Once Upon a Cowboy (20 page)

A portly man jumped across a jumble of minestrone soup cans and offered his hand. "Tommy Torrino. I'm the mayor of this fine town. Sorry I missed you last time you were here." He addressed the crowd. "What do you say, folks? Shall we all pitch in?" A collective cheer rang out.

Cami looked around, a sheen of tears misting her eyes. "Thanks," she said. "This sure is one special town."

Holt took a deep breath and surrendered to the inevitable. "Somebody have a spare broom? Time's a-wastin'. We have a dance to get to, and a whole lot of store to clean."

* * *

Cami stood, hands on her hips, in the guest room her mother occupied at the ranch. "Of course you have to go to the dance, Momma. I told everyone you'd come. You wouldn't want to make a liar out of me, would you?"

Her mother shook her head, her face white and strained. "I'd rather not, Camellia."

"But you love dances. And I've put a dress on and everything." Cami smoothed the bright rose skirt, then dropped to the bed beside her mother. "What's wrong?"

Charlotte clasped her trembling fingers together, avoiding Cami's eyes. "I think I might go on home."

"Go home?" Cami frowned. "But yesterday you were so happy, so reconciled to the past and ranches and the cowboy way of life. What in the world changed since then?"

"I guess I'm shaken by what happened today."

"At Lem's?" she asked doubtfully, something in her mother's voice not ringing quite true.

Charlotte nodded. "I know you weren't in any real danger and I know you weren't hurt. I just think it's best if I went home."

"Before the dance." Cami tilted her head to one side. "That doesn't make a bit of sense and you know it. Are you positive there isn't anything else?"

Her mother forced out a bright smile. "What else could there be?"

"I can't imagine. Especially since I know my mother has always been open and honest and forthright. So you couldn't possibly be hiding anything." She shot her mother a searching glance. "Right?"

Charlotte stirred. "Camellia..."

"And since tomorrow is the earliest you can leave, that gives us all the time in the world for the dance tonight." She stood and pulled her mother to her feet. "Not another word. You're going and that's all there is to it."

"You don't understand," her mother moaned in despair.

"Nope, I surely don't. Care to explain what's really bothering you?"

"It's nothing." She gazed at her daughter, an almost frantic quality to her expression. "You look so much like your father. The same black hair, the same wide smile. I loved him. You know that, don't you?"

Cami's voice softened. "Of course, I do. I figured out long ago that you two shared a once-in-a-lifetime love affair."

For a minute her mother seemed on the verge of saying something. Then she shook her head. "Never mind," she murmured, her shoulders drooping. "I'll go to the dance."

Cami hesitated, but knew she wouldn't get any more information tonight. She linked arms with her mother. "That's the spirit. Come on or we'll be late."

Two SUVs waited outside to transport the guests into town for the Western Roundup dance. Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the hall to find the party in full swing. From the minute she walked in the door, Cami found herself besieged by dance offers. Accepting Wes's hand, she checked over his shoulder to be sure her mother didn't lack a partner. To her relief Frank stood by Charlotte's side, coaxing her onto the floor.

The time flew by and Cami moved from one partner to the next, but never danced with the one man she truly wanted to have hold her in his arms. He didn't approach until toward the end of the evening. He waylaid her by the punch bowl. Without a word, he took the glass of Trudy's Hawaiian Surprise from her hand and led her onto the dance floor.

"You sure, Holt?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"It's not like I'm asking you to gallop."

"True." She gave him a slow, teasing smile. "But maybe it'll come close to trotting."

She melted into his arms and they danced. He planted his hand low on her back, caressing her spine in rhythm to the music. His intent black gaze held hers the entire time he swung her around the oak floor. She didn't hear anything, feel anything, except the brush of his hard thighs against her legs and his broad chest rising and falling in perfect tempo with her own. No, definitely not galloping. But darn close to a trot.

When the music drew to a close, he ushered her through the open doors and into the darkness outside. They weren't the only couple to seek the moonlight. Holt clasped her hand and led her away from the hall, until the music and laughter were a mere whisper on the night breeze.

He fingered the thin strap of her rose-colored dress, as though unable to help touching her. "You look beautiful tonight."

"You look rather handsome yourself," she admitted, admiring the way his shoulders filled his dress shirt.

She stared at him, struggling to read his thoughts, wishing she had the nerve to make the first move and throw herself into his arms. But she didn't want him having any more regrets. Any moves would have to come from him. As if reading her mind, he tugged her closer.

"I've been wanting to do this all evening," he said, and kissed her.

Instantly, all their differences melted away as if they'd never been. Held tight in his arms, anything seemed possible. City slickers could become cowboys and a stubborn rancher could love another Texas woman. A ranch house could become a permanent home filled with love and laughter and the patter of tiny cowboy feet.

He cupped her breast, his kiss deepening. She suspected if they'd been anywhere but here, he'd have taken the embrace to its ultimate conclusion.

How was it possible after only one day she could miss galloping so much? He must be missing it, too. He tugged her tighter against him, shifting against her, his need unmistakable. She clung to him, opened to him, gave without hesitation.

Eventually they surfaced for air. "I still want you. It's wrong. I know it's wrong, but I can't seem to resist you."

"I'm not asking you to."

"Even after the way we parted last night?"

She pulled back so a ray of light speared her face, allowing him to read her expression. "If all we have is this summer, then I'll take it."

He pulled her close again, but to her disappointment, he didn't attempt to kiss her again. For a long time neither spoke and she wished she could spend the rest of the night nestled in his arms. But she suspected there were one or two issues they should address.

She peeked up at him. "I'm sorry about Lem's store," she said, breaking the silence between them.

A muscle clenched along his jaw. "You pitched in to set it to rights. Lem appreciated that."

"Everyone helped. Even you." She hesitated. "It all worked out in the end, didn't it?"

A frown gathered between his brows. "His store will recover, and eventually Lem will, too. But that's not the point." He seemed to check himself, cut off the words she sensed raging within.

If they were ever going to come to terms, they needed to be open with one another. "We never did have a chance to clear the air," she prompted. "I suppose this is as good a time as any. Unless you don't want to?" She tried not to look too hopeful.

He took a deep breath, foolishly taking her at her word. "Today was bad, Tex. I admit, it could have been worse. But it never should have happened. A cowboy who knows his business would have prevented that longhorn from ever getting into Lem's store."

"I admit my cowboy instincts let me down this time."

A hint of anger flared. "That's enough, Cami. It's time to face facts. You don't have any cowboy instincts to let you down, because there's no such thing. You learn this business by doin' it, day after day, month after month, year after year. It isn't a talent you're born with, it isn't encoded in your DNA at conception. It's a job with skills that have to be learned."

"I'm learning." When he appeared doubtful, she insisted, "I am, Holt."

His arms slid away, allowing a chilling breeze to come between them. "That's a matter of opinion. If nothing else, today should have taught you just how limited your skills are. Take it as a warning. Don't get cocky. And stop telling yourself that you're a natural born cowboy. It'll only lead to disaster."

She met his gaze with cool defiance. "I guess we'll have to agree to disagree on this particular topic. I am a cowboy where it counts—in my heart. And I always will be."

She turned to leave, but he caught her arm in an iron grip. "Go home. Before you get hurt." Pain ripped through his gaze. "Before I hurt you any worse than I already have."

She didn't look at him, merely shook her head. With an exclamation of fury, he spun her around. "You drive me crazy, woman." He snatched her in his arms and planted a hard, passionate kiss on her mouth. Then he set her from him. "With you on my ranch, I'll never know a moment's peace until you're gone. Let's get back inside, before we do something I'll regret."

"Like you did last night?"

For an instant, she didn't think he'd reply. Then he shook his head. "I don't regret that. And I hope you don't, either."

She watched him strike out for the hall and smiled. "I don't regret a single moment," she whispered.

* * *

Cami quickly found that after Western Roundup, the ranch swung into full action. The next two weeks passed with astonishing speed. The days were long and difficult. They were also the most marvelous she'd ever experienced. There were herds to be rounded up, bulls to be scattered, and yearlings gathered for shipment. Determined to prove her worth, she worked harder than she ever had in her life.

Most of all, she lived for the stolen moments when Holt took her into his arms and kissed her, renewing a hope that burned in her heart. And though they'd come close to repeating what had happened at the hot spring, when the critical moment came, he disappointed her by finding the willpower to end their embrace. It didn't stop her from anticipating the time his willpower ran shorter than their embrace.

To her surprise, Charlotte continued to linger, and Holt continued to find room for her at the ranch. And though her mother never interfered with Cami's duties, she seemed edgy and anxious.

"Leave her be," Frank recommended. "What she's facing she has to face alone. There's nothing you can do to help."

"I don't understand," Cami complained.

Frank hesitated. "I think it has to do with being back on a ranch."

Dismay filled her. "But if it's so painful, why doesn't she leave?"

"She knows it's time to either overcome her fears or give in to them." His gray eyes grew bleak. "Let's hope it's the one, and not the other."

Cami's concern deepened. Was she to blame? Did her mother stay—and suffer—because of her? If so, she'd soon put a stop to it. Before she could take action, Holt called her over. He and several of the guests stood near the corral.

"Time to get to work," he announced. "Today, we get to see how well you folks can rope."

Cami groaned. For some reason she still hadn't found her rope user friendly, and most everyone knew it. "You want me to watch, right?" she suggested. The guests laughed. Even Holt laughed, something he hadn't done for a while.

"Nope. I want you in there with the rest of them, Tex. Y'all are going to experience firsthand the fine art of wrasslin'. That herd of Herefords we rounded up need to be branded and vaccinated and checked for injury."

"We're not going to brand them ourselves, are we?" one woman asked in a faint voice.

Cami gulped. Just how much of that red oozy stuff occurred when branding and vaccinating?

"Gabby will take care of the branding," Holt assured them, much to Cami's relief. "Okay. This is how it works. I'm going to split you into two teams. The first team ropes the calf and drags him out. The second team grabs the critter, flips and holds him down while he's branded and vaccinated. Tex, get Petunia into the corral and let's see what you can do."

"Petunia's not a cuttin' horse," Gabby said to Holt.

"No, but she'll put up with our wrangler's antics better than any other horse I have. So today, Petunia's a cutting horse."

Self-consciously, Cami saddled Petunia and entered the corral. She noticed her mother coming to stand at the rail to watch. Cattle milled at one end. Slowly she rode to the edge of the herd, picking out a young calf to rope.

"This is it," she muttered. She swung the rope and tossed. And missed. "Dang."

"Try again. Go for that little guy over there."

She jerked around. Holt, mounted on an unfamiliar horse, spoke from behind. "You got it," she said. This time her toss dropped square over the calf's head. Petunia immediately backed up, pulling the youngster from the herd.

Frank joined the team on the ground. "Just grab a handful of skin, fore and aft, and flip the calf on his side," he instructed. "One of you take the head and pull his front leg toward it. Someone else, take the hind leg."

Awkwardly they followed Frank's instructions. Once they'd successfully secured the calf, Gabby approached with the branding iron. Another wrangler handled the vaccination and set the bawling critter free. The calf made a beeline for his anxious mother.