by Maddy Barone
When things got a little too heated, Dusty would either force himself to go home, or drag her out to do something she didn’t usually do, like tour the historic sites of Dallas. With him, it was easy to ignore any stares that came her way. She didn’t always need her cane, but she brought it on the excursions in case her leg got tired and she needed the extra help. Dusty treated her and her cane matter-of-factly, without giving it any extra notice. It was just another reason to love him.
“I think I want to marry him,” she told Inez. “Maybe have his children. No, I definitely would like to have his child.”
“Ooh, that’s serious.” Inez’s smile turned gentle. “That would be wonderful. I would be the proud auntie you would call whenever you needed a babysitter.”
It sounded wonderful. Would Dusty be willing to move into her apartment? She had been to his place a few times, but it was small, and on the other side of the city, far from her family and too far for her to easily travel to the store for work. She glanced down at her inventory list and sighed. Then again, business wasn’t exactly booming. If she married and had to take time off for a baby, how could Inez keep the store going? There wasn’t enough money to hire someone to fill in.
Her phone buzzed. She left Inez counting balls of cotton yarn to go to the counter and look at the screen. Dusty texted: Sorry, hon. Out on a call. Will run late. Don’t forget Sat nite. Pick u up 6:30 for wed dance.
Forget his co-worker’s wedding dance on Saturday night? Not likely. Her new dress, purchased a week ago, was the perfect shade of cranberry red to compliment her skin tone, and the black lace shawl she’d cast off last night was blocking right now. The low-heeled black pumps weren’t new, but she had worn them only a few times in her life. Specially fitted for her prosthetic, they weren’t cheap, and she planned to get another ten or twenty years of use from them. That wouldn’t be difficult, since she wore them only once or twice a year. And a classic low heeled black pump would always be in style.
“Who was that?” Inez asked.
“Dusty. He won’t make it over tonight. He’s working.”
“That’s another good thing about him. He has a good job.” Inez put the balls of merino and silk yarn back in their place and came to squeeze her hands. “I’m happy for you. I know it must have been hard for you all these years alone. But now you see that the wait was worth it. Dusty was worth waiting for.”
*
At twenty minutes past six on Saturday she had just capped her mascara, nearly ready for Dusty to pick her up, when her bell rang.
“Linda,” she said, staring in surprise at her upstairs neighbor.
Linda’s short cap of silvery hair gleamed in the hall light. “Weren’t expecting me, were you?” She looked Isabel up and down and her mouth puckered in a soundless whistle. “You look like a million bucks!”
“Thank you. Come in.”
“Just for a minute. Looks like you’re heading out.”
“Yes, a wedding reception.” She closed the door behind Linda. “What can I do for you?”
Linda waved a hand in an airy gesture. “Just wanted to invite you to join me and Mary Ellen for the book signing at the romance convention tomorrow afternoon.”
Linda and her daughter Mary Ellen both enjoyed reading, especially romance. Every few years Dallas or Fort Worth hosted some sort of conference for romance authors, and the public was invited to go in and buy books and have them signed by their favorite authors. Linda and Mary Ellen never missed one.
“Thank you for thinking of me.” Dusty was working tomorrow, so she would be free, but standing in long lines to have books signed by authors she neither knew nor cared about didn’t appeal to her. “It sounds like fun, but I don’t think so.”
“You don’t want to miss it.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I heard a bunch of those cover models are going to be there, too. You could get your picture taken with one of them. One hundred percent gorgeous beefcake on the hoof, ready to wrap you up in his arms and—”
At the dreamy expression on Linda’s face, Isabel suppressed a smile. “Thanks, but no.”
The bell rang again. “Excuse me.”
Dusty in a T-shirt and jeans was handsome. Dusty in a suit coat could stop her heart. He was staring at her with wide eyes and a wider smile. “You look beautiful,” he breathed.
She returned the smile. “So do you.”
They might have stood like staring at each other much longer, but Dusty noticed Linda gaping at him. “Hello,” he said in a friendly way, stepping into the apartment.
“Dusty, this is my upstairs neighbor, Linda Faneuff. Linda, this is my boyfriend, Dusty Wolfe.” She almost stumbled calling him her boyfriend. That sounded like they were in high school.
Dusty reached to shake hands with Linda. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “You live upstairs?” He glanced at Isabel. “I thought a guy lived upstairs.”
“There are two apartments on the third floor,” Isabel explained.
“That’s right. Me and my daughter Mary Ellen have one apartment. It’s a two bedroom. Nice place. José has the other one, a small studio apartment. He’s a nice boy, José. You might think he looks like trouble, but he’s not.” She smiled. “Well, I guess I’ll get going. Mary Ellen will be home soon. We’re gonna turn in early. Get our beauty sleep for tomorrow. You sure you won’t come, Isabel?”
“Thank you, but no.”
Isabel moved to the door to open it for her.
“Well, I guess I understand why,” Linda said with a grin. As she passed through the door, she winked. “Beefcake,” she mouthed soundlessly, tipping her head in Dusty’s direction.
Isabel laughed. “One hundred percent,” she agreed, and closed the door. “I’m almost ready. Just give me a couple minutes.”
“Wait a second.” He caught her around the waist. “You haven’t got your lip stuff on yet. That means I can kiss you without messing it up.”
She stared up into his dark eyes. “You know, I don’t think I’d mind you messing up my lipstick.”
He kissed her, deep and hot before turning tender and gentle. “I’ll remind you of that later.”
Her toes curled in her prim pumps. Even the ones that weren’t there anymore felt like they curled. He let her go and Isabel forced herself to walk to the bathroom to finish putting on her make up.
She buckled her seat belt as Dusty started his truck. “So, where exactly is the wedding reception?” she asked.
“At the ranch. That is, Jax’s ranch. It’s a little way out of town.”
“Jax. That’s the groom, right? You work with him?”
“Yeah. And the bride is Dane’s sister, Skye. I work with Dane, too. You’ll like them.”
It was a pleasant drive. Dusty told her stories about his job and co-workers. Most of them were light-hearted and funny. His affection and loyalty came through.
“You really like your job,” she remarked. “But not just the job. You love your co-workers too, don’t you?”
“We’re like family,” he said simply. “We spend a lot of time together. Every now and again, we rub each other the wrong way, just like family. And just like family, we stick up for each other.”
She could see that. She loved her brothers, but there were times she’d like to kick them. “Do you plan to be an EMT for the rest of your career?”
He drove in silence for a moment, a slight frown pinching his brows together. He glanced at her. “Yes and no. I love what I do. But I also want to go home to the Rez. Pine Ridge.”
She watched him, surprised by the unexpectedly serious tone in his voice. “That’s where your mom and dad live right?”
“Right. And my brothers and sisters and uncles and aunts. My whole family.”
After a moment, she asked, “Why didn’t you get a job there after you left the service?”
The smile he tossed at her was half-bitter. “What job? The Rez doesn’t have a lot in the way of employment opportunities.”
She swal
lowed. “Then why go back there?”
“Because it’s where my family is.” He glanced at her again, with an apologetic smile. “It’s my heritage. It’s home.” He turned his focus back to the road. “A lot of people there are trapped by alcohol abuse and poverty, and that leads to depression and other mental illnesses. It’s a vicious cycle. There’s plenty of poverty here in Dallas, but on the Rez there is hardly anything but poverty. I want to go home and try to make a difference. There is only one hospital there and just three clinics in nearly thirty-five hundred square miles. I’m saving to start up an ambulance service. I think I could help.”
A jolt went through her. Where did she fit in with these plans? Did she fit in? A few days ago she’d told Inez she’d like to have Dusty’s babies. But in her imagined future they were in Dallas, with her family nearby. She had no doubt that his passion and drive could accomplish a lot. The fact that he was willing to give up a comfortable life in Dallas humbled her. Could she give up her family to be with him?
She mentally slapped herself. He’d never even hinted at marriage or a long-term future. She tucked her dreams into a little box and pushed it down. Not so far down that it couldn’t be retrieved in the future, but out of sight. “It sounds like a challenge, but I know you can do it.” She forced encouragement into her voice.
He reached to squeeze her hand, and launched into a funny story from his childhood. Family, she concluded, was important to him. It sounded like he was connected one way or another to every person in or around Porcupine, where his family was from, and his affection showed in his voice. His mom must be a force of nature. A loving one, who adored her husband and alternately babied and scolded her children and grandchildren. She envied him for that. Her own parents were only a distant memory.
The ranch yard was already crowded with vehicles, and people dressed in everything from jeans to cocktail dresses mingled around the house. There was lots of laughter and music in the air. Dusty helped her out of the truck, handed her cane over and led her toward the house.
The groom, a handsome man, slapped Dusty on the back with a wide grin and shook her hand politely. The bride, a slender woman with an infectious smile, hugged both of them and thanked them for coming. Dusty offered the happy couple their congratulations, and they moved on, making room for the next set of well-wishers.
“Nice people,” Isabel commented after they had passed through the house to the backyard. It was a good thing it was a big yard, because there were a lot of people there. Brutus, easily seen even with the crowd due to his size, was standing on the far end of the patio with his arm looped around Denise’s waist, talking with another couple. Dusty steered her over to them.
“Hey,” Brutus greeted them, lifting a beer bottle in salute. “Isabel, you know Lexi and Dane? They work with us. Y’all, this is Isabel Ybarra, Dusty’s lady.”
Lexi gave Isabel a friendly smile, shaking hands firmly. “We haven’t met, but I’ve heard about you. All of it good,” she hurried to add. “I bet you made that shawl. It’s nice.”
“Yes, I did. Thank you.” She shook hands with Dane. “Nice to meet you both.”
After chatting for a few minutes, Lexi and Dane moved on.
“Go grab that table that just opened up,” Dusty suggested. “I’ll get us something to drink. Beer okay, Isa?”
She nodded yes, and moved with Denise to the table.
“This is a great party,” Denise yelled to her over the music. “Just a casual Texas-style picnic.”
“Big and loud?” Isabel translated, leaning her cane against the table edge while she sat down.
“Yep, and friendly, with plenty to eat and drink.” Denise made a kissing face at Brutus, lounging in the chair beside her. “This is what we want our wedding reception to be like.”
“But indoors,” he shouted back. “December is a little cold to have a cookout.”
Dusty joined them and handed Isabel a soda. “Cold? Son, you don’t know what cold is until you’ve wintered in Minnesota.”
The men bickered genially about weather for a few minutes while she and Denise exchanged eye rolls. They were interrupted by the squeal of a microphone and the announcement that the dancing would begin shortly.
Dusty leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Will you dance with me?”
“Not this first dance. It’s for the bride and groom.”
All four of them watched while Jax and Skye swayed together on the open area in the center of the tables. Their love was obvious in the way they looked at each other, the way their bodies moved together. Seeing it opened a hole in Isabel’s heart. Why had she lied to herself for all these years, saying she didn’t need a man to love her? She did need a man to love her. She needed Dusty to love her.
Sitting very straight in her chair to resist the urge to lean against Dusty, she sniffed. Hopefully, anyone who noticed her fight against tears would think she was touched by the romantic newlyweds circling the dance floor.
She had herself under control by the time the dance ended. The next dance was a country two step, and she declined that one too, but Brutus and Denise went out. Watching them, she was a little envious. For such a large man, Brutus was light on his feet, and he held Denise with tenderness in his big hands.
When a slow dance began, Dusty pulled her up. “I refuse to take no for an answer this time,” he declared.
He didn’t quite have to drag her out onto the floor. She left her cane at the table and went with him, feeling self-conscious and nervous. He seemed to know how she felt. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pushed her face against his shoulder with his other hand. With her cheek pressed to Dusty’s shoulder, all she had to do was sway with him in time to the music. The scent of his warm skin was as intoxicating as the feel of his long, lean body against hers.
“See?” he murmured into her ear. “This is nice.”
She sighed happily. “It is.”
The mood was broken when the music moved into another two step. Isabel pushed away. “Oh, I don’t think I can do that.”
“Sure you can,” Dusty insisted. “I promise not to step on your toes. Ready?”
His confidence was contagious. “Okay,” she said, “but I’m not making any promises about your toes!”
Dancing was fun. Tiring, but fun. Brutus grinned at her while she was taking a break at their table and made a flourishing bow. “May I have the next dance, my lady?”
If anyone else asked, she would have refused. But Brutus, big, brutal-looking Brutus, was too adorable right then to refuse. “Certainly, my lord.”
After dancing with Brutus—who held her up with easy strength when her feet couldn’t quite keep up with the schottische— others of Dusty’s co-workers asked her to dance. How could she say no after dancing with Brutus? Dusty danced with a few other women, and her surge of jealousy surprised her. Now and then she would see him across the dance floor and the glares he sent her partners suggested he felt the same way about her partners as she did about his. What a silly pair they were.
After a strenuous polka, Brutus led her back to their little table. “Are you okay?” he asked anxiously. “You look like you’re limping a little bit. Was that too much for you? I’m really sorry. Here, I’ll get you something to drink.”
“Thanks.” Her leg was hurting a little. She needed to get back to her physical therapy exercises. “Hey, Denise,” she said as the other woman collapsed in her chair.
Denise shook her hair back from a perspiring face. “Isn’t this a great party?”
“It really is,” she agreed, looking for Dusty.
“Hello, ladies.”
A tall blond cowboy with a syrupy southern drawl leaned a hip on the table with a smile just a little too big. Isabel wondered how many beers he’d had. Too many. She shifted away from him, trying to be subtle.
Denise gave him a friendly smile. “Bodie.”
“Introduce me to your pretty friend.”
“This is Isabel Ybarra. She’s with Dusty.�
�
The cowboy straightened up from his lean. “Oh, I know who you are now,” he said in a tone just a hair too sharp to be teasing. “You’re the knitting lady.”
Something in his voice when he said ‘knitting lady’ scraped over her nerves. “My sister and I own a yarn store in Dallas,” she said, trying to smother defensiveness.
“Uh-huh,” he drawled. “You know what you’ve gone and done, lady?”
Isabel noticed a few heads turning their way, drawn by the loud bray of his voice.
“You took Dusty Wolfe and turned him into a lamb. He knits.” The sneer in his voice made knitting sound slimy. He forced a laugh that didn’t convince her he was joking around. What was it with some guys? They thought knitting should be reserved for old grannies and spinsters with cats?
Isabel looked up at him and widened her eyes, “Oh, no,” she cooed.
The cowboy completely missed her sarcasm and nodded vigorously. “It’s okay for you to do that. I mean, with your leg and all, I suppose it’s good for you. And you’re a woman.”
Isabel felt her jaw drop. The idiot went on.
“But it’s not right for guy. Especially not a guy like Dusty. And in public, for godssakes! Right there in the day room, he twiddles those pointy needles around and sews hats and neck thingies.”
Her jaw clenched. “That’s terrible. He really shouldn’t be sewing with knitting needles. That’s what sewing needles are for.”
Denise burst out laughing. Bodie’s face turned red. “Are you making fun of me?” he demanded, stepping so close to her that he had a foot on either side of her cane. “You don’t want to make fun of me.”
Isabel forced her jaw open. Glancing at Denise, who wasn’t laughing anymore, she said, “Did that sound like a threat to you?”
He grabbed her shoulder. “Are you?” he yelled.
“Bodie,” Dee began warningly.
The temptation was almost too much to resist. Really, jerking her cane up to smash into his privates would have been easy. The idiot was straddling it. It would have been so satisfying. Isabel restrained herself. She simply gave her cane a sharp pull to the right and away, so it swept one of his feet out from under him. Watching him topple and land with a thud on his ass provided its own brand of satisfaction.