More Than a Rancher

by Claire McEwen

  Gabe mumbled something about beer and headed toward the bar, Joe following. Sandro, Paul and Jenna sat at the table and Jenna’s eyes immediately went to the dance floor. People were moving in perfect unison, following identical steps but all putting their own personal style into their movements.

  “This is amazing!” She knew a few standard line dances, but to see a whole room of people in jeans and cowboy boots moving in sync to the music was a novelty. She felt as if she were on a movie set. Sandro’s father was giving her a questioning look.

  “We don’t really have much of this in San Francisco,” she explained. “Can you do it? Will you teach me?”

  “Why, Jenna!” Mr. Salazar teased. “We figured you’d be out there teaching us!”

  “I know when I’m in the presence of greatness, Mr. Salazar,” she quipped back. “And I don’t mess with perfection.” She tugged at Sandro’s sleeve. “So get up and get me dancing, cowboy! I need to know how to do this.”

  The song ended and some people left the floor, while others lingered, waiting for the next song. “I guess it’s as good a time as any,” Sandro said. “Mom? Pop? Paul? You’d better get out there with me. I’m pretty rusty.”

  Paul led them to a spot on the dance floor. Mr. Salazar lined up next to him with Barbara at his side. “Stand behind us, kids. We’ll show you how the real folks dance.” Mr. Salazar gave Jenna an exaggerated wink.

  Jenna laughed. “John Salazar, I like you. I’m getting schooled and that’s a good thing.”

  The music started and Jenna noticed how everyone on the floor began to mark the beat with their bodies, all awaiting the first step. And then the first step came and everyone in the entire room took it except Jenna, who realized that she really was a fish out of water. Eyes glued to Paul’s feet, she began to break his moves down into steps she knew, trying not to crash into anyone in the process. A grapevine step, a toe touch, shuffle step sideways for four beats, then back the other way. A half turn with a leg hitch to the outside and back to that grapevine step. The teacher learning from her student.

  Pretty soon she was going the same direction as everyone else, much to her relief, and a few moments later she had it. She relaxed into the repetitive motions of the dance and only then glanced over at Sandro, who was dancing beside her. He grinned at her with a quick wink and an expression that was all appreciation.

  Jenna couldn’t look anywhere else. Sandro imbued each simple step with his own lanky brand of cowboy sexy. Jenna stumbled watching him and he laughed and she figured there was a reason everybody faced the same direction during a line dance. Because the sight of men like Sandro, so at ease in their bodies, cowboy hats tilted just so, long denim-clad legs moving to the music, well, it wasn’t really a sight a girl could take in and still manage to remember the choreography.

  The next dance was also unfamiliar, but Jenna insisted that Paul and Sandro stay on the floor to teach her. Next it was the song from Footloose and the dance floor erupted in the most fun, lively steps straight from the movie and Jenna truly felt as if she were in heaven.

  The music ended and Sandro claimed he needed a break after such a girly song. They walked back to where his family was sitting. His parents went back out on the dance floor and Jenna watched them. Barbara was laughing at something her husband said as he took her hand, spinning her around.

  “Look at your parents out there!” Jenna exclaimed.

  Sandro looked over. “I don’t know when I’ve seen them this happy. Jenna, I wasn’t wrong when I said we needed you out here. You’ve got some kind of magic.”

  “Maybe it’s all that San Francisco groovy pagan magic?”

  He burst out laughing. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  People headed back out onto the dance floor. “I could do this every night!” Jenna said, watching them. “Choreography to follow, tons of people dancing—why don’t we do this in San Francisco?”

  “It’s just one more charming thing we have here in Benson.” Sandro took a sip from his water bottle and smiled. “Are you sold on small towns yet?”

  “I like them better than I did,” Jenna admitted. A new song came on and the people on the floor grabbed a partner and swung into something that looked a lot like a two-step. She jumped out of her chair and held out her hand to Sandro. “I can do this! Take me out there, please?”

  Sandro stood up and his answering grin went straight to her knees, which didn’t bode well for successful dancing. Jenna wondered if that was why she was so clumsy around him—his knee-weakening smile.

  Then one of his strong hands wrapped around hers and the other supported her back so it didn’t matter if her knees wobbled, and he launched into the two-step with an easy grace. And Jenna relaxed in his arms, determined to enjoy these precious moments with him.

  * * *

  JENNA HAD THE most angelic smile when she danced. You could tell she was born to do it, that the music hummed in her blood and sparkled in her soul. Sandro wished they could just stay like this, with none of her worries clouding her face, none of her fears darkening her eyes.

  And none of his fears, either, because he was having plenty. Ever since he’d announced out of the blue that he was in love with her, his own worries had kicked in. He’d never felt anything like this before. He had no idea how to be in love, especially with someone who lived so far away. Yet here he was, leading them both down this road that didn’t have any kind of clear ending. Actually, the ending was very clear. Unless he could talk her into staying in Benson, they didn’t have a future.

  But he wanted a future with her, he was sure of that now, and maybe there was some slight hope for him. Jenna fit here in Benson. She’d charmed his family, a near impossible task, and she was obviously enjoying herself this weekend. He couldn’t believe the way she’d hopped right up on Peanut and ridden as though she’d been doing it her whole life. She also appreciated his secret spot on the gym roof, and she was crazy about line dancing. Maybe if he could make her see all that Benson had to offer, she would consider a life here with him.

  Sandro wondered if he could make her happy. He’d build her a dance studio. There was an old barn on his aunt and uncle’s property, off behind the restaurant, that they could convert. Some drywall, insulation and a dance floor would transform it. He could build dressing rooms where the old tack rooms were. But there was more to a successful dance studio than just a cool old building. She’d need students. He looked around the packed dance hall. Surely some of the people here would want to learn a few of the classic ballroom dances?

  Who was he kidding? As much as he wanted to convince her, and himself, it would be really hard for her to continue as a dancer out here. Unless she just wanted to teach stuff to kids.... That might work out.

  Sandro cut off his own wishful thinking and held Jenna tight, relishing the way they moved across the floor together. She followed the slightest nuances of his movement—he’d never had an easier time leading. Dancing had always been just a social skill his mom had drilled into him along with please and thank you. When he got older, he’d realized how much women liked a man who could dance, so he made sure he had enough basic knowledge to get by. With Jenna, for the first time he felt the magic of it, the wonder of having someone’s body connect with your own so you truly moved as one.

  * * *

  SANDRO OPENED THE kitchen door and cautiously poked his head in. “I think they all went to bed!”

  Jenna followed him into the dim room, walking as quietly as the creaky floorboards allowed. “I can’t believe we outdanced your parents!” she whispered. “And your brothers!”

  “I know. By the end I think I was just staying there so I wouldn’t be outpartied by the old folks. They were really into it. I haven’t seen them have that much fun in years.”

  Sandro carefully opened a cabinet, took out two glasses and filled them with water from the ta
p. He handed her a glass and took a sip from his own.

  “Thanks—I’m parched.” Jenna sipped the icy mountain water gratefully. “You Benson folks really know how to dance!”

  Sandro smiled at her over his glass. Then his eyes went beyond her and he walked over to the kitchen table and picked up a piece of paper. Turning, he held it out to her. It was Paul’s permission slip for the dance contest, signed.

  “Oh, my gosh, they signed it!” Jenna squealed.

  “Shhh...” Sandro handed her the paper and took her glass, setting it in the sink with his own.

  Jenna stared at the signature—it was proof that miracles happened. “I can’t believe we did it!”

  Sandro picked her up, swung her in a circle and kissed her firmly on the mouth as she landed. “You did it!” He kept his voice quiet but Jenna heard his gratitude. “I guarantee this would never have happened if you hadn’t come out here, Jenna. I don’t know what you said to them, but you deserve a medal.”

  “And are you really okay with Paul doing this?” Jenna asked. It was hard to reconcile this joyful man with the scowling chef who had been so furious with her in another kitchen not very long ago.

  “As okay as I can be. Of course I’m worried that he’ll get teased. But he looks happy and hopefully he’ll stay that way.”

  “You know, there’s a pretty big ballroom-dance scene in Reno. Do you have any family there he could stay with? It would be a lot closer than San Francisco.”

  “Actually, we have an aunt. Maybe I’ll ask her.”

  Jenna felt their celebration cooling quickly. Here they were making plans for Paul that didn’t involve her and didn’t involve Sandro coming to San Francisco. It all suddenly felt very real and for an instant she tried to picture what it would be like once she was back home, knowing that whatever had happened between them was completely over. Her mind backed away from the image, not wanting to deal with it yet.

  Instead she stood on tiptoe, pushed his hat back farther and kissed him softly and slowly, savoring the way his lips felt under hers. Her worry about the future faded into the background where she could ignore it, for now. His arms came around her waist and he pulled her against him, and she felt the lean muscle of his frame and the steel of his arms. She knew beyond a doubt what she wanted—to feel his skin on hers. He ended the kiss with a shudder—he felt the same way.

  “Did I mention,” he whispered, the breath behind his words caressing her lips, “that I have my own cabin on this ranch?”

  “You did mention it, yes,” Jenna whispered back, smiling at his ridiculous attempt at a pickup line. “I suppose this is where you ask if I’d like to see it?”

  His smile hovered over hers, their lips almost touching. “Well, since you mentioned it, I am open to giving you a tour.”

  She felt like a high school kid, sneaking out of his parents’ house hand in hand. It was dark under the trees and the night was crisp and chilled and Jenna shivered. Sandro unzipped his jacket and tucked her under his arm, pulling the leather and flannel around her so she could feel his warmth. She walked in step with him, as close as she possibly could to his heat.

  Then the pines cleared and there was a cabin with a wide porch along the front of it. An old wooden rocking chair sat by the front door. In the glow of the bright porch light, she saw a hammock attached to the posts where the porch rounded the cabin.

  “It’s adorable. So homey!” she said.

  “Adorable. Great.” She could hear the smile in Sandro’s voice. “How about rustic? Manly and rustic?”

  Jenna laughed. “Sure. A very rugged and manly cabin. I’m sure only the toughest, most dedicated rancher would live here.”

  “Thank you. I’ve been working hard to improve my cowboy credibility.”

  “Too many years in New York, huh?” Jenna giggled.

  “You’ve heard the phrase ‘cowboy up,’ right? I’m living it.” Sandro led her up the steps and through the door. He switched on the light, revealing a simple three-room cabin. They were in the living room, which had a stone fireplace, a small sofa and a few armchairs in front of it. Through a door framed in pine, Jenna could see a kitchen with an old-fashioned stove and a table and chairs that served as the dining area. She looked to her right and a small hallway led to a bedroom. She could just see the corner of an old four-poster wood bed.

  “Let me just go get out of this shirt,” he said.

  “Dancer’s etiquette,” she said.

  “What?” He threw the question over his shoulder as he walked to his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

  “Dancer’s etiquette,” she called. “Never stay in a sweaty shirt.” He disappeared from view for a moment and when he came through the door, he was pulling a plain white T-shirt over his head.

  “So you’re saying I’m a natural.”

  Jenna got a quick view of his abdomen, the muscles defined, before he pulled the fabric down. She looked away quickly, suddenly very shy, which made no sense since they’d already had sex. But that had been so rushed they hadn’t even taken off their clothes. It had been unplanned.

  “Something like that.” She managed to blurt the answer out over the noise her heart was making as it banged in her chest. It was as if her heart were anticipating the future heartbreak that sleeping with Sandro practically guaranteed. Was it worth it?

  Sandro went to the fireplace and struck a match from a box on the mantel. He knelt on the hearth and lit the wood already laid there. He lit a couple candles on the mantel, as well. His skin looked golden in the candlelight. She loved the way flickering shadows highlighted the sculpted muscles of his arms. The answer came in a rush. Yes, it was worth it.

  “Come sit down?” he asked her. “Would you like something? A drink? Tea?”

  An offer of tea was not what she would have expected from Sandro Salazar, notorious womanizer. She thought about all his phone calls last week. The way he’d waited for her at dawn in front of the ballroom to plead his case. He really did seem as if he’d changed. The funny thing was, as much as she’d hoped this was true, now, with so much evidence in front of her, she kind of wished he hadn’t turned into quite such a good guy. It was going to make it a lot harder to say goodbye.

  If she was going to sleep with him, it had to happen now. Before she could think herself out of it. And knowing how amazing their night by the bay had been, she didn’t want to miss out on this chance.

  This was dangerous. She was deliberately stepping off the cliff and she was pretty sure there was no safe landing for her. But as a dancer, she knew well that some things of great passion and beauty were worth the risk of pain. She’d lived that concept every day in the ballroom, and there was something exhilarating about living it now, with the man she’d fallen in love with.

  “No tea,” she said.

  “Water? Wine?”

  Jenna took a deep breath and went to Sandro. “No water. No wine. Just this.” She put her hands on his shoulders, went up on her toes and kissed him softly. “And this,” she murmured against his mouth, and kissed him again.

  He kissed her back, gently. “I want to do this right, Jenna.”

  “I think you will,” she whispered back. Then she pulled back. “Do you still have all those regrets from before?”

  “No. Not anymore.” Sandro bent down and touched his mouth to hers. “Jenna, when I’m with you, everything seems so much lighter.”

  She reached for him, and a thought floated through her. Love does that.

  But right now she didn’t want light. She wanted the darkness of his mouth, the weight of his body covering her, holding her down and somehow containing the need she felt building inside. She put her mouth to his, no more featherlight touches but a greedy kiss, with her two hands woven into the silky black of his hair, her thumbs outlining his cheekbones, her eyes wide-open so she coul
d watch the expression in his deep, dark eyes.

  She saw surprise there, and then heat and desire. Sandro’s arms wrapped around her and she knew he was struggling with his self-control from the way they clamped so tight around her ribs, banded like iron across her back. It made it difficult to breathe but right now she didn’t care about breathing—she just wanted him closer.

  His mouth left hers and was kissing her neck and ear until she was squirming under him. It was too much sensation. She could feel the length of him all down her body, his arms holding her up.

  “Bed,” she managed to gasp somehow.

  Sandro pulled back and put his hands lightly on her shoulders, resting his forehead gently on hers and taking a deep breath. She was surprised to see that he was shaking, too. He kissed her, just a brush with his lips.

  “You do me a pretty big honor, you know. Staying here with me.”

  Earlier today he’d threatened to talk dirty, but these courtly words were even hotter than anything naughty he could have come up with. Jenna threw her arms around Sandro’s neck and he lifted her as if she were nothing. She clung to him while he walked them carefully down the narrow hallway and into his bedroom.

  Jenna had impressions of a tall pine dresser and an old wooden chair in the corner with faded blue paint. Then Sandro sat her gently on the bed. She kicked off her boots. She had on black stockings and when his hands slid up her thighs and found the garter belt under her skirt, his eyes went wide.

  “This thing you have with all things vintage...” he breathed, sliding her skirt up and staring at her exposed thighs. “I like it. I like it all, the dresses, your makeup, all of it.” He finally tore his eyes away and looked at her face. “But I especially like this.” His hands ran up her legs and his fingers followed the tops of her stockings.

  He kissed her mouth, a long, lingering kiss that promised so much heat in its own time. Jenna tried to sit up to prolong the kiss, but he gently pushed her back so she was leaning on her elbows on the bed. He found the hook of her skirt and slid it off, taking all of her in with his eyes.