“Hey!” Tugging his hat back in place, Blaze claimed Sheridan’s chair as he glanced around, tone terse the moment he spotted Murrell leading his sister out on the floor. “Hey, Sully, I thought you were Sheridan’s escort tonight. Why the devil is she dancing with Murrell?” he asked, a bigger scowl on his face than the one on Jake’s.
“I don’t know,” Jake said, eyes narrowing as he watched Murrell loop an arm to Sheridan’s waist. Deep ridges lining his forehead tainted his usual good-natured manner.
“Because he asked her.” Maggie tipped her head to give Jake a pointed stare. “Three times, as a matter of fact, and as we all know, gentlemen—this is a dance.”
Blaze elbowed his best friend. “Go cut in, Sully—you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on her, remember?”
“No, he’s playing pigs in the pen with me, aren’t you, Jake?” Shaylee tapped her pencil on Jake’s arm, obviously reminding him it was his turn.
“I’ll play with you, Sweet Pea,” Blaze said with a prod of Jake’s arm, all but shoving him out of the chair. His tone lowered. “We both agreed Sher’s too young to be gallivantin’ with the hands, and you’re her escort, so go-cut-in.”
“Sorry, Doodle.” Jake tugged on one of Shaylee’s pigtails before lumbering to his feet. “But Blaze is right. I need to go rescue your sister.”
“But she looks like she’s having a good time,” Shaylee said in a near whine, watching Sheridan smiling up at Murrell while the two of them two-stepped along with a lively crowd of dancers.
“I know.” Smile suddenly compressed, Jake tugged on his vest with a threatening look in Murrell’s direction. “Which is exactly why I need to rescue her.” He stalked away, and Maggie grinned, not sure what dismantled Jake’s perennial good mood more—Sheridan dancing with Murrell or the fact that Jake was forced to.
“All right, Sweet Pea, set ’em up.” Blaze switched into Jake’s chair while Shaylee focused hard on putting dots on her paper for another game of pigs in a pen, tongue peeking out the side of her mouth. Folding his arms on the table, Blaze slid Maggie a sideways look. “Speaking of escorts, Nightingale, where’s yours?”
Maggie spied Clint at the refreshment table, flirting with a group of ladies while he held two glasses of lemonade in hand. She nodded his way before giving Blaze a dry smile. “Getting me a cold drink—I think.”
Blaze’s gaze followed hers and he frowned. “Or lukewarm by the time he tears himself away from the ladies. Look, Maggie, I told you before, Clint has a reputation as a womanizer, so just be on your guard.”
You mean, like I am with you? Maggie sighed, almost wishing she liked Clint a bit more so she could eradicate these annoying feelings for Blaze.
“Blaze, you go first,” Shaylee said, pushing the paper toward her brother.
Blaze connected two dots with his pencil and pushed it back, tossing Maggie a scowl over his shoulder. “Far as I’m concerned, it was downright stupid for you to say yes to a blatant womanizer in the first place.”
Maggie bristled, the idea of Blaze “flirt-and-flee” Donovan calling Clint a womanizer galling her to no end. Sure, she might agree that she’d been somewhat short-sighted in consenting to go with Clint in the first place after the horseshoes win, but as far as she was concerned, the only “stupid” thing she’d done was to fall in love with her best friend—the biggest flirt of them all.
“Here you go, Maggie.” Clint showed up just in time to keep Maggie from telling Blaze just who she thought the true womanizer was and none too nicely. Drinks in hand, he nodded toward the barn doors while he extended his arm. “It’s pretty stuffy in her, so do you want to get some fresh air and enjoy these outside?”
Her first inclination was to tell Clint no, but the warning look in Blaze’s eyes tripped her temper, flipping her response along with it. “Certainly.” She rose from the chair, ignoring Blaze’s glare while she hooked her arm through Clint’s. “All of a sudden, it does feel rather stuffy in here, so lead the way.”
She paused when Blaze grabbed her wrist, his eyes probing hers with a silent threat. “Actually, Maggie, I was hoping you’d give me the next dance.”
Hackles high, she arched a brow. “And deprive some lucky girl a chance with one of the handsomest cowboys in the room?” She pulled away and placed her hand on Clint’s arm as she studied Blaze through sober eyes. “Why, I wouldn’t dare risk the wrath of the female population, Mr. Donovan. With so few dances to spare, that would be a real travesty,” she said, smile stiff as she allowed Clint to lead her away.
Like our friendship.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“Blaze!” Shaylee’s voice broke through Blaze’s mental tirade, jerking his gaze from the double doors at the front of the barn to where she sat beside him. Her tiny brows dug low with a flinch of freckles as she tapped her pencil on the table. “The game is right here, mister, not outside.”
He scowled. One can only hope. Maggie and Clint had been gone for over fifteen minutes now, and that fact alone had Blaze strung as tight as a banjo wire. Everything in him wanted to stomp outside and drag her back in, but she’d made it pretty darn clear she wanted him to butt out. Blasting out a noisy sigh, he turned his attention to his sister. “Sorry, Doodle, I guess my mind is somewhere else.” He boxed in a square and wrote his initial in it, making up his mind that Maggie deserved whatever she got with Keller.
Shaylee grunted loudly, the gruff sound way too big for such a little girl. “Boy, I’ll say, and turtles to tadpoles, it’s with Maggie.”
A nerve flickered in his steeled jaw as he filled in two more boxes. Nope, not anymore.
“Goodness, but that was fun, wasn’t it, Jake?” Sheridan plopped down in her chair while Jake grunted, the glow on her face at total odds with the rare frown on his.
“Who’s winning?” Jake asked, hovering over Blaze and Shaylee like the Angel of Death.
“Me.” Shaylee filled in another box with great precision, tongue peeking out once more. “Because Bren ain’t concentrating.”
“Isn’t concentrating,” Sheridan corrected. “And where’s Maggie?” She spun around to scour the dance floor.
“Outside with Clint, which is why Bren ain’—isn’t—concentrating.” Shaylee initialed her final two boxes and pushed the paper away with a heft of her little chin, a definite gloat in her eyes. “I win.”
“What?” Jake stared at Blaze, a pucker at the bridge of his nose. “You let Clint take Maggie outside?”
“She’s a big girl, Sully,” Blaze said in a near growl, rising with a harsh scrape of his chair. “I’m not her guardian.”
“No, just mine.” Sheridan huffed out a heavy sigh as the band tuned up with “Home on the Range. “Oh, I just love this song!” she said with a happy squeal, homing in on Jake with a shy flutter of lashes. “Jake—can we dance?”
Jake wasted no time stealing Blaze’s chair, relief edging the apology in his tone. “Sorry, Half-Pint, but Shay needs a partner for pigs in the pen.”
“But I need a partner too …” Sheridan said in a sad little-girl voice that plucked at Blaze’s heart.
“Come on, Sher, I’ll be your partner for this dance.” Blaze held out his hand.
Sheridan’s lower lip pushed into a pout. “No thanks, Bren. I’d rather sit this one out than be seen dancing with my brother.”
“What?” Blaze shifted, hands on his hips while his big-brother’s heart broke a little bit. “Just last year, you were begging me to dance every dance—what’s different this year?”
“I am,” she said with a pert lift of her nose. “I’m a woman now.”
Jake’s doubtful grunt braised her cheeks, and shooting to her feet, Sheridan singed the back of his head so hard, Blaze was surprised the man didn’t flinch. “Well, if nobody here wants to dance with me—”
Blaze slid an arm to his sister’s waist. “Now, hold on, darlin’—I said I would dance with you, didn’t—”
“Ahem.” Everyone froze at the nervous clear of Murrell
Porter’s throat, the kid’s eyes locked on Sheridan despite the blotches of red crawling up his throat. “Miss Sheridan—may I have this dance?”
“Uh … sorry, Murrell,” Blaze said with a clap of his hand on Murrell’s shoulder, “but Sully here was just fixin’ to dance with Sher, weren’t you, Sul?”
“But Jake’s playing gallows with me!” Latching onto Jake’s arm, Shaylee glared her sister down.
“What’s all the commotion going on over here?” Dash returned to loop an arm over Blaze’s shoulder, gaze darting from face-to-face with a curious smile.
“No, Dash is playing gallows with you, Doodle,” Blaze said, hauling Jake from the chair before pushing his brother down next to Shaylee. He slapped Murrell on the back with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Murrell, but Jake is Sheridan’s escort tonight, so you know how that is.” He leaned close, casting a look at a table of young ladies down the way. “But here tell that Bessie Monroe has been lookin’ your way quite a bit tonight, so you might want to give her a dance, all right?”
“Sure, I guess.” With a final look of longing at Sheridan, Murrell moseyed off while Blaze pushed Jake at his sister.
“Wear her out for pity’s sake,” Blaze said under his breath, breathing a slow sigh of relief that Sheridan was out of harm’s way.
Least somebody was. Determined to put Maggie out of his mind, Blaze gave Shaylee’s pigtail a little tug. “Shay, when you’re done stringing this boy up, I’ll give you some real competition, all right?” He surveyed the groups of single women throughout the barn. “There’s still some ladies I haven’t danced with yet.”
“Blaze, I need a favor, son.” Uncle Finn broke from his conversation with Libby to pierce him with a sober look.
“Yes, sir?” Blaze bent in while his uncle gave a quiet nod toward the barn doors, voice lowering well below the chatter of the others as he leaned across the table. “Maggie’s been gone a while. You mind checking on her?”
With pleasure. “Yes, sir.” Smile grim, Blaze strode outside with a twitch in his temple, wanting to kick himself for not following Maggie sooner. If Uncle Finn was worried, that was confirmation of the uneasy feeling in Blaze’s gut, and so help him, if Keller tried anything …
A mountain breeze washed away the heat of the crowded barn, filling his lungs with the clean scent of sagebrush and pine. Strains of music filtered out to where people milled about in a meadow area lit by moonlight and lanterns sporadically hung on a log fence.
Squinting hard to adjust his eyes to the dark, Blaze scanned from clusters of adults chatting here and there to packs of kids roaming the grounds playing hide and seek or midnight. With a hand shading his eyes, he peered toward several outhouses along the far tree line where lines of folks patiently waited, but Maggie wasn’t among them.
“Dad-burn-it, Maggie, where the devil are you?” he muttered, snatching a lantern off a fencepost and marching to the back of the barn where several couples were entwined in shadowed corners. The moment the lantern light appeared, they pulled apart, allowing Blaze to make sure it wasn’t Maggie.
The sound of female laughter jerked his head toward the woods where a well-worn path led to the creek. A group of mixed company emerged from the forest shadows, chatting and laughing as they strolled back toward the barn.
“Why, Blaze Donovan, I believe you owe me a dance,” Andrea Jo Stephens said with a bat of her eyes, easily one of his favorite nurses at St. Mary Louise Hospital.
After Maggie.
“I believe I do, Miss Stephens, and I’ll get right to it as soon as I find Maggie.” He nudged up the brim of his hat. “Anybody seen her?”
Several of the girls glanced over their shoulders along with Andrea Jo. “I think she’s down at the creek with Clint,” one of them said, “at least I think it was Maggie.”
Andrea Jo shook her head. “Can’t be—not with Clint.” She sidled close to Blaze to give him a wink. “She’s a bit too strait-laced for that boy, if you know what I mean.”
One of the Bar J cowhands nodded to the woods. “Don’t know any Maggie, but I do know Clint Keller’s down there with some pretty little thing.”
Blaze’s jaw ground to rock. “Much obliged.” With a tip of his hat, he tore for the woods.
“I’ll be waiting for that dance, Mr. Donovan,” Andrea Jo called after him, but Blaze was too riled to answer, slapping trees and sagebrush out of his way as he stormed for the creek.
“Maggie?” He stood at the rocky shore of the fast-running creek, straining to listen over the gurgle of the water and the trill of tree frogs and crickets. “Maggie—where the devil are you?” he shouted, his pulse pounding in his ears.
“Blaze …”
He barely heard it, Maggie’s call a good distance downstream. Breaking into a dead run, he leapt over rocks and boulders along the shore like a mule deer spooked within an inch of his life. And he was spooked—worried sick about the one woman who’d made him care more than any other. “Maggie—where are you?”
“Here …” She suddenly bolted through a thicket not 200 feet away, nearly stumbling several times before she shot straight into his arms. “Oh, Blaze …”
“It’s all right, darlin’,” he whispered, “I’m here now.” Pressing a kiss to her hair, he quickly held her at bay to study her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, dislodging tears from her eyes.
“Where’s Clint?” he demanded, fingers gripped tightly to her arms.
“Right here, Boss.” Clint pushed through the thicket, ambling forward to stop a few feet away from where Blaze held Maggie, his jaw as rock-hard as Blaze’s.
“What did you do to her, Keller?” he snapped, Maggie’s death grip to his waist the only thing stopping Blaze from tearing the cowhand apart, piece by piece.
Clint shrugged his shoulders. “Just a few kisses, Boss, nothing more.”
“Only because I got here in time, no doubt.” He tugged Maggie from his chest, heart squeezing at the frightened look in her eyes. “Is that true, Maggie?”
She managed a jerky nod, head bowed and gaze fixed on Blaze’s boots.
“Keller, you ever touch this woman again, and you’re out of a job—you got that?”
Clint nodded. “I’m sorry, Maggie—didn’t mean no harm.”
“Get out. And when we get back to the dance, you better be gone.”
Without another word, Clint pushed past to disappear upstream, leaving Maggie whimpering in Blaze’s arms.
“Let’s go home,” Blaze whispered.
Her head bobbed against his chest, and bundling her in his arms, he ushered her back up the shoreline, wanting nothing more than to make her hurt go away.
And his.
Because at the moment, he wasn’t all that sure … which of them was aching more.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The ride home was silent. Nothing more than the grind of the wheels on the dusty road, Minx’s occasional snort, or the lonely hoot of an owl that mirrored Maggie’s mood completely.
Sadness.
Emptiness.
Longing.
Because although Clint’s kisses had been hungry and probing like those of her former fiancé, they hadn’t pushed her away from the idea of marriage like they had before. No, this time they had pushed her toward something that could do far more damage.
Blaze.
Her eyelids weighted closed as the wagon jostled up to the front porch of the Silver Lining Ranch, the darkened house only underscoring the painful void in her own life at the moment. A life in which she’d once been content with nothing more than her faith, her friends, and her newfound family at the ranch.
But Clint had changed all of that, confirming that the very kisses and love he’d sought from her tonight belonged to the one man who had stolen her heart.
The best friend who sat beside her.
“You tired?” he whispered, bringing the wagon to a halt while he held her close, the slow thud of his heart in perfect harmony with her own.
“No.” She burrowed in, and a wonderful warmth purled through her at the touch of his lips to her hair, enveloping her in a cocoon of safety as surely as the strong arms that drew her near.
“Feel like talking, then?” His voice was husky and low, edged with the barest hint of hope.
She nodded, and he kissed her head again while a gray-bearded cowhand on watch slowly approached from the bunkhouse with rifle in hand. “Evenin’, Boss—everything all right?”
“Fine, Shelby, just brought Miss Mullaney home a little early since she wasn’t feeling all that well. You mind putting Minx and the wagon up for me?”
“No problem, Boss,” the hand said, patiently waiting while Blaze helped Maggie down. He led the rig toward the barn while Blaze gingerly ushered Maggie up the steps to her usual rocker.
She halted him halfway, unwilling to lose the comfort of his arms. “Would you mind terribly if we”—she swallowed a gulp while nodding toward the porch swing on the far end of the deck—“sit together? It’s getting chilly out, and I think I could use the warmth.”
“Good idea,” he said quietly, leading her to the shadowed niche of the wraparound porch where Finn and Libby had taken to sitting a spell every night after dinner. “I’m going to fetch a blanket for you, Maggie—you want anything else while I’m up? Water? Lemonade?”—a smile crept into his voice—“Butterscotch candy?”
You, her heart wanted to shout, but she merely shook her head, not sure what she was going to do with this wayward heart of hers. He disappeared into the house, and her thoughts began to race as furiously as her pulse. What should she do, she wondered? Being so close to Blaze everyday was only making the situation worse. She needed distance, and lots of it to try and temper this flame of love that he stoked with every lazy tip of his smile, every maddening twinkle in his eyes. Every touch of his lips to her hair.
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