The Rancher's Dance (6 page)

“She'll be fine with me.” He took another step, but the resistance tugging at his hand was so unexpected that it
penetrated even his urgent desire to put some distance between him and the disturbing woman.

He looked at his daughter. She was clutching the rabbit with her other hand and her lashes lifted enough to peep up at him. “I wanna stay.”

His molars were definitely grinding together.

It was a wonder all three of them couldn't hear it.

“Lucy's doing her own…work,” he said. “And she doesn't need to be playing babysitter.”

Shelby's lashes swept down again. The corners of her lips turned down. “
Lucy
can say well enough what she wants to do,” Lucy countered smoothly. “I've already offered.” She swept her hand above her head, then down to her side as she lowered into a small—and definitely goading—plié. “And my
work,
as you say, is pretty much done for the day.”

He didn't want to agree.

It wasn't particularly logical. He didn't begrudge Shelby spending time away from him. She went to school. She went to her summer day camp. She had even—on a few rare occasions—spent the night at Annie Pope's house.

But he didn't want her spending time with Lucy Buchanan.

He looked from the glint in Lucy's eyes to the disappointment in Shelby's. And felt, too, the resistance in Shelby's hand.

How often did his daughter actually express what she wanted?

He let go of her little hand. “Fine.” He didn't let himself look back at Lucy. It was obvious that the woman wasn't in danger of physically collapsing and he would be within shouting distance no matter what. “For an hour,” he warned his daughter, cutting short the time he'd planned to work
and not caring one whit. “And then we'll go home and see Nick.”

Shelby's eyes widened and looked up at him again. She nodded wordlessly.

He turned away, only to stop dead when Lucy's hand closed over his bare forearm. “Thank you.”

He didn't want her thanks. He damn sure didn't want to feel his nerve endings coming to life beneath the feather-light touch of her warm palm.

It was July.

The only thing he wanted was to feel as little as possible, to survive the month the best he could and endure another year without his wife before July rolled around yet again.

He shifted and Lucy's hand fell away.

The nerve endings still didn't stop dancing their annoying jig.

“If she gets to be too much, yell.”

Lucy's smile didn't waver. “I'm sure that won't be the case.” She gave a quick wink toward Shelby.

His painfully shy daughter was clearly fascinated.

He wished he could be happy about that.

“An hour,” he said again, and then he walked out of the barn.

Lucy bit back a sigh as Beck stomped away, but when she looked down at his daughter, she made sure none of her unsettled feelings about the man showed on her face.

“So, Miss Shelby. How old are you?”

The little girl's narrow shoulders hunched a little. “Six.” The answer was so soft that Lucy had to bend closer to hear.

“Six.” She held out her hand and couldn't help feeling a little triumphant when Shelby took it with much less reserve
than her timid expression indicated. “So what grade does that put you in? Sixth?”

Shelby shook her head emphatically. “Sixth is for the big kids. I'm
little.
”

“Ah, I see,” she said seriously. “Then you're going to be in…kindergarten?”

“No! First.”

“Of course.” Lucy pressed her hand to her chest. “Silly me. Maybe I need to go back to school myself!” She tilted her head toward the exercise equipment and the mats. “So do you want to come into my playroom?” Shelby nodded.

They padded across the springy mats and Shelby kicked off her little white tennis shoes as they went until she was as barefooted as Lucy was and Lucy grinned. “Do you like music?”

Again, a nod.

Lucy pulled down a handful of CDs from the shelf. What did she have on hand that would appeal to a six-year-old girl? “Do you know what kind you like?” There wasn't any Hannah Montana or whatever it was that little girls wanted to listen to these days, but there were some soundtracks from old Disney movies.

Shelby suddenly reached up and pushed Gertrude onto the shelf where the boom box sat and punched the “play” button. Rachmaninov immediately blasted again through the barn. “I like that,” the little girl said clearly.

Lucy laughed and turned down the volume. “Well, okay, then.” She brushed her finger down Shelby's straight nose that was a miniature version of her father's. “Sweetheart, you and I are going to get along just fine.”

And Shelby smiled.

Thank goodness at least
one
member of the Ventura family hadn't forgotten how.

 

“Another round, ladies?” Their server at Colbys stopped next to Lucy the next evening and glanced around the crowded table.

There were seven of them in all because even her cousin, Angeline, who was about ready to pop with the baby she was carrying, had driven over from Sheridan with her family for the weekend. Seven and not a single man among them.

After all, it was a girls' night. No men allowed.

“Count me in,” Lucy told the server and was quickly echoed by the others.

The server grinned as he collected their empties. It was a combination of martini glasses, beer bottles, sodas and water; as varied as the women clustered around the table. Some were cousins. Some were spouses of cousins.

And all of them were friends.

Lucy watched the server work his way through the bar. It was Friday night and the place was as crowded as she'd expected it to be. “Who
is
that kid?” she asked in general. “He looks familiar to me.”

Leandra laughed and leaned her blond head across the table toward Lucy. “He ought to. That's Mark Strauss. Scott Strauss's baby brother.”

Lucy winced. “Baby is right,” she muttered. She'd gone out with Scott Strauss a few times in high school and his little brother had been just a toddler then. “This getting old business is for the birds.”

“I don't even want to hear the word
old,
” Sarah interjected. She was sitting next to Lucy. “Yesterday, Eli told Max that he wasn't going to ever get married until he was old like we were.” She gave a mock shudder. “Talk about out of the mouths of babes.”

Lucy couldn't help but laugh. Sarah was a year younger
than she was. And even though her husband, Max, was more than a decade older, he hardly fit the definition of “old.” The guy was the local sheriff, and as hard and handsome and fit as sin.

For that matter, every one of the women she was with had won the lottery when it came to seriously attractive husbands—both outwardly and inwardly. Lucy was the only one at the table who wasn't married with a growing family.

And just then, as much as she loved them all, that fact made her feel like the sore thumb. “When is Courtney supposed to get here?” Of all the women Lucy counted among her cousins, there were only a few who weren't married. Courtney was one. She was a registered nurse and only twenty-five. The rest were even younger—from early twenties all the way down to three.

Lucy's family, no matter the generation, was nothing if not prolific.

“Courtney said she was switching shifts at the hospital,” Mallory offered. She was an obstetrician and had become the latest addition to the Clay family when she'd married Lucy's cousin Ryan, who was also Courtney's brother. “She's still on nights.”

“Well.” Lucy eyed Angeline, who was leaning back in her chair. She had her hands folded over her enormous belly and still managed to look beautiful with her exotic South American heritage. “I guess if Angel there goes into labor, it'll be good we've got an O.B. with us. Once Court gets here, we'll have a whole medical team.”

Angel gave her a lazy glare. “I'm due in two weeks. I am
not
having the baby this weekend. Brody would never let me live it down. I had to use all of my feminine wiles to get him to agree to drive us up in the first place.”

J.D.—who was as blonde as her sister Angeline was
dark—snorted. “It figures that
you,
who are about twelve months pregnant, would still have some wiles left to wield.”

Angeline eyed J.D. “As if you and Jake weren't doing the horizontal up until the last minute before Tucker came along?”

“Probably all that hot, sweaty sex is what brought on the premature labor,” J.D. agreed, grinning wickedly, and they all laughed. Tucker had come early—very early—which had been a worry for everyone, but the infant was making up for his slow start with astonishing speed.

Then the Strauss boy returned, doling out their second round of drinks before taking their food orders, which not surprisingly, were as eclectic as their drinks had been. Courtney arrived soon after, and then their party was complete. Lucy just sat back and absorbed their laughing, easy company.

Yes, she did miss all of this when she was away.

Her fingers toyed with the stem of her wineglass as her gaze drifted from their faces around the bar. A familiar brown head had her stiffening, though.

Sarah noticed and glanced over, too. She leaned her head closer to Lucy's. “Got a problem with your folks' builder?”

“Not at all,” she answered swiftly, looking away from Beck as he made his way through the crowded bar toward a table across the room.

He was with two other men. Judging by the strong resemblance, Lucy figured the older one was his father and the younger was the Nick that Beck had mentioned. Thanks to Shelby's chatter during the much-too-brief hour that Lucy had gotten to spend with her yesterday afternoon, she'd learned that Nick was Shelby's big brother.

But Sarah just gave Lucy a look, and she exhaled. “I
don't know what to think of him, okay?” Except that he didn't make her feel old and past her prime.

Not at all.

A wicked smile was toying around Sarah's lips. “Which means you
are
thinking something at least.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I just got out of one relationship. I'm hardly interested in starting up something new. Consider me currently off men.” Because she'd had to or face their wrath, she'd already admitted to them that Lars had chosen someone else over her. Although, as with her parents, she hadn't tied that particular point with her sprained knee. Nor had she admitted that her career was hanging by a thread. “Off
all
men might be overdoing it, but when it comes to Beckett Ventura, it's probably just as well,” Sarah murmured. “That is one seriously grieving man. Half the single ladies—and a few attached ones, so I've heard—have thrown themselves at him and he never even blinks.”

Lucy hesitated. Her gaze kept straying toward him. He was seated at a table on the other side of the room and she didn't have a clear view. “Do you know what happened?”

“With his wife?” Sarah shook her head sadly. “A coworker of mine had Shelby in her kindergarten class last year. Evidently his wife died of cancer a few years ago. Shelby was only three. Deirdre told me it sounded as if Beck moved his family, lock, stock and barrel away from their home only a few months later.”

He might have moved, but from what Lucy could tell, he hadn't moved
on.

“Anyway, if you're looking to get over Lars, our Mr. Ventura is probably not the way to go,” Sarah murmured.

“Speaking of…have you heard from Lars since you left?” Angeline asked.

Lucy shook her head. “Nope. According to my friend Isabella—she's the wardrobe supervisor—” she added for Mallory's benefit “—he's
very
busy with the lovely Natalia.” She grimaced.

“Lars was an ass,” J.D. said bluntly, jumping back into the conversation. She pointed the tip of her fork in Lucy's direction. “And not worth a minute of your grief. Best thing for you is to jump back on the horse.” Her lips twitched. “So to speak.”

“Is sex
all
you ever think about?” Angeline asked blandly.

J.D. just smiled and shrugged. “Do you disagree with me?”

Which had everyone rolling into more laughter when Angeline had to admit that she didn't.

Shaking her head at all of them, Lucy pushed up from her seat and brushed down the folds of her gauzy sundress. She didn't want to think about sex. Mostly because her thoughts, irritatingly enough, went immediately in the direction of the grieving Beck. “I'll be back.”

Turning sideways, she worked her way through the tables toward the restroom in the rear of the room. She could see Beck's table as she went, though his gaze never turned her way.

She wondered where Shelby was. She wondered if Beck would manage to find a smile now that his son was home for a visit. She wondered
why
she couldn't stop wondering about the man.

There was a line at the ladies' room, and by the time she returned to her table, the crowd around it had suddenly doubled. Girls' night out had been duly crashed by a horde of husbands.

Not that Lucy could spot a speck of unhappiness on anyone's face. And once the hugs and the kisses were out of
the way as the husbands welcomed her back to town, more tables were dragged together, more chairs were crowded in, more drinks and more food were ordered.

It was hectic, it was chaotic, it was loud and boisterous. It was Friday night at Colbys. It was home.

And later, as couples began drifting off—to the dance floor to grab a romantic moment free from babies and kids, to the pool tables to grab back bragging rights, even to other tables to catch a word with an old friend—Lucy sat at the table with her foot propped on an empty chair and soaked it all in.

When she was in New York, she'd felt like she was home. When she was here? She felt like she was home, too.