by Myrna Temte
“Really? I’m a teacher, and I’m waiting tables for the summer to pay off my college loans. You’d probably qualify—”
“No thank you.” Janie emphatically shook her head. “Debts wrecked our family and cost us our ranch. If I can’t pay for something up front, I don’t do it. Period.”
She whirled and marched back into the kitchen, hitting the swinging door so hard with the palm of her hand, it crashed against the doorstop behind it. Julia stared after Janie until her ears stopped ringing, then murmured, “It was only a suggestion.”
Bemused, she loaded the salt and pepper shakers onto a tray and replaced them on the tables. It was too bad Janie was so set against loans if she really wanted to go back to college. Saving money was difficult for most people, but on a waitress’s earnings, it was especially hard.
Well, maybe she could work on Janie during the next few weeks. At least now she had a face to go with Dale’s name when Janie talked about her brother, and she finally understood that Janie’s crush on J. D. Cade was three-fourths hero worship. Maybe she could direct Janie’s romantic heart toward Reed Austin and away from J.D. The poor man always looked so miserable when Janie started hitting on him….
Julia paused, an idea suddenly taking shape in the back of her mind. How would Sam Brightwater react if a woman he didn’t like flirted with him the way Janie flirted with J.D.? The thought made Julia smile. Then she chuckled. Then she laughed out loud.
Not that she would ever have the nerve to actually flirt with the old grump. Would she? Heavens no. Whenever he turned that surly stare of his in her direction, her soul shriveled.
Which was probably exactly the reaction he wanted from her. And every time she gave him that reaction, she reinforced his surly behavior. A teacher should have known better. If she’d been thinking straight, she would have figured this out days ago.
Well, she was thinking straight now, and she was done playing Sam’s game. Done reacting defensively. Done putting up with his attitude.
From now on, he could be as surly as he wanted, but she was going to treat him as if he were a good friend. And maybe, one of these days, he would actually become one. Whether he liked the idea or not.
Over the next two weeks Sam felt increasingly confused every time he encountered Julia Stedman. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was intentionally taunting him. But why would she do something like that? Unless she wanted to get his attention, which he figured was about as likely as a nun deciding to become a stripper. Heck, as much grief as he’d given her, she’d probably run screaming into the street if he spoke to her beyond giving her his order at the Hip Hop.
And yet…
She smiled at him now. Not just polite smiles, either. She gave him the same warm, sweet smiles she gave the other guys in his crew.
She no longer went out of her way to avoid touching him the way she once had, either. If she accidentally brushed against him while delivering food, he was the only one who automatically pulled away. She even teased him once in a while, and talked to him as if she might actually…like him.
The darn woman continually confused the devil out of him. Was that her idea of flirting? Or was he seeing, hearing and feeling things that really weren’t there?
Just how long had it been since he’d been with a woman, anyway? He hadn’t thought he was quite that hard-up— No, he shouldn’t think about hard and women in the same sentence. Not about that woman anyway. He’d already spent too much time thinking about Julia.
Besides, the answers to his questions didn’t matter. However she felt about him, she would never be an appropriate mate for him, and he didn’t want to have any more affairs. He reminded himself of that over and over, but it was a lie, and he damn well knew it.
The truth was, in spite of all his good intentions to find a traditional Northern Cheyenne wife and settle down, he felt increasingly attracted to Julia.
What man in his right mind wouldn’t be? Besides being gorgeous, she was cheerful, friendly and enthusiastic. She was intelligent and educated, but still worked hard as a waitress and mixed easily with all sorts of people. She moved between the Indian and white communities with a grace and confidence he admired, even envied.
It was as if she simply expected to be accepted and treated well, and as a result, she was. Sam’s own experiences with whites hadn’t been that pleasant or easy, but he could never pass for white no matter what he did to himself. He wasn’t nearly as attractive as Julia was, either, but he suspected her appearance wouldn’t have made much difference. If she hadn’t had a drop of white blood, most people would have liked her anyway.
More and more, he found himself wanting to talk to her and at least try to understand the secrets of her acceptance. He wanted to get acquainted with her and discover what growing up in white society had been like for her. He wanted…well, he wasn’t sure exactly what all he wanted from her, but he’d acted like such a jerk around her, he didn’t know how to act any other way without giving her the wrong idea. He sure as hell didn’t want her to think he was suddenly coming on to her. Did he?
He’d never had much problem relating to women before, but trying to figure out Julia’s behavior was enough to convince him that he didn’t know beans about how any woman’s mind really worked. Maybe he should swear off women altogether and become a wise old bachelor uncle to the tribe’s children.
During the last week of July, Jackson and Maggie Hawk hosted a birthday party for Jackson’s mother. Knowing Julia would be there, Sam dreaded another evening of contact with her. He put off leaving for the party as late as he dared, then decided he was acting like an idiot. Was he willing to risk offending a good friend over Julia Stedman?
Muttering, “Hell, no,” he slammed out of his pickup at the end of a long line of vehicles parked along the lane leading to the Hawks’ big log house.
Sam didn’t bother to knock on the front door. The weather was perfect, and the sounds of laughter and the aroma of barbecued beef wafted from the backyard. He walked around the side of the house just in time to rescue a streaking orange cat from a giggling little Franklin Hawk in hot pursuit.
Letting the cat go on about her business, Sam scooped young Mr. Hawk off the ground, tucked him under his right arm like a football and carried him back to the patio. Franklin thrashed his arms and legs, loudly demanding to be put down. Sam turned the little boy upright, then pretended he might drop him.
Franklin shrieked with laughter and clutched at Sam’s ears as if they were handles made especially for him to grab. When he saw who was holding him, the three-year-old wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and hugged him hard enough to make breathing difficult. That simple act of affection, so freely and happily given, ended Sam’s ideas about remaining a bachelor uncle.
Dammit, who was he trying to fool? He loved kids. Always had and always would. He wanted to be a father before he was too old to play with his own children.
A low, musical voice drew his attention across the yard. And there was Julia, surrounded by kids. Sitting cross-legged on the grass in a blue, full-skirted sundress, she looked cool and comfortable. Her hair was loose for a change, and it hung, thick and shiny, to her breasts. Her eyes were opened wide, her whole face animated with interest in the little ones vying for her attention.
Sam’s heart actually lurched, then took up a hard, heavy rhythm. His lungs eventually ached, reminding him to breathe. Damn, but he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.
“Close your mouth before you start drooling,” Jackson Hawk said close to Sam’s right ear, his voice quiet but filled with amusement.
Sam shot him a dirty look and handed Franklin over to his father. Jackson set the boy on the ground, told him to leave the poor cat alone and watched him charge off to join the crowd around Julia.
“Glad you could make it,” Jackson said. “I was just about ready to give up on you.”
“Now, why would you do a thing like that?” Sam asked. “You know I never pass up a cha
nce to eat your mama’s fry bread.”
“Yeah, but I figured you knew Julia would be here tonight.”
Sam stiffened. “So? What’s that got to do with my coming to your party?”
Flipping his braids behind his shoulders, Jackson propped his hands on his hips and smirked at Sam. “Give it up, pal. You think I don’t know a smitten man when I see one?”
“I’m not smitten,” Sam grumbled.
“Yeah, and I’m Chinese,” Jackson retorted. “I don’t know why you’re fightin’ it so hard. She’s a sweet little gal.”
“Not my type.” Sam shoved his hands into his front pockets and turned his back to Julia and the children.
Jackson gave him a long, deadpan look, then shrugged and led the way toward the picnic table. “Too bad. I sort of had the impression you might be her type.”
Sam cleared his throat, struggling for a casual tone. “Oh, yeah? What makes you say that?”
Jackson shrugged again. “Just seems like whenever I see the two of you in the same room, there’s a lot of…sizzle in the air. Maggie’s noticed it, too.”
“No way.”
“You want me to call Maggie over here so you can ask her yourself?”
“Hell, no.” At Jackson’s sudden burst of laughter, Sam elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up, will ya? Everybody’s lookin’ at us.”
“Chill out, man.” Rubbing his ribs, Jackson smiled in obvious sympathy. “You think you’re the only guy who ever went through this kind of thing? Wasn’t all that long ago Maggie put me through pure torture.”
“I’m not going through anything,” Sam insisted. “I told you, she’s not my type, so drop it, will you?”
Jackson’s smile faded, and he withdrew behind a polite expression. “Whatever you say, Sam. Help yourself to some food. See ya later.”
A wave of guilt hit Sam when Jackson abruptly turned away. One of the few male college graduates living on the res, Jackson was the best friend Sam had. They’d shared many stories, hard times and dreams for the tribe over the years. If anyone had a right to rib him about his love life—or lack of one—Jackson did. He didn’t deserve to have Sam lie to him.
Disgusted with himself, Sam dutifully paid his respects to Jackson’s mother. He filled a plate and settled into a lawn chair at the far edge of the patio, resolutely facing away from the young woman who, wittingly or not, tormented him. Other council members stopped to visit with him, providing a welcome distraction until Maggie Hawk’s uncle, Henry Little Deer, brought out his drum.
The first songs Henry played were for the youngest children. Jackson cleared a central area of the yard for dancing and everyone gathered around to watch and offer encouragement. Sam stood at the edge of the crowd, feeling the timeless rhythm of the drums settle into his bones. Stomping their tiny feet and struggling to imitate their parents, the little ones moved energetically, if not always gracefully.
A commotion broke out on the other side of the yard. A laughing Maggie Hawk and a grinning Dan Talkhouse dragged a reluctant Julia into the circle of dancers. The guests applauded when she started getting the most basic steps right. She looked up from her feet and gave her audience an embarrassed smile Sam found absolutely adorable.
A moment later she went back to watching her feet and those of her teachers with an expression of intense concentration that cracked everyone up because it was so similar to the expressions of the children surrounding her. She learned fast, and in a short time began dancing with enough confidence to spare an occasional glance toward the sidelines.
During one such glance, her gaze met Sam’s and her eyes widened at the instant of recognition. His heart gave another unsettling lurch when her lips slowly curved upward before she looked away again. Dammit, he hadn’t imagined that one, he told himself, rubbing his palm over his breastbone.
Nor did he imagine other smiles she sent in his direction as the party continued. Even Ernest Running Bull, who wore glasses with thick, tinted lenses, nudged Sam with his elbow.
“That gal of Dan’s is makin’ eyes at you,” the old man said with a broad grin.
Sam shrugged, but didn’t say anything.
Ernest nudged him again. “You should ask her for a date.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“You don’t know?” Ernest snorted with laughter. “Man, you need these glasses worse’n I do.”
Sam had to chuckle. In his eyes, Ernest Running Bull was a true hero. Though he had to be pushing eighty, he still ran the rehab center at Laughing Horse. After Sam’s dad died, Ernest had practically dragged Sam and Amy to Al-Anon meetings for over a year. Sam credited the old man’s caring with saving the next generation of Brightwaters from suffering the same fate.
“That gal’s sure a looker.”
“When did you become a matchmaker, Uncle?” Sam asked.
“Hell, I been matchmakin’ for years,” Ernest said. “This is just the first time I’ve done it for you.”
“Why now?”
“’Cause she’s the first nice gal I’ve seen act like she might be willin’ to put up with you. I just wanted to make sure you were smart enough to see it.” Laughing, Ernest wandered away and joined a group of his cronies.
Sam watched him go, then turned his attention back to the dancers. Julia’s gaze met his again, and she gave him another of her slow smiles, the kind that usually…tantalized him. This time, however, it angered him.
He wasn’t foolish or egotistical enough to believe she really liked him. Therefore, she must be playing some kind of game with him. Wouldn’t surprise him to find out she was trying to get him to admit he was attracted to her so she could have the pleasure of shutting him down. Yeah, that made sense, all right.
Well, maybe it was time to call her bluff.
Six
The first time Sam Brightwater smiled at her, Julia assumed it was a fluke—his smile was in response to some private thought that had nothing to do with her. It was intended for someone standing behind her. She was hallucinating from a lack of oxygen due to too much dancing. Whatever.
When it happened a second time, she repeated the same list of explanations to herself, but her feet suddenly lost the rhythm she’d found so easy to follow a moment earlier. The third time it happened, she nearly tripped over her own toes. Maggie Hawk snickered and shot Julia an arch look.
“You saw that, didn’t you?” Maggie murmured close to Julia’s right ear.
“Saw what?” Julia murmured back.
“You know what. The smile Sam Brightwater just gave you. Be still my heart, if I wasn’t an old, married lady…”
“Right. He hates me.”
“Doesn’t look that way from where I’m dancing.” Maggie snickered again. “Serves you right, too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What goes around comes around. You’ve been flirting with him for weeks.” Maggie wiped the back of one hand across her forehead. “Whew, I’ve got to take a break.”
Julia followed her out of the circle of dancers and waited until she caught her own breath. “I wasn’t really flirting. I just got tired of his scowling at me all the time, so I was sort of getting back at him by being…friendly.”
“I know that and you know that, but Sam’s a guy,” Maggie said. “How is he supposed to know that?”
“Well, he’s never smiled back at me before. Not even once. Surely he wouldn’t really think I was—”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Maggie stepped back and her smile took on a sympathetic quality that made Julia’s pulse skitter with alarm. “In fact, I think you’ve got yourself a tiger by the tail.”
Maggie took another step back and vanished into the crowd before Julia could ask where she was going or try to follow her. A heartbeat later, she understood why.
“Did you enjoy learning our dances?” Sam Brightwater said from somewhere that sounded awfully close behind her.
She gulped, then slowly turned to face him. Uh-oh. Her stomach clenche
d and she suddenly felt as breathless as if she’d just now stopped dancing. Sam’s smile was even more disturbing here than it had been from across the yard.
He carried two glasses of iced tea and casually offered her one, as if they were such good friends she might have expected him to wait on her. She accepted the tea and took a sip, hoping it would disperse the flustered, fluttery sensations invading her chest. Sam’s gaze never wavered from hers while he drank from his own glass.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said in a mild tone.
“Question? About the…um…dancing?”
Sam’s eyes crinkled at the outer corners, and a pair of extremely attractive creases appeared at the sides of his mouth. Then he gave her a slow, appreciative once-over that made her feel feverish. “Yeah. You looked pretty good out there for a beginner. Did you enjoy it?”
“Oh, well, um…sure.” Good grief, she’d wanted to change Sam’s attitude toward her, but this was so abrupt she couldn’t find the poise to stop stammering like a young girl confronted by her first big crush. She gulped from her glass of tea. “It’s… fun.”
“You’ll have to get Dan to take you to a powwow so you can see some really good Indian dancing.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“It is if you get into it. But it’s not just all this easy stuff, you know. We have competition dances that get pretty complicated.”
“Do you compete?”
“No.” He glanced toward the circle before looking back at her. “Never had much chance to learn how.”
Julia had no idea what to say to that, nor did any other topics immediately come to mind. In fact, she still found even the idea of having a real conversation with Sam extremely odd. The actual experience had an unreal quality about it that left her feeling decidedly off balance. If it bothered Sam, however, he hid it well. That in itself was enough to make her wonder what he was up to.
“What’s going on, Sam?” she asked.
A pair of giggling little girls jostled her from behind as they ran past on their way to the circle of dancers. She avoided spilling her tea, but felt even more awkward and off balance than she already had.