Wanted!

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Elmer campaigned to get this light so people would be more likely to slow down and think about buying gas. He’s not about to let us pretend it isn’t there.”

  Dominique laughed. “Are you sure he doesn’t have a remote control for that light? That way he could guarantee that it’s always red when someone pulls up to the intersection.”

  “I never thought of that. I don’t know if it’s even possible, but he’s into electronic gizmos, so he might have figured out a way to control that light. All I know is that once you’re caught, you sit here forever.”

  “That’s fine. Gives me a chance to check out the town.”

  “Which is laid out right in front of you.” Nick waved his hand. “One block of businesses in each of the four directions. You’ve got your bank, your feed store, your post office, your combo barbershop and beauty parlor, your small grocery, your ice cream parlor, the Shoshone Diner for daytime food and the Spirits and Spurs for the evenings. Pretty basic stuff.”

  “Sometimes basic is good. When I walk into one of those big malls, I feel as if I have too many choices. Mostly I leave without buying anything.”

  He found that encouraging. She might not be as tied to Indianapolis as he’d thought. “So why not simplify your life and move to the country?” he asked as the light finally changed and he drove through the intersection.

  “Because I’d starve to death. I need a good-size urban population to support my studio.”

  He had no answer for that because the way she’d told him her photography business was structured now, she was probably right. Yet he’d had the feeling all along that given the choice, she’d go back to shooting artistic photos if she could find a way to pay the bills.

  She sighed wistfully. “You must have had fun growing up here, though. I’ll bet you know most of the people in town.”

  “Yep. Gabe and I sometimes spent the weekends with our grandma Judy. Jack would never come, said it was baby stuff, but he didn’t know what he was missing. She’d spoil us rotten. She…” He trailed off as he realized that Grandma Judy was Sarah’s mother, which made her no blood relation at all. Maybe Jack hadn’t come because he’d felt like an outsider. Now it was Nick’s turn to feel as if he didn’t quite belong.

  “Nick, she’s still your grandmother,” Dominique said gently, as if she’d read his mind.

  “Not technically. My dad was an only child and both his parents have passed on. For all I know, I have no living blood relatives left.”

  “Of course you do. You have two half brothers.”

  “You know, I used to think the same thing when Jack would make a comment that sounded as if he didn’t feel part of the family. I get it, now.” Nick pulled the truck into the parking lot of the Spirits and Spurs.

  Dominique glanced at him. “But you had a father who wanted you to be a part of the family and accept his new wife as your mother. You’ve admitted she treated each of you boys the same.”

  “Yes, but in her heart of hearts—”

  “In her heart of hearts she loved you, Nick. I can guarantee it. If she hadn’t you wouldn’t have turned out to be the compassionate person you are.”

  He switched off the motor and turned to gaze at her. “I’m not feeling all that compassionate about this secret they kept from me.”

  Dominique unbuckled her seat belt and turned to him. “It may take time,” she said softly. “But there’s a bedrock of goodness in you, and I have a sneaky suspicion that Sarah had quite a bit to do with making you into the man you are today. She did that through love. It’s the only way a person could get the job done so well.”

  He wanted to tell her how her words soothed the ache that had tormented him ever since he’d read that document. But he didn’t know how to say it without sounding like a dweeb who was preoccupied with his innermost feelings. After all, she’d been attracted to the strong, silent cowboy who dug postholes.

  Tonight was supposed to be about hearty food, sexy dancing and taking her home to his hand-carved bed. They’d already spent way too long focusing on his identity issues. He’d asked her out to show her a good time, not go into psychoanalysis.

  So he angled his head toward the neon sign that depicted a version of Wyoming’s logo, a cowboy on a bucking bronc. “Ready for some beef and beer?”

  Apparently she was ready to let the loaded subject of his parentage drop, too. “Lead on, cowboy.”

  As he helped her out of the truck, he allowed himself the pleasure of caressing the bare skin at the small of her back. He’d have fun trying to teach her to dance. He’d have an excuse to touch her all night long.

  13

  ONCE SHE FELT THE WARMTH of Nick’s hand at the small of her back, Dominique regretted lecturing him. She needed to keep her big mouth shut and concentrate on the sexual chemistry between them. What happened with Sarah and his brothers as they worked through this issue was none of her damned business—but she couldn’t seem to remember that in the heat of the moment.

  Before Nick opened the battered wooden door of the Spirits and Spurs, she heard the wail of a steel guitar. Then he ushered her inside and she tried to absorb the bevy of sights and sounds coming at her. Most of the tables grouped around the dance floor were occupied, but she spied one in the corner that was empty. A polished wooden bar occupied the far right wall.

  The band on the small stage consisted of four guys who barely fit up there. The lead singer played an acoustic guitar, and his backup boys were on a slap bass, a banjo and the steel guitar she’d first heard. She couldn’t claim to know much about country music, but for a hole-in-the-wall in the middle of nowhere, they sounded darned good.

  Couples whirled and stomped on the cozy dance floor. One look at the precision movements and the small space convinced Dominique she didn’t want to go there. She didn’t relish getting run over or looking like a complete fool. Instead of dancing with Nick, she’d play footsie under the table.

  A waitress, down-home cute and dressed in a short flounced skirt and a tight T-shirt with the bar logo in spangles over her breasts, came up immediately. “Want a table, Nick?”

  “That’d be great, Carolyn. This is my friend Dominique from Indiana.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Although the waitress smiled, Dominique felt as if she’d been shoved under a microscope. Nick was probably one of the most eligible bachelors in town, and single girls might not be thrilled that he was escorting a tourist. Dominique had the urge to pin on a sign that read I’ll Be Gone in Four Days.

  Oh, well. She would be gone in four days, whether the local female population knew it or not, and once she’d left the area, the women could go back to pursuing Nick to their heart’s content.

  After Carolyn showed them to a table and handed them menus, Dominique hid behind hers and leaned over to murmur a comment in Nick’s ear. Along the way she noticed he smelled delicious, even better than the aroma of food wafting from the kitchen. “Is there anyone in here tonight you’ve dated? Because I don’t feel exactly welcome.”

  “Jack’s worked me so hard lately I haven’t felt much like dating, so the answer is no. Last night was my first time here in months, and I took a few turns around the dance floor with some of the ladies. It’s possible they’re not overjoyed to see me with someone.”

  Dominique continued to hide behind her menu. “I’m really hungry, so I want to order some food, but I think it would be torturing these women to drag this out much longer than dinner. We should just eat and leave.”

  His breath was warm and sweet on her face. “You’re chickening out on the dancing, aren’t you?”

  Reaching under the table, she stroked his thigh. “Aren’t there things you’d rather do than dance?”

  He caught her hand and held it tight against his denim-clad leg. “You bet. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you enjoying the complete Wyoming experience. You have to dance.”

  She spoke through clenched teeth. “But I
don’t want to dance.”

  “I know, which is all the more reason. Listen, you’re fond of telling me to keep an open mind. Why don’t you keep an open mind about dancing with me?”

  “Because those cowgirls would as soon trip me on the floor as look at me. I have no experience with contact sports.”

  He drew her hand up to his crotch, which had a serious bulge going on. “I beg to differ.”

  She turned her head to look at him behind the screen created by their raised menus. “You’re making my case for me. Let’s eat quickly and get back to the ranch. Why waste time with silly dancing?”

  “Because it’ll be fun, and it’ll build the suspense.”

  She rubbed her hand over the warm denim covering his package. “How much suspense can you stand, cowboy?”

  “You might be sur—” He stopped talking as Carolyn came over to their table with an order pad. “You were such fun last night, Nick,” the waitress said. Then she turned to Dominique. “You should see this man out on the floor. I hope you’re prepared to dance, because this guy was made for the two-step.”

  Dominique would have loved to tell this Carolyn person that she had no intention of giving in to peer pressure and dancing with Nick tonight. But that would only confirm to Carolyn that Dominique didn’t belong with Nick and didn’t belong in this bar, either.

  So instead she put on her best smile and gazed at her. “I’ve been waiting for a long time to dance the two-step with someone who knows what he’s doing. I wouldn’t pass this up for anything.”

  Carolyn eyed her, speculation evident in her intense gaze. There was a liberal dose of doubt in her eyes, but a certain amount of respect, too. “That’s great to hear. So what can I get for you two?”

  Dominique had pretty much abandoned red meat while she was with Herman, who insisted chicken and fish were the healthier choice. She opened her mouth to order the barbecued chicken, but that wasn’t what came out. “I’ll have a steak, medium rare, baked potato, loaded, a salad with ranch dressing and a Bud.”

  “Make that two,” Nick said. The minute Carolyn left, he rose from the table. “May I have this dance?”

  Oh, Lord, now she’d have to put her money where her mouth was, and this wasn’t going to be pretty. But she couldn’t back down now. She stood and offered him her hand. “Certainly.”

  He led her to the dance floor and pulled her in close. “Follow me.”

  She looked into his eyes. “I am so dead.”

  “No, you’re not.” He tightened his grip. “Stay loose and go with my body movements. You’ll be fine. It’s not that different from sex.”

  Oh, but it was. As she stumbled around the dance floor in an attempt to follow his cues, she was grateful that sex with him hadn’t been this awkward. She and Nick performed much better with their clothes off than on.

  Still, it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, and the longer they danced, the better she became at following his rhythm. The guy was a great dancer, and that was kind of a turn-on.

  She even became comfortable enough to initiate a little dance floor conversation. “Spirits and Spurs is a clever name for a Western bar. It gets the mention of alcohol in there along with the cowboy reference.”

  Nick twirled her around, and miracle of miracles, she didn’t fall down. “The name has nothing to do with alcohol. At least not primarily.”

  “But—” She stepped on his toe. “Sorry.”

  His wince was barely visible. “No worries.”

  “Spirits and Spurs. It’s obvious what it means.”

  “Not so much. When Josie bought the bar it was called the Rusty Spur.” He twirled her again and this time she didn’t step on him. “But Josie’s convinced that the place is inhabited by the dear departed souls of all the miners and cowboys who’ve ever loved this place.”

  “Really? That’s sort of cool.”

  “You’ve heard of ‘Ghost Riders in the Sky.’ The locals call Josie’s concept ‘Ghost Drinkers in the Bar.’”

  Dominique started laughing, which made her stumble, but she didn’t bother to apologize because it was his fault for making her laugh. “So she really thinks the place is haunted?”

  “Yep.”

  “What’s her evidence?”

  “The usual. When she’s closing up at night and nobody’s around, she claims to hear voices, and laughter, and the clink of glasses. When she sweeps the floor there are cold spots, and as she’s putting the chairs on the tables, once in a while she feels resistance, as if someone’s trying to keep that chair available instead of letting her turn it upside down.”

  Dominique spoke before she thought. “Did your dad come in here often?”

  Nick didn’t say anything at first and she thought he’d ignore the question, which would probably be better all the way around. Nick’s life was crazy enough without adding in the potential ghost of his dead father.

  But then he stopped dancing and gazed at her. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  NICK WAS A MAN OF SCIENCE, a medical man. He’d told Dominique the truth—he didn’t believe in spirits. Going out to the sacred site to think things through was one thing, a sort of family tradition that he accepted as more like therapy than woo-woo stuff.

  Ghosts were a whole other level of strangeness, and logic told him they were the product of someone’s over-active imagination. Still, as he guided Dominique back to their table, where their meal waited, he thought about how much he’d love to talk to his father’s ghost, if such a ghost existed. Of course it didn’t.

  But if Jonathan Chance, Sr. had any kind of afterlife presence, it would most likely show up here. He’d been a social guy who’d enjoyed tipping a few with his friends or sharing a meal and two-stepping with Sarah. Sarah had held his sixtieth birthday party here and it had been a blowout.

  Nick liked thinking about that party because he couldn’t remember a happier family occasion. His dad and Sarah had dominated the dance floor, and Jack—well, he’d been the life of the party, dancing with every woman in the place, including Sarah’s eighty-two-year-old mother, Grandma Judy.

  Nick and Gabe had watched their older brother in awe as he charmed what seemed like the entire female population of Shoshone that night. What a difference four years had made.

  Dominique cleared her throat. “Nick, I apologize. That was a stupid thing for me to have said.”

  “About my dad’s ghost?” He glanced over at her and realized she’d been sitting quietly, waiting for him to come out of his mental fog. She hadn’t touched her food.

  “Yes. I put my foot in my mouth and I’m so sorry. I hope I haven’t ruined our evening.”

  Nick grinned at her. “Hey, I really don’t believe in ghosts, and I’m the one who should apologize. You stirred up a memory, a really good memory, and I sank right into it, which was rude.”

  “So you’re not upset?”

  “Hell, no! I was thinking about my dad’s sixtieth birthday party here. It was technically a private event, but Josie didn’t bother to close the place to anyone because the whole damn town was invited, anyway. It was great.”

  “I can tell.” She smiled back at him. “You look happy.”

  “It’s good to remember things like that, so thanks for jarring it out of my subconscious.” He put his napkin in his lap. “Now dig in, because you’ll need your strength.”

  “For the dancing?”

  He winked at her. “Well, that, too, I guess.” He cut into his steak and was pleased to find it was tender. Josie might not run a five-star restaurant, but she did okay.

  He’d taken his second bite when the front door opened and he casually glanced up to see who’d come in. He almost choked on his food. His mother. Then he had to mentally correct himself. Not his mother, his stepmother.

  She’d arrived with one of her old friends, Lucy Bledsoe, owner of the Lickity Split ice cream parlor. Lucy had been widowed five years ago, and she’d been a huge support to Sarah since Jonathan died.

  Somehow Ni
ck had never expected Sarah and Lucy to show up here, although it made perfect sense. Grandma Judy wouldn’t want her daughter hovering over her every minute.

  Sarah hadn’t seen him. He was sure of that from the way she laughed and talked with Carolyn. Now he wished he’d asked Jack if he’d mentioned anything to Sarah. But he would know the minute she laid eyes on him. She’d never been any good at hiding her feelings.

  “Nick, what’s wrong?” Dominique put a hand on his arm.

  Apparently he wasn’t any good at hiding his feelings, either, but he couldn’t claim to have inherited that from Sarah. Not anymore. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. He felt as if he’d lost both parents, and technically, he had.

  He gave Dominique a quick glance before returning his attention to the two women. “It’s my…it’s Sarah. She just came in with her friend Lucy.”

  “Oh.” Dominique’s fingers tightened on his arm. “Which one is Sarah?”

  “The one with the white hair. Lucy’s the redhead.”

  “My goodness, Sarah’s beautiful. Not every woman can get away with letting her hair go white, but she has the cheekbones for it.”

  “So does her mom. Grandma Judy modeled for some big-deal agency in New York, made piles of money and bought a place out here. She married Grandpa Bill and had Sarah, but didn’t want more than one kid, so she’d keep her figure.”

  “Sarah hasn’t spotted you yet.”

  “Nope. She—okay, Carolyn just told her. They’re coming over.”

  “Look, if you want to talk to her privately, I can suggest to Lucy that we take a seat at the bar.”

  “Nothing doing.” Nick studied Sarah’s expression as the two women wound their way through the tables. Her smile was open and welcoming. Jack hadn’t said anything.

  Nick wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. Now he had to decide how to play this. If he didn’t want to discuss it, he’d have to keep her busy enough that she wouldn’t notice anything strange about his behavior.