Foolin'

by Allyson Young

She laughed, part embarrassment, part anticipation. “Not for a lot of years.”

  “It’ll come back. Like riding a bicycle. I’ll help you.”

  Sexual ability came back too, didn’t it? She swallowed the thought down and eased away from the table, straightening. His gaze swept over her and she watched intently for any hint of censure or disappointment. No doubt Susan was watching too.

  But those blue eyes darkened with appreciation, and his lips softened. Kathleen’s pinched heart flexed and stole her breath for an instant before her disciplined brain reminded her where she was and who she was. This was a blip, a departure from the norm, and she’d savor the moment.

  In her heels, while she couldn’t look straight into his eyes, it was close, so she estimated he stood about six-foot-four. A quick glance established he wore fancy boots—cowboy boots—with maybe a two-inch heel.

  His chest was like a barrel, and his shoulders… She had to reach wide to place her hand in position before her right one was again enveloped in his.

  It was probably her imagination that he smelled like leather, but it fit with the cowboy image, and then there was the hint of woodsy soap that teased her senses. He held her with propriety, but she still felt the heat of his body and relaxed into this hold.

  He was correct, the familiar steps waking muscle memory and she easily followed his lead. Like a pair of matched horses. She couldn’t control a chuckle, and he peered into her face.

  She said, “This is fun. And I was thinking we’re well matched.”

  His brow furrowed before his mouth softened into a smile that made her blink. Austerely handsome before in a craggy way, he was now gorgeous.

  As she soaked in the revelation, he replied, “Close in height, but I expect I make two of you.”

  It was a nice compliment. Maybe half again of her. She owned her size—mostly. Despite her job, she kept fit, eating healthy, walking over her lunch hours, and practicing yoga in the privacy of her home.

  The band sounded loudly in her ears as they danced closer to the stage, Carter adroitly avoiding other, less-experienced couples. It precluded conversation, so she concentrated on enjoying the feeling of moving fluidly with the music, across the floor, in the arms of a handsome man.

  She was pleased she’d actually purchased a dress that fit with the evening and hadn’t worn one of her usual business suits. Or her at-home comfortable jeans and t-shirts. And equally glad her heels were sensible, if pretty.

  At the end of the set, he led her to the makeshift bar. “There’s punch or beer. Hard stuff.”

  “Bourbon. Water. No ice.”

  That brow lifted again, and he smiled—maybe he wasn’t so rusty as she’d assumed after all. “You sure you’re not a cowgirl?”

  She laughed. “Hardly. I’ve never been out of the city, never ridden a horse, and never punched a cow. And I rarely have more than one drink, so I’ll have what I like.”

  He offered her a glass. “We don’t actually punch cows.”

  “Good. I can’t imagine it.”

  Easing her toward the back of the room, he then tugged a chair out for her and hovered until she was seated. Manners. She liked it. He took his place across from her and set his hat on a neighboring chair. There must be some kind of code for cowboy-hat wearing and doffing.

  Thick, dark hair, with a hint of silver at either temple was revealed, and without the brim throwing shadows, his strong features were less imposing. But so handsome.

  He said, “So, Kathleen Walker, city girl, bookkeeper. There’s more to you.”

  How much did she want to share? This wasn’t a date. But he seemed interested, and she certainly was—questions went both ways. “I’m a widow.”

  Those pale eyes flashed for a moment, but she couldn’t read him. “Divorced. Nearly twenty years.”

  “I lost Sam nineteen years ago.” Nineteen years and eight months, but the exact time mattered only to her.

  Silence reigned, but not in an uncomfortable way. The band played on, people around them chatted and laughed, glasses clinked, and chairs scraped across the plank floor. She and Carter both processed the similarity of their circumstances. At least she thought they did. She decided they were close to the same age.

  She sipped her drink, and it warmed her throat. “Have you ranched a long time?”

  “It was my dad’s spread and his father’s.”

  “So a family dynasty.” Sam worked at his dad’s firm for only a few months before his untimely death. “I’m familiar.”

  “Maybe not a dynasty but it’s sure been kept in the family.”

  “For your kids?”

  His face blanked, eyes shuttering, and he looked away. “No kids.”

  For the first time since she took his hand to dance, she felt awkward. Should she tell him she’d been lucky and had a part of Samuel? Tell him about Lisa?

  He saved her the choice. “We had a son, but he was killed in a wreck.”

  Her heart in her throat, she reached for his free hand, grasping it firmly. It twitched in her hold. “I’m so sorry.”

  “He was three.”

  Jesus. She couldn’t breathe, holding on to him, literally feeling his pain. The intervening years hadn’t mitigated the loss. She didn’t need to spend much time thinking about how the toddler’s death had affected everyone.

  Carter cleared his throat. “I laid some pretty personal information on you. I … don’t… We only just met. Sorry.”

  “I don’t tell anyone about my marital status unless directly asked. I don’t volunteer it. I usually wear my wedding ring to…” She wanted to say she wore it to avoid unwanted attention and that might be part of it, but mostly it was because she’d never let the specter of her husband go. “I forgot to wear it tonight because I had a manicure.”

  A quizzical look tightened his features before he nodded. “I guess sometimes we find we can put things out there. With certain people.”

  “I guess.” She waited for a sense of panic or discomfort, even, to let her know she was oversharing. Nothing of the sort arose.

  “Do you have any kids?” Something in his tone warned it was a difficult question, and she could understand that.

  “I do. One. Lisa. She’s at university. It’s nice to have her close.”

  Aside from a flex of his jaw, he didn’t visibly react but asked, “Does she live with you?”

  “No. She decided to give campus life a try. I suspect she needed the space and I grit my teeth and let her go. But she’s making noises about coming home just until she finishes this year, and I’m fine with that. She even wants to bring her roommate, though I’m not sure about two young women in my house.”

  As if getting the depths of such personal information out of the way first was normal—and maybe it was, nowadays—they launched into a discussion about cattle ranching, bookkeeping, and hobbies.

  “You like to cook?” he asked.

  “Love it. Culinary school would be my preference if I didn’t feel past it.”

  “As in?”

  “Youth gets you through the rigorous training. Becoming a chef is a long, hard slog. I’m not sure I have the energy.”

  He tilted his head and considered her, maybe calling on his cow-assessing skills. From what he’d shared, she figured he picked up on details and drew accurate assumptions. People- watching wouldn’t be much different, she assumed. Numbers told a story too, if a drier one.

  “You’re about forty?”

  Numbers, ha. He was a mind reader too. Age was just a number, except when it came to certain careers and such. “Forty-two, heading for forty-three pretty quick.”

  “I have two years on you. And ranching is hard work.”

  Piqued, she said, “I expect it is from what you’ve said. Long hours, hard physical work, and the business side of things.”

  His eyes widened. “In a nutshell.”

  “But you’ve been in it all your life, so you’re used to it. Believe me, most people wash out the first year of culi
nary school. And I’ll confess that heading up my department makes me less inclined to take orders.”

  He tucked his lips, visibly trying to hide a smile.

  “What?” She stared at him and then laughed. “Okay, so maybe it’s more of the latter giving me pause. Regardless, I’m not going to give up a good job for the unknown. If it was just me, the risk might be worth it. But I have Lisa to consider.”

  He seemed to withdraw, which gave her pause. She hadn’t had that conversation with her parents, who she kept in touch with despite their retirement move, so what was it about this man?

  “I understand your reasoning,” he finally said. “You said you like to garden too?”

  “I like using fresh ingredients when I cook, so…”

  “Gotcha.” He looked toward the band. “I expect they’ll devolve into less country and more rock for the younger set soon. Another dance?”

  She happily joined him, and they slipped onto the crowded dance floor. His brother whirled by with a cute little redhead held close, and she could have sworn he winked. Several other dancers acknowledged Carter and looked inquiringly at her.

  Another dance turned into three before his prediction came true. She figured she could dance to the new tunes as well, but it wasn’t the same as being held in his arms, so she followed him back to the table after he picked up more drinks.

  She casually glanced over to where Susan sat and stiffened.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Susan’s not there, and I don’t see—” She levered to her feet and hustled over to the auditor’s section. There was no sign of Susan or the envelope. She felt the beginnings of panic.

  “She’s probably dancing or in the ladies room,” Carter soothed, his hand at her waist.

  She appreciated his support and leaned into it. “One of us was supposed to be here the entire time after the tabulation. We have the results of the silent auction. And the donations.”

  He scanned the area. “Do you have a briefcase? A purse?”

  Hurrying around the table, she leaned down and pulled up her purse, a large, square affair that hardly went with her outfit but was sufficient to hold files and everything else she needed. Peering inside, her heart sank further. “Not here. Susan’s purse isn’t under there either.”

  It didn’t make any sense. It was like the other woman had walked out, left her. She found her cell and checked for messages, but there was nothing but a brief text from Lisa, checking in.

  “Kathleen.” Susan’s clear voice sounded.

  “Susan. I wondered where you were.” Relief made her lightheaded.

  “Really.” She shot a glance at Carter. “You were so … occupied I doubt that.”

  Spiteful. That was the only word she could come up with, and Carter stiffened beside her. Here she was, a nearly middle-aged, average woman, being envied by a gorgeous, thirty-year-old who collected men routinely. All her senses went on alert.

  “Where’s the envelope?” Susan asked.

  “With you.” Her belly clenched, and not in a pleasurable manner.

  “The envelope is your responsibility, Kathleen. I’m merely overseeing.”

  Carter stepped forward, forming a bulwark between her and Susan. “I saw Kathleen sign off, Miss Gillespie. Saw you take control of that envelope and agree to continue to do so.”

  Two frantic red spots bloomed on Susan’s cheeks, and her eyes narrowed. “Are you willing to tell the firm that? In person?”

  “I am.”

  Now blinking, Susan tossed her head. “I see. Then we’d better undertake a search because while I might have offered, Kathleen should never have accepted.”

  Sick at heart, she gave Carter a minute nod to acknowledge that truth. “We’d best find it then.”

  Being subtle and circumspect wasn’t as difficult as she feared as the band heated up, and so did those attending. No one looked their way that she could determine. It was Carter who located the crumpled envelope tucked under a fold of fabric festooning the far table. Kathleen was relieved to see that the seal was intact.

  “Just in time,” Carter said, motioning toward the master of ceremonies for the evening, the town’s mayor.

  Susan moved close and hissed, “I’ll be bringing this up to Mr. Johnson on Monday.”

  Rumor had it that the woman was involved on a personal level with Kathleen’s boss, a rumor Kathleen knew to be true. The sick feeling escalated. She was a good employee, a long-term one, but that didn’t mean she would withstand scrutiny, if scrutiny was warranted—or lies were told. Fired at most, demoted at least. Susan probably didn’t have to wait until Monday, except Kathleen recalled her boss saying he and the missus were away all weekend.

  “I’ll stand behind you,” Carter rumbled, and she started.

  She believed him. Felt it. “Thank you.”

  Susan snatched the thrice-damned envelope and carried it up to the mayor, her tight, glittering dress and matching heels shrieking city. The man took it, appearing dazzled even at a distance, and mentioned the firm’s name loudly, including Susan’s as if she was a partner.

  Carter again pressed close, and a light touch on her elbow encouraged her to lean into him. She mastered her shaking as she soaked up his heat, feeling a bit like Cinderella or some other fairytale heroine.

  The items were quickly parceled out to their respective buyers to the accompaniment of jeers, hoots, and lots of clapping. Susan preened in the spotlight, handing the objects over or gesturing to them like a game show host.

  When it was all over, she saw the other woman gathering up her things and went to her. “Are you going to the motel?”

  On a shudder, Susan said, “No. I’ve changed my mind. I’m heading back tonight. I won’t wait for the meal, and it won’t be that late.”

  And were you planning on letting me know? “I’ll get my purse.”

  “You weren’t planning on staying? I’m sure the cowboy will drive you home.”

  “Susan. My case is in the room. And of course, I’ll head back with you.” It pinched, burned, actually, to leave Carter so quickly, but she wasn’t staying.

  Susan sniffed. “Then we’d better get going.”

  Looking around for Carter, she didn’t see him, and she chewed her lip. “I should let him know—”

  “The bus is leaving.” Susan flounced toward the exit.

  Kathleen followed and was suddenly stayed by a big, calloused hand. “You’re leaving?”

  “I have to. She’s driving back tonight after all, and we’re picking up our cases from the motel now. Or I’ll be walking.”

  A scowl darkened his face, and she nearly took a step back. She hardly knew him and sensed he was slow to anger, but he was pissed. “What an utter bitch.”

  She was instantly warmed that his anger was on her behalf. “She can be.”

  His long strides matched hers as they caught up to Susan, who glared at him. “What?”

  “You have the keys? To the room?”

  Digging in her purse, a tiny bag of sequins, she flashed two metal keys on an old-fashioned tab. “There was only one room left. I don’t like to share, and it’s not that late. I haven’t been drinking.”

  Susan didn’t share—she wanted everything, and if Carter had paid Susan attention, Kathleen had no doubt a lot of alcohol would have been involved. And dancing. And mattress dancing. That fact blew up right there as Carter plucked a key from that woman’s fingers. “I’ll drive Kathleen to the motel.”

  “You’d better hurry then. I’m leaving right away.”

  Speechless, she followed him to a big, black truck and clambered inside, hampered a bit by her skirt, his supportive hand easing the way. She searched for the right words to convey her shock at his highhandedness, but there weren’t any. He was looking out for her and surprise kept her silent.

  The vehicle ate up the distance to the motel, but Susan was already there and exiting with suitcases towing along behind her. Yup, Kathleen packed for one night while the other wo
man packed against every eventuality, including an appearance by royalty.

  “If you stay, I’ll drive you home. I have business in the city I can take care of tomorrow.” Carter’s offer was made in a quiet, almost neutral tone, but she detected the sincerity in it as well as something else. Something that mirrored her own feelings.

  She didn’t make spontaneous decisions, nor split-second ones, but this evening had cracked that habit a tad. A three-hour drive with Susan, given the mood she was in, would be excruciating and Kathleen was enough of a realist to accept she wasn’t going to change the woman’s mind about speaking to the boss. But would staying increase her ire? No doubt.

  Screw it. She’d much rather enjoy his company for a little longer.

  “I’ll stay.” Good thing she’d packed her jeans and sneakers for the trip home.

  He was around to her side and helping her out before she could swivel her hips, and she nearly melted at another display of his manners. Or maybe it was the look he gave her when she’d said she’d stay.

  “Have a safe drive home, Susan. See you Monday.”

  A sneer turned the other woman’s face ugly. “You’re no better, Kathleen,” she said.

  “Than?” A reckless imp had seized her, there was no other explanation. And there was also the solid presence of Carter Rodgers behind her, backing her up.

  She’d only just met him but recognized a gem.

  “Than…” Clearly thinking better of what she thought to say, Susan looked at Carter. “Would you load my cases?”

  Kathleen didn’t laugh, but it was close, as he nodded and stoically placed the luggage in the trunk. “Drive safe.”

  Susan’s shiny sports car pulled out of the lot with a spray of gravel, but not before she gave Carter an eyeful of leg and beyond while climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “Do you want to go back for the meal? I donated the steer, and the pot luck around here is memorable.” It was as if Susan hadn’t existed.

  She’d planned to return, but it was nice to be invited. And not just because it was preferable to heading into that basic room because she wasn’t going to invite him in. Too fast. Rushed. And she was already second-guessing her decision. Nothing good was going to come of tonight. That little voice spoke again. To hell with it. It’s done.