A Bridge Unbroken (A Miller's Creek Novel) (18 page)

With chin held high, Dakota stomped out of the old building and to the truck, pretty sure that by now Chance had sworn all the men to a vow of silence.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Dakota made it back to the farmhouse. There had only been one checker at the grocery store and three little old ladies in front of her, all intent on carrying on a conversation among themselves. Then she'd been stuck behind a huge flat-bed trailer, loaded down with three over-sized round bales of hay. That guy had finally turned off, only to reveal a trailer full of cattle.

She had barely pulled into the driveway, gathered her things, and unlocked the door when another pickup pulled up.

His bright suspenders identified him before he'd even crawled all the way out of the tiny pick-up cab. He waddled toward her, hand outstretched. "I didn't get to properly introduce myself earlier. My name's Coot." His fleshy hand swallowed hers. He hiked up his pants, then gestured behind him with one sausage thumb. "I got your present in the back of the truck. Whatcha want me to do with it?"

"You can bring it up on the porch, I guess." Probably some last-minute crops from his garden before freezing weather hit. On the other side of the partially-opened front door, Daisy whimpered and scratched against the newly-refinished floors. "Just a little while longer, Daisy, I promise." Dakota tightly held to the door knob and stuck one leg in the door to keep Daisy from escaping through the crack. She turned just as Coot clomped up the wooden steps with a large cardboard box.

"That's a big box." Dakota stopped herself just shy of adding 'of vegetables.'

"Well, they need a bit of room to roam around."

Roaming vegetables?

"'Course they've probably pooped all over the place by now."

She swallowed. "Eh, what's in the box?"

"Why, chickens of course. That's what I do for a living. I raise chickens."

Her mouth opened, but words wouldn't form. What was with every mad man in the county bringing her animals? Did they think she didn't have enough to do? Yes, she wanted chickens eventually, but not until she knew for sure if she'd be staying.

Before she could respectfully decline, Daisy charged out the door, heading straight for the bright-orange suspenders, the protruding belly, and box full of chickens.

In a matter of seconds, Coot dropped the box and semi-flattened himself against the outer wall of the house.

The air seemed to instantly mass-produce white feathers, as a blur of flapping, flopping, squawking chickens scattered, chased by a nipping, growling, barking blur of tan and black.

Dakota squeezed her eyes shut, fearful of what might come next.

Thankfully, Chance's pickup pulled around the bend in the driveway. As if by magic, Daisy left off chasing the chickens and calmly trotted toward him, her nonchalant manner proclaiming that the strange white critters had made the mess and not her.

A half hour later--with Coot gone, Daisy in the house, and all the chickens accounted for and closed in the barn--Dakota strolled beside Chance toward the house to clean what appeared to be exploded pillows off the front porch. "You got off work early today."

"All the overtime from last week. Plus it was a really slow day, and my boss is out of town." A small grin appeared on his lips. "One emergency call kind of messed up my day."

She backhanded him. "Cut it out. I can't believe you let the town geezers persist in their belief that I was tipsy."

Chance laughed out loud. "Sorry, couldn't resist." He cast a sideways glance her direction. "Besides, you managed to get me back pretty good. No telling what those guys are telling their wives right about now."

Her head snapped around to face him. "You didn't swear them to secrecy?"

"Why would I be bothered that I was your honey-bunny? Even though sugar booger took it a little far." Chance suddenly came to an abrupt halt, his frowning gaze trained down the curving driveway.

Dakota stopped as well, and followed the direction of his stare.

He put a protective arm around her shoulder. "You know who this is coming toward us?"

She gave her head a slight shake. "No."

Chance resumed walking. "Let me do the talking, okay?"

No complaints there.

The other guy--rather nondescript and average-looking--strode closer, smiled, and stretched out a hand toward Chance. "Hello there."

Chance returned the smile and handshake. "Hi. Can I help you?"

The man, bundled up in a typical man's coat, leaned his head to the left. "Live on the next piece of land over and decided to stop by and introduce myself." He paused a second as he toward the creek. "Would've come that way, but the bridge is just about washed out."

Dakota's forehead wrinkled. "Really? We haven't even been down to the creek since it rained so hard the other night."

Now the man held out his hand toward her, nothing particularly frightening in his demeanor, but somehow unsettling just the same. "Vincent Hopkins."

She took his hand, but for some odd reason the hair on the back of her neck stood at attention. "Dakota."

His eyebrows twitched ever so slightly, then he turned his attention to Chance. Within a matter of minutes the two were talking deer hunting like they'd hunted together for years.

Dakota pretended to distract herself and picked up pieces of old wire from the ground, all the while eavesdropping and trying to figure out what bothered her about this man.

Later, when her new neighbor was out of earshot on his way back down the driveway, Dakota faced Chance. "I don't trust him."

Chance half-laughed. "That guy?" His lips turned down at the corners in an expression of doubt. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. Seemed friendly enough."

Maybe. But as they walked toward the house, each lost in their own thoughts, her troubled mind suddenly found the answer it sought. What kind of guy who lived on a farm, would go by Vincent rather than Vince or Vinny? And why would a backwoods Texan have a voice and manner of speaking laced with culture and hands so incredibly well-groomed?

Chapter Sixteen

L
ord, please help this to be a fun evening for both of us
. Chance crawled from the pickup cab and started toward the farmhouse. He peered up at the autumn sky, the stars so big it seemed like he could reach out and pluck one from the sky. He released a breath, and a puff of vapor rose into the cool night air.

Tonight could literally go either way.

His heart pounded like a junior high kid on a first date as he climbed the steps and stepped across the porch to Dakota's front door, as though this were a school dance rather than the hospital's Thanksgiving Fundraiser Ball. He raised his fist, and rapped on the door.

From inside, her steps sounded--not the usual sock feet padding on the floor--but the dainty click of a lady's shoe.

The door swung open, Dakota silhouetted against the room's light behind her. "Come in." Her voice sounded shy and strained.

Chance stepped inside, his attention riveted on the dress which perfectly matched her green eyes. Her hair was swept up onto her head, except for a few red curls that refused to be tamed, creamy shoulders exposed beneath the thin straps of her dress.

She seemed to wither beneath his perusal, her hands flighty and her eyes nervous as her teeth gently tugged at her lower lip. "Sorry about the dress. It's the only thing I could find at a consignment shop Dani told me about." Dakota fidgeted with the neckline as though trying to make sure she was adequately covered.

The knowledge that she'd purchased a used dress tugged at his heart. "You look beautiful." His voice took on an unusually husky-toned growl.

"Th-thank you." Her cheeks flushed and she lowered her head.

Definitely not the same girl he'd known so many years ago. Amy and Dakota were as different as night and day. Or were they? He shoved the thought aside for another time. "You ready?"

She nodded.

"You might want to get a coat. It's nippy out there."

A grimace spread the corners of her mouth tight, exposing her teeth. "I didn't think about looking for a nice shawl to wear. All I have is my work coat."

Chance frowned. A coat with paint splatters and a rip in the sleeve just wouldn't do. He hastily removed his tux jacket. "Here. Wear this for now. I have shirt sleeves. You don't."

"Thank you, Chance." A relieved smile covered her face as she made eye contact.

Unexpected warmth spread through him, and he lowered his head to clear his thoughts.
Easy, Chance.
With a hand in the small of her back, he led her to the passenger side of the pickup and helped her in. A few minutes later they made their way toward the hospital. "Pretty night, huh?"

"Yes, it is." She added no further comment.

They drove along in silence for a while. "Should be a fun evening."

"Yes, it should." Silence again settled over the inside of the truck. Except for the whine of his tires against the pavement, the cab of the pickup was completely quiet.

Should he ask if she was feeling okay, or would that set her off? The last thing he wanted or needed to do was start the night off on a bad foot. After another minute or two, he could take the silence no longer. "You okay?"

"Yes, why?" She turned her pretty profile to face him.

"You seem a little quiet."

A soft sigh escaped from her parted lips and she directed her gaze to her lap, only her fingertips exposed beneath the too-long-for-her sleeves of his tux jacket. "I'm a little nervous."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I'm not used to fancy Cinderella balls and fancy Cinderella clothes and fancy Cinderella sho--"

Chance laughed. "I get the picture." He paused a moment, gathering words. "I know this isn't your typical style or get up, Dakota, but I don't want you to feel nervous or uncomfortable. Truth is, as beautiful as you look tonight, I like you just as well in blue jeans and a t-shirt. I hope you can relax and just enjoy the evening. You deserve it."

The curve of her cheek glowed in the reflection of the dashboard lights as she once more looked his way. For some reason her eyes seemed especially large tonight, glowing with a light that both drew him in and scared the daylights out of him. A slight smile curved her lips. "Thank you. I just hope I don't do something to embarrass you."

A frown creased his brow. Embarrass him? Is that how she saw herself in relation to him? And just how far back did this tendency of hers go? "You don't embarrass me, Dakota."

Her gaze returned to her lap. "I'm not cut from the same cloth as most people that will be there tonight. I haven't had the sort of social training one needs to shine at this kind of function."

The tug on his heart increased seven-fold. She'd spent what little money she had on a dress that made her uncomfortable to go to an event that made her feel equally uncomfortable. And her greatest concern was somehow embarrassing him. He reached across the cab and lightly touched her shoulder. "Just be yourself. There's plenty there to like and nothing that will embarrass me. Okay?"

She smiled, the same slight smile on her lips, and nodded.

They drove the last few miles in complete silence, Chance's mind bouncing between memories of the past and thoughts of the woman at his side. The sudden realization of his attraction to her on every level--not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually--mortified him beyond explanation. How could that be? Especially with everything that had happened between them in the past? This was supposed to be a fun night out for both of them, not a constant battle to control his emotions.

A few minutes later, Chance pulled under the hospital's day entrance awning where high school seniors served as valet parkers. He handed off his keys to one of the youth he remembered seeing at church, then moved around to the passenger side to help Dakota.

She'd already removed his coat and handed it to him as she stepped from the truck, her golden sandal-style heels peeking from beneath the bottom of her dress.

How he wished he'd thought to rent a limo for the night and some jewelry to make her feel like a princess. Chance clamped his lips together as he shrugged on his jacket and adjusted the collar. Okay, these rampant thoughts had to stop now. There was still way too much to talk through with Dakota before there would ever be that sort of relationship between them again.

She sent a timid, closed-mouth smile.

But here she was putting herself out in the public eye for no other reason than to make him happy. Chance smiled back and took her hand in his. Together they walked into the large rotunda-shaped foyer, the Thanksgiving Fundraiser Ball already underway. Soft music played in the background, combined with the conversation and laughter of guests garbed in all their finery.

Beside him, Dakota pressed her other hand to her stomach.

He smiled down at her. "Butterflies?"

She laughed, a gentle, pleasing sound that fit her perfectly. "A little, but I'm okay."

Chance pointed to their left. "There's Mama Beth and the rest of that crew. Want to join them?"