Small Town Romance Collection: Four Complete Romances & A New Novella

by Brown, Carolyn

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "So, did you have trouble finding the place?" Hunter met her at the front of the long, low ranch house and opened the car door. "My, don't you look lovely tonight. I'll have to stake my claim early or all the local cowboys will be infringing upon my territory." He laughed as he put his arm around her waist and guided her toward the front of the porch that wrapped around three sides of the house.

  "I'm not anyone's territory," Mercy bristled, then wanted to bite her tongue. Hunter was paying her a compliment, after all. How in the world could she feel like a pool of melted butter when he kissed her or like a breathless teenager when he called on the phone, and yet sometimes, she wanted to argue with nearly everything he said?

  "Huh? Bad day? You didn't get lost with my directions, did you?" He grinned.

  "Not really." She calmed down. "Found your place easily enough, and it didn't take quite as long as you thought. Party already started?" She nodded toward the barn where people were meandering in and out.

  "Yes, it has. But I wanted you to meet Uncle Jake before we went out to the dance," he said.

  "Okay. Who's Uncle Jake?"

  "Not my real uncle. He was Dad's foreman all the years I was growing up and when Dad died a couple of years ago, he stayed on until I could pick up the reins." Hunter ushered her through the foyer and into the living room.

  "Hello." A tall, gangly man stepped out of the kitchen. "You must be Miss Mercy. I'm Jake Thomas." He extended his hand. "Hunter didn't exaggerate. You are certainly lovely." Jake's crystal clear blue eyes, set in deep wrinkles, smiled as much as his mouth.

  "Well, thank you." Mercy warmed to him immediately. His face was as honest as old Milton's at the church, and his handshake was strong.

  "Now, you two better hop on out there and do a little two-steppin'." He waved them toward the door. "You do dance, don't you, Miss Mercy?"

  "Yes, sir," she nodded. "And I'm glad to meet you. Shall I save you a dance?"

  "Not on your life. All of the dances with you belong to Hunter tonight. He already set us all straight about that," he chuckled. "Get on out of here and enjoy yourself. Barn dances are for the young folks. These old bones danced their last dance a long time ago, but if I were forty years younger I might make Hunter work a little harder at keeping you."

  "If you were forty years younger, Hunter Wilson wouldn't have a chance." Mercy patted him on his bony shoulder.

  The band was playing a slow waltz when she and Hunter appeared at the barn door and he took her in his arms as if they danced together every Friday night and this wasn't the first time. She wrapped her arms around his neck, amazed that she could still move gracefully. She dipped and swayed at even the slightest touch of his hand and tried to remember the last time she'd been in a man's arms on the dance floor. She hadn't danced since before Jenny had started controlling everything she did, said, or thought. She'd forgotten the heady, steamy feeling that filled her when a tall, handsome man swooped her around to a live band.

  "You do dance well, Sister Mercy," he murmured into her blond hair.

  "Just because I go to church and have convictions, Hunter," she said tartly, "doesn't mean I can't dance or drink a beer occasionally."

  "Yes, ma'am," he chuckled. "Anything else you do occasionally?"

  "Is that a line you use on all the women you dance with?" She leaned back, looking sternly at him and refusing to blink.

  "No, ma'am." He shook his head just slightly.

  Lord Almighty, but Hunter was so good looking, he almost took her breath away. Evidently he'd been spending lots of time outdoors since she'd seen him last weekend because he was deeply tanned and there were new sunstreaks in his light brown hair. The white shirt with pearl snaps he wore was so stiff on her face that she knew it had just come from the cleaners. She fought the urge to take her arms from around his neck and touch that soft brown chest hair peeking out over the two buttons left undone. She didn't dare let her eyes travel down past the big silver belt buckle engraved with a cowboy riding a bull, but she knew without looking that his dark blue denim jeans had a perfect crease down the front all the way to the tops of his boots.

  He loved the way his hand fit around her waist, surprised at how small it was for such a tall girl. In Mexico he'd been so bedazzled by her beautiful blue eyes he hadn't really looked at the way she was built That Saturday night at the box supper she'd worn a shift dress that didn't show off any kind of waistline. On Sunday, he had trouble keeping his wandering thoughts from places they shouldn't go, so he hadn't noticed then just how small her waist was. Tonight, in a pair of skintight black jeans and a bright blue camisole top made from some kind of lace that fitted her waist as if it had been made just for her, it was clear that she would look as good on a modeling runway as she did right here dancing a two-step with him.

  "Cut in, partner?" A tall, dark, handsome cowboy tapped Hunter on the shoulder and smiled brightly at Mercy.

  "Sorry." Hunter shook his head. "Not tonight, Grady."

  The corners of Mercy's mouth turned up just slightly. Maybe this was a party for models and actors, because everyone here looked like they'd just walked out of a Marlboro commercial. Grady might have taken her breath away a couple of weeks ago. If he'd appeared in the doctor's dental chair and needed a filling, she might have had a time handing the tools to the doctor with shaking hands. But that was before Hunter Wilson came into her life. Before she looked into those sexy green eyes and into the heart of the man who made her soul quiver every time he smiled.

  "What's so funny?" Hunter asked seriously.

  "Nothing." Mercy tossed her long hair over her shoulder. "Think I might have something to drink, or are we going to dance until we wear the soles off these boots?"

  "Name your poison." He took her by the hand and led her toward tables laden with food, and a bar where two bartenders were trying to keep up with orders for beer and mixed drinks.

  "How about a strawberry daiquiri?" she asked, thinking how Jenny would pray long enough to get scabs on her knees, if her former roommate found out just how far astray Mercy was going.

  "Coming up." Hunter pulled out a chair from a table for six for her. "Ease those aching feet, madam, because I intend to dance until daybreak or the soles of your boots are gone . . . whichever comes first." He brushed her cheek with a quick butterfly kiss.

  "Whew," Mercy exhaled when he was out of earshot. The effect he had on her was scary. If this was infatuation, then she hoped she stayed infatuated for the rest of her life. If it is a dream, then please, God, don't ever let me wake up, she thought. And if it's the real thing . . . the kind of love that only comes along once in a lifetime, don't let it pass me by. I want this man for the rest of my life.

  "Hello." A short red-haired girl pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. "I'm Gloria," she introduced herself. "You must be Mercy. Hunter said he was bringing a new girlfriend tonight."

  "Hello," Mercy said. "I don't know if I'd be considered a girlfriend, but I am Mercy."

  "Oh, no, here come the Bobbsey Bitches." Gloria rolled her eyes toward the rafters in the huge barn, and Mercy saw two hard-looking women marching toward their table. One was at least six inches taller than the other, but they were both dressed in white jeans, white low-cut sweaters, white boots and white Stetson hats to match . . . and they both had stovepipe-black hair straight out of a bottle.

  "Hello. You must be Mercy," the shorter one said, her voice syrupy-sweet before Gloria could say another word. "We heard Hunter was bringing a new friend tonight. I'm Kim and this is Marta. We can fill you in on all the details about Hunter—the ones he won't tell you. We know some things that will make your blond hair turn black, don't we, Marta?" she said. The smell of budget bourbon on the woman's breath almost knocked Mercy backwards out of her chair.

  "Mercy." Hunter handed her a tall, pink drink. Then his voice turned icy. "How about you, ladies?"

  "Dance with me, darlin'." Kim stood up and fell into Hunter's chest.

  "S
orry, sweetheart." Mercy sipped her drink hurriedly, then set it on the table in front of Gloria. "Hunter has promised this one to me. This is our song." She took his hand and led him out to the dance floor, where she wrapped her arms around his neck and began to move immediately.

  "I didn't know we had a song." His eyes were warming back up but his voice still had an edge.

  "If you aren't sharing me tonight, then I don't have to share you either," she said bluntly. "And this song will do until we find one we like better. At least it kept that woman from making you drunk on the fumes from her breath."

  "You are a vixen." Hunter threw back his head and laughed, enjoying himself more than he had in years. More than he had since the days before he kicked Tammy off the porch and then packed her bags himself and sent them to her mother's place.

  "They've left our table and Gloria is probably tired of protecting my daiquiri. You never know about a spurned woman. Kim might have put arsenic in my drink after I foiled her attempts to plaster her skinny body to yours," Mercy said, after a couple of songs. "Let's sit this one out, and you can tell me where in the hell you met those two. I don't think they came from a church social. And if you're going to tell me they're your cousins, keep in mind that I won't believe you."

  Kim hugged the cold toilet in the ladies' room at the back of the barn as if it were her long-lost friend. She knew better than to mix beer and hard liquor, but she was so mad at Hunter Wilson she could have strangled him and enjoyed watching his eyes pop right out of his gorgeous face. He hadn't dated anyone in more than a year and she'd been planning to make him fall in love with her. And then it would be just a quick two-step to the altar and all those wonderful Wilson dollars.

  "Got it out of your system?" Marta leaned on the vanity, checked her makeup and picked a bit of barbecue from between her teeth. "I told you not to drink bourbon after you'd been guzzling beer all afternoon. Gawd Almighty, Kim, landing Hunter Wilson ain't worth the way you're feelin' right now, is it?"

  "Shut up," Kim managed weakly. "It ain't over yet. Betcha that big blond gal don't know about Carla. Or Tammy. Or—"

  "Make a list." Marta laughed sarcastically. "If you can pry her away from his arms, you can tell her all about Hunter's scandalous past. And if she dumps him, then you can move right in on the man."

  Kim smiled feebly. "And if she don't dump him?"

  "Then all's fair in love and war, darlin'. I'd bet my money that you probably know a little more about the love business than Miss Mercy," Marta said.

  "Guess the thing to do is peel her away from him, like you said. And we'd better do it soon. Hell, did you ever see anyone with such big, blue eyes? If she ever falls in bed with Hunter Wilson, it'll be all over. Except for the three-tiered cake and I do's."

  Mercy sat at the table by herself, sipping her strawberry daiquiri and watching Hunter as he made his way across the room, talking to this group and that one along the way. She liked the way he swaggered when he walked, the way his tight blue jeans hugged his hips and the way he stood, straight and tall. She could tell he had an easy camaraderie with his guests . . . until he reached the men's room and those two tough-looking women sashayed up to him.

  He bristled and she could almost see his eyebrows drawing down even from this distance. The shorter one said something; then he pointed at Mercy and shook his head emphatically. Then all three of them stared right at her for just a split second but long enough for her to know that she was the topic of conversation.

  He disappeared behind the door and the women argued about something for a few seconds. Then Marta pushed Kim toward the center of the barn. They staggered to her table, giggling behind their hands the whole way. Hunter had told her they were just two aging buckle bunnies who followed the rodeos and appeared at most parties, whether invited or not. He'd said Kim had been eyeing his ranch and assets for a long time, but he wasn't stupid.

  Mercy smiled. She would just bet Kim was eyeing his assets and all of them weren't tied up in a portfolio with stocks and bonds written on the outside.

  Evidently, the twosome had told him what they thought about his new "girlfriend," as Gloria put it, and he'd set them straight. But even after a dressing-down by Hunter, the women were still converging upon her table as if they were her best friends and had some kind of big, deep, dark secret to tell her.

  "Guess they're pretty drunk." Gloria nodded toward the women as she pulled up a chair and sat down at the table. "Lord, it's hot in here. When they figure out how to aircondition a cattle barn, I'm going to be the first in line to buy it. But even King Midas couldn't afford to cool down one of these old monstrosities. Where you from, Mercy? You got a spread?"

  "Nope." Mercy shook her head. "I'm from Marietta, Oklahoma, and I work as a dental assistant in Ardmore. Only spread I got is a rented two-bedroom house, and the only livestock I have is one old orange tomcat who begs scraps from me when he's not courting the tabby next door," she smiled. "How 'bout you, Gloria? You from around here?"

  "Next ranch over." She nodded to the west. "I married the owner's son five years ago and we run it now while his parents travel. My husband's name is Jeremy. He's been Hunter's friend forever."

  "I see," Mercy nodded. "Wonder if they're planning on joining us?" She indicated the two women still marching their way.

  "Lord, I hope not." Gloria fanned herself with a crisp dinner napkin. "I don't know why Kim and Marta would want to sit with us. Don't you feel the need to visit the ladies' room? Anything beats listening to them for five minutes."

  "Nope, I'm not running from them," Mercy said. "If those two think they're going to intimidate me, they've got another think coming. That isn't happening again . . . not ever. I was here first and they can take their dyed hair and white hats back to whatever beauty shop broom closet they live in."

  "Well, good luck," Gloria said as she pushed her chair back. "I'm going to find Jeremy and make him dance with me again. Come see me sometime when you're in this area. Last name's Jackson in the phone book. We live at the Bar J ranch over on the next section line."

  "Thanks," Mercy waved goodbye. "Good evening, ladies," she said sweetly when the other two women stopped in front of her. "Pull up a chair. Would you like a drink? Hunter should be back soon and I'll ask him to get you something."

  "Never mind that," Marta said, without a smile. "Thought we'd fill you in on all the good stuff about Hunter first." She plopped down in a chair and propped one boot up on the table.

  "What stuff, ladies?" Hunter appeared out of nowhere behind her. Mercy could sense the anger in him as he looked down at her and the other women. "There isn't any good stuff about me, is there, Kim? You know, I think you're looking pretty green around the gills. Maybe you've been mixing drinks again like you did at the rodeo party last month. Marta, she looks like she could upchuck any minute. Why don't you take her on home before she ruins her pretty white shirt?"

  "You're cold, Hunter, damn cold," Kim snarled. "I'll go home. I don't stay where I'm not wanted, even if my date will be disappointed he couldn't stay until the end of the party. But rest assured, Hunter Wilson, I don't get angry. I get even." She threw a glare Mercy's way. "And enjoy your new toy. Remember, when you break it, I'll be around." She blew him a kiss and the two of them left in a fit of giggles.

  "Oh, my," Mercy smiled. "Promise me they're not kin to you?"

  "I promise," he said. "But I'd like to introduce you to some folks that are almost that close to me. Have you met Jeremy Jackson?"

  "Nope, but I sure like his wife, Gloria." Mercy stood up when he took her hand, amazed that even at the end of the evening, his touch still electrified her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A bright orange ball peeked over the eastern horizon, breaking the darkness, giving shape to the trees and fence posts as Mercy drove home early Saturday morning. The band had packed up and gone home at two o'clock and Gloria had insisted that the four of them go into town for breakfast. It was after four when Mercy started home, and the new dawn welcomed
her as she crossed the Red River bridge into Oklahoma.

  It hadn't been such a far drive to Hunter's spread near Denton, and it hadn't taken her long to realize he owned a lot more than an acre of sweet potatoes. The main house was so big she figured she'd need Rollerblades to get from one end to the other if she was in a hurry. The barn where the dance had been held was enormous, and Gloria said the whole county used it for a sale barn at one time or other through the year. Apparently there was also a bunk house, stables and other barns scattered around the thousand-plus acres which Gloria casually mentioned in conversation sometime during the evening.

  Mercy was still so wound up by the time she exited off Interstate 35 and started east toward Marietta, she figured it would be hours before she could sleep. Thank goodness Hunter had other obligations for the rest of the weekend. Many more nights like the one she'd just spent, and another half dozen of those breathtaking kisses that made her knees buckle and her heart skip beats, and she'd be giving in to him whether or not it would lead to anything more than a one night affair.

  She stretched her long, lanky limbs as she got out of her car when she finally parked it in her driveway. The orange tomcat meowed pitifully on the back porch and she stopped long enough to scratch his ears before going inside. She threw her purse on the kitchen cabinet and opened a can of smelly tuna for the animal waiting impatiently on the other side of the screen door.

  "Now hush. And go find a big, fat sassy mouse for dessert," she said to him. "I'm sleepy and I'm not going to open my eyes until noon. My feet ache and I'm going to dream about the best-looking man in the world. He's got eyes greener than yours and I think someday I might fall in love with him."

  The cat purred but Mercy didn't know if it was in sympathy for her tired feet or just his way of saying thank you for the plate of tuna. She picked up her purse from the cabinet top and started across the living room when she noticed the corner of a white envelope sticking out of the side pocket. Strange, she didn't remember putting anything like that there before she left last night. And she didn't remember seeing it when she freshened her makeup in the bathroom at the restaurant where they had breakfast. Maybe it was a note from Hunter.