“Mr. Casey.”
The man and his crew came to a halt. None of them were smiling, much less radiantly.
“Yes?” He squinted at Dusty, and his face relaxed. “I know you.” He wagged a finger as if to trigger his memory.
“Dusty Cody. I was in Rio Rojo.”
“That’s right.” His half smile drooped. “If you’re wanting a role in Five Miles to Purgatory, the casting call hasn’t gone out yet.”
“I don’t want a role. Well, I do. But that’s not why I stopped you.”
The producer grimaced.
Not good.
Dusty drew a deep breath, ignored his brother who was bearing down on him, and took the biggest leap he’d ever taken in his entire life.
THE LOCAL ALBUQUERQUE honky-tonk was overflowing with rodeo patrons, participants and personnel. It wasn’t that Maryanne didn’t like the place. Though lacking the small-town charm of The Spotted Horse, the rustic decor was interesting and the atmosphere definitely fun.
No, her discomfort stemmed from how like a fish out of water she felt—still felt. At her father’s insistence, she’d purchased a pair of boots from one of the vendors at the rodeo. Rather than help her fit in, the boots made her stand out. She was certain her awkward gait had everyone in the place chuckling at the rookie. Wait, what was the term? Greenhorn.
“You having fun, Cookie?” her father asked.
“Sure, Dad.” She didn’t wish to tarnish his good mood.
“Not to worry.” He winked at her. “Dusty’ll be here soon.”
“Oh, I’m not waiting on him.”
Boy, the white lies were just rolling off her tongue.
The one and only reason she’d even agreed to accompany her father tonight was in hopes of seeing Dusty. She was dying to find out how his meeting with the producer had gone but no one had seen him since the end of the tie-down competition. By some miracle, he’d made it in time to compete only to promptly disappear after taking first place.
Except for Dusty and Matt, who was spending the evening with Dusty’s former teacher and Track, the entire Cody clan had put in an appearance at the honky-tonk. Josie had explained to Maryanne earlier that J.W. and Anne didn’t normally socialize after a rodeo but because all the boys and Elly had done well in their events, celebrating seemed in order.
“I can’t imagine what’s holding him up,” Gil said checking the door again.
“Really, Dad, I don’t care about Dusty or where he is.”
“Didn’t look that way to me when he was kissing you.”
“I told you, I have no idea what prompted him to do that.”
He set his beer glass down with a resounding thud. “No idea my foot!”
So much for playing innocent.
“Do you mind if we join you?” Dusty’s mother appeared at their table, speaking loudly to be heard over the noise and music.
“’Course not.” Gil immediately sprang to his feet. “Take my chair.”
“Thank you.” She sat with practiced grace and poise. “J.W. is on the hunt for more chairs. If anyone can find them in this crowd, it’s him.” She smiled at Maryanne. “How are you doing tonight?”
“A little tired, and I’m not sure why. I didn’t work nearly as hard this weekend as the participants.”
“Sitting in the sun all day can wear you out.” If Anne was worn out, she hid it well, looking more as if she’d just come from a day at the spa than the rodeo. “Ah, here’s J.W., and he’s had some success.”
“We haven’t seen Dusty tonight,” Gil said as they rearranged their tiny two-person table to accommodate four chairs.
Maryanne groaned inwardly.
“I imagine he’ll be here soon,” Anne replied smoothly.
J.W., on the other hand, scowled.
Strange, thought Maryanne.
“Dusty won’t miss a chance to congratulate Jesse,” Anne added.
“That was a nice ride he had today.” Gil’s remark appeared to jump-start J.W.
“Hell of a ride.”
The two men entered into a lively discussion of the rodeo in general and the merits of various contestants.
“Did you and Dusty enjoy the drive here?”
Anne’s casually posed question felt loaded, and Maryanne wavered before responding.
“The scenery was spectacular. I haven’t been on many road trips and didn’t realize what I was missing. I think I came up with at least a dozen ideas for ad campaigns.”
“That’s right. You work in advertising.”
“A junior marketing executive.”
“She’s helping Dusty,” Gil chimed in.
“Oh?” Anne’s eyes widened.
In stark contrast, J.W.’s thinned to slits. “With what?”
Maryanne held herself erect under his withering stare, silently thanking her experience with demanding clients. “With his side business.”
“Dusty’s giving me roping lessons in exchange.” Her father beamed.
“Oh, good God,” J.W. spat out.
“Now, honey,” Anne soothed. “Watch your blood pressure.”
“I have that problem, too,” Gil said cheerily. “What do you take? The stuff my doctor has me on gives me the awfulest heartburn.”
J.W. grumbled the name of his prescription under his breath.
All Maryanne could think of was how sad for Dusty that he had to hide his writing from his parents. Perhaps if they knew how truly talented he was they’d change their opinions.
“Dusty’s lucky to have Cookie’s help. She’s the best there is at all that marketing stuff.”
She returned her father’s smile. How could she not?
“We need to go.” J.W. pushed his chair back.
Maryanne ignored the slight. Her father, however, appeared stricken.
Anne didn’t move from her seat. “Not quite yet.”
“Did I say something wrong?” Gil asked.
“Not at all. We’re just tired. It’s been a long weekend, and we have to get up early tomorrow.” The reproving glance she shot her husband dared him to disagree with her.
He didn’t. But neither did he return his chair to its original position. “I’m going to the bar for a beer. Anyone want anything?”
His offer was met with a chorus of no-thank-yous.
“I apologize for J.W.,” Anne said after he’d left. “Rest assured, his problem isn’t with you. He’s always wanted his children to follow in his footsteps and work in the family businesses. Dusty is the one holdout.”
“I thought he helped Dex with the horses,” Maryanne said.
“He has so much more potential than that.”
His mother had no clue how much more.
“Sometimes children have to choose their own paths.”
“True. But that doesn’t stop us from wanting what we think is best for them.”
A commotion near the front entrance drew their attention. Dusty emerged from the group of people clustered there.
Maryanne’s heart rate immediately quickened. She told herself it was because of her eagerness to hear how his meeting with the producer went. It wasn’t a lie. But she also wanted to see him, be close to him, talk to him, touch him. Not good feelings to have considering she was leaving in two weeks.
Managing the ride home might be harder than she’d anticipated.
Anne raised her hand and waved.
Dusty spotted them and strode forward. His progress, however, was impeded by the many people stopping him and congratulating him on his first place in tie-down roping. Maryanne’s father had explained to her that the win advanced Dusty to the number one spot in the Mountain States Circuit for tie-down roping and qualified him for the National Finals Rodeo. Unfortunately, he and Dex weren’t quite there with team roping.
Several of the people offering Dusty their well wishes were attractive young women. They hugged him, hung onto his arms and kissed him, more than a few aiming for his mouth. Maryanne tried pretending she didn’t care but her relief
when he deflected their kisses was undeniable.
J.W. wormed his way through the throng to their table. Upon seeing Dusty, his expression changed, first to unabashed gladness, then to annoyance, lastly to—could it be?—regret.
Maryanne had no doubt that Dusty and his father loved each other but their recent rift was growing wider. And all because they disagreed about his chosen occupation.
Or, was there more to it?
Dusty’s reputation wasn’t the only talk she’d heard concerning the Codys. A particularly chatty server had told Maryanne about J.W. and a woman named Abigail Hansen, the mother of the man Maryanne had met at The Spotted Horse. The man who looked remarkably like J.W.
“Hello, sweetheart.” Anne stood and greeted her son with a kiss on the cheek he didn’t deflect. “We’ve missed you. Where have you been?”
“Sorry. I got detained.” His eyes sparked with unsuppressed excitement. When they connected with Maryanne’s, she experienced a tingle clear to the toes crammed inside her brand-new boots.
“Congratulations on your win.”
“Thanks.”
They looked away only when his father cleared his throat.
“You did well today,” J.W. said, his comment seeming to temporarily close the gap between father and son.
“I got lucky. I drew a good calf.”
“Luck’s only part of it. You have yourself a good horse, and you trained hard.”
“Lot of guys have good horses and train hard.” Dusty’s glance found Maryanne again. “Sometimes, everything comes together just right.”
“You were great.” She didn’t mean just at tie-down roping. She was proud of him for seeking out and speaking with the producer, even if nothing came of it.
His smile grew, and her previously guarded heart opened to all sorts of new possibilities. When he came around the table to her side, she rose, already anticipating his invitation.
“Let’s dance,” he said and took her hand.
Chapter Nine
“I’m not a very good dancer.” Especially not in her new boots which clung to Maryanne’s feet like lead weights.
“I don’t care.” Dusty lowered his head to her ear. “I want to hold you. Right this second.”
She knew how he felt and went willingly with him to the dance floor.
“Dusty, come back,” his father called after then. “I’m not done talking.”
“Later,” he hollered over his shoulder, but his voice was drowned out by the band and the rowdy crowd.
At the edge of the dance floor, he pulled Maryanne into his arms. The music called for a lively two-step. They danced instead to their own beat. One considerably slower and requiring their bodies to fuse together and sway as one.
Maryanne’s left hand circled Dusty’s shoulder. Her right hand fit snugly inside his. She contemplated resting her head on his chest but then she wouldn’t be able to gaze into his blue eyes, and that was a sight she refused to miss.
“How’d it go with the producer?” she asked now that it was safe to bring up the subject.
“I just left him.”
“You’re kidding! You’ve been with him since the rodeo?”
“No. Only for a few minutes before I competed.” Dusty’s hold on her tightened as he maneuvered them to avoid colliding with another couple. He didn’t release her even after they were in the clear.
“Where were you the rest of the time?”
“At a business center. And trust me, it wasn’t easy finding one open on a Sunday evening.”
“Why a business center?”
Dusty’s smile practically exploded off his face, and his heart beat so strong, she could feel its echo inside her. “He asked to read my screenplay.”
Maryanne squealed. “Oh, Dusty! That’s fantastic.”
“He listened to my pitch for maybe a minute, then told me to go ahead and send it to his office.”
“That was it?”
“Pretty much. I didn’t want to take any chances he’d forget about me or change his mind so I found a business center, printed out the screenplay and arranged to have it shipped overnight.”
“Clever.”
“Desperate. This is the closest I’ve ever gotten.” He twirled her around as the band launched into another number.
“What did he say after he told you to send the screenplay?”
“Nothing. Just goodbye. Then he and his crew left.” For the first time that night, Dusty’s elation faltered.
“He’ll like it. And if he doesn’t, you’ll pitch it to another producer.” She made a mental note to contact her mother’s former agent and see if he’d had a chance to read Dusty’s screenplay.
“And what if he does like it?”
“You’ll be incredibly successful and eventually win an Oscar.”
“Will you be my date for the movie premiere?”
She laughed when he abruptly dipped her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
He suddenly sobered. “As much as I want to sell my screenplay, I’m worried about the repercussions.”
“With your family?”
“The storyline hits close to home.”
“I wondered if it was based a little on them.”
“A lot on them.”
Maryanne wasn’t sure if she should ask or not, but she did. “You have a half brother?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. My parents won’t admit anything. But the evidence is mounting.”
“That guy we ran into at The Spotted Horse?”
“Yeah, him.”
They danced in silence, enjoying the sensation of their bodies perfectly aligned. Dusty would remember this day always, and she was glad to be a part of it.
“Everything will work out.”
She began to doubt he’d heard her when he whispered, “I hope so,” and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face.
She sank into his arms, and, changing her mind, laid her head on his chest.
The music came to an end, and they stopped dancing along with everyone else. When the band announced they were taking a break, Dusty guided her off the dance floor. She assumed they’d return to their table, only he took a detour.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace private.”
It would be cold outside, and she’d left her jacket with her father. Still, she didn’t protest. Dusty needed someone to share in his excitement.
He needed her.
She may not want to get romantically involved in what would surely be a short-term relationship but there was no reason they couldn’t be friends.
Friends who danced so close a sheet of tissue paper couldn’t fit between. Held hands. Kissed behind barns. And followed the other outside without asking questions.
Exactly how long was she going to keep fooling herself?
The honky-tonk was large and packed and not easy to navigate. It became quickly apparent they weren’t heading toward the front entrance. Just when Maryanne thought they’d exit by the rear door, Dusty led her down a tiny hall and to a door marked Employees Only—No Admittance.
What was it with him and staff-only doors in the dark recesses of honky-tonks? She had barely enough time to wonder how many women he’d previously kidnapped in the same manner when he pushed open the door and pulled her inside.
It was dark and chilly and very, very quiet.
A soft click signaled the latching of the door. In the next instant, Dusty trapped her against its hard surface, his hands braced on either side of her shoulders.
“Damn, but you look hot in those boots.”
“You noticed.”
It was such a line. Tired and old and probably used dozens of times.
Regardless, Maryanne tilted her face up to accept Dusty’s kiss.
MARYANNE HAD KNOWN FROM the second she’d seen Dusty across the honky-tonk floor she wanted this and blast the consequences.
Unlike their first kiss, which had been hot and hard and motivated by a surge
of anger that had nothing whatsoever to do with her, this one was soft and gentle and achingly tender.
For about five seconds.
Even as Maryanne sank into Dusty’s embrace, his mouth became increasingly demanding. She accommodated his advances—no, welcomed them would be a more accurate description—and parted her lips. He let out a desperate groan and fitted his hips snugly to hers.
She couldn’t move. Then again, she didn’t want to. Looping both her arms around his neck, she hung on, reveling in the pleasure of his tongue tangling with hers and her sensitive breasts pressing flush against his solid chest.
The noise of the honky-tonk was a distant hum, making it easy for her to forget where they were and who was waiting for them. Her mind and all of her senses were focused on Dusty’s mouth and the incredibly delightful liberties he was taking.
All at once, he dropped his hands to her waist. She experienced a momentary wave of disorientation when he lifted her off her feet and spun her in a circle, gasping softly when he set her back down. She realized they’d traded places. Dusty now had his back to the door, and she was securely anchored in his arms. The change in position also altered the immediacy of their kiss, increasing it tenfold.
Good thing he held her tight because he was taking her on the wildest ride of her life. The tiny part of her brain that wasn’t involved in kissing Dusty realized his shallow breathing and rapidly fluttering heart mirrored hers, and satisfaction at her ability to affect him to such a degree coursed through her.
When his hand moved from her waist to her rib cage, her lost senses returned in a rush. The line they shouldn’t cross was suddenly there in front of them, and she had no intention of stepping over it. Putting a few inches of much needed space between them, she inhaled sharply. The blast of oxygen restored her equilibrium.
“Sorry about that,” Dusty muttered, also making an effort to pull himself together.
“Don’t be. You were hardly acting alone.”
“For which I’m very grateful.” His voice was like warm honey.
Maryanne automatically straightened her blouse and finger-combed her hair, not that she could see the results of her efforts. “We should probably get back before we’re missed.”
“Too late for that.”
Dusty: Wild Cowboy Page 11