next to her. The awkwardness of their situation still loomed, but she didn’t want it to settle. Not when it seemed so simple right now to remember why they’d gotten together that one night. Every awful thing that had come afterward didn’t seem to matter as much while they were in this secluded space, away from everyone else.
When she rubbed her palm over her tummy—a gesture that had become a soothing habit—she caught him watching.
Did he want to feel the bump? It sure looked like it.
Again, she thought of the sonogram, and how she’d wished for him to see it, too.
It was clear that he sensed her confusion. “You’re scared to death that I’m going to treat you like your ex-fiancé did, aren’t you?”
She didn’t know what to say at his bluntness.
“Don’t be afraid.” He leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped.
She noticed how strong they were, work-roughened, and her pulse skipped.
“Rita, you can trust me. And don’t say that I can’t be sure of that because I have no past to base that on. I know it deep down.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“You say that as if you’re still not sure.” He sat back in his chair. “Hell, I suppose I can’t blame you.”
He pushed his hat back on his head, and his face just about broke her heart all over again. It wasn’t just that he was as handsome as the devil—there was something about him that got to her, reaching inside and twisting.
“You weren’t my first affair on the road,” he said. “My brothers tell me that I was pretty good at playing the field, that I didn’t stay in one woman’s arms for long.”
There it went again—a needling ache in her chest. But how could she have ever thought that she was the first for him?
“You never had a long-term girlfriend?” she asked.
“Not even close, as far as I understand. But after I got out of the hospital, I tried to find out if my brothers were wrong. I dug through old pictures, looked through my email accounts, but there wasn’t one photo of a woman, and there weren’t any messages or love letters showing that I had some kind of relationship waiting in the wings—or that I even had a significant one in the past. And I didn’t have any phone numbers for women outside of business stored in my phone.”
Rita’s heart was sinking with every word. “What makes you think you won’t go back to being that way?”
“Because I don’t feel like the same man I keep hearing about,” he said, his voice firm.
Rita surveyed Conn, but there was nothing duplicitous about him. What would he have to gain by coming back here?
And why did she keep having to doubt his word?
“So you’re telling me that you’ve come here to change your life?” she asked.
“Yeah. What if this is the man I’m meant to be?”
He sounded so damned full of conviction that it wrung her out.
“I’m going to live up to whatever a baby would need, Rita,” he said. “My ranch isn’t so far away that I couldn’t be here for him or her.”
He was making a commitment—or at least the best one he could manage on this tenuous ground.
Should she offer as much back to him, tell him that she was carrying a girl?
No. That wasn’t a step she was prepared to take. Not just yet. It seemed too much to give up too soon.
“Are you talking about visitation rights?” she asked.
“I’m not getting into legal stuff. I just want to be an important part of this child’s life.”
Just the thought of losing this baby to a half-baked custody arrangement made her nerves flail.
Damn him. Damn her, too, for not being able to trust him.
Nipped by panic, she fought to distance herself from him, to see if he would change his mind about coming on so strong if she showed him that it wasn’t working with her. “Is this all about proving this ‘new man’ theory to yourself, Conn?”
He kept his silence.
“I mean,” she said, “you’re not losing sight of what it really means to be a dad in all this, are you? Fatherhood’s not a part-time deal. A child takes everything you have to give—your heart, soul and more time than a human actually has at their disposal.”
He was already shaking his head. “Just stop right there. Clearly, I’m not doing a good job of saying what I really want to say to you.”
“Which is...?”
“That I came here to win you over, Rita. About the baby and...”
As he trailed off, a shock jolted her.
“And what?” she asked.
He bent forward, taking her hand again, just as if he was about to lead her out of the room and onto the floor for another dance.
A dance she didn’t know the steps to, but wanted so badly to learn, if only she could allow herself to.
“Rita?”
At the sound of the female voice, Rita dragged her glance away from Conn. She saw her sister, Kim, who was uncomfortably garbed in an ill-fitting floral skirt and blouse paired with her Resistol hat and Justin boots. She made her way through the other tables, which were still basically empty because of the dancing in the bigger room.
“Here you are,” she said. “You’re the only one missing at the wedding party’s table.”
“I’ll be right there,” Rita said as Kim ga
ve Conn an arch look, then left.
Conn rose to his feet, extending a hand to help Rita out of her chair. “Maybe you could just take a drive with me after the wedding. A short one.”
She looked at his offered hand. Taking a drive would be the first real step into something beyond a mere tap dance around the true issues between them. Taking a drive would mean taking a risk.
Once more, she saw a flash of her little baby’s sonogram.
With a held breath, Rita grasped on to his hand, and he pulled her gently to her feet.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
* * *
Here they were again, Conn on one side of a truck cab and Rita on the other with the radio playing a soft tune as the late-afternoon scenery rolled by.
But unlike the time he’d taken her to the fish shack, it was his own truck he was driving today, and things were somewhat less awkward between them, now that they’d cleared a bit of air back at the wedding.
That wasn’t to say all their issues were taken care of. It was obvious that Rita still didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.
Yet could he fault her for that? She’d been crushed before by a jerk who’d left her to raise a child alone. The past was repeating itself for Rita, and it would take a lot of winning over for Conn to persuade her that he wasn’t going to be the same as her ex.
A tweak of conscience got to him as he wondered if, maybe, he might turn out to be a whole lot more like him than he would like.
He turned off the main road near the Heartland condominium complex, where he’d heard Tony Amati used to have a ranch before it was torn down for the sake of modern progress.
“Are we going where I think we are?” Rita asked.
She didn’t sound put out that he’d kept her guessing ever since they’d left the reception. In fact, she smiled at him, looking every bit as breathtaking as she had earlier, when he’d first seen her across the saloon in her creamed-coffee-colored dress and with her hair arranged in a bundle of curls, just as if she were at some old-time ball. Honestly, Conn thought she’d been just as appealing—sexier, even—this morning in those sweats that clung to her curves, but he couldn’t stop gazing at her either way.
“And where do you think we’re going?” he asked, guiding the truck toward a copse of pines off the country lane.
Daddy in the Making Page 8