Long, Tall Texans: Calhoun (10 page)

Abby thought he stopped then, just for a second, but it might have been her imagination, because he kept walking and he didn't say a word.

What a pity, Abby thought with quiet melancholy, that love could die so violent a death. And the saddest part of it was that in spite of what Justin said, she'd have bet Justin and Shelby were still madly in love, even though it had been six years since they'd broken up. What had Shelby done to make Justin turn against her so vehemently? Surely just being given back his engagement ring wouldn't make a man so vindictive!

Abby got up from the table and went to her room. It was much too early to go to bed, but she didn't relish the idea of staying downstairs and having Calhoun stare holes through her. Avoiding him had suddenly become imperative.

That wasn't too hard. But avoiding the memories that lingered in her room was. The wall where he'd pinned her with his big body and kissed the breath out of her was all too empty.

In the end she pushed a bookcase against it, just to keep her mind from replaying the scene.

She went to work as usual for the rest of the week, and so did Calhoun. But there was a difference. There was no soft greeting, no smile, no teasing grin. This Calhoun was more and more like his older brother. The fun had gone out of him, leaving behind a hard, formidable businessman who alternately ignored Abby or chewed her out for any nervous mistakes she made. It was impossible to get near him, even to talk.

By quitting time on Friday, she was a nervous wreck. She looked forward to the square dance like a doomed prisoner coveting an appeal. At least the dance would get her out of the house and take her mind off Calhoun. Not that she expected him to be home on a weekend. He'd probably be up in Houston with his model. Abby gritted her teeth as she thought about that.

Hindsight was a sad thing, Abby reflected, and she'd only begun to realize why Calhoun had been out of control with her in the bedroom. It hadn't been because he was angry or because he was punishing her. He'd been out of control because he'd wanted her. She was almost sure of it now, having asked Misty some subtle but intimate questions about men. Calhoun had wanted her, and she'd stabbed his pride bloody. She could have cried, because she'd had his attention and hadn't even known it. He was well and truly cured now. He didn't speak to her unless he had to, and he avoided her like the plague. She was glad she'd had that room reserved at the boarding house, because she had a feeling she was going to need it any time now.

She dressed in a red-checked full skirt with several crinolines and a perky white blouse with puffy short sleeves and a button front. It was almost March, but it was still cold, and she got out her long tan coat to wear with it. Tyler was due at six, and it was almost that when she went downstairs, her long hair silky and clean around her shoulders, wearing just enough makeup to give her a rosy-cheeked glow. She'd never wished more that she was blond or that she could have a second chance with Calhoun. Just her luck, she thought miserably as she made her way down the staircase, to foul everything up on the first

try. Why hadn't she realized that Calhoun felt passion, not anger? Why hadn't she waited to give him a chance to be tender? He probably would have been if she hadn't struggled with him.

She reached the bottom of the staircase just in time to watch Calhoun open the front door for Tyler, because Maria and Lopez had the night off. Abby's heart jumped helplessly at the sight of those broad shoulders and that long back.

Calhoun was so big he even towered over Tyler.

Abby's body tensed as she wondered if Justin had told Calhoun she'd be going out with Tyler. But he finally opened the door all the way and let the other man inside.

Tyler, in jeans and a red checked Western shirt and bandanna and denim jacket, looked as Western as a man could get, from his black boots to his black hat. Calhoun was dressed in a similar fashion, except that his shirt was blue. They stared at each other for a long moment before Calhoun broke the silence.

" Justin said you were taking Abby out," he said tersely. "You can wait in the living room if you like."

"Thanks," Tyler said, equally tersely, as he met Calhoun's eyes and glanced away.

"I'm already dressed," Abby said with forced cheerfulness, smiling at Tyler and getting a smile back. She didn't look at Calhoun. She couldn't. It would have been like putting a knife in her heart.

"Then let's go," Tyler replied. "I hear the Jones boys are going to play tonight. You remember Ted Jones, Calhoun; he was in our senior class back in high school."

"I remember him," Calhoun said quietly. There was a smoking cigarette in his hand, and he looked like a stranger.

A minute later, Justin came out of his study, stopping short when he saw the three of them. He and Calhoun were wearing almost identical clothing, and it was odd for Justin to dress up on a Friday night. Unless...

"Where are you off to?" Abby asked the oldest of the three men with a smile.

"The square dance, of course," Justin said, glancing at Tyler. "Not to keep tabs on her, in case you were wondering,"

he added with a cold smile. "We're meeting a business contact there."

Abby's heart jumped. Calhoun was going to the dance, too. She hated her own helpless pleasure at the thought that she might have at least a few minutes in his arms.

Tyler studied Justin warily. "You aren't meeting Fred Har-riman, by any chance?"

Justin's eyebrows arched. "Yes. Why?"

Tyler grimaced. "He just bought our place."

Calhoun caught his breath. "For God's sake, you weren't forced out?"

"I'm afraid so," Tyler replied with a sigh. "Funny, you never think you'll go under. I was sure that I could undo the damage Dad had done, but I was too late. At least it's not a complete loss. We've still got a couple of stallions, and we can hold on to at least the house and an acre or two of land."

"If you need a job, we've got one open at the feedlot," Justin said unexpectedly. "It's not charity, damn it,"

he added when he saw Tyler's incredulous look and glinting green eyes. "I don't have to like you to know how good you are with livestock."

"That's a fact," Calhoun agreed, raising a cigarette to his chiseled mouth. "The door's open."

Abby, watching them, was struck by the sheer force of so much masculinity at close range. The three of them were like patterns cut from the same rough cloth. Long, tall Texans. She was suddenly proud to be a friend to two of them, even if the third hated her.

"Thanks for the offer, then," Tyler said. He stared at Justin. "I didn't think you went to dances, business or not."

"I don't. Calhoun gets drunk if I don't baby-sit him," he said, grinning at his brother's outraged expression.

"Like hell I do," Calhoun replied. "I remember a night when you tied one on royally and I put you to bed."

Justin pursed his lips. "We all lose our heads occasionally," he said. "Don't we, Abby?" he added with a glance in her direction and then in Calhoun's. Abby flushed, and Calhoun turned his back and headed for the front door, holding it open for the rest of them without another word.

Justin only smiled.

"Shelby's going, too," Tyler remarked to Abby as they walked out. "I had to twist her arm, but she needs some diversion. She's working a six-day week for the first time in her life, and it's rough."

Justin didn't say a word, but if that quiet unblinking gaze meant what Abby thought it did, he was listening intently. She wondered just how many fireworks a dance hall could stand. Behind her, Calhoun was glaring at her and at Tyler with a scowl so hot that she would have grown warm if she'd seen it.

The dance hall was jumping. The Jones boys' band was playing a toe-tapping Western medley, and the dance floor was full. Old Ben Joiner, his fiddle in his hand, was calling the dance, his voice rising deep and clear above the music as he told the dancers what to do and when.

"Nice crowd," Tyler remarked. He and Abby had arrived after Justin and Calhoun. The two of them were at a table with a third man who looked pitifully out of place.

"Yes, it is nice. What do the brothers want with Fred Har-riman, I wonder?" she asked, thinking out loud as she and Tyler headed toward the table where Shelby was sitting all alone.

"You're in a position to know better than I am," Tyler returned, "but I expect he wants the brothers to feed out his new cattle for him." Tyler glanced at his sister and saw where her big, soulful green eyes were staring. "God, she's got it bad," he said under his breath.

Abby noticed, too, and touched his sleeve. "Justin doesn't date, either. Do you suppose there's any chance for them?"

"Not after what he thinks she did," Tyler replied tersely. "And talking about it won't butter any biscuits. Hi, sis," he said more loudly, smiling at his sister as he pulled out a chair for Abby and then sat down himself.

"Hi," Shelby said with a grin. "Abby, you look gorgeous."

"So do you." Abby sighed. "You don't know what I'd give to be as pretty as you are."

"Oh, go on," Shelby murmured, embarrassed. But she did look pretty, her dark hair coiled on her head with a bow holding it, her green Western-style dress exactly matching her eyes and showing off her beautiful figure.

"I wish things had worked out for you. Your job must be rough," Abby commiserated.

Shelby smiled back. "Oh, I like it," she said. "And at least we've got the house. We'll finish the last details of the sale next week, and then all the gossip will die down and we'll have our privacy back." She picked up her glass of ginger ale and sipped it. "I hope you don't mind my being a third wheel...."

"You go on," Abby replied. "You know Ty and I are just friends. I'm glad to have your company, and I'm sure your brother is, too."

Tyler smiled, but the look he sent her over Shelby's oblivious head wasn't quite platonic.

"Let's get in that next set," Tyler said, pulling Abby up by the hand. "Shelby, order Abby and me a ginger ale, would you?" he asked his sister.

She grinned. "Of course."

Abby stared at Tyler as he led her into the throng of dancers. "I can have a gin and tonic if I want to."

"Not while you're out with me," he said firmly, leading her into place in front of him. "I don't drink. That means you don't drink."

"Spoilsport," she sighed.

He chuckled. "Shame on you. You don't need booze to have a good time."

"I know. But I had looked forward to being treated like an adult," she told him.

"Well, don't give up hope," he said, his voice deep and soft as his lean hand curled around her waist. "The night's still young yet."

Abby smiled, because of course he was just flirting. She let him jostle her around the dance floor, graceful on his feet, expertly leading her through the twists and turns and shuffles and exchanges. Abby was having a great time until she glanced

at the table where Justin and Calhoun were sitting. Justin's dark eyes kept darting over to Shelby. Abby was too far away to read his expression. Calhoun, on the other hand, was glaring at Abby and Tyler with enough venom for ten rattlesnakes.

Her heart leaped at the jealousy she saw on his face. Maybe there was still a little hope. The thought perked her up, and she began to smile, and then to laugh. Tyler mistook her response for pleasure in his company, and so did Calhoun. By the time the dance was over, Abby was caught in the middle of a building storm.

It threatened to explode when Calhoun, sick of watching Abby with Tyler, went and asked Shelby to dance.

Shelby was hesitant because Justin had just straightened at his table and looked capable of starting a world war all by himself.

"He won't mind," Calhoun said. "You look lonely sitting here by yourself."

"Oh, Calhoun, don't start anything," she pleaded.

"I won't," he promised. "Now come and dance with me."

Shelby gave in, but her lovely face was troubled.

Abby watched them go onto the dance floor, and her spirits fell. Shelby and Calhoun looked good together, her brunette beauty a perfect foil for his blond good looks. Abby felt plain and unattractive by comparison. She stared at Ty's chest, hopelessly depressed. What if Calhoun had come because of Shelby? What if he was courting her now? She felt sick.

"I feel like I'm sitting on a time bomb," Tyler mused as he watched Calhoun and Shelby and then got a look at Justin's face. "I don't know what Calhoun's up to, but Justin looks dangerous. Even if he hates my sister, he still seems to consider her his personal property. Would you look at that scowl?"

Abby saw Justin's expression and was ashamed of herself for wishing he would get out of his chair and beat the hell out of Calhoun. She flushed with embarrassment. "If Justin was dancing with another woman, how do you think Shelby would feel?" she asked, looking up at him.

He pursed his lips, his green eyes dancing as they searched her face. "I hadn't considered that."

"Calhoun probably thought Shelby was uncomfortable sitting by herself with nobody to dance with," Abby added.

Tyler sighed, his eyes wandering quietly over Abby's distracted expression as she looked toward the other couple on the floor. And all at once a lot of things became clear for him. Foremost was that Abby was jealous. Her eyes weren't any softer than Justin's. If she wasn't already in love with Calhoun, she was well on the way to it. Tyler felt all his chances slipping away, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

The evening wore on, and the tension rose. Calhoun seemed to enjoy dancing with Shelby. Abby stuck with Tyler. Justin sat and drank quietly by himself after he finished his business with the other gentleman, who left. The tall man began to look more coldly violent by the minute.

Toward the end of the dance, Calhoun left Shelby long enough to saunter over to Abby, who was sipping ginger ale while Tyler spoke to someone he knew at a nearby table. Abby hadn't been watching Calhoun, because he was making her miserable. He didn't smile at her anymore. He hated her, she was sure of it. So when Calhoun appeared in front of her, Abby grew flustered and nervous and almost spilled her drink.