Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders)

by Lorelei James

  That startled her. “That’s how Dillon introduced himself?”

  “He said he was Dillon Doland, assistant director for the Wyoming State Parks and he used to work with you. Then he chuckled and mentioned he’d been engaged to you.”

  “I find it weird he’d say that.”

  Glennis’s gaze sharpened behind her glasses. “Know what I find weird? That Dillon has more than a passing similarity to Dalton. Tall, dark-haired, blue eyes. Charming.”

  “Which describes half the men in the world,” she retorted.

  Glennis shook her finger. “Maybe you didn’t realize at the time you’d started something with Dillon because he reminded you of Dalton.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I know you and Dalton have a history, Rory.”

  “How?” she demanded.

  “Because of your familiarity the first day he sauntered in here. And sweetie, I am a Sundance native. I’ve got a grasp of geography and I know you grew up practically next door to his family’s ranch.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Does Dalton have any idea that you almost married a man who looks like him?”

  “No.”

  “What do you think he’ll do when he finds out?”

  Rory stared at the door after Glennis left. She was wrong. Her attraction to Dillon had nothing to do with his looks and that he had some of the same physical characteristics as Dalton.

  Did it?

  And besides, didn’t all women have a type that appealed to them? Tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed men did it for her.

  Putting it out of her mind, she got back to work.

  Dillon was waiting by the hostess stand at the Twin Pines when Rory arrived.

  He pulled her in for a hug and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “Rory. You look beautiful.”

  She’d put extra effort into her appearance, wearing a form-fitting dress in dark pink, topping it with an iridescent shawl she’d crocheted herself and finishing her bohemian look with bone-colored riding boots.

  “You look stylish, as usual.” He’d worn a navy suit jacket, blue and white striped shirt, jeans and loafers. One thing about Dillon; he was always impeccably put together. Even after spending all day out inspecting parks land on horseback, he’d return to the office in the same condition he’d left.

  “Hey, Rory.” Naomi the manager looked between her and Dillon with a frown. As if she’d expected to see her with Dalton.

  Rory bristled. She could have a business dinner with whoever she wanted. And the only reason she was here was because Dillon might have a lead on a job or two for her.

  Naomi led them to a table in the middle of the restaurant. “I know you prefer a booth, but this is all I’ve got at last minute. As you can see we’re swamped tonight.”

  Dillon pulled out her chair. “Thanks.” To Naomi she said, “What’s going on?”

  “The Wyoming Wildfire band is playing on the club side. That gets people out on a Thursday night. Enjoy.”

  “I take it that’s a popular band around here?” Dillon asked.

  “Hugely popular. They only do one-night gigs, so they always play to packed houses.”

  “Makes good business sense. The band I played in in college should’ve done that.”

  “You were in a band?”

  “Cover tunes only. I played bass.”

  “You never mentioned that.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. If you don’t mind, I’d like to head over after dinner and listen.”

  Rory agreed only because Dillon didn’t dance. She checked to see who was bartending before deciding on a cosmopolitan.

  After they ordered and the drinks were delivered, Rory got right to the point. “I call bullshit on you just being in the neighborhood, Dil.”

  “I am on WSP business. Headed to Buffalo and Sheridan to discuss a more detailed operating plan for the summer season. Part of the plan is to integrate the new with the old since two positions will be opening up. Fulltime positions. Habitat management in Sheridan and assistant park services manager in Buffalo.”

  “Are they new positions? Or vacancies?”

  “New position in Sheridan. In Buffalo the park services manager is retiring, his assistant is moving up to fill the position so we’re hiring outside the office for a replacement.” Dillon sipped his drink. “Do either of those sound like something you’d be interested in?”

  “Both, actually. When will the openings be listed?”

  “Now. Final selection in roughly six weeks.”

  That would work out perfectly. She’d be done with the special project. “What else?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rory poked his forearm. “There’s something you’re not telling me. So spill it.”

  “You’re right, but it’s not about either of those jobs. Strictly between us, there will be an opening in the Cody BLM office. Fulltime in Ag management.”

  BLM usually hired and promoted from within the organization before they opened up outside applications. “Why?”

  “The guy is retiring. The only catch…this position is pretty much universally hated by everyone in the community.”

  “Is that why the guy is getting out?”

  “No, but it is why no one in that branch office has applied for the job and why the BLM is listing the position on the job boards next week.”

  Rory drummed her fingers on the table. “Think the locals’ attitudes would be worse if a woman took over the BLM job?”

  “Any woman besides you? Yes. But I’ve seen you in action, Rory. You can be coy and forceful. Most people don’t realize they’ve given you exactly what you want until they walk away.”

  “That’s not always a good thing.”

  “It’ll make those good old boys believe they can ‘manage’ you right from the start. We both know better. Bob Buckman who heads that office can really use your skills.”

  “Starting salary?”

  “Fifteen grand higher than the standard because of the extra bullshit with the position. Possible yearly bonus.”

  “I’m very interested in that one.”

  He smiled. “Thought you might be. I already sent the paperwork to your home address with all the pertinent information for the Wyoming Parks jobs. Along with three letters of recommendation from me.”

  “That’s…above and beyond, Dil. Thanks.” Rory should’ve left it at that, but she didn’t. “But I have to know what’s in it for you to share all the info about available positions?”

  “As assistant Wyoming State Parks director, I want the best people for the jobs. You are a perfect candidate, Rory.”

  “And you came to Moorcroft to tell me you mailed me some paperwork?”

  Dillon studied her for a moment before answering. “I’m here because of you and our unfinished business so don’t pretend that’s a big surprise.”

  “Not pretending when I say your visit today caught me off guard.”

  “Didn’t think you’d ever see me again? As soon as Cheyenne reflected in your rearview mirror you left all the memories behind?”

  Pretty much, but it’d hurt Dillon if she admitted she rarely thought of him. “I have memories. We’ll both always have them, but it’s in the past.”

  “That’s what I don’t get. It’s not that far in the past. What did I do to make you turn away from me?” He paused. “Or maybe it’s what I didn’t do?”

  Rory knocked back a healthy swig of her drink. “I know it sounds like a line, but I’m being honest when I say it wasn’t you—not at all. It was one hundred percent me.”

  Dillon shook his head. “I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you. Doesn’t—didn’t—that mean something to you?”

  “Why did you want to marry me in the first place?” she demanded. “What did we have in common besides that we worked together?”

  “We’re both invested in our careers. We liked to watch movies. We liked to cook together. We both came from single-parent homes.” He frowned. “Doesn’t that se
em like a lot to you?”

  “It didn’t seem like enough.”

  That surprised him.

  In for a penny. “You were nice to me when I didn’t know anyone in the office. You took me under your wing and our relationship sprouted from there. We were comfortable together.”

  “And again, there’s something wrong with that?” he asked tartly.

  “Yes. I realized I wanted more out of a marriage than just companionship.” She leaned closer. “If you’ll remember, we didn’t have sex all that often. There was no intimacy between us. No passion.” Rory held up her hand when he started to interrupt. “Please don’t tell me that passion fades and a steady partnership is what really matters.”

  Dillon flushed.

  “I like you as a friend. And I mistook that friendship for something deeper. That’s why I said yes to your proposal. But it’s also the reason I broke it off.”

  The food arrived and they both dug in.

  When Dillon said, “There wasn’t someone else?” out of the blue, Rory choked on her asparagus.

  Once she’d quit coughing, she assured him, “No, there wasn’t anyone else. I think the break up would’ve been easier for you to understand if there had been another man.”

  He sighed. “Easier to stomach than the you lack passion and I foresaw a life of boredom with you answer I just got.”

  “Dillon. I didn’t say you lacked passion. I said there wasn’t passion between us—us—which means the blame falls squarely on my shoulders too.”

  “Would it’ve made a difference if we would’ve talked about this?”

  Rory shook her head.

  “So it’s not fixable?”

  “Why would you want to fix it?”

  “You find it hard to believe that I’d want to try again?” Dillon took her hand. “You’re a beautiful woman. Smart and funny. You’re a great person, and I just let you walk out of my life without a fight.”

  There wasn’t anything to fight for. What didn’t he understand about that?

  “I can change, Rory.”

  She froze. What was with men always spouting off that I can change bullshit line? And why did most women believe it?

  Don’t you? Don’t you want to when it comes to Dalton?

  “I’m sorry. I can tell this is upsetting you.” Dillon pointed to her steak. “Enjoy your dinner. We can talk about this after we’re done eating.”

  As soon as she finished her meal, she felt like she’d swallowed a bowl of Mexican jumping beans. She needed to pace, move, do something besides sit here politely and eat food she couldn’t enjoy. She said, “Excuse me,” and fled from the table.

  She cut through the restaurant to the bathrooms and leaned against the hallway leading to the kitchen, taking a second to just breathe.

  Why in the world would Dillon want to try again? She’d just laid out all the reasons why they hadn’t worked.

  Wait. Was she some sort of…self-challenge? To see if he could win her back? Men were stupidly egotistical about things like that.

  As she walked past the men’s room, a short guy barreled right into her.

  “Shit, I wasn’t watching where I was goin’.” He looked up. A wide grin spread across his face. “Rory! Hey, are you working tonight?”

  “No, Busby, I quit, remember?”

  “No wonder I ain’t seen ya. So you here with Dalton?”

  Busby and Dalton were old friends and they’d run into him when they’d gone out. “No. I’m with someone else.”

  That comment piqued Busby’s interest, rather than ending it. “Male or female? ’Cause if it’s a female friend, you could introduce me to her and then the four of us could go out on a double date.”

  Damn nosy man. “Not a woman. An old friend of mine from Cheyenne.”

  “Huh. You guys goin’ next door?”

  “Probably.”

  “Save me a dance. It don’t bother me none that you’re taller than me.”

  The pervert just wanted to bury his face in her chest.

  “See ya.” He bustled away.

  But after she returned to the dining room, she noticed Busby hadn’t gone far. He eyed her from the bar as she sat next to Dillon.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “Fine. I ran into someone I knew.”

  “The band must be ready to start because everyone’s cleared out.”

  “I’m ready to go whenever you are.” She hoped he took that as she wanted to go home.

  Dillon signaled the waitress for the check. “It’ll be fun to dance together since we didn’t get the chance during our brief engagement.”

  She met his gaze. “You dance?”

  “Yes. See? You don’t know everything about me.”

  I know enough. I know when you reached out to grab my hand I felt nothing. I know when I look in your eyes I don’t see burning desire that consumes you. I don’t feel a sense of urgency…

  “Thanks for dinner,” she said as they waited in line.

  “My pleasure. I think we broke new ground tonight by talking this out.”

  What the hell? How had their discussion encouraged him? “Since I work tomorrow I’ll have to leave after the first set.”

  Dillon paid the cover charge and they squeezed together at a tiny table in the back. “You want another drink?”

  “I’m good. But go ahead if you want one.”

  “Okay. Be right back.”

  Not likely. They’d only staffed the bar with two bartenders. And this crowd liked to drink. She’d made three hundred bucks last time she’d worked this gig.

  By the time Dillon returned, the band had started, making it hard to hold a conversation. That didn’t deter Dillon. He kept trying to talk to her and she kept saying, “What?”

  He did give up beyond commenting on a song or to point out a dancing couple. After he drained his drink, he took her hand. “Let’s dance.”

  Luckily the first two songs were fast. Then the band announced the next song would end the first set.

  Dillon pulled her closer and she winced when he tromped on her foot. “Sorry.”

  Rory caught herself trying to dance faster, like she could get this over with sooner.

  “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” Dillon said.

  “Because of the job openings?”

  “No. I miss you.”

  “Why? We weren’t together that long and I’m not that cool.”

  Dillon laughed. “I forgot that you’re so funny. Would it be so bad, giving me another shot?”

  “Stop talking, Dillon. This isn’t going to happen.”

  “Let me convince you another way.” He clamped his hands over her ears and mashed their faces together, laying a kiss on her.

  No. Dammit, no! She didn’t want this. She tried to twist her mouth free from his, but he held fast, his tongue pushing between her lips.

  Then he was ripped away from her and Dalton was in Dillon’s face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’ with her?”

  Dillon blinked with confusion then demanded, “What does it matter to you?”

  Rory tried to step between them, but Dalton was immoveable.

  “Answer the question.”

  “What is your problem, buddy?”

  “My problem is you, fuckface.”

  “Back off.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll make you back off,” Dillon snapped.

  Dalton loomed even more. “Gonna hafta grow a bit before that happens.”

  People were starting to take notice. Rory said, “Stop it. Both of you.”

  “Rory, who is this redneck asshole?” Dillon demanded.

  “He’s my…” Boyfriend seemed too tepid a term. Lover was too intimate.

  “Why you havin’ trouble explaining who I am to you?” Dalton said without looking away from his opponent.

  “Dalton, this is Dillon. My ex-fiancé.”

  Then Dalton did turn and look at her. “Are you fuckin’ serious? What
the hell is Dildo doin’ here? Dancing with you? Goddamn kissing you.”

  “I wasn’t kissing him back,” she said quickly.

  “Jesus, I know that. It’s why I’m so pissed off.”

  “Dalton—”

  “I take it you’re the new boyfriend,” Dillon said.

  “I am one helluva lot more to her than some simple goddamned boyfriend.”

  “If that’s true, then isn’t it funny she never once mentioned your name during our dinner?”

  Dalton made a low, snarling noise.

  “A dinner in which she and I talked about getting back together?” Dillon taunted. “You must not mean as much to her as you think you do, redneck.”

  Dalton didn’t punch Dillon; he jumped him, knocking him to the floor.

  Then he punched him.

  Dillon rolled away and slammed his fist into the side of Dalton’s head. He tried to hit Dalton in the throat, but Dalton blocked it and delivered an uppercut. Dillon looked dazed for an instant before he leveled a punch to Dalton’s gut.

  Unfazed, Dalton lunged for Dillon again and they both crashed to the floor. Dillon dodging Dalton’s fists, bucking his hips to throw Dalton backward. Then Dillon was on top, whaling on Dalton.

  Rory watched the fight, a dull roar whooshing in her head. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and the rapid thump of her heart.

  She couldn’t move.

  Both men on the ground were bleeding.

  A crowd gathered, but no one stepped in to stop them.

  Then they were on their feet again. Swinging at each other. Dalton picked Dillon up by his shirtfront and threw him. Dillon crashed into a table and hit the floor.

  Now that the men were separated, the bouncers stepped in.

  Shit, not just the bouncers. Dalton’s cousin Cam McKay had one hand fisted in Dalton’s shirt. Cam wasn’t in his deputy’s uniform but he might as well have been, the way the crowd scattered.

  Rory glanced over at Dillon and saw the bouncers had helped him to his feet. A cocktail waitress handed him a wad of napkins to mop up the blood on his face.

  Dillon was listening to the bouncers, not paying attention to her.

  When she returned her focus to Dalton, he continued to glare at Dillon while Cam dressed him down. A spike of fear went through her when Cam beckoned her over.