“You can wear them. She wasn’t the clotheshorse you are. To her clothes were just things she had to wear so that she could walk about the farm without shocking the animals. But she did have some nice things. She wouldn’t have minded someone borrowing them.”
Even if that someone was me? A woman who was hot for her husband? Claudia didn’t ask the question, she merely gathered up the clothes. “They’re pretty.”
Again Ross nodded. He tried to imagine how she might look in his wife’s clothes, but the image wouldn’t come. No doubt that she would wear them in such a way as to abolish any likeness she might have to his late wife. Maybe she’d choose the short skirts Susan avoided. Susan hated to show her knees. She said they were bumpy. He smiled at the memory.
Then he saw Claudia watching him intently. She was worried about his reaction. He could tell by the way she stood so stiffly and the way her hands clenched and unclenched around the boots.
“I’m sure I can find something of my own. I didn’t really look that hard.”
“We looked for hours and hours,” Rosa May groaned. “And I’m sure Mom wouldn’t have minded.”
Claudia turned from father to daughter and back to father. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. Are you?”
She sensed that the question went a little deeper, but she was too rattled to analyze it. “No,” she answered adamantly. “But that never stopped me before. I’ve got to go and get dressed or we’re going to be late.”
“The dance starts in less than an hour. We’re definitely going to be late,” Ross said. He knew it was going to take longer than that to get her hair “just so.” And Claudia’s hair had to be “just so” before she would stick her big toe out the door.
“I meant more than fashionably late, dummy. Heavens, I would never consider arriving to a dance on time. The embarrassment.”
“And the shame, I know. Go get ready.”
It took less than thirty minutes for Ross to shower, shave and dress for the dance. He wore his cleanest jeans, a white-collared shirt with a slim black tie, and cowboy boots of course. He even agreed to wear the cowboy hat that his daughter had given him the year before on his birthday. He felt a little silly in it, but Rosa May said he looked better than Garth Brooks. When he caught his expression in the small mirror above the sink, he grunted. It was the best he was ever going to look.
Then the waiting began. He didn’t anticipate that Claudia would be ready in anything less than an hour. It gave him time for a relaxing beer and for some small talk with Betty, the girl he hired to watch Rosa May for the night. “I don’t think we’ll be late,” he told the girl.
“Whenever. I’ve spent more than one night on a stranger’s couch.”
She was sixteen. Ross wasn’t too sure how to interpret that statement. In the end, because he wasn’t going to be getting anyone else at this late hour, he decided to accept it at face value.
“So, Mr. Evans do you know what Claudia’s schedule is like for next Monday?” Betty asked him.
“Her schedule?” Ross repeated having no idea what the girl was referring to.
“Um, she’s pretty booked,” Rosa May interjected. She shook her head quickly in the direction of the baby-sitter.
“Booked with what?” Ross wanted to know as well why his daughter was making subtle slashing motions against her neck.
“You know, Dad. Cooking and cleaning and the chores and stuff. Claudia does a lot in a day. And now that she’s not afraid of the horses anymore, she’s grooming Shannon and Devil.”
That was fine, but why did Betty care about all of that and what did that have to do with next Monday? It was pointless to pursue it with his daughter. He would just wait for Claudia to come down for an explanation. He began to watch the clock. After an hour and a half, he began to pace. Finally, unable to wait any longer he opened his mouth to bellow for Claudia.
He closed his mouth abruptly. She was already at the bottom of the steps. Before he could contain his reaction his jaw dropped.
“Whaaat?”
It was amazing. A transformation. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, with wisps of tendrils that framed her soft face. She wore only a hint of lip gloss, and for the first time he realized the natural color of her lips was a muted mauve. Without the benefit of eyeliner and eye shadow her eyes were soft. Only the deep blue color in her irises drew his attention. She wore a blue chambray shirt, his, he suspected, that she had tied off at the waist in the shape of a bow. Below the shirt she wore a matching jean skirt that flowed about the ankles. Ankles that were covered by shiny red boots. She was, for all intents and purposes, a cowgirl.
“You seem different,” he told her.
“I wanted to fit in,” she explained.
And she would. She would indeed resemble a number of other women there, and strangely the idea bothered him. “Come on. We’re late.”
“We’re always late.”
“No, you’re always late.”
Claudia rolled her eyes as a retort. They were too late for an argument.
“Goodbye, kids,” Rosa May chimed from her position on the couch, waving to the couple as they departed. “Hold the door for her, Dad. And make sure her punch glass is always filled. Dance with her for the first dance of the night. Don’t worry about coming home late. Stay out as late as you want.”
“Thanks,” Ross stated, shaking his head at his daughter’s obvious attempt at matchmaking. He was really going to have to talk to her.
As he escorted Claudia out of the house, he could have sworn he heard his daughter tell Betty that he and Claudia made a great couple. Couple! What nonsense.
THE THEME WAS definitely country. The school gym was decorated with lofts of hay and the tables were covered with red gingham tablecloths. Fake stars glittered from the ceiling. For a moment Ross felt as if he was back at his senior prom. He’d taken Susan, of course. They’d dated from the very beginning of time it seemed. She’d worn pink chiffon and his corsage, and when he’d danced with her that night, he’d known she was his future.
This night was going to be vastly different. He certainly couldn’t dance with Claudia and see the future. He’d never been able to see beyond the next day as far as she was concerned.
“Would you like some punch?” So far he’d opened all the doors for her, so punch was his next task of the night.
“Okay. Make sure it’s laced with something, though.” She was going to need it. For some bizarre reason she felt like a schoolgirl at her first dance with a boy. She’d purposefully dressed to mesh, just for him, but he didn’t seem to appreciate her efforts. She probably reminded him too much of his wife. He was probably regretting that he brought her. But she couldn’t regret that she had come.
Her unreasonable feelings for him led her to this point, prodding him to take her to this dance. She should be mortified. He was probably counting the minutes until they could leave, until they could call a halt to this sham of a date. Why had he let her pressure him into this? Because he was a sweet man, with a kind spirit. Or because he was a sadistic bastard who enjoyed yanking her emotions about on a string he controlled. Either way she felt like an idiot.
He returned with the punch, but rather than hand her a glass, he set both glasses on the table beside them. The music was playing. “Our first song. This is a dance,” he said in explanation. “Shall we?”
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea. Maybe we should just call it quits right now.”
“Afraid you’re going to step on my toes?” He smirked, and she couldn’t stop her lips from twitching in return.
“Just remember you asked for it.”
She was warning him, but he didn’t foresee danger. The bottom line, however, was that despite all his reservations about this night, he had looked forward to one thing: holding her in his arms. Over the weeks she’d lived on the farm, he’d touched her. Sometimes accidentally. Sometimes not so accidentally. Sometimes out of necessity in regard to work. Sometimes ou
t of necessity in regard to lust. But tonight, he was going to hold her.
Quickly, he moved her into the midst of the crowd. Couples pushed back and forth to the music. Some rhythmically. Some not so rhythmically. For the first few minutes they vied for position amongst dancers who were invading their space. Then a small spot opened up for them.
Awkwardly at first, they tried to fit their arms together. Hers up, his down. Then his up and hers down. Finally, Ross took matters into his own hands, literally. He secured Claudia about the waist. Then he linked his right hand with her left hand. She had no other place for her right hand to go but around his waist.
They were holding each other. When Ross started to move to the music they were dancing. Intellectually, Claudia knew these things. It helped to calm her down. This was a dance. They were in a gym with tacky glow-in-the-dark stars over their heads, watered-down punch and people dressed in what she prayed were costumes.
She was not in another universe. Or in another dimension. Or on another spiritual plane. It might have felt like a place where the world stopped spinning and the starlight burst through cement and brick to rain down on her. But it wasn’t. It was a gym in Wisconsin. Certainly not a place to be so ridiculously happy. Or so excited at the same time. They were only dancing after all.
He wasn’t wrong about his skill. He was a fair dancer. His brute strength allowed him the luxury to lead effortlessly. All she had to do was hang on, and he could carry her across the dance floor if need be. Claudia barely managed to keep up with him without having her feet actually leave the ground.
“You do know the two-step,” he said in mild surprise.
“And the Tush Push and the Electric Slide,” she added, beaming up at him with pride.
Ross didn’t know what she smiling about. He hadn’t heard anything beyond “tush.” It was only inches away from his hand. Waiting for him like a ripe melon. Actually, two ripe melons that he wanted to squeeze and test for resiliency. The temptation was killing him. It took all his considerable willpower to keep his hands above the belt.
And her tush wasn’t the only temptation. As talented as she was at the dance, there was no need for her to study her own two feet. So instead she studied him. Their eyes linked almost as solidly as their hands did. He could see so much in her naked eyes. Uncertainty. Anticipation. Desire.
True, he didn’t know if he saw it simply because he wished to see it, but in his mind it was there. It pulled at him and lured him in against his better judgment. A woman’s desire was a siren’s song. Compelling. Powerful. Irresistible.
The music changed, one song into the next, and the tempo slowed considerably. The quick steps were gone, replaced by slow shuffles. As couples pressed closer together, the area around Ross and Claudia seemed to clear. They were alone in a circle, unbothered by the rest of the town.
Ross raised his hand from her waist to touch the curled tendrils that framed her face. He wanted to say something witty, something sarcastic that might take the edge off the sudden tension he was feeling. But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was, “Pretty. So pretty.”
Her heart pounded against her rib cage. It was a simple compliment, but it moved her like no other had. He thought she was pretty. Without her hair-spray. Without her makeup. Without her trendy clothes. Not that this sudden revelation was going to have her tossing away her makeup kit. Heck, no! After all, fashion was fashion.
The point was that Ross looked at her as though she was beautiful all the time. In the mornings when she pranced around the kitchen whipping up breakfast, when his resistance was low due to early-morning fatigue and he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her, or when she had his jeans rolled up as far as they could go, topped with a skimpy T-shirt when she was working in the barn. He found her pretty in her clothes, his clothes and in cowgirl clothes. He found her pretty. Not her face. Not her body. But her soul.
She wanted to kiss him. Not in gratitude, but in love. She wanted to run her hands through his hair, caress his rough jaw and gently stroke the soft skin over his full bottom lip. She wanted to wrap her hands around his massive body and hold on until she couldn’t hold on anymore.
Vividly, she remembered the day in the cow barn when he held her against his chest and rocked her until her sobs subsided. She’d wanted to kiss him then too, but he’d been a stranger. A farmer. Now, he was Ross. Her friend. Her…
Claudia pressed her hand against the hand that cupped her cheek. She could feel his calluses on her petal-soft skin and it forced a shiver down her spine. Inside her body she felt liquefied.
“Claudia,” he whispered gruffly.
“Ross,” she sighed.
“Well, hello there, Ross,” Mrs. Harkim interrupted. “Look who I brought with me for you to dance the next dance with.”
Reluctantly, the couple separated. Ross gritted his teeth, but did the polite thing. “Hello, Hannah. How are you?”
“Good, Ross.” Her face was beet red, and he knew that she suffering from the scene. Her mother had a way of humiliating her daughter all in the name of finding a husband. “We haven’t met,” she said as she turned to Claudia. “I’m—”
“Miss Harkim,” Claudia finished for her. “I’m Claudia. An old friend.” She stared at the woman who Ross had once dated, and who Rosa May had said wasn’t his type. Rosa May was wrong. She was exactly his type. Strong, sturdy, with white-blond hair that spoke of a Nordic heritage. She was built to live and toil on a farm. No doubt if Susan had to approve her replacement it would be this woman. For the first time in a very long time Claudia felt woefully inadequate.
If she were the weepy type, or if she hadn’t already met her crying quotient for the year, she would have broken down right there on the gym floor. But of course she couldn’t. What she could do was step back and realize what a fool she’d been making of herself by pining after Ross. He wasn’t for her. This woman was.
Doing the noble deed, Claudia announced, “Ross why don’t you dance with Hannah? I’m going to snag some more punch.”
She took a few steps backward before his hand caught her about the soft flesh of her upper arm. His hand was so big it practically wrapped around her whole arm. With no muscle to speak of, she could hardly break away. “We were dancing. We’ll finish it,” he ordered. “Hannah, I…uh…”
“You don’t have to explain Ross,” she smiled sweetly.
Ross nodded in gratitude. They shared a smile and Ross instantly understood that Hannah was no more interested in him than he was in her. Perhaps for the same reason. They were almost too similar, and they shared absolutely no chemistry.
Hannah turned to leave, but paused. Glancing down at her nails, then back up at Claudia she asked, “I know this may sound presumptuous, but I saw the flower scene you did for Dorothy on her nails. Do you think?”
Claudia was at a loss. On the one hand, she hated this woman for being everything she wasn’t. On the other hand, Claudia could begrudge no woman decent nails. “I’m pretty booked Monday, but I should be able to squeeze a half hour in after one.”
“Thanks,” she offered and quickly parted.
Alone, although they were still surrounded by couples, Claudia turned on Ross. “Why didn’t you dance with her?” she grilled. “She was crushed.” Maybe not crushed, but surely the girl had to be disappointed. The closest thing she’d ever felt to heaven was the strength and security of Ross’s arms.
“Booked. You’re booked on Monday. That’s what Betty meant. Are you turning my house into a nail salon?” Ross had visions of lines of women stretching down his driveway, anxiously awaiting a smidgen of advice from the Beauty Guru.
“Can we stick to one topic here?” Claudia stomped her red cowboy boot in a huff. “That girl was perfect for you. You should have danced with her. Rosie’s right you know, we’re not going to be around forever. What are you going to do when we leave?”
Claudia leaving. He didn’t like it. “I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do. I’m not going to be
keeping your Monday morning appointments!”
“Oh! You are impossible. I’m talking about your future, and your talking about ten or fifteen women with perfect nails.”
“Fifteen!” Ross shouted. “Are you forgetting why you are here in the first place? You’re supposed to be in hiding, not starting up your own business.”
“I can’t help it. These women need me. And I highly doubt any of the women from Sun Prairie are really New York hit men in disguise. But I don’t want to talk about that now. We were talking about you and your future and Hannah.”
“I don’t want to talk about my future. Or Hannah. Besides what right do you have to plan my future? You’re nothing but a guest. That’s it. Here today and gone tomorrow. Right?”
If he’d slapped her across the mouth it wouldn’t have hurt any worse. With a sudden surge of muscle, Claudia managed to pry her arm free. She left the dance floor in steady strides, careful not to bump into people, careful not to make a scene. She didn’t need to add fuel to old lady Harkim’s fire. A fire that she instinctively knew was a blaze by now.
A guest. Nothing more. She didn’t know why it should hurt so much when, intellectually, she knew that he was right. She was a temporary guest. Any day MacCurdy could call and tell her that it was safe to return to her beloved New York. Her city. Her people. Her salon. It’s where she’d been born and raised. Where she went to school. Where she’d met her first boyfriend, and her last, both being Marco. In New York she fit in. In New York she knew the places to go, the people to see and the smells to avoid.
The mere thought of her home should have comforted her. The thought of returning to it should have thrilled her. But there were two things that New York didn’t have that Sun Prairie, Wisconsin did: Ross and Rosie.
The Doc's Double Delivery & Down-Home Diva Page 24