“Phone the sheriff,” Travis shouted.
“Darby?” Seth called. “Are you okay? Say something.”
She tried to speak, but nothing came out. She was breathing, she told herself. She might have a bruise or two, but she wasn’t in mortal danger. She elbowed and kicked one more time.
Joe suddenly let her go.
She staggered to the ground, nearly falling, catching herself just in time, blinking the world back into focus.
“You okay?” Seth called to her again.
She managed a nod. “Fine,” she rasped, drawing rapid breaths.
“What is the matter with you?” Seth shouted at Joe, straightening his shoulders, causing Joe to take a step back.
The man didn’t seem to have anything to say.
“I’ll take him home,” came another male voice from the crowd.
“Take him to the sheriff,” Seth countered.
“He needs to sleep it off.”
“He can sleep it off in jail. Travis, go with them.”
Travis gave Seth a sharp nod. “You got it.”
Seth immediately moved to Darby, his arm going around her shoulders. “You okay?”
“Good. Yeah, fine. Maybe some air.” She could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on her. They didn’t look particularly friendly, and the last thing she needed was to seem weak.
She straightened, shrugged off Seth’s arm, managed a smile and made her way toward the big, open doors.
Seth followed.
“I’m fine,” she told him with conviction as they walked.
“So you say.”
“You can leave me alone now.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Sure you can. Joe’s on his way to jail, and everyone else has gone back to dancing.”
“You’ve annoyed more than just Joe tonight. Who knows who else might be looking to get in on the action.”
Darby wasn’t afraid of anyone else. Joe’s action was a one-off. Lyndon Valley was full of peaceful, law-abiding citizens. She made it to the doors and walked through. The cool breeze was welcome. She inhaled deeply, rubbing her neck where Joe had held her so tight.
“Do you need to see a doctor?” asked Seth.
“No.” She was fine. Well, she would be fine, and soon.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” She made her way down the length of the sundeck, into the shadows where the bright stars provided the only illumination. She sat down on a narrow bench, craning her neck, when Seth stopped directly in front of her.
“You going to follow me around all night like some exasperating bodyguard?”
“I was thinking I’d take you home.”
“I can drive. And I’m not ready to leave yet.”
He sat down beside her, stretching out his legs. “Have it your way.”
“Seth?” came a woman’s voice.
Abigail Rainer, formerly Abigail Jacobs, and one of Seth’s sisters, had followed them out to the wooden deck. Abigail was quite obviously pregnant, and Darby had been hoping to leverage the woman’s maternal instincts to make her question the wisdom of the railway.
“Hey, Abby,” Seth responded, rising to his feet.
“Hello.” Darby rose with him.
“You must be Darby Carroll,” Abigail said.
“I am.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m perfectly fine. I’m sorry to have caused such a scene.”
“It’s not your fault. Joe never was the most reasonable of men. As long as you’re not hurt.”
“I offered her medical attention,” Seth noted.
“Why don’t you head on inside,” Abigail suggested to Seth. “I was hoping Darby and I would have a chance to talk.”
“You were?” Darby couldn’t quite hide the surprise in her tone.
“Run along, Seth,” Abigail directed.
“Yes, do run along, Seth,” Darby echoed, not quite hiding the thread of amusement in her voice. She’d never have thought of Abigail as an ally.
Seth looked from one woman to the other. He hesitated, but then marched away, grumbling under his breath.
Abigail perched herself on the bench, and Darby followed suit.
“So, I heard you were giving my brother a run for his money.”
“I’m trying.” Darby couldn’t help but be puzzled by Abigail’s friendliness.
“Good,” Abigail chirped.
“Good?”
“I like to hear all sides of an issue.” Abigail gave an airy shrug. “I particularly like to talk to smart people who disagree with me. You strike me as a smart person who will undoubtedly disagree with me.”
Darby wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or not. At the same time, she couldn’t help but contrast Abigail’s equanimity with Seth’s obstinacy.
Abigail gave a disarming grin. “It helps me understand things better.”
“In that case, I’m more than happy to assist. What would you like to disagree with me on?”
“How long have you lived in the Valley?”
“Three years,” said Darby. “I inherited the place near Berlynn Lake from my great-aunt.”
“Mona Reese.”
“You knew her?”
“I met her a few times. She had a reputation for being independent and no-nonsense.”
“I only met her a few times, myself,” Darby admitted.
“Really?” Abigail’s tone invited more information.
“We weren’t a large family, or a close family. It was just my mom and me growing up.”
Abigail’s expression was sympathetic.
“I guess that’s hard for you to imagine,” said Darby, for some reason feeling slightly embarrassed.
“Well, the Jacobs clan has always been close and big.” Abigail’s hand went to her stomach. “Getting bigger all the time.”
Darby took the opening. “When is your baby due?”
“January. Four more months.”
“You look really good.” For a woman who was five months pregnant, Abigail looked extraordinarily fit and healthy.
“I feel a little tired,” she admitted.
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“A boy,” said Abigail. “A cousin for Asher to play with.”
“Asher’s your nephew?” Darby had researched the whole Jacobs family, but she wanted to keep the conversation going in this direction.
“My sister Mandy’s son. It might sound sexist, but boys are always good news for a ranching family.”
“I thought you lived at the DFB Brewery now.”
“I do.” Abigail nodded. “But I’ll always have roots at the ranch. But you want to talk about the train.”
“Yes, I would like that.” Darby nodded. “I can’t help wondering if the price we’d pay as a community would be worth the monetary savings from moving cattle.”
“What do you think we’d give up?”
“Peace,” Darby said. “Quiet. I know DFB is becoming a popular tourist stop.”
“Trains would bring more tourists,” Abigail countered.
“There are plans for passenger service?” Darby hadn’t heard anything about passenger service.
“Not immediately, but you never know, once the tracks are in place…”
“You don’t think your customers would rather have the quiet ambiance and drive to DFB?”
“I truly don’t know.”
Darby decided to try another tactic. “You grew up in Lyndon Valley, right?”
“I did.”
“Did you like it?” Darby glanced at Abigail’s swollen belly. “Would you like your own children to grow up in the same kind of Lyndon Valley t
hat you enjoyed as a child?”
“I don’t agree that a train would so fundamentally change the character of the Valley. Though I do believe that’s your strongest argument.”
Darby thought it was, too, though she was surprised to hear Abigail say so. “Do you worry about safety?”
“There’s already a lot of danger on a ranch,” said Abigail. “Kids need to learn how to avoid it from a young age.”
Darby hadn’t thought of it from that perspective. She supposed train crossings were no more perilous than angry bulls.
Abigail leaned forward. Her expression and tone were still open and friendly. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“What’s really going on here, Darby? You seem more passionate about this than makes sense.”
“I like Berlynn Lake the way it is,” said Darby. “And my customers—all women, by the way—are looking for a respite.”
“From?” asked Abigail.
“Very, very stressful lives.” Darby wished she could elaborate. It might gain her some sympathy. But she needed to keep Sierra Hotel’s clientele a secret. If it became general knowledge that military strategists, covert operatives and criminal gang specialists frequented her inn, a whole host of enemies could take an interest in the place.
“The rail will cross right through my property,” she continued. “Hundred-car freight trains will shake the ground, and the whistles will bounce across the lake day and night.”
“I haven’t been up there in years.”
“You should come up,” Darby said. “And remind yourself how beautiful it is.” She couldn’t help smiling. “You might want to make it soon. Since you’ll probably get really busy in the next few months.”
Abigail returned the smile. Then she rose to her feet. “Maybe I will.”
Darby stood with her.
“But for now,” said Abigail, “I’m going to find Sawyer. This mommy-to-be needs her sleep.”
“Thank you for listening,” said Darby.
“It was good to meet you. You’re not nearly as bad as Seth makes out.”
“Seth’s talked about me?” Darby didn’t know why that surprised her. It made sense that Seth would complain about her to his family, probably to anyone else who would listen, as well.
“You get under his skin,” said Abigail. She seemed to consider Darby.
“I wish he would listen to reason,” Darby remarked.
“He’s listening,” said Abigail. “He’s just disagreeing with you.”
“Of course.” Darby backed down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult—”
“It’s fine, Darby. You’re allowed to fight with my brother. It’s probably good for him. Most of his successes in life have come way too easily.”
Darby read between the lines. “You expect him to win.”
“I expect him to win,” Abigail confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean you should stop trying.”
“Oh, I’ll keep trying,” Darby said.
“There’s Sawyer.” Abigail nodded along the sundeck. “I’ll call you if I can make it to Berlynn Lake.”
“No need to call,” said Darby. “Stop by anytime.”
She watched while Abigail made her way toward her husband.
Darby watched as he smiled warmly at his wife, closing the distance between them, taking her arm, whispering something that made them both grin.
Darby couldn’t help being slightly jealous of the romantic picture. Not that she sought a hearth, home and white picket fence. But having a man look at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world was rather compelling.
As they disappeared, Seth returned, making his way back to Darby.
“How’d it go?” he asked. “Any luck co-opting my sister?”
“I think so. She seemed open to my arguments.”
“You’re lying.” He sat down beside her, so close they were almost touching.
“Abigail has a mind of her own. She’s not always going to toe your family line.” Darby knew she should put some space between her and Seth, but for some reason she stayed put.
“She understands the importance of the railroad. She’s a rancher.”
“She’s a brewery owner. And she’s going to be a mother.”
“Doesn’t make her any less of a rancher.”
Darby paused and studied him. “Interesting logic you’ve got going there.”
“She grew up on a ranch and is every bit as much a shareholder in the family ranch corporation as I am.”
“So, you’re still a rancher?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then how can you represent the interests of the non-ranching community as mayor?”
“I concentrate really, really hard.”
“Seth—”
“Darby, we can go round and round this all night long.”
She couldn’t disagree. “I suppose arguing with each other is pointless.” It wasn’t like either of them was going to budge.
“It is pointless. You want to talk about something else? Maybe something we can agree on?”
“You can think of something we’d agree on?”
“Not off the top of my head. You?”
“I like apple pie,” she offered, deciding she needed a mental break from sparring with Seth.
He smiled at that.
“I like baseball,” he returned.
“Motherhood,” said Darby.
“Where do you stand on ice cream?”
“Butter pecan?”
“My favorite,” said Seth.
“Who’d have thought?”
“Kisses?” he asked, his voice a low, sexy rumble.
“Excuse me?” She pretended not to have heard properly, but her heart gave a deep, hard thump.
He eased slightly closer, his thigh touching against hers. “Kisses from one particular woman.”
Darby’s throat went dry. This was not a good direction. Not at all.
She rose to her feet, intending to leave, but he caught her hands.
“I thought kisses might be something we could agree on.”
“We can’t go there,” she breathed.
His hands were warm—no, hot—and the way they held hers was a perfect blend of strength and tenderness. Arousal once more percolated its way through her body, sensitizing her skin.
“We’re already there.” His tone was deep and compelling.
“Seth,” she protested.
“We should do it again.”
“Here?” she asked incredulously, glancing around. “Now?”
“Or later.” His gaze was intense. “In the mayor’s residence.”
Desire flashed through her, along with an excruciatingly detailed memory of being held in his arms. “You know I can’t say yes to that.”
“I know you won’t.”
“We’re locked in a battle.”
“I thought we were trying to mitigate it.”
“By sleeping together?”
His mouth quirked in a quick grin. “I said kissing.”
“You meant sex.” Of that, she was completely certain.
“I wouldn’t say no to sex.” He reeled her slightly closer.
She could have pulled back, but she didn’t. “That’s because you’re a man.”
“Are you calling me easy?”
She was standing almost between his thighs, the heat of them swirling out, permeating her thin, black tights. “I’m calling your entire gender easy.”
He reached up and put his hand to the back of her neck. “No problem. We can take the hit.”
“What are you doing?” she breathed.
He urged her face toward his. “You
said no to later, so I’m going with now.”
“You’re going to kiss me?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re pretty,” he rumbled. “Because you smell nice. Because you’re soft and sexy.”
“Are you trying to manipulate me?” she asked.
“Into kissing me?”
“Into changing my mind.”
He raised a brow. “Are you trying to manipulate me into changing my mind?”
“Yes,” she admitted, subconsciously easing toward him, inhaling his scent, her pulse speeding up, her skin beginning to tingle.
“Me, too.” He stretched up to meet her. “Let’s see who wins.”
His kiss was even better than she remembered. His lips were firm and hot. He reached up to cradle her face with his hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks, fingers splaying into her hair.
Her knees quickly grew weak, and she sank down onto his knee, wrapping her arms fully around his neck, once again molding her body against his. His tongue teased hers, and she responded with a shiver, her skin rippling in goose bumps that went hot, then cold, then hot again.
Desire gathered in the base of her belly, flaring insistently downward. She squirmed against his thigh, her mouth opening wider to the heat of his kiss. His palms slid along her sides, skimming her breasts, following the curve of her waist to settle on her hips. He pressed her against him, and she moaned.
“Who’s winning?” he rasped.
Through the electrified jumble of her brain cells, she struggled to form a sentence. “I don’t think it’s me,” she told him honestly.
“I think it’s you.” He kissed her again, strong arms wrapping around her waist. “Because it sure isn’t me.”
Then he stood, drawing her to her feet, pressing his body flush against hers. He stroked her hair, and his voice was guttural in her ear. “Later? At the mayor’s mansion?”
Her mind went to war with itself.
She couldn’t sleep with him. She had to stay sharp. She had to keep her emotions out of the equation. If the citizens of Lyndon even suspected she had the hots for the mayor, it would fundamentally undermine her position.
Or could she? If they kept it secret? If they didn’t tell a living soul, not even Marta?
“I take it that’s a no.” He eased back to gaze at her.
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