Pointing to a stunningly handsome man, C.J. said, “This is Remington Caldwell. Heard you’d come back to town, Rem. How’re you doin’, man?”
C.J. introduced two more young men, Jason Miller and Réal Gomez.
C.J. turned to include all of them. “Janey works for me.”
“When did you start?” Timm asked.
“This week.”
“How do you like working for this slave driver?” Réal grinned and jerked a thumb in C.J.’s direction.
“Has he been giving you any free samples?” Allen asked and everyone laughed.
C.J. could see Janey starting to relax and felt good about it.
JANEY COULDN’T BELIEVE what was happening around her. It seemed she’d lost control of her own life. She should be fighting harder to leave, but C.J. wouldn’t let go of her hand. She gave it a good tug, but he held on tight.
She refused to look at why she didn’t flinch away from his touch as she did with everyone else.The light-haired guy with the shirt buttoned to his chin stepped forward. Timm.
“Let’s get in on this dance.”
C.J. relinquished her hand to Timm, whose palm was slimmer, his fingers longer, and cool.
Timm was younger than she. He seemed shy and sweet. Nerdy.
They turned toward the dance floor and found the dancers breaking down into couples. A slow dance? No, too weird.
Timm seemed to hold back, too, once he realized the floor wasn’t breaking down into squares. She peeked up at him. His face looked as red as hers felt.
Timm put one hand on her waist and held her other hand.
They touched each other with the timidity of a pair of deer.
He could barely keep to the beat of the music. After the third time he stepped on one of her feet, he looked even more embarrassed than she felt.
In fact, he looked so uncomfortable that she had to make him feel better. “Good thing I’m wearing my heavy boots tonight.” She grinned at him.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I’m not. This is my first slow dance ever. I like it.”
She felt his shoulder relax under her left hand. How odd for her to be putting someone else at his ease and trying to make him comfortable with being so close to her. “Your first one ever?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but Timm smiled at her so sweetly that she added, “I never had much chance to go to dances when I was a teenager.”
“Neither have I,” he said, though he looked as though he was still a teenager—eighteen or nineteen.
“I guess the whole town knows why I couldn’t. I mean, having a baby so young. I guess everyone knows about Cheryl?”
“Yes. We were all sad that she died.”
Janey nodded, couldn’t speak for a minute. When she had her emotions under control, she asked, “You’re a good-looking guy. I bet all the girls want to go out with you. Why haven’t you gone to many dances?”
If possible, his cheeks flared even more red, and Janey felt herself blush. “Was that a dumb question?”
“No, I guess you haven’t heard.”
“Heard what?” she asked, but Timm looked so distressed that a lump formed in her throat.
“When I was eleven, I caught on fire by accident. My chest was burned really badly.”
Janey’s eyes drifted to the top button of his shirt.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s why I keep it buttoned up. I have scars.”
“So, you couldn’t go to dances because…”
“Because I was always either in the hospital having surgery, or at home recovering.”
Janey grimaced. “And now?”
“Now, I’m finished. Doctors have done as much as they can.”
Too, too sad. Why was there so much hardship in life? Janey said, “You haven’t stepped on my toes in five minutes.”
He grinned as if there was a load eased inside of him.
Taken with a thought, she stopped moving. “Wait a minute. Franck. Your brother died in the rodeo. And you got burned.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling sadly. “It was hard on my mom.”
“No frigging fooling. It must’ve been awful,” she answered.
He twirled her gently and she noticed C.J. watching from the sidelines. Why wasn’t he dancing?
“Timm, I’m really sorry about what happened to you.” She knew how heartbreak felt.
“You’re a nice person to talk to,” he said.
“I am?” No one had ever said that to her before. Something warmed deep in her chest and she smiled. She liked this guy. Too bad he was too young for her. Too bad she could never have a boyfriend.
C.J. appeared and cut in. He was frowning and took her hand and led her out through the side doorway.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He continued walking away from the people hanging around outside of the Legion Hall, puffing on the cigarettes they couldn’t smoke inside, the smoke dissipating on the cool September breeze.
As soon as they reached a spot she assumed he chose because they were a safe distance from people, he let go of her hand like it was a hot potato.
“What were you thinking flirting with Timm like that?”
“What are you talking about?” This was coming out of left field. “No way was I flirting.”
“Way,” he shouted, sounding like a sullen little boy. “I saw you smiling at Timm. A lot.”
“Of course I did. He’s a nice guy.”
“He’s too young for you and he’s been through enough in his life. He doesn’t need you messing him up.”
“I wasn’t messing him up,” she yelled. “I was dancing with him. What is wrong with you people? I’m not looking for a boyfriend. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Now he looked sullen as well as sounding it. In the gathering gloom of dusk, he looked darker than usual, older, but his facial expression was pure little boy, as if someone had taken his toy away and he couldn’t get it back.
Was he jealous? Whoa, slow down, she ordered that strange thought floating through her. Was she the toy C.J. thought Timm was taking away from him? Did C.J. even know he was acting jealously?
In spite of all of her screwed-up-ness around boys and men, and despite the fact that nothing would ever happen with C.J., man, oh, man, did his jealousy ever feel good. It flattered her, and she’d had too little of that in her life.
“Listen, thanks for introducing me to your friends,” she said, softer now.
“No problem.”
They both stood there, as if neither of them knew what their next step should be.
C.J. took her hand again, lightly this time, and said, “Let’s go back inside.”
Janey hadn’t needed anyone to take care of her in years, but it felt good to make friends. They entered the hall and headed toward Mona and the girls hanging out with her.
Max Golden’s daughter, Marnie, a tall, cool blonde, sauntered by. She nodded to C.J. and ignored Janey.
“That was rude,” C.J. said. “I would have introduced you if she’d given me half a chance.”
“Hey, it’s nothing new. I never was popular in school.”
“No?”
Janey shook her head. “You?”
“Yeah. I was good at sports, until—”
“Until what?” she asked.
“Until I started to rebel and stopped hanging out after school.”
Janey bumped into someone and apologized.
The young guy, a redhead dressed all in denim, turned to her, smiled and said, “Hey, no problem. Want to dance?”
She started to say yes, but C.J. steered her toward the far end of the hall.
“She’s busy, Jim,” he said.
Jim laughed. “I’ll let it go this time, but I’m getting a chance at the next dance.” He winked at Janey.
Wow, that guy was flirting with her. How cool was that?
She turned her attention back to C.J. “What did you do instead?”
“Instead
of what?”
“Hanging out at school and doing sports?”
“I hung out with my friend, Davey. We smoked up when my dad wasn’t around. Hung out with girls. Drank. Busted broncs. Got involved in the rodeo.”
“Do you miss him?” Janey asked.
“Who?” C.J. stared hard at a poster on the wall for a performer coming to town next month.
“You know who,” Janey said.
“Yeah, I miss him.” His jaw had a mulish jut, and Janey knew she wasn’t going to get anything else from him about Davey.
A slow song started. The fiddlers morphed their instruments into the sweetest violins.
“Come on,” C.J. said. “Let’s dance.”
Why not? She’d survived a slow dance with Timm. The second C.J. touched her, though, she knew it wasn’t going to work.
Where she’d felt safe with Timm, she felt anything but with C.J.
His big hand engulfed her right hand.
His palm on her back burned through her dress.
Warm breath misted the air near her ear. He smelled like soap and citron.
His hand painted slow circles on her spine.
“Soft,” he whispered.
The dress or her?
Her nerves skittered, danced as fast as any jig or reel, or whatever those fast songs were called the band had already played.
Calm down.
His cheek brushed her hair and she nearly moaned. She longed to touch him more, to lift her cheek and rub it against his. She wanted to curl against him like a kitten and lap at his neck.
He stepped closer.
One of his thighs touched hers and she jumped away.
The hand on her back steadied her.
She couldn’t do any of the things she wanted. All of it led to shame.
A wail started in her chest, pressed against her ribs and her heart with an insistence that became sharp. Why can’t I be normal?
She started to shake and knew C.J. could feel it. She refused to look at him, knowing what she would see on his face, in his eyes. Disgust.
Her cheeks burned. Please, she begged the floor, just open up right now and suck me down.
He’s only a man.
Her breathing came in huffs, so she held her breath.
That’s the problem. He’s a man.
Dizziness washed through her.
Stay.
Can’t.
She jerked away from C.J., tried to say something, couldn’t. Vision blurring, she ran from the room, through the front door of the hall and down the street.
She swiped tears from her cheeks.
“Janey?” someone called. Amy.
Janey stopped and turned. Oh, Amy.
Amy stood beside her car. “Are you okay?”
Amy was the perfect choice—safe. Janey flew into Amy’s arms, knocking her against the car door.
“Janey,” Amy breathed. “What’s wrong?”
Janey sobbed on Amy’s shoulder. She wanted to spill her guts so badly.
“Shh, tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”
“Amy, why?” Janey cried. “Why can’t I be normal?”
“You mean in the way you dress? Was someone rude about it?”
Janey could feel her stiffen, like a mother cat preparing to defend her litter.
“No, I mean me, the inside of me that’s broken.”
Amy pushed her away with a gentle shove. “Get in the car. Michael and I are heading home. You’re coming with us.”
Janey sighed. This was exactly what she needed, for Amy to take care of her for a while.
She settled into the passenger seat and closed her eyes. While Amy drove, Janey concentrated on bringing herself under control, on breathing, on mending her tattered nerves.
On organizing her muddy thoughts to share with Amy.
After Amy settled Michael into bed and returned downstairs, she poured them both two small glasses of something.
One lamp banned the darkness from Janey’s small corner of the room.
Amy sat on the far end of the long sofa and handed her a liqueur glass.
“I don’t like alcohol,” Janey said.
“I know, but it’s only Baileys. Right now you need something.”
Janey sipped the drink and it burned going down. “That’s strong.”
Amy smiled. “Have more.”
The second sip tasted better and warmed her throat.
“Now talk,” Amy ordered. “What’s going on?”
Janey rubbed the velvet of her dress between her fingers. So soft. “It’s hard to talk about.”
“The rape?”
Amy was the first person outside of Janey’s own family she’d ever told about it.
“How did you know?”
“I noticed you were with C.J. a lot this evening. I wondered what was going on.” That statement ended with a question mark in Amy’s voice.
“I don’t know. I feel so many weird things when I’m with him.”
“Like what?”
“I like him,” she said, staring into the café-au-lait tint of her drink. “Well, not always. Sometimes. He can be pretty stubborn.”
“Aren’t they all?” Amy softened that with a smile.
“I guess. C.J. makes me feel too much. I—” She leaned forward. “I love it and I hate it when he touches me.”
She took Amy’s hand. “I’m so afraid.”
Amy squeezed her fingers. “Of what?”
“I’m so afraid I’m permanently damaged,” Janey said, touching her chest. “Here. Inside.”
She drank more Baileys. It slid down her throat.
“Of being with a man. Of sex. I’m better with a little bit of touching now, but I feel like I want to do more with C.J. and that scares the crap out of me.”
She finished off her drink and slammed the glass onto a side table. “I got so scared I couldn’t slow dance with him. I ran away. He’s going to think I’m crazy.”
“I saw you slow dancing with Timm Franck earlier. It looked like you didn’t mind.”
“But Timm is harmless. He’s like one of my younger brothers.”
“Yes, I see the difference. How does C.J. feel about you?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes, he looks at me like he wants to eat me and other times like he can’t stand me.”
“Oh-kay, so we know he’s attracted to you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t want to be.”
“Amy, I say the worst things to him sometimes.”
“Of course you do. You’re protecting yourself against getting hurt.”
“Yes, exactly!”
“That’s okay.”
Janey continued on as if Amy hadn’t spoken. “How can I like a guy who’s so uptight he shaves off most of his hair and wears button-down collars, for Pete’s sake?”
“He wasn’t always like that,” Amy said. “He’s dressing out of character these days because of Liam. He doesn’t want to give anyone any excuse to take the boy away from him.” Amy patted Janey’s hand. “You’re seeing through the starchy clothes to the man underneath.”
Janey blushed. “Sometimes I wish I really could see under his clothes, but what good would that do? I can’t do anything about the way I’m attracted physically to C.J.”
“Not yet.”
“Not ever.”
“Never say never.” Amy stood and headed for the stairs. “Let’s go to bed. You look exhausted. This will work out one way or another.”
Janey doubted it. Her feet were heavy on the stairs.
Her arms were heavy when she cleaned herself for the night. She stared at her pale face in the mirror.
How was she going to face C.J. the next time she saw him?
Her body felt even heavier when she lay on the bed, like someone had loaded it with too many feelings, all of them conflicting with each other.
Damn you, C.J.
How could she possibly go to work on Monday?
She turned her hot fa
ce into the pillow.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ON SUNDAY MORNING, C.J. drove to the Sheltering Arms and pulled into a yard that was quiet, eerily so.
Where were the ranch hands? The kids?He thought he’d heard someone mention last night they were bronc busting here today. He must have been mistaken.
He parked the Jeep and jumped out into the neat and tidy yard. Flowers in the window boxes of Willie’s apartment above the garage shone red and white in the sun.
Still day. No hint of a breeze rustled the leaves of the willow tree or the grain in the fields.
He didn’t know how he felt about maybe seeing Janey today after last night.
C.J. stepped up onto the veranda and knocked on the front door.
Janey answered. Her eyes widened when she saw him.
She stared, couldn’t seem to say anything any more than he could.
Her cheeks turned pink.
I’m thinking about last night, too, about you in my arms, about the surprise of you, not as an employee, but as a woman.
He shoved his hands into his jean pockets.
Stop thinking that way.
Holding her had done something strange to his insides. He’d held her before when he taught her to knead the candies and had felt the sharp, adolescent lust that she’d provoked.
But last night? Last night had been different, deeper, more disturbing. Dancing face-to-face with her breasts against his chest quickly became too intimate and scared him to his toes.
Something had changed between them last night and he didn’t know what it was, was afraid to look at it too closely. If he didn’t acknowledge how much he’d liked holding her and wanted to hold her again, it wouldn’t be real.
She looked different.
She wore old faded overalls with holes in the knees. The red plaid of her flannel shirt looked great against her pitch-black hair. God, she was cute, sweet, despite the dark cloud of her makeup.
He couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Hi.” Lame.
“Hi,” she answered and seemed to have a brain as mushy as his. The shape of a paperback book showed in a hip pocket. The top of a chocolate bar peeked out of one of the breast pockets of her overalls.
She sure does like her sweets.
She folded her arms across herself as if for protection. From him?
Then he realized she must have thought he was staring at her breasts.
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