Dalton's Undoing

by RaeAnne Thayne

  "Sorry. I'm coming."

  She gave Jenny a quick hug and took one last parting shot. "You know," she whispered in her ear so the P.E. teacher couldn't hear, "somewhere out there is a rider who can tame even the wildest bronc. You'll never know if you don't climb on."

  After she left, Jenny leaned against the counter, her mind whirling.

  I can't love a woman without the guts to take a chance on something that could be wonderful.

  His words echoed in her ears, louder than the music from the other room, louder than the dishwasher busily churning away beside her.

  The ache in her chest seemed unbearable and she pressed a hand to it, then felt something crack away under her fingers, something hard and brittle.

  She was a fool. A scared, stupid fool.

  She loved him. With all her heart she loved him, and she was throwing away any chance they might have together because she was too afraid to trust him—and more afraid to trust herself and her own instincts.

  She was so worried about what other people thought that she refused to pay attention to those instincts. She didn't deserve the respect she was so desperate to earn from her faculty, not if she couldn't make up her own mind about what was good and right and couldn't stand up for those decisions, even if she faced criticism for them.

  Seth was a good man. A kind, decent, wonderful man, who had done nothing but open his life and his heart to her and her family.

  Sweet assurance flowed through her and she remembered the tenderness in his eyes the night before, how safe and warm and cherished he made her feel.

  She straightened from the counter. She had to find him, right this moment, to see if she had completely ruined everything or if there might be any chance they could salvage something from the wreckage she had left behind with her stupidity.

  She rushed out of the kitchen and blinked, a little disoriented to find the lights and the music and the people. The party was still going strong—her party, the one she had thought so vitally important.

  How could she leave in the middle of it?

  No, she was going to trust her instincts on this one. She had to find Seth now, tonight, before she lost her nerve.

  Marcy and Lance danced by at that moment and she stepped forward and grabbed her before she could whirl away again.

  "Marcy, I have to go. I…I'm sorry. I'll explain later."

  Her friend gave her a careful look, then grinned with delight. "I don't think you need to explain."

  She smiled back, the first genuine one she'd felt since she walked away from Seth.

  "You were right. I want my eight seconds. No. More than that. I want forever."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Seth stood just inside the doorway to the Bandito, wondering what the hell he was doing there.

  For some crazy reason, he thought his favorite haunt would be just the thing to lift him out of his misery. Usually he loved walking inside the honky tonk—the clink of pool cues setting shots, the music, loud and raucous, the smell of barley and hops and people having a good time. Most of all, he loved the chorus of greetings he received every time he walked in.

  This had always been his place, the one spot where he wasn't just Wade and Jake Dalton's wild and reckless kid brother.

  But now as he looked at the string of blinking Christmas lights strung across the mirror behind the bar, the cheap foil garlands hanging from the tables and the same faces he'd been seeing here since he was old enough to drink, all he felt was the bitter sting of his own loneliness.

  This wasn't what he wanted.

  What do you want? he asked himself, but he knew the answer before the question even entered his mind.

  Jenny.

  He wanted Jenny Boyer, in his arms, in his heart, in his life.

  He pushed that dead horse off him and was just about to walk back out into the cold when a buxom blonde wearing a skimpy Mrs. Santa Claus outfit approached him.

  "Hey, Seth!" Twice divorced, Dawna McHenry was ten years his senior—and she'd been hitting on him since he turned sixteen. "Haven't seen you around in a while."

  "Hey Dawna. It's been a busy few weeks."

  "Well, you're here now. That's the important thing. What do you say to a dance?"

  One of Alan Jackson's rollicking holiday songs was playing on the jukebox, but Seth couldn't manage to summon even the tiniest spark of enthusiasm to rip up the wooden dance floor right now.

  "Sweetheart, you know how much I hate to disappoint a lady. It's nothing personal, I swear, but I'm not much in the mood for dancing tonight. Can I take a rain check, though?"

  "You know my umbrella's always open for you, darlin'," she purred, but her smile had slipped a little.

  Maybe his own miserable mood opened his eyes a little, but for the first time he saw through her bright cheer to the emptiness beneath. She was just looking for somebody to take away the pain for a while and he was sorry it could never be him.

  He wanted to make it better for her, but he didn't know how until his gaze landed on the middle-aged man sitting at the bar. Roy Gentry was another of the Bandito regulars. A shy cowboy with a small plot of land and his own herd, he never said much to anybody—and became even more tongue-tied when Dawna was near.

  "You know who I bet could use a little of that cheering up you're so good at? Roy over there."

  Dawna cast a look at the bar. "You think?"

  "Oh, yeah," Seth answered. "I bet he gets real lonely all by himself in that big house his folks left him, especially this time of year. Why don't you go see if he wants to dance?"

  Dawna looked again and he hoped this time she saw beyond Roy's shy awkwardness to the man who never had a mean word to say about anybody and who always put a little extra in the bartender's tip jar.

  She gave the cowboy another considering look. "I wouldn't want anybody feelin' bad this time of year. You know, I might just do that."

  She flitted away from him and headed toward the bar. Seth lingered long enough to watch her lean in and say something with one of her bright smiles. He couldn't hear over the music but he saw Roy give a quick, forceful shake of his head, then Dawna tugged him off his bar stool anyway and dragged him over to the dance floor.

  He wanted to think it was divine providence—or at least a gift from the King—but right at that moment, Elvis starting singing "Blue Christmas" on the juke box. Dawna threw her arms around the cowboy for a slow dance, and poor Roy looked like he didn't know what hit him.

  If he'd had a beer right then, he would have lifted it in a salute to the man. I'm right there with you, brother, he thought, hoping he and Elvis might have just planted the seeds of something.

  Good deed accomplished, he turned to go when he heard a woman's voice calling his name in a question.

  For about half a second, he thought about pretending he didn't hear whoever she was and just continuing on his way. But she called his name again and he turned slowly with a sigh.

  The ready excuse on his lips slipped away when he saw the tall brunette in slacks and a holiday sweater beaming at him.

  "It is you! Hi, Seth. Remember me?"

  "My word. Of course I do. Little Amy Roundy." He hugged her, stunned that this pretty, self-assured woman was the same girl he'd known since kindergarten.

  "It's Amy Underwood now."

  "That's right. Where is the lucky man?"

  She made a face. "Pool table. I imagine my brothers are trying to hustle him out of our traveler's checks by now. They have no idea what they're up against. George plays the part of a mild-mannered, polite, slightly clumsy Brit but he'll rip them apart."

  He smiled and knew he couldn't leave now, much as he might want to. Amy had been one of his best friends in elementary school and he hadn't seen her in years.

  By tacit agreement he steered them both to the only empty booth, where he took the seat across from her. "I hadn't heard you'd crossed to this side of the pond and finally come back for a visit," he said when they were seated. "How's life in the Briti
sh Isles?"

  "Just ducky, love." She smiled and dropped the accent. "Seriously, I love it. I miss my family and the mountains sometimes, but George and I have made a home there."

  "What about kids?"

  "Three girls. I've got pictures and everything."

  She pulled out her cell phone, punched a few buttons, then held it out to him. He spent a minute admiring the image on the screen of three gorgeous little girls with blond curls and their mother's smile.

  "What about you? Is there a Mrs. Dalton?"

  He summoned a smile from somewhere deep inside. "Two of them. Both married to my brothers."

  "You haven't made the big leap?"

  He started to make some flippant remark but Amy's stern look caught it before it could escape. He suddenly remembered he could never hide anything from her. She and Maggie Cruz, Jake's wife, had been his best friends in grade school. They were the only kids in his class who hadn't bullied the wheezy runt he'd been.

  Hank had just about popped a vein when he found out his youngest son's two best friends were girls but that had only made Seth more determined to keep them.

  "No. Not yet," he managed.

  Marriage. Now there was something he hadn't given much thought to. His parents' marriage had been a nightmare, enough to sour anybody on the institution. But his brothers had managed to move on and build amazingly happy lives.

  For the first time, he started to wonder if he could ever do the same. He thought again of how he'd felt waking up with Jenny in his arms that morning and he suddenly wanted that every day, with a fierce and terrible ache.

  Only too bad for him, the woman in question wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

  He shifted his attention back to Amy, wondering what she saw in his face to put that soft, sympathetic look in her eyes.

  She touched his hand. "You would make a wonderful husband, Seth."

  He forced a laugh at that outright hyperbole. "Right. I'm willing to bet if you took a poll of all the women in this room, you would probably be the only one with that opinion."

  She looked at him for a long moment then shook her head. "It doesn't matter what they think. If you find the right woman, her opinion is the only important one."

  Didn't he just know it?

  He must have made some sound because Amy sent him another sympathetic look. "Want to talk about it?"

  No. He wanted to hop in the GTO and drive as far and as fast as he could to outrun this pain, this hollow fear that he would be spending the rest of his life alone.

  No, he didn't want to talk about it. But something about his old friend's compassion made him want to confide in her.

  "How long do you think it will take your Brit to clean up over there at the pool table?"

  * * *

  Jenny drove through the streets of Pine Gulch, a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety churning through her. Would he even be willing to see her when she reached the Cold Creek after the hideous way she had treated him?

  She had to try. Even if he slammed the door in her face, at least she would not have to live the rest of her life with regrets, knowing she might have touched the stars.

  On the outskirts of town, she drove past the bright lights of the town's single tavern. The Bandito was doing a brisk business tonight, she thought, then took a closer look and nearly drove off the road.

  She knew that red car in the parking lot. Seth's brawny GTO hulked in the corner, shiny and sleek and so distinctive she couldn't possibly mistake it for anyone else's car.

  So much for sitting at home pining over her.

  He was inside the tavern probably having a wonderful time while she was out here dying inside.

  She pulled her SUV into an empty space in the parking lot, trying to figure out what she should do. She had two choices. She could go back to the faculty party and get on with the business of forgetting about him, as he had obviously decided to do about her.

  Or she could grab hold of the rigging and climb on.

  She owed him an apology. By putting so much stock in gossip and rumor about him, she had treated him with terrible unfairness and she had to let him know she was sorry for it.

  Even if he decided not to accept her apology, she would at least know she'd tried to offer it.

  She turned off her vehicle and slid out, suddenly aware as she stepped onto packed snow of her holiday cocktail dress and high heels. She was going to look conspicuous, foolish, walking into the honky tonk like this.

  People would wonder what she was doing there—and when the people in the packed tavern saw her with Seth, rumors would start flying before she would even have time to sit down.

  She almost climbed back into her car, then she shook her head. No. She was strong enough to face a few rumors. She wasn't ashamed of her feelings for Seth. She loved him and she wouldn't hide it. Let the whole town see, she thought.

  That defiant energy carried her to the front door of the Bandito and just inside, but there she stopped as the panic and self-doubt started to nip at her like an unruly puppy.

  She scanned the crowd, already painfully aware of the stares. She didn't see him at first, then when she found him, that little yip of self-doubt turned into a pack of ravaging wolves.

  He was sitting in a booth, cozying up to a brunette Jenny didn't recognize, someone tall and shapely and beautiful. Their heads were close together and the woman was laughing at something he said and Jenny felt like her heart had just been ripped out and thrown on the dance floor for everyone to stomp on.

  This was stupid. Humiliating tears welled up in her eyes at her own idiocy and she wanted frantically to get out of there, but she felt frozen in place by this wild storm of emotions.

  She was just trying to force herself to move when his gaze suddenly shifted from the woman beside him to the doorway where Jenny stood, exposed and heartsick.

  Whatever he was saying to the other woman died as he stared at her.

  Everything else in the bar—the laughter, the bright lights, the loud, pulsing music—faded away to nothing as their gazes caught and held.

  Jenny couldn't breathe suddenly, stunned by the raw emotion in his eyes, pain and joy and something else she couldn't identify.

  Her husband had never looked at her like that, she realized. Not once, in all their years of courtship and marriage, had he ever looked at her like she was his salvation, his entire world.

  How could she turn away from this? She loved this man. She loved his strength, she loved his goodness, she loved the sweet and healing laughter he had brought into her life.

  And she suddenly wanted everyone to know it.

  Her pulse sounded louder than the music blaring from the jukebox as she forced herself to move forward on legs suddenly weak and jittery, until she stood at the edge of their booth.

  Once she reached her destination, she didn't know where to start. She might have lost her nerve completely except that Seth hadn't looked away from her, even for a second. They stared at each other for a long moment, until the brunette actually broke the silence.

  "Hi. You must be Jennifer."

  That had her blinking and she managed to wrench her gaze from Seth to look at the woman, who actually seemed very nice, with warm brown eyes and an approachable smile. Too bad Jenny might just have to take a page from Cherry Mendenhall's book and deck her.

  "Seth has just been telling me all about you," the woman went on.

  She thought she heard Seth make a groaning kind of sound but she couldn't be sure.

  "Has he?" It was all she could manage to say.

  The other woman gave a smile Jenny would only have called mischievous if had come from one of her students. "Oh, yes. I'm Amy Underwood, an old friend. Sit down, won't you? Here, you can have my seat. I was just leaving to find my husband."

  Husband. Right. Husband was good.

  "He's sexy and British and I'm crazy about him," the strange woman added with a laugh. "Just in case you were wondering."

  "Amy," Seth said in
the chiding voice one reserved for old friends.

  She laughed again, getting to her feet. "What did I say?" She didn't wait for an answer, just blew him a kiss. "We're in town until after the day after New Year's. Come and meet George and my girls. I want to know how the story ends."

  "Yeah," he muttered. "So do I."

  She walked away but Jenny remained standing by the booth, unsure where to go from here.

  "What are you doing here, Jen?" he said after a long moment. A note of cool reserve had entered his voice and she winced from it even as she knew she deserved it.

  "I was wondering if you would like to dance."

  He gazed at her and she saw a host of emotions sift through his eyes. "Here?" he finally asked, looking around the crowded tavern.

  "Here. Or at the faculty party. Or wherever you would like."

  * * *

  He gazed at her, stunned by her words, by the offer he knew must have cost her dearly.

  Already, he was aware of the curious stares in their direction. Tongues were certainly going to wag with tales of the elementary school principal showing up at the local tavern in party clothes and a black eye and immediately sidling up to his table.

  She must have known the gossip would start up before she even walked into the place, yet she had come anyway. She had faced her fears, had all but begged for the very scrutiny she claimed to be so eager to avoid.

  For him.

  He had never been so humbled.

  Joy and sweet relief exploded in him, washing away the hurt and bitterness and angry. She was here, coming to him despite her fears and her uncertainties. He had no choice but to take the precious gift she offered and hold it close to his heart.

  He reached for her hand and almost yanked her into his arms right there in the Bandito in front of half the town but he knew that would be pushing things. Instead he uncoiled from the booth, threw some money on the table for his drink, and headed for the door, tugging her along behind him.

  "Where are we going?" she asked a little breathlessly.

  In answer, he pulled her out of the tavern. The cold December air blew through his jacket and he realized he hadn't given this a whole lot of thought, driven only by the need to be alone with her.